Page 1 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Bride

Prologue - Jane

I’m a wallflower by nature, so it’s no surprise that Piper finds me in the corner of the room like a maiden at her first ball. Only instead of dancing in dizzying circles, I’m sipping beer and eating cookies, my two favorite activities.

I’m working on being sociable, but as an introvert, it’s hard. With my social battery running low and being in a room full of mostly strangers, I need a recharge, which means I need my room and my bed.

“You need to mingle, Jane,” Piper says, sliding up beside me. “You know how important it is to Ram that we make the shifters from Green Lake feel welcome.”

“I am making them feel welcome,” I say, looking up and gesturing toward the table. A three-by-four-foot array of desserts sits untouched in the middle of the room, filled with different treats that took me weeks to master. They are the showpiece of this little soiree. “I show my hospitality in my baking.”

Besides, it’s not my fault our alpha has decided on this new little tradition, and it’s not like my input was ever asked for. If Ram had bothered to solicit my opinion, I might have told him I thought it was a bad idea. He wants our packs to get closer, learn from each other, solidify our ties, and all that. Sure. Makes perfect sense. But there have to be easier ways to do that than sending a pack of strangers here for two months.

The Green Lake Pack will just mix with ours, feel what we feel, and experience what we experience, and then next year, we will go there and do the same. That sounds incredibly simple and easy, but will it really work? I doubt it.

We’re very different people than these outsiders. They’re much more traditional and stuck in the old ways. They’re not bad, but they are different, and it feels a bit like adding apple juice to orange juice. Both taste good on their own, but the combination is strange.

But hey, he’s the alpha, and as far as leaders go, he’s not so bad. So, if he wants to make changes, that’s his prerogative.

“That won’t make up for the lack of conversing and interacting you’ve been doing tonight,” Piper chides me. “You can’t learn about my new family if you don’t talk to them.”

“Sure I can. You’re technically one of them since you married their beta. I can learn all I want from you.” I flash her a smile and lift my cup, which is nearly empty. Again.

She rolls her eyes and gives me that look. The one that says,Stop being a moron and join the world already. The one that has always made me laugh since we were pups. If not for Piper and her parents, I would have had a much different life. They did for me what I could not do for myself—take care of me. They took me in and gave me everything after my parents passed away. They were the ones who raised me, loved me, gave me everything I needed, and I owe everything to them. So when Piper asks something of me, it would take someone with a bigger backbone than me to refuse her.

I groan, knowing defeat is inevitable. “Fine.”

“Great! I need to get back to Rafe. Just go talk to whoever looks approachable. It’ll be fine.”

As she walks away, I finish my beer and wonder who the hell is approachable. The Wolf’s Den, our pack’s bar, is filled to capacity with shifters tonight. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re breaking some sort of fire code for how many people are packedin here, but not one of them looks approachable. A large, mostly male crowd tends to intimidate me.

You can do this. It’s not that scary. Look at them. They’re probably going through the same thing you are right now. Actually, it’s worse for them. They’re new here. They don’t know anybody. You can make them feel welcome. And at the very least, you can talk to a few of them and pass the time. And who knows, you might actually make a friend.

The thought is a pleasant one. My whole life, I’ve relied on Piper to be my only friend, and since she went off and got married and mated with Rafe, I’ve felt a bit abandoned. That’s harsh, I know, but it’s like the only friend I have ever had just… faded. I have gotten a bit closer to another female shifter in Stardust Hollow named Sonya, but she had to work tonight and didn’t make it, so now I’m really on my own.

All right. Deep breath. Do it. Come on. Stop being a coward.

“You look awfully deep in thought, considering you’re at a party.”

At the sound of the husky voice, I look up from my cup. A small squeak of surprise escapes my lips. Blinking rapidly, I stare at the handsome stranger in front of me. He’s big with broad shoulders. His blond hair is cut short, and a rough, raspy five o’clock shadow frames his jaw. A quick glance at his arms, and I see they’re covered in scars and tattoos crisscrossing across the tan skin like ribbons. And then there’s his eyes. His honey-brown eyes are staring directly at me, observing and waiting.

“I… uh…” Lamely, I hold up my beer. “Beer?”

Smooth. Really smooth.

The stranger laughs and moves around the table, his long legs eating up the space in an instant. He pauses next to the table of desserts and looks the display over. There must be nearly every kind of cookie and bar known to mankind, from double chocolate to oatmeal raisin to the gooey s’mores cookies that barely made it through transport.

My love for those sugary delights is a double-edged sword. On the positive side, having a wide variety of baked goods means the crowds go nuts. On the not-so-positive side, my waistline goes up a size or two, and I’m already curvy to begin with.

The thought makes me tug on my white blouse, pulling the bottom of it away from my body and letting it billow out. As though that will do any good. It’s not the clothes, it’s just me. Or my hips, or whatever.

The stranger selects a blondie and takes a bite, and his expression gets even warmer. “Damn. This is amazing. It’s chewy.”

“Coconut flour,” I explain, finding a smile growing on my face, an automatic response to making someone happy with my baking. “The texture and the grain are different, but it holds up.”

He holds up what remains of his snack and grins. “You made these? All of them?”

“Uh, yeah. But it’s nothing.” I shrug and push my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “I have to contribute in my own way.”

The stranger lifts his chin toward my cookie-laden table. “Better than my contribution. All I did was supply the karaoke machine.”

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