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Freakn' Shifters

Delicate Freakn' Flower – Naomi doesn’t want to follow tradition and settle down with a violence-loving, chest thumping shapeshifter. When fate makes her meet not one, but two mates, Naomi digs her heels in and refuses to give in without a fight. Can this delicate freakn’ flower unbend her prejudices enough to recognize she needs a pair of men who can handle her thorns – and her passion? Jealous and Freakn' – For a long time now, Mitchell’s been avoiding Francine, his bratty sister’s friend. However, the girl who tortured him in his youth is all grown up, and when he sees her in the arms of another, a need to claim her overrides all his common sense. But he’s waited too long and fate has decided that he’s going to have to share. Can he accept that claiming Francine means living in a menage, or will his jealousy get in the way of happiness? Already Freakn' Mated – Meeting the woman of his dreams would have worked a lot better if she didn’t already belong to another man. But Chris wasn’t about to let something like ‘until death do us part’ keep him from claiming his woman. He’ll do anything to win his mate, including throwing his attractive cousin at the pesky husband. Freakn Out - Derrick is angry, and bitter, but with good reason. His army buddies should have left him to die instead of dragging him out of the rebel camp—and he meant drag. As if that wasn’t bad enough, fate just has to kick a wolf when he is down and send him the curvy and luscious Janine. Freakn’ Shifters is created by Eve Langlais, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

Eve Langlais · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
240 Chs

Chapter 43

Slamming his fist into Chris's nose-Mitchell's annoying younger brother-when he walked in the house probably didn't rank up there with his brightest, shining moments. But the little prick deserved it for saying, "Still didn't mark her, huh, dumbass? Maybe I'll have a go. Francine's got the sweetest ass I've ever seen." Then Chris mimed humping that invisible backside.

Mitchell flattened him, then jumped on him, their vigorous brawl bringing their mother from the kitchen. She let out a piercing whistle that separated them faster than Ethan could. No one messed with his mother. Not if they wanted to breathe.

"What are you doing, Mitchell?" his mother asked in that spooky calm voice of hers. At five feet nothing, with her arms crossed, what she lacked for in size, she made up in presence and attitude.

He hung his head, acting contrite. "Chris said something nasty about Francine."