A deadly scent. A shapeshifter on the edge. A woman who refuses to run. In Scent of Danger, the Dark Lands erupt with monsters, betrayal, and a romance forged under fire. Book 3 delivers high‑stakes action, slow‑burn tension, and a protective hero who will risk everything to keep her alive.

Ever fall in love with the wrong man?

With a body to make a young girl sigh and a voice like black velvet, Mathin is definitely the wrong man. He's not safe, he's not stable…he's not even human. He's a shapeshifting alien warlord with golden eyes, a war-ravaged citadel to reclaim, and a biological need to claim Andrea as his mate.

Andrea doesn't know what she's getting into when she agrees to visit her granny—or that Granny has been plotting this "visit" for months. Swept away to another world where triple moons light the sky and living symbionts bond to human flesh, she can't decide if it's a dream come true or a nightmare.

Because Andrea isn't just human. She's a charmer—a woman whose pheromones drive the alien Haunt males wild. And the bond between charmer and Haunt is permanent. One night in Mathin's arms, and she'll be his forever.

Romanced by the light of the triple moons, entranced by Mathin's fiery kisses, and falling harder than she ever expected, Andrea faces an impossible choice: Will she give up her home on Earth in exchange for something wild?

Sizzling chemistry, but not explicit.

Perfect For Fans Of…

• Alien Romance (shapeshifters)

• Portal to a dangerous fantasy world

• Fated Mates (biological bond)

• Found family that becomes everything

• Romance with permanent consequences

• Political intrigue and assassination plots

• Culture clash and witty banter

  ✨Read a Sample now:

  
  

  CHAPTER 1

  "Yes, Grandma, I know."

  Andrea rolled her eyes at Zoë, who was picking all the almonds out of the nut dish. "Not you, Grandma! Zoë, knock it off."

  Zoë smirked and kept hunting, safe behind the fact that Andrea was busy piping meringue mushrooms for her half-assembled Yule log.

  Andrea's one-room apartment was still mostly boxes and a pile of blankets in the corner. Between work and her last semester of culinary school, she hadn't had time to breathe, let alone shop for actual furniture. In two more days she'd take her finals, and then she could finally call herself a chef.

  "Um, hmm," she mumbled into the phone, realizing she'd missed half the conversation. Not surprising—half of Grandma's calls were local gossip and personal advice that had nothing to do with Andrea's life.

  "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that. When shall I expect you?"

  "What?" Andrea blinked. "Sorry, what did you say?"

  Zoë wandered over to the counter, eyeing the leftover chocolate ganache.

  Andrea snatched the spoon and whacked her hand.

  Zoë licked the chocolate off her fingers with a look of pure bliss.

  Then Grandma said, "Oh, thank you, dear! It means so much that you'll come visit. And do bring Zoë."

  "B-but Grandma!" Andrea sputtered. "You live in Alaska!"

  "Don't they have igloos?" Zoë asked.

  Andrea glanced over to find the brat had stolen the ganache bowl. Zoë dipped the spoon in and licked it, eyebrows raised in challenge.

  "I'll buy your e-tickets right away," Grandma said. "I've got the Internet, you know."

  "I can't take your money! Besides, I need to find a job, and there's tons of stuff—"

  "If you haven't found a job, there's no problem. You can find one here just as well." Something chimed in the background. "Oops! Jeopardy's on. Got to go, dear. Love you."

  "I'm not going to Alaska!" Andrea yelled, but the line was dead.

  She slammed the phone down, grabbed the bowl from Zoë, and smacked it on the counter. "Granny bought us tickets. On the Internet." She shook her head and popped the meringues in the oven. "And since I don't have a job and your job is mooching, there's no problem, is there?"

  "Sounds fun," Zoë said, moving to lean against the fridge. "I've always wanted to see penguins."

  Andrea closed her eyes. "They don't have penguins at the North Pole."

  When she opened them, Zoë had reclaimed the bowl and was back at the table.

  Andrea sat down across from her. "I'm not going to Alaska." The sight of the disappearing ganache made her cranky. "Can you see me living with Granny all summer? She'll ask when I'm getting married every five minutes."

  "How is Rob, anyway?" Zoë asked around the spoon.

  "History."

  "Already?" Zoë actually removed the spoon. "I figured you'd at least keep him around long enough to pop your cherry."

  "Zoë! Maybe some of us like to wait for someone worthy. Two months was plenty to know he wasn't it."

  She was twenty-three with exactly four guys in her dating history. Zoë called her picky. Andrea was starting to wonder if she was too demanding. But she wanted more than cold slobber and garlic breath. She wanted love. Magic. Was that too much to ask?

  "It doesn't mean anything," Zoë said.

  "Anyway," Andrea waved it aside, "I'm not going. I'll call her back and make her listen."

  Zoë blinked slowly. "This is your Granny. The guilt will eat you alive."

  "I'm not going."

  "Care to bet?"

  ---

  One week later, Andrea was in a cab heading into the hills outside Fairbanks.

  Zoë had simply told Grandma she'd take a rain check. Andrea had no such luck.

  The house caught her by surprise. Built of stone blocks and nestled into the hillside, it looked like a small castle, complete with octagonal towers and a slate roof. The diamond-paned windows gleamed, and the thick wooden doors were banded with elaborate ironwork. Rich enough to afford a caretaker meant rich enough for this.

  "Nice place," the cabbie said as she paid. "What's it like inside?"

  "Don't know. First visit."

  He glanced at her bags. "Need help?"

  "No, but wait until I'm inside? Nobody answered when I called from the airport."

  Her breath fogged in the May chill as she grabbed the wolf's-head knocker. It was almost 10:30 PM and just getting dark. This midnight sun thing was going to mess with her head.

  The door opened to reveal Grandma beaming at her.

  It took Andrea a moment to recognize her. She'd shrunk since their last visit—granted, Andrea had been a child then. Her hair had faded from gray-shot red to pale tangerine. They'd only talked on the phone over the years, and Andrea was shocked by how much she'd aged.

  A dog bayed in the distance.

  Grandma pulled her into a hug that smelled like roses. Andrea fought not to sneeze. "Hi, Grandma."

  "Oh, darling, it's so good to see you!" Grandma held her at arm's length. "Look how you've grown."

  "Yeah. Just look."

  This is going to be a long visit.

  "You look just like your great-aunt Virginia." Grandma led her into the sitting room. "Or was that Winifred? I never could keep them straight—they were twins."

  "Identical?"

  "Oh no, dear. They looked nothing alike."

  Andrea's eye twitched. She looked around and winced.

  The wood floors were beautiful underneath the violently clashing hooked rugs. The room had rough-hewn beams across the ceiling and birch wainscoting on the walls. Iron lantern fixtures completed the lodge-like feel. The underlying design was elegant, and someone had clearly spent money here.

  And then Grandma had been let loose with her decorating.

  Loud floral slipcovers covered the furniture. Multicolored crocheted afghans were draped over every surface. Checkered curtains blocked the windows. Knickknacks cluttered every flat space until the wood underneath disappeared.

  "Have a seat, dear." Grandma gestured to the couch.

  Andrea sat, elbowing aside a purple and red granny square pillow. "Been busy decorating?"

  "Oh yes. The winters are very long. Would you like a cookie?"

  Andrea remembered the sensation of biting into a carob and prune bar at age seven. "Um, no thanks. I'm on a diet."

  Grandma sat back, disappointed, tucking her sweater around her thin frame. Her fuchsia-clad legs were propped up on a hassock.

  Andrea blinked and politely looked away. She was wearing mismatched argyle socks with holes in the heels.

  "I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted you here on such short notice." At Andrea's nod, Grandma swallowed. "The doctors say I have cancer. I don't have much time."

  Andrea could only sit there, stunned.

  Her grandma was her last living relative. If she died, Andrea would be alone. No family. No boyfriend. Maybe never anyone to love.

  Ashamed of the selfish fear, she knelt and grasped her grandmother's hand. Tears blurred her vision. "Are they sure? They can't fix it?"

  Grandma shook her head, eyes misty. "No, sweetheart." She sniffed. "And I'd so looked forward to seeing great-grandbabies."

  Andrea flinched. How many times had she dodged those questions?

  "Now none of that." Grandma patted her hand, suddenly all business. "You just haven't found the right man yet. But we're going to change that." She leaned in, excited. "I've spoken with my employer, and he's agreed to hire you as his new caretaker—on a trial basis, of course."

  Andrea sat back on her heels. "I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a caretaker, Grandma."

  "Of course you are! And it will be such a relief to know you're in the capable hands of a man who can take care of you. Wait until I tell him!"

  "Whoa, wait." Andrea raised her hands. "I'd be working for him, not marrying him. And I haven't agreed to this. I have things to do in Chicago—"

  But Grandma was already talking, fast and furious.

  By the end of the evening, Andrea had somehow promised to stay for the summer. She wanted to keep an eye on her grandmother, but she'd rather find her own place and her own job. Grandma would spend all her time matchmaking.

  Vowing to sort it out after sleep, Andrea fluffed her pillow in one of the six guest bedrooms.

  ---

  The scent of roses woke her in the morning.

  Andrea groaned. The smell wafted from the lacy sheets. Hunting ducks paraded across her bed canopy. She threw back the comforter and swung her feet onto the shaggy duck rug.

  The bedside clock—shaped like a decoy—said it was late morning.

  Shocked Grandma had let her sleep in, Andrea pulled on jeans and a ribbed shirt, then quickly rebraided the small braids at each temple. The style made her think of Zoë.

  She grimaced. She should've had the guts to stay home like her friend.

  But Grandma needed her. As her only family, Andrea had to be here.

  She skipped makeup and headed out to find the kitchen.

  It was immaculate. Copper pots hung from a rack above the work island. The stainless steel fridge and modern stove formed an odd contrast to the crocheted blender covers and crazy valances. The smell of cooking lingered, but there were no breakfast dishes. Where was Grandma?

  A note was tacked to the fridge with a hodgepodge of magnets.

  "Dear Andrea, I'm so glad you've agreed to take care of the place. I know you'll make me proud—you're a child of your word. Now I'm off to do something I've always wanted—cruise to Tahiti! If you need anything, just ask Fallon. He's been very good to me and I'm sure you're going to adore him. Love, Grandma."

  Andrea let out a string of curses.

  She'd been set up. And why couldn't Grandma just buy her a ticket to Tahiti? If she was really dying, wouldn't she want family with her?

  This was matchmaking. If Matilda thought there was a man involved, she'd strand Andrea in Antarctica.

  "Such harsh words from such a pretty lady," came a man's husky voice.

  Andrea froze mid-tirade. Oh, please no.

  "At least, I assume the lady is exceptional. The view from behind is certainly promising."

  "Excuse me?" She turned, defensive and disbelieving.

  The retort died on her lips.

  Black hair fell past his shoulders, framing a face that stole her breath. He was muscular without being bulky, and his t-shirt showed sculpted arms and broad shoulders. Long legs filled out black denim, and his wicked black eyes sparked with confidence.

  He grinned and looked her over slowly. "As I thought. Very promising." He moved closer.

  Her intense reaction threw her off balance. She stepped back and hit the fridge. "I..." Get it together. She licked her lips. "Are you Fallon?"

  "No." He planted his hands on either side of her. "I am Mathin. And you are mine."