by Grace Goodwin
May 14th 2020
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Warlord Wulf thought nothing could be worse than being tortured and contaminated by the Hive. That was before he’s ordered to transport to Earth and represent The Colony in an unfamiliar horror… a human reality show. The Bachelor Beast is the hottest new program on Earth, but being set up with two dozen clingy females is not his idea of a good time. When his Beast refuses to show the slightest interest in any of the show’s potential mates, he knows he must choose one or die due to his raging mating fever.
His Beast prefers execution to claiming anyone but his true mate. Wulf is resigned to his fate, a one-way trip to Atlan, a prison cell and execution. It is the only honorable thing left to do.
Until one glance, one sweet, feminine scent lingering in the air and his beast rages for a female who is not supposed to be his.
But try telling that to his Beast when his entire body transforms on live television and one simple word thunders from his lips…MINE.
99¢ for a limited time only!
BACHELOR BEAST by Grace Goodwin.
Excerpt
I took a step closer, careful of the thick cords across the floor while remaining behind the cameras. Wulf’s hands gripped the arms of his chair as if they were keeping him from flying away. Maybe because I looked at people’s faces all the time, I could often tell what they were feeling, or maybe Wulf was equally bad at hiding his emotions.
I’d lusted after him. Drooled over him. Dreamed of him. I hadn’t really thought of the toll this show was taking on him. Had he truly volunteered for this? He looked about as enthused to be sitting here as someone in the waiting room before a colonoscopy. Was what Chet had said true? Would he die if he didn’t pick Genevieve or Willow? Was he really going to be executed?
Was his life so bad that he’d choose execution over the women? Not once in the three weeks of taping had Chet asked him what he was looking for in a mate. Everyone assumed, including me, that Wulf was whittling down the ladies to his favorites, to the one he’d give his cuffs.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
The show dragged on, as they had a one-hour time slot, with plenty of commercial breaks to heighten the anticipation. I was ready to scream by the time Chet stopped his inane questions and finally got down to the business at hand. The choice. Wulf’s choice.
“It’s finally time. Genevieve, Willow…” Chet spoke and the ladies took a step closer. The lights dimmed except for a focused beam on the gleaming cuffs in the glass case.
I moved around another camera to be as close as I could but remain behind the scenes. We were all in shadows, the large set being lit only by the stage.
“Warlord Wulf. It is time.”
Wulf slowly rose to his feet.
“Who is going to be your bride? Genevieve or Willow?”
Mary, a wardrobe tech, moved to stand beside me but bumped my shoulder, pushing me forward. I gasped and stopped my forward momentum out of sheer panic. I didn’t get in the way, but my heart was in my throat. Mary’s hand settled on my shoulder, and she mouthed a sorry along with a small smile.
I looked back at the stage, at what I’d been waiting for since the first episode. But Wulf wasn’t looking at the final contestants. He was looking at me.
Me.
Oh. My. God.
Had I gotten in front of the camera? Had I distracted Wulf at a time like this? Oh shit, I was going to be fired. I took a small step back, but Mary stopped me.
Genevieve turned to look my way. Willow narrowed her eyes in my direction as if trying to peer into the shadows. Chet even broke his perfect facade to glance past the cameras.
At me. Although I wasn’t sure if they could actually see me, or if they were trying to determine what held Wulf’s attention.
A rumbling came from the stage. Chet, Genevieve and Willow whipped their gazes back toward Wulf. Then came a growl that practically made the floor shake. I felt it deep inside me and I gasped.
Wulf’s eyes were still on me, and I couldn’t look away. Not when he was growing. Actually growing. The audience gasped, murmured. Backstage whispering kicked in. Chet stepped back. Genevieve took hold of Willow’s hand, and their eyes widened.
The tuxedo jacket ripped at the seams on Wulf’s body. He wasn’t seven feet of alien any longer. He had to be eight feet and all beast. Angled features, ragged breathing, taut muscles. A gaze laser-sharp. Intense, as if he was ready to pounce.
“Mine.” The one word was low and deep, and it silenced the entire set.
I took a step closer, careful of the thick cords across the floor while remaining behind the cameras. Wulf’s hands gripped the arms of his chair as if they were keeping him from flying away. Maybe because I looked at people’s faces all the time, I could often tell what they were feeling, or maybe Wulf was equally bad at hiding his emotions.
I’d lusted after him. Drooled over him. Dreamed of him. I hadn’t really thought of the toll this show was taking on him. Had he truly volunteered for this? He looked about as enthused to be sitting here as someone in the waiting room before a colonoscopy. Was what Chet had said true? Would he die if he didn’t pick Genevieve or Willow? Was he really going to be executed?
Was his life so bad that he’d choose execution over the women? Not once in the three weeks of taping had Chet asked him what he was looking for in a mate. Everyone assumed, including me, that Wulf was whittling down the ladies to his favorites, to the one he’d give his cuffs.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
The show dragged on, as they had a one-hour time slot, with plenty of commercial breaks to heighten the anticipation. I was ready to scream by the time Chet stopped his inane questions and finally got down to the business at hand. The choice. Wulf’s choice.
“It’s finally time. Genevieve, Willow…” Chet spoke and the ladies took a step closer. The lights dimmed except for a focused beam on the gleaming cuffs in the glass case.
I moved around another camera to be as close as I could but remain behind the scenes. We were all in shadows, the large set being lit only by the stage.
“Warlord Wulf. It is time.”
Wulf slowly rose to his feet.
“Who is going to be your bride? Genevieve or Willow?”
Mary, a wardrobe tech, moved to stand beside me but bumped my shoulder, pushing me forward. I gasped and stopped my forward momentum out of sheer panic. I didn’t get in the way, but my heart was in my throat. Mary’s hand settled on my shoulder, and she mouthed a sorry along with a small smile.
I looked back at the stage, at what I’d been waiting for since the first episode. But Wulf wasn’t looking at the final contestants. He was looking at me.
Me.
Oh. My. God.
Had I gotten in front of the camera? Had I distracted Wulf at a time like this? Oh shit, I was going to be fired. I took a small step back, but Mary stopped me.
Genevieve turned to look my way. Willow narrowed her eyes in my direction as if trying to peer into the shadows. Chet even broke his perfect facade to glance past the cameras.
At me. Although I wasn’t sure if they could actually see me, or if they were trying to determine what held Wulf’s attention.
A rumbling came from the stage. Chet, Genevieve and Willow whipped their gazes back toward Wulf. Then came a growl that practically made the floor shake. I felt it deep inside me and I gasped.
Wulf’s eyes were still on me, and I couldn’t look away. Not when he was growing. Actually growing. The audience gasped, murmured. Backstage whispering kicked in. Chet stepped back. Genevieve took hold of Willow’s hand, and their eyes widened.
The tuxedo jacket ripped at the seams on Wulf’s body. He wasn’t seven feet of alien any longer. He had to be eight feet and all beast. Angled features, ragged breathing, taut muscles. A gaze laser-sharp. Intense, as if he was ready to pounce.
“Mine.” The one word was low and deep, and it silenced the entire set.
Find out what happens to Olivia and her beast in
BACHELOR BEAST by Grace Goodwin.
Read now!
About the Author:
Grace Goodwin is a USA Today and international bestselling author of Sci-Fi and Paranormal romance with nearly one million books sold. Grace's titles are available worldwide in multiple languages in ebook, print and audio formats. Two best friends, one left-brained, the other right-brained, make up the award-winning writing duo that is Grace Goodwin. They are both mothers, escape room enthusiasts, avid readers and intrepid defenders of their preferred beverages. (There may or may not be an ongoing tea vs. coffee war occurring during their daily communications.) Grace loves to hear from readers.
Great excerpt!
ReplyDelete