Friday, March 27, 2015

Leah's Triplet Mates by Cara Adams


Leah Crawford needs to reclaim her father’s stamp albums from Mr. Lutterworth, a con man. Panther shape-shifters Saxon, Hardy, and Bram Stewart are planning to break into that house, too, and she’s in their way. The last thing they need is a feisty amateur getting in the way of professionals like them. Leah’s family badly needs the money selling her father’s stamp albums will bring them. She doesn’t plan to let anyone stop her from retrieving her property, not even if there are three of them, all identical, big, strong, black haired, and delicious looking.

When catching her, tying her up, and locking her in the trunk of their car doesn’t stop Leah for very long, the three men have to think of other ways of attracting her attention. Maybe if they chained her up in their dungeon, naked, that might work?


In and out, Leah. In the window, into the study, grab the stamp albums and get the fuck out of here.

She forced herself to stand still long enough to catch her breath and steady her inhalations, and then tiptoed to the bathroom door. As her sisters had promised the house was still and silent. The thieving fucktard and his wife were supposed to be in DC for a few days attending some important party or other and from the silence surrounding her Leah hoped like hell her sisters’ information was accurate.

She walked silently out of the bathroom—leaving the door open for a faster exit—and down the hallway to the rear corner of the house where the fucktard’s study was supposed to be. The door was open and she peeked in, but the curtains were closed, the light off, and the room silent.

Much to her relief the entire house felt empty, which was what she was hoping and praying was the truth.

Praying. Oh yes. Her father would insist she pray.

Please God, help me get these stamp albums. You know they don’t belong to the f—Mr. Lutterworth. 

Thank you. Amen.

Leah looked all around the architraves and door jamb, but saw no signs of an alarm so stepped into the room ready to run if she was wrong. There was no sound so she hurried across to the huge wooden desk. It was piled high with files and papers. She rested her head on the desk making sure only the hood touched the wood, not her actual skin, and sighted up and down each pile looking for the distinctive dark blue fabric of her father’s stamp albums. Not in the three piles she could see from here. Leah moved around the desk to the next side and repeated her actions. Then the third side. Still no.

Fuck! Where else might they be? Leah wanted to start checking the bookcases but she forced herself to look at the piles of papers and files on the final quarter of the table, and there they were, only three or four items from the top of the pile.

Carefully she pulled a mesh bag from her back pocket and lifted the top items from the relevant pile onto the desk chair. She slid her father’s stamp albums into the bag, replaced the files, carefully lining them up with the stack she’d taken the stamp albums from, and checked she hadn’t moved the chair at all.

Leah slid her arms through the straps of the mesh bag, turning it into a sort of backpack, and tiptoed from the room. She hurried down the hallway and into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Climbing out of the window was more difficult than getting in, because she couldn’t see the fucking drainpipe and had to reach for it with her foot, shove her foot behind it, then slide most of the way out of the window, grip the pipe with one hand and close the window with the other.

Finally she managed it. The back of her sweater was damp with sweat dripping down her spine, and she hoped it wouldn’t hurt the fabric binding of the stamp albums. But at least she had them so it was all good.

Leah slid down the pipe, jumped onto the grass, raced across the backyard as fast as she could, and vaulted up the fence.

In her desire to get the hell out of there she forgot to look over the fence before she jumped, and when she landed on the ground it was to see a big, dark-haired man staring at her.


Leah took to her heels, running with all the speed the adrenaline rush of fear had given her. She wasn’t stupid enough to head back to her car, sprinting left at the end of the street instead of right, and going as fast as she could toward the mall, which was the only place she could think of to lose the man.

She didn’t want to look behind her as she knew that would slow her down, but she thought she could hear him running. He wasn’t stomping or panting or anything that would definitely prove he was there, but the area between her sweaty shoulders itched with the knowledge the man was after her.

She raced around another corner and up ahead of her were two more large men standing, staring at her. Damn! He must have phoned a friend. Two friends.

Leah cut across the road, and bolted toward a side street, but the men moved damn fast and she was starting to tire. She wasn’t a distance runner or a sprinter unfortunately.

And then two strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist tugging her backward, and she would have fallen if not for his tight hold of her.

Desperately she wiggled in his grasp. She was so close to retrieving her father’s stamp albums. There was no way she was letting this man take them from her. The fucktard had already stolen them once.

The big man gripped her arms and turned her to face him. Instantly she slammed her knee with all her strength up and into his family jewels.

He let go of her and dropped to his knees but she was already running back the way she’d come.

Unfortunately she didn’t get far. Another man grabbed her from behind and this time something crashed into her head and the world went black.

Well fuuuuuck.

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Cara Adams
Romance, menage, BDSM, and shapeshifters: all in the one book.

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