Alpha's Mates: A MFM Menage Paranormal Romance - AJ Tipton - E-Book

Alpha's Mates: A MFM Menage Paranormal Romance E-Book

AJ Tipton

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Beschreibung

A CEO under attack by a vengeful coven. Two farm hands with a ranch in trouble. Can these three save each other?Cleo has everything under control: she's a wildly successful CEO, Alpha of a powerful bear shifter clan, and a total knockout. When a business deal puts her on the wrong side of powerful witches, she’s exiled to the middle of nowhere. Cursed to be unable to interact with electronics, Cleo has to trust the kindness of two handsome ranch hands to get back to her old life. Titus, a cursed dragon shifter, and Connor, gifted with supernatural intuition, are not used to company. When their ranch--a sanctuary for magical creatures--is threatened, the men must rely on their strength and Cleo's resourcefulness to save the day. Will Cleo be too distracted by her own plan for revenge to realize she may have found her true loves? Alpha’s Mates is a MFM paranormal romance novella in the “Bear Shifter Billionaire” series, a set of stand-alone stories that sizzle and satisfy. If you like steamy romance, wet and wild firefighting, and a literal roll in the hay, then you’ll love this breathtaking book. Buy Alpha’s Mates to saddle up today!

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Alpha’s Mates

A MFM Ménage Paranormal Romance

AJ Tipton

Illustrated byPadrón

Copyright © 2017 by AJ Tipton

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Created with Vellum

“Tell those witch bitches I am sick of their hippie-dippie crap!” Cleo spat into her cell phone as her Louboutins clicked on the parking garage cement. She adjusted her pencil skirt across her hips and rummaged in her pink Louis Vuitton bag for her car keys, clenching her phone between her shoulder and face. “I’m the goddamn CEO. Do I really need to personally handle every nuance?”

She plopped her bag on the hood of her car and continued rummaging for her keys as the nervous voice of her assistant Brad explained in a very roundabout way how dealing with a scorned coven scared the bajeezus out of him.

She sighed. Who knew building an entire hotel out of ice would be the easy part?

The Moon Glow coven was irate Cleo arranged for magical assistance to keep the ice hotel from melting in the heat. The hate mail--actual paper mail, Cleo thought with disgust--had been flying in through the windows all day. Apparently magic was too “sacred” to be used for commercial gain, but not too sacred to use to pelt executives with letters.

Cleo figured the coven was after a better deal. Everyone just wanted money, after all. Understanding that instinct was how she'd become a billionaire before she turned 35.

“Tell them we understand that we’ve made their competitors very rich women, but we did offer them this deal first. If they would be so kind as to drop their protests and threats, I’m sure there’s room to work together on a future business endeavor.”

Cleo triumphantly grabbed her keys, hidden under her secret stash of Oreos. Just as she touched her car door, a brilliant flash of white blinded her, a melodic buzzing surrounding her from all sides. The sound increased to a fever pitch as the ground shifted under her slender heels. Cleo crashed to the ground.

“Fucking witches!” She hollered to nobody in particular, still blinded and trying to feel her way back to the safety of her car as her bleary eyes tried to focus.

Cleo froze. She wasn’t touching the disgusting cement of the parking garage. Her fingers were combing through stalks of grass, patting down on tufts of dirt.

What in the unholiest of fucks? She rubbed her eyes, slowly regaining her sight.

She was nowhere.

Cleo looked around at the wide expanse of uninterrupted flat wilderness stretching in all directions and knew logically she must be somewhere. It was just a place she had no interest in being. And it was definitely nowhere near her car. She took a deep calming breath and smiled grimly at the cell phone still gripped in her hand, mentally listing all the reasons the coven should not have messed with her.

Billionaire? Check. Alpha of a powerful bear shifter clan? Check. Corporate CEO with connections to make the President envious? Big check.

I can handle this.

Cleo stood and her heels sunk deeply into the grass. She rolled her eyes and began dialing Brad, angrily stabbing at the digits on her cell phone’s screen.

The device shook in her hand, giving off screeching feedback. Fantastic. She tried to pull up her phone’s map application, but the screen blurred and blew bright green sparks at her.

“They hexed my phone!” Cleo bellowed at the empty field surrounding her. This wasn’t cute. This wasn’t funny. This was a declaration of war. And Cleo could afford to buy tanks. Her inner bear roared.

Those bitches were going to pay.

She slipped out of her heels, tossing them into her purse. Looking around--the one good thing about being on such flat territory was she could see anyone approaching--Cleo slid out of her skirt and panties, top and bra, folding each item neatly and tucking them away. The wind against her bare skin felt nice. It had been a long time since she'd been completely exposed outdoors and she hadn't realized how much she missed it. Her long hair, newly colored blonde, whipped behind her like a banner.

Making sure her clothes and phone was packed securely in her purse, she pulled out two elastic ropes, clipping them tightly to the bag and around her shoulder blades like a backpack. The straps killed the designer look of the bag, but it certainly beat damaging the leather by carrying the whole thing in her mouth.