bonnie vanak


Werewolves of Montana Mating Mini #5


A Dragon Story

After spending 15 years as a celibate dragon, Sebastian Kane finds his desire ignited on his latest assignment for the Silver Wizard: preparing a curvy college graduate for her first shift into dragon. Problem is, Skylar Moore thinks she's human. Although she thinks Sebastian is a smokin' hot hunk who ignites her libido, the idea of her being a fanged, fire-breathing dragon is a little too much to take, even with a shot or ten of Tequila from the bar where she works.

Not only is Skylar a dragon, she's a rare Jewel, whose scales will be real diamonds. Skylar is the missing princess of a dragon clan and it's Sebastian's job to return her safely back to her people. There's a pack of greedy hyenas howling to kill her so they can get rich from selling her scales. Sebastian has his hands full training this pretty dragon, and keeping her safe from those who would harm her, while fighting the temptation to call her his own.



Excerpt (Warning: This is a romance novel containing explicit sex and language. Not intended for anyone under the age of 18)

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(copyright 2015 by Bonnie Vanak)

The dragons were getting drunk on spiced rum, and they looked like they could spit fire.

Skylar Moore wiped spilt beer off the counter and kept an eye on the bikers. Working Saturday nights at the Fire Song Tavern was never fun, but when the dragons showed up, there was always a chance for trouble because they looked big, bad and intimidating.

Occupying three corner tables were members of the Dragon Lords motorcycle club. They looked out of place in this upscale beach bar with its wealthy clientele who drove BMWs, Mercedes and other luxury cars. And the dragons liked playing wailing country music that irritated the other customers. Tonight, the dragons were too intent on drinking and talking to bother with the antique juke in the corner.

Business bustled at the bar, one of the most popular in Hibiscus, Florida. She and Cass, the other bartender, ran back and forth fetching drinks. With the comfortable chairs arranged in groups, big fluffy pillows and soft lighting, the Fire Song catered to trust fund babies and professionals whose yearly salary could finance her next two years of college.

She earned good tips, enough to pay rent on the studio apartment and even make payments on her student loan, but the tavern was hardly a place to make friends. Or date.

Emotion tightened her throat. Ever since losing her parents four years ago, she’d felt so alone. Her social life was non-existent. Working six nights a week until closing left her little time for anything other than sleep and running errands. And lately she felt as if she didn’t fit in and was waiting for…

What? For her life to begin? Skylar didn’t plan to bartend forever, but it paid the bills and she still owed money from burying her mom and dad.

She had no friends, except for Cass, who was engaged. Her coworkers were older and married, with lives of their own. And the bar’s patrons? Forget it. The twenty- to thirty- something guys never glanced at her, except to snap their fingers to order another craft beer, microbrew or shot of Patron, and show their gushing girlfriends how they could hold their liquor.

No one looked at her…wait. That guy at the bar was looking.

Sipping a tall glass of dark ale, he had black curls that spilled down to the collar of his gray polo shirt. His angular features and burning blue eyes seared her with intensity and his day beard made him look dark and dangerous. Softening the severity was a distinct dimple in his right cheek, plus the curve of his sinfully full mouth and the long sweep of his dark lashes. Gorgeous. Almost too gorgeous to be real.

Skylar’s breath hitched. Something about him tugged at her deep inside. Dreamboat had a streak of gray, a wide ribbon of silver threading through his raven curls. Too young to be prematurely gray, right? She placed his age around 24, slightly older than her.

Strong, broad shoulders, an intriguing silver tattoo that curved up his neck down to his right shoulder… was that a dragon?

Skylar’s stomach tightened as she stole a peek. Oh yeah.

He lifted his mug to his mouth, drank and then licked his lips. Skylar’s heart lurched in sudden sympathy. His right pinkie was nothing more than a stub. Amputee. She wondered how he’d lost it.

Dreamboat turned to the girl on his left, who had placed a proprietary hand on his arm. Disappointed, Skylar turned away. She couldn’t stand a chance against the slender women who flocked here in their trendy clothing, cute shoes and designer clutch purses that could barely hold a tampon.

Sexy, wealthy men never asked her out. They found her too serious, too tall.

Too fat. She didn’t care. No way would she sacrifice chocolate ice cream for rabbit food. The trust fund babies could have the carrots and lettuce leaves.

She scurried to the back room to bring back another bottle of rum, pausing to scratch the redness on her left arm. The rash had begun last night. She’d applied an ointment and it felt better, until she showed up for work. It seemed to grow even itchier when the bikers walked into the bar. This morning, it had been uglier, almost scaly.

Must be a nervous reaction. Work had been insanely busy this week. Between the rash on her arm and the odd crimson marking that had appeared on her shoulder a week ago, she hoped she didn’t have some dreaded disease.

After stocking the bar, she glanced around to see who needed refills. Dreamboat beckoned to her. She hurried over.

“Another Guinness, please. Put it on my tab.”

His deep voice rubbed against her like velvet. Skylar shivered with awareness.

“Do you want a head on it?”

His smile made her insides clench with hot need. “I’ll take it however you want to give it to me.”


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