Howl Me to the Moon

As the ship’s art auctioneer, I’m under pressure to boost sales. When I discover a magnificent painting, I’m sure it’s key to turning our ship around.

A wolf shifter named Rex joins the ship’s rock band as their new bassist. The first night I see him play, I think he’s hot. But he barely utters two words to me. Awkward.

The painting goes missing, and my career is on the line. Who, of all people, volunteers to help me. Rex. I’m not crazy about the idea, but I’m desperate to find the artwork.

Time is running out, and danger is closing in…

***If you love short, fun, instalove romance, set sail with the supernaturals in Howl Me to the Moon!***

Rex:

I rolled my shoulders and adjusted the strap of my bass guitar for the third time before I checked the sound. My wolf moved restlessly beneath my skin. What was up with him today? He'd been unable to sit still all morning.

Settle down, I told him. I couldn't screw this up—not when this was a new start for us. There was no way I would go crawling back to my former pack.

"Nervous, new guy?" Van, the lead singer, teased as he sauntered up to the mic stand in the Nocturnal Lounge, the intimate space with the small stage for performances.

I didn't have the same confidence as he exuded, especially tonight. It was my first night playing in front of the guests of the Moonlight Siren. I'd been hired to join Luna Blue Shadows, and tonight was our first live gig. No pressure—just my entire future riding on this new opportunity.

"Nah," I lied and shook my head. "Just anxious to play."

I strummed a few notes, making sure everything sounded good. Tonight was '60s night, one of our themes for each night we played.

"As long as you're not as fiery-headed as our last bassist, we should be good," said Caleb, the massive gray gargoyle, booming from behind the drum set.

Yeah, I'd heard about that fight, which led to their former bassist quitting. Which worked out with perfect timing for me.

I chuckled to offset my anxiety. "I'm more fur than fire." I strummed my bass, fingers steady despite my nerves.

During our show that night, all went well-until a woman with shimmering rosy-gold hair entered the Nocturnal Lounge.

My wolf surged forward with such force that my fingers stumbled over the strings.

Mate. He prowled restlessly inside, insisting we get closer to her.

Cut it out, I warned. Or you're going to get us fired on our first night.