Bloodmoon Wars Box Set

Description

Bloodmoon Wars Box Set – Mychael Black

All eight Bloodmoon Wars stories in one volume! Join Cole Thorne and his pack as they handle rival wolf packs, rescue their omegas, and set out to build their family into a force to be reckoned with.

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Print:
Amazon

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EXCERPT from Cole:

Okay, one-night stands? So not his thing. Still, Elliot figured it was the most he was going to get right now, at least until he managed to actually get to know some people around town. He sipped at his beer, reminding himself that two was his limit. He wanted to be coherent should he get lucky. Though, by the looks of things so far, it wasn’t happening. He was just about to test the bar’s bathroom, out of sheer desperation, when a new face appeared almost out of nowhere from behind the bar.

Hello, Mr. Tall, Tattooed, and Handsome.

Elliot just barely remembered his manners and picked his jaw up off the floor. A man could fucking come just by watching the muscles in that ripped body move. He’d never been one for the buffed type, but this was… Fuck, that wasn’t a man. That was a god. A god with dark brown hair, a body that wouldn’t quit, well-trimmed facial hair, and dark eyes that were staring right the fuck at him.

Elliot swallowed, ass glued to his seat as Mr. Right-the-Fuck-Now headed toward him. Before he realized it, Elliot was looking up into those dark eyes.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” Long fingers were scissored around the neck of a fresh beer bottle he’d snagged while passing behind the bartender, and the man’s smile held a touch of wickedness that sent an ungodly thrill through Elliot’s entire body.

“I—“ Elliot cleared his throat and tried again. “I just got here from Boston.”

“Nicholas,” the man said, extending his other hand.

“Elliot.” He shook Nicholas’ hand and tried to ignore the visions parading through his head of those calloused fingers sliding deep inside him. He barely managed to suppress a shiver.

“Want a drink?” Nicholas lifted his own bottle to his lips and tipped it back. All Elliot wanted at that moment was to lick a long line up the man’s neck.

“I’m done for the night, actually,” he said. He started to ask if Nicholas wanted to dance, but it seemed the man had the same idea.

Nicholas didn’t ask, though. He just set his bottle down, grabbed Elliot’s hand, and tugged him up against acres of tattooed muscles wrapped in denim and cotton. An almost overwhelming scent of deep woods, beer, and a hint of motor oil wrapped itself around Elliot’s psyche.

“Dance with me.”