Black Ridge Bears Book Bundle
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Get the complete 5 book Black Ridge Bears shifter romance series by NY Times & USAT best-selling author Felicity Heaton at one incredible low price in this binge-read-worthy bundle!
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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Brilliant series! Loved the characters and the storylines and couldn't put them down so it's a well deserved five stars and I would recommend this series to everyone.” -- Amazon Reviewer
Holly’s eyes popped open and she silently cursed. Falling asleep hadn’t been part of her incredible plan, but the furs beneath her had been so warm, laced with Saint’s smell, and the adrenaline had worn off as he had remained away from her, leaving her exhausted.
She had only meant to close her eyes for a second.
Anger directed at herself curled through her, heating her blood. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep. She should have been hyper-aware of the brute who was holding her captive, not letting her guard down by dozing off on his bed.
His bed!
She cast a fearful glance around her, half-expecting to find Saint beside her on it, and breathed a little easier when she found she was alone. Her clothes were as she had left them, her dark purple coat still zipped up all the way and black weatherproof trousers slightly rumpled but still in place. Even her boots were still on her feet.
Saint really hadn’t come up to her.
Maybe he was still in front of the fire. Still awake. For all she knew, she might have been asleep for only a second.
She shuffled to the edge of the bed and quietly stood, crept to the railing at the front of the loft space and peered down into the kitchen below.
Her eyes widened.
Saint was still downstairs, but not in any way she had expected.
This wasn’t good.
She banked left, heading for the spiral staircase that led downwards to the ground floor of the small cabin. Stopped when she reached the final bend and stared past the very rustic and tiny kitchen that consisted of a handful of wooden cupboards and a worn wooden counter, to a major problem.
The six-hundred-plus pounds of massive grizzly bear sleeping in front of the door like a bizarre draught blocker.
Holly glanced at the window above the sink to her left, couldn’t make anything out in the low light. Was it still snowing? How late was it?
Her gaze strayed back to Saint. The warm light of the fire shone on his dense fur, highlighting it with gold. Rounded ears twitched as a log cracked, his long paler muzzle wriggling, and then he stilled again. She waited for the fear to come, sure she would be afraid of him now he was in his bear form.
Only it didn’t.
She felt only fascination as she stood there looking at him, as she noticed the scar that cut through his fur on the left side of his wide face and darted over his eye, into the shorter hairs that covered his muzzle.
Holly dragged her gaze away from him and took in the room, seeking another escape route. The cabin was smaller than she had thought, and far more basic than she was used to. She crept towards the other end of the room so she could make it out more clearly in the low light, and wanted to huff when she checked the entire wall and found only logs and cupboards. No windows. Damn it.
Holly went back to the kitchen, careful not to wake the sleeping bear, and scowled at the world outside. The snow was falling faster now, the flakes bigger, and the wind was strong at times, catching the snow and driving it into the window. A storm was brewing.
She cursed again.
Visibility would be poor and the fresh snow would dampen all the scents in the area, masking them. It was going to make it difficult for her to get back to the Creek if she managed to escape.
She went back and forth as she watched the snow, as she checked out the window and found it was one that opened. There was a chance she could escape that way, might be able to make a break for it before Saint woke.
Holly didn’t reach for the handle though.
Saint snuffled in his sleep, luring her gaze back to him. His muzzle twitched, fur rippling in a wave down his back.
She almost smiled.
Caught herself at the last moment.
She should be afraid of him. This was a show of power to deter her from attempting an escape and it was a good one, but there was a reckless, bold part of her that wanted to know what his rich brown fur would feel like if she pushed her fingers through it.
Would it resist her? Be hard to move her hand through it? Would it be soft? Coarse?
That same bold part of her wanted to know how he would react to her touch.
Would he snarl and bare his fangs? Roar to drive her away?
Or would he accept her hand on him?
His rounded ears flipped back and forth, and his nose wriggled. A low rumbling noise escaped him, almost like a groan, and he smacked his lips.
What was he dreaming about?
Holly tensed as she realised he wasn’t dreaming.
He was waking.
She twisted on her heel and hurried across the floorboards, praying none of them would squeak and give her away, and rushed up the stairs.
That bold part of her hoping Saint would come to her.
Continue reading Stolen by her Bear if you like:
- Fated Mates
- Mistaken Identity
- Over Protective Hero
- Forced Proximity
- Bear Shifters & Cougar Shifters
- Only One Bed
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “The Black Ridge Bears series - each book as good as the next, saving the very best til the last. Recommend you read them in turn, starting with book one, they lead into the next, ending in spectacular fashion. A***** Highly recommended.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Another wonderfully, creative and well-crafted series that has plenty of what you need and more.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “This series has been the perfect read.”
WARNING: Contains books that you can't put down.
- TROPES: Fated Mates, Possessive Hero, He Falls First, Enemies to Lovers, Second Chance, Forced Proximity, Only One Bed, Forbidden Love, Touch Her and Die, Over Protective Hero, Most Powerful Guy Wants Only You, The Most Dangerous Guy Wants You, Alpha Shifter Hero, and Damaged Hero
- SUB-GENRES: Shifter Romance
- Spicy Paranormal Romance
- Guaranteed Happily Forever After!
“I want to go home,” she snapped, her mood taking a dark turn. Good. She clung to that anger, used it as a shield against him as he frowned at her, his rich brown eyes gaining something akin to hurt, as if the thought of letting her go pained him.
“No.” He looked over his shoulder at the kitchen window. “You really want to go out there?”
She glanced at the window and lingered. The storm was worse now. Snow constantly rushed past the window, almost horizontal as the wind caught it. That wind whipped around and hit the glass, rattling it.
Fine. Maybe she didn’t want to go out into the freezing blizzard.
As soon as it died down, she was making a break for it though.
“Fucking snow,” Saint grumbled, deep hatred in his tone, as if he held it personally responsible for all that was wrong in the world.
“You don’t like the snow?” She looked at the window and then at him, caught the black look on his face before he turned his back to her and stared out of the window too, his hands braced against the counter in front of him.
“Do I sound like I like it?”
“No.” She twisted on the couch, angling herself towards him, curiosity gripping her. Was it a bear thing? Cougars weren’t bothered by the winter, not as the bears clearly were. She didn’t feel the call of the wild as Saint did, had no instinct to sleep through the colder months. “I was born in winter. I always liked the snow when I was younger, but not so much these days.”
He frowned over his shoulder at her and came to face her, planted his backside against the counter and folded his arms across his very bare chest. Would it kill him to put his shirt back on now that he was done with the manscaping?
“Why don’t you like it now?” His dark eyes searched hers.
She cursed herself for getting so comfortable around him, didn’t want to answer his question but could see in his eyes he wouldn’t let this one go. He wanted to know why she had changed her opinion of snow.
She sighed. “My family are a handful and always tease me at this time of year, making my life hell. This is the first time I’ve managed to escape them for the holidays, and look at what happens. I get myself kidnapped. They’ll never let me leave again.”
He was quick to avert his gaze, his mouth flattening as he turned his profile to her as if that would change what he had done. He pushed off and came to her, and rather than feeling tense that he was near her, she found herself wanting him to sit with her, to tell her more about himself.
He didn’t.
He sank to his knees in front of the fire and tended to it. Holly studied his profile and the feelings her senses could detect in him, reading him like an open book. He felt guilty about his actions, yet he wouldn’t let her go.
Why?
She doubted it was because of the storm and that he didn’t want her freezing out there or getting lost.
Silence fell again as he stoked the fire, as the warm light of it danced across his rough but handsome features, attempting to soften the harsh planes of his face as he glared at it.
When that silence became too comfortable again, she searched for something to say.
He didn’t take his eyes off the fire as he spoke. “Are you so young that you’re not allowed to be away from your family? I’m not sure how cougars work. Are they like other shifters?”
Heat that had nothing to do with the fire scalded her cheeks as she realised he was trying to ask about her age and whether she had matured, was considered an adult now. Most feline shifter species reached maturity at around a century old when biological urges like desire and need awakened.
Together with the ability to breed.
She really didn’t want to answer that question, but as she stared at the fire, avoiding his gaze now as he looked at her, it struck her that he had a point.
She was old enough to go her own way.
To do as she pleased.
She shifted her gaze to meet his, stared into his dark eyes and had the feeling that what she wanted to do was something dangerous.
Something wicked.
His deep brown eyes warmed, gained a shimmer of gold as he looked at her, his pupils slowly dilating. Firelight flickered across the broad expanse of his bare chest, tempting her to trace his hard muscles with her fingers, to know the feel of a male’s body at last.
Apparently, she wasn’t dysfunctional after all because whenever she looked at Saint, the urges she had thought she didn’t possess roared to life, almost overwhelming her.
She pressed the back of her hand to her overheating cheek and stood, struggled to breathe as she muttered, “The fire is a bit hot.”
His gaze tracked her as she moved away from him, towards the far end of the room, fanning herself with her hand as her heart raced.
And her cougar side growled, pacing restlessly, flooding her with a startling urge to turn that snarl on him, to walk right up to him where he knelt on the floor and stand over him, take hold of his jaw and keep his eyes on hers. Holly recognised that urge for what it was—a display of dominance.
Her hands shook, as unsteady as her breathing as that hunger rattled her.
“Holly?” Saint eased onto his feet in a sexy, fluid move that spoke of strength, had his muscles rippling in a symphony that came dangerously close to ripping a feral, possessive growl from her.
She was quick to shake her head, fanned herself more furiously. “I’m fine. Just… stay over there.”
Because she wasn’t sure what she would do if he came any closer to her.
Pouncing on him seemed the most likely outcome.
She breathed through the cacophony of instincts that were intent on ripping her apart, had her unsure of herself, made her feel as if she was looking at a different person. Not chaste, sweet Holly, who felt nothing when a male looked at her, couldn’t even muster the desire to kiss one.
No. This Holly was far removed from that one. This Holly wanted to pounce on Saint and claw him, wanted to dominate him and make him submit to her, revelled and found pleasure in the thought of him doing just that.
“You don’t look well.” Concern shone in his dark eyes as she glanced at him.
“I just need some air.” She looked around her, desperately seeking somewhere she could get that air. “Why do you have so few windows?”
She hurried to the kitchen, couldn’t stop her feet from moving as she stared at the window there, as her temperature hit boiling point and she feared she was going to pass out if she didn’t cool down soon.
She was panicking.
“Holly.” Saint strode to the door, and she thought he meant to block it, that he would stop her from opening it and getting the air she needed, air that felt vital, the only way of stopping herself from passing out.
She growled at him and bared fangs.
He arched an eyebrow as he opened the door at the same time as she threatened him.
Shame flooded her cheeks with even more heat and she lowered her head as she scurried past him, relief crashing over her at the first cold kiss of the wind on her face. Saint caught her arm when she tried to step out onto the snowy deck, holding her back. She shivered at the firmness of his grip on her, at the strength she could feel in it together with a silent declaration that he wasn’t going to let her go.
That did more to calm her racing heart and cool her burning blood than the air that swept snow against her.
Her temperature quickly took a nosedive back to normal, the strange urges that had seized control of her falling away as Saint held on to her arm, as she grew aware of him standing just inches behind her, his gaze on the back of her head.
“Better?” he rumbled.
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