Mica

Romantic Geek Publishing

MICA (DRAGON HORDE #1) (MATING FEVER COLLECTION)

Copyright © 2016 Ronin Winters

E-book ISBN 978-1-938593-35-2

Publication Date: March 2016

Editor: Sara Lunsford

Copy Editor: Eilis Flynn

Cover Design: Croco Designs

To know when the next Ronin Winters book is released, please sign-up for her
MAILING LIST
.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Books by Ronin Winters

What is Mating Season/ Mating Fever?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Mating Season/Mating Fever – Books Released so Far

About the Author

New Releases List Sign-Up

Find Ronin on Social Media

• Facebook
  
• Newsletter
  

BOOKS BY RONIN WINTERS

The Mating Season

The mating moon is rising...

BLUE COLLAR WOLVES

Iron

Brick House

Steel

Bella’s Tease

Razor

Tank

Cage

Mating Fever

The mating moon has risen...

DRAGON HORDE

Mica

The Pleasure Chronicles

Sexy Sci-Fi about Warrior women and the Alpha Males who love them

Pleasure Satellite
–
To the Strongest goes Everything
…

Want to know the moment a New Book is Released? Sign-up!

RONIN WINTERS NEWSLETTER LIST!

Want to join fellow Shifter Romance Fans?

FACEBOOK FAN GROUP FOR THE MATING SEASON/

MATING FEVER!

What is The Mating Season/Mating Fever Collection?

The Mating Season/Mating Fever is a group project which began when six friends (who also happen to be Paranormal Romance Writers) got together and started talking about how it was interesting that authors could take the same premise but make such different stories around it. After coming up with a werewolf world (The Mating Season) they decided to each write their own particular take and release those stories simultaneously.

It was originally only supposed to be three stories each, but as what usually happens, more characters demanded their stories be told and the story universe grew, not only in terms of the werewolves, but to expand beyond what we originally imagined.

We began plotting different mythologies and different shifters (again, all while talking about how the spin changed with each writer.) And because we had so much fun doing it the first time with The Mating Season, we had to do it again – except, to differentiate this new project, we’re calling it Mating Fever.

We are proud and excited to have worked on this project together. I hope you enjoy my Dragons, and please don’t forget to check out how my friends deal with dragons and bears (and all the other secret goodness – oh my!) as well.

-
        
Ronin

Chapter One

“Don’t look now, but your lumberjack just came in.”

Using every ounce of restraint she’d ever built up, Sophie kept her eyes steadily in front of her, not looking up from the bakery case she was restocking and most certainly
not
breathing harder because of the man whose footsteps she could now hear coming her way.

She had more control than that. It took more than muscles…and tattoos…and those thick veins in his arms that some men had, the ones that ran from bicep to forearm and managed to look somehow mix scary motherfucker with hotter-than-
hell
-please-bend-me-over-the-nearest-chair-and-have-your-way-with-me…

“Sophie, you’re getting red, baby. Don’t be having a heart attack.”

Before Sophie could make the comeback about which worried Jo more – Sophie having a heart attack or the fact Jo would actually have to take on responsibility if that event took place – large booted feet stopped in front of the bakery case.

Leather boots connected to medium-blue denim, which covered muscled thighs Sophie wouldn’t be able to wrap her hands around, which led up to…

Sophie popped up like a jack-in-the-box, a bright smile that might be a shade too bright plastered on her face. “You’re later than usual,” she said, and
oh no
, was that the right thing to say? He was later, but with her saying it, did it make him think she was stalking his arrival times? Or did he take it as a shop owner knowing her customers?

Before her thoughts could delve too much further down that path, he gave that small smile, his dark blue eyes direct on her.

Sophie loved that smile, no two ways about it. It as easy to make up stories around it, a story which said that he didn’t smile much – not because he was sad, but because he was so reserved, taking everything in and constantly on alert – but somehow she was able to pull this small expression of happiness from him.

“The usual please,” he said, in that voice which had Jo placing a bet the man had gargled with gravel at some point in his life, and Sophie’s heart did its customary jump at the reminder that this man actually had a
usual
.

It was nothing fancy. A strong, dark macchiato and a turkey sandwich was what he’d ordered that first day he came in over a month ago, and he’d never deviated once from it, though he was almost a daily customer. But since she couldn’t conceive of always eating the same thing, a couple weeks ago she began to slip various pastries into his carryout bag. She never charged him, but since the man always tipped with a ten, she could afford to be generous with him as well.

And that
was
the reason she gave him the extra goodies, no matter what Jo said. So there.

Besides, it was an adventure, trying to figure out which items he liked. He never mentioned the extra goodie to say, but Sophie noticed that the day after he got the treats that fell on the more savory side, he tended to peruse the case for a few moments, and he looked down at the carryout bag as though he was eager to open it up and see what was inside.

Strange how these days savory baked goods were always available.

As she went about the task of getting his order together, Jo went to clear a few tables, leaving her alone behind the counter. Her mystery man cleared his throat before saying, “It’s busier in here than usual.”

Huh
, small talk. He’d never done that before. Keeping her voice even so that no hint of her internal squealing would be evident, Sophie replied, “The afternoon knitting group. You usually arrive before they get here.”

He glanced over as though to verify her words, and indeed, twelve pairs of eyes were locked on him, the older ladies of the group not-so-subtlety checking him out as the needles flew in their hands, appraising looks and yards of yarn left in their wake.

He shifted so his attention was now back on her as she worked on his drink. “They’re kind of scary.”

She leaned forward, speaking in a low tone that was totally so the ladies wouldn’t overhear and not because she was trying to flirt. “You should see them before they have their tea.”

He leaned closer as well, his gaze falling on her mouth for a half second before rising up to meet her own. “They’re that desperate for chamomile?”

“More like for the shot of whiskey they add.”

Then the unexpected. He threw his head back and laughed in a way she’d never imagined him capable of. He was always so stoic, and this…this was so out of character, and for a moment all internal thought was drowned out by that deep laugh and the underside of his exposed throat, that line which separated his beard from bare skin visible, and then all that existed was the desire to
lick
.

Before she could act on that impulse, Mrs. Reynolds came up. Mrs. Reynolds was a curmudgeon, set in her ways…okay, she was a bitch. But with the tea shop still so new, Sophie could not afford any negative reviews, and Mrs. Reynolds was the type to be vicious in destroying anything that displeased her, so the nasty comments were shrugged off and the service was still always exemplary. “Sophie, I need water and one of them fiber muffins of yours.”

Strange, Mrs. Reynolds was not one to do any work herself, usually preferring to have Sophie and Jo running back and forth for her innumerable demands. Then the mystery solved itself as Mrs. Reynolds asked, “How’s that diet of yours coming?”

Her face heated, and right now, looking at her lumberjack was impossible. She couldn’t bear to see the man’s blue eyes lit with sympathy, or second-hand embarrassment on her behalf.

The old woman continued on. “Too many conveniences, that’s the problem. It’s too easy for you today with your fast food and your computers. It was more work when I was younger. Of course, we also wouldn’t let ourselves get big. We knew boundaries. We knew when it was time to stop. No control anymore…”

“Yes, Mrs. Reynolds,” Sophie cut in, handing her the items. “Anything else I can get you?”

It looked as if the old woman was struggling to come up with something, some excuse so she could continue to stay, but she turned and left without another word.

His arrival was the highlight of her day, but right now, Sophie wanted him gone, because there was no way she could even begin to try to forget that exchange while he was here. She went back to getting his order ready with no more interaction, handing it to him and ignoring his attempt to get her to look at him as he paid. “Have a good day,” and hopefully the smile she had on her face as she said it didn’t look as forced as it felt.

The chime signaled he’d left, and she went back to cleaning. It was her own fault. She was the one who had been getting ridiculous, fawning over a good customer like a celebrity crush. She needed to leave the poor man alone and stop acting like an idiot. He’d been kind to humor her, but it was unfair that she’d been acting up around him.

Jo came back after the man went out of the store, the knitting group no longer looking over. “He laughed? I about fell over.”

Not now. She couldn’t handle any talk right now. “Jo, leave the guy alone.”

“What? What happened?” Jo’s attention was immediately on her, and she halted Sophie when she made a move to go into the back. “Did he say something to you?”

“
No
. Not like that. It’s just…wrong. It’s not fair to be talking about him like we’ve been.”

Jo looked confused, but what would Jo know about it? Jo was tomboy gorgeous, and had her pick of men or women. Jo could never understand how stupid it was for someone like Sophie to imagine herself with someone like
him
.

There came a point when the fantasy went from a cute way to spend a couple hours daydreaming to become a reminder how
pathetic
such thoughts were.

She was a grown-up, an entrepreneur with commitments and responsibilities.

She was also a realist. She’d lived in this world for twenty-eight years, and she knew how it worked. Girls like her didn’t end up with guys like him.

It was time to stop.