R.E. Butler

“Come for me, wanna feel you,” he said with a growl.

The Tiger’s Bride

(Necklace Chronicles Book 3)

by R. E. Butler

 

As the last golden-furred tiger shifter in existence, Charisma knows that the only opportunity he has to find his soulmate is to wait for the All Hallows Eve full moon. With an enchanted medallion in hand, Charisma casts the spell for his soulmate, hoping that the necklace will find the one woman meant to be his. Unless he finds his other half, his beast will slowly take over and he’ll go feral. What he doesn’t expect is interference from the very Wiccan who helped him, and for his soulmate’s life to be on the line.

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Excerpt

This is absurd, she thought, as she opened her front door and walked to the kitchen, laying the medallion on the counter.  It’s just a necklace, for gracious sake.  It’s not as if something could possibly be made just for me.

Lifting the chain, she let it slip through her fingers until the medallion rested in the center of her palm.  Rubbing her finger along the tiger’s head, she paused.  Had she just heard a roar?  Again?  No, of course not, she shook her head at herself with a laugh that sounded far too forced in her own ear.  She had clearly been reading too many paranormal romance novels about shifters if she thought she was hearing one roar because she stroked a necklace.

Peering at the necklace, and then at the clock to confirm it was still before the moon rose, she said out loud to no one in particular, “No harm ever came from putting on a necklace,” and undid the simple clasp.  Fixing it around her neck, she took a step toward her bedroom to look at herself in the mirror on the back of her door, when her knees turned to jelly and her vision blurred.  Stumbling, she caught herself on the kitchen counter, barely stopping before she crashed to the carpet.  Her ears rang and her pulse raced as she gasped for air.  The thick scent of woods filled her nose as her vision tunneled and a dark forest loomed before her.  Her home faded around her as her body fell forward, not landing on the carpet, but rolling on dry grass.

 


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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A Midwesterner by birth, R.E. spent much of her childhood rewriting her favorite books to include herself as the main character. Later, she graduated on to writing her own books after “retiring” from her day job as a secretary to become a stay-at-home mom. When not playing with her kids, wrestling her dogs out the door, or cooking dinner for her family, you’ll find her typing furiously and growling obscenities to the characters on the screen.

www.rebutlerauthor.com

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