Page 3 of Her Werewolf Lover

Samantha sighed disgustedly and tripped over another cardboard box the movers had just stacked randomly in the hallway.

That didn’t matter. Nothing did except her future. Despite beingpast her prime, as one snarky journalist had said when reporting on her split from Gary, Samantha didn’t feel like she was finished yet.

The papers said she was too old. She’d let herself go and basically forced her ex into his latest flashy lover’s bed.

As if eight years of marriage meant nothing.Samantha shook her head. She was over the hurt. Society could think whatever the fuck it wanted.

But she knew better. Her husband had been cheating on her for years. The fact he’d finally dumped her for some twenty-year old model from Sweden only meant that the younger woman was holding out for a ring.

Good luck, Gary.

Samantha thought with a grin. Sure, at first, she’d been completely stunned when she met the platinum blonde beauty.

Thin and tall, with enormous silicone enhancedboobs that defied the laws of gravity and tight buttocks sculpted by what must be some of the major gods of plastic surgery.

She shuddered, thinking this was how he’d seen her in the past. Like some kind of plastic toy, not a real person at all.

She was far too young for the silver-haired shark that was Samantha’s ex. Surely, Gary thought he had the upper hand, but Samantha had seen something in the younger woman’s eyes.

She would eat him alive, and it was all that he deserved.

So what if he and the journalist he’d hired to cover the divorce said Samantha was a washed-upformer model, with dyed hair, crow’s feet, and a drooping bust line?

Okay. Ouch.

That kinda hurt. Samantha picked up a large framed picture of herself from her modeling days. It was sitting on the top of the open boxes.

It was a flashy photo from an advertisement that Gary had liked to show off.

He’d had this image hanging on the wall of their entryway back in L.A.

She shivered at the thought. So very tasteless, but that was Gary for you. Always eager to show off his new toys.

She looked at the bright-eyed, practically nude woman in the photo and wondered when she’d been that young.

Maybe her ex and that dickhead journalist had a point.

Samantha’s breasts no longer stood up on their own. And yeah, more than a few threads of gray wove through her auburn locks. She definitely had crow’s feet.

But dammit,she was thirty-seven. Aging gracefully had always been her plan and fuck anyone who tried to make her feel bad about it.

Fine. Her usefulness as a decorative piece had expired. She could deal with that.

Gary made his bed, and he could lie in it alone or with every teeny bopper model he could bribe to fill it for all she cared.

She was moving on.

Alone.

No more men.

Period.

Samantha let out a little scream of glee and did a little victory booty shake on the tacky gold and burgundy carpet that covered the living room floor.

The sound of footsteps brought her head up, and she cringed. She probably shouldn’t have screamed.

Chapter 1