Alpha Wolf. Linda O. Johnston

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      About the Author

      LINDA O. JOHNSTON first made her appearance in print in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and went on to win the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year. Now, several published short stories and novels later, Linda is recognized for her outstanding work in the romance genre.

      A practicing attorney, Linda juggles her busy schedule between mornings of writing briefs, contracts and other legalese, and afternoons of creating memorable tales of the paranormal, time travel, mystery, and contemporary and romantic suspense. Armed with an undergraduate degree in journalism with an advertising emphasis from Pennsylvania State University, Linda began her versatile writing career running a small newspaper, then working in advertising and public relations and later obtaining her J.D. degree from Duquesne University School of Law in Pittsburgh.

      Linda belongs to Sisters in Crime and is actively involved with Romance Writers of America, participating in the Los Angeles, Orange County and Western Pennsylvania chapters. She lives near Universal Studios, Hollywood, with her husband, two sons and two cavalier King Charles spaniels.

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      Many thanks to my delightful editor, Allison Lyons—and may she enjoy editing many more Nocturnes!

      Lots of love to Dr Donald Zangwill, my stepfather, and to Carol Boll, who’s there for him.

      And, as always, with love to my husband, Fred.

      Dear Reader,

      I am an admitted animal aficionado. That’s why I’ve always wondered “what if” about werewolves. What if people really had the ability to change into animals, and vice versa? What if they decided not to make such a gift into a horror story, but to use it for good?

      That was the origin of Alpha Wolf. It’s the story of a lady veterinarian (my own childhood dream) who meets a hunky military man who challenges everything she has believed about science and anatomy—and love.

      I hope you enjoy it! Please come visit me at my website www.LindaOJohnston.com. Oh, and I just happen to blog about pets at www.KillerHobbies.blogspot.com. See you there!

       Linda O. Johnston

      Chapter One

       Crack!

      Dr. Melanie Harding’s hands jerked. Seated at her scuffed wooden desk, she nearly dropped the financial statement she’d been studying—the first month’s figures for her new veterinary practice.

      Had that been a gunshot?

      From down the hall, dogs started barking—one shrill and high, the others gruff and deep. The outside noise had clearly disturbed some of the patients kept overnight for observation. It hadn’t been her imagination.

      Not that she’d really thought so.

      She glanced across her compact office toward the far window. The sound had come from that direction.

      She couldn’t see much outside from here. The moonlight, although bright, didn’t do much to illuminate the yard or, beyond it, the thick woods bordering the town of Mary Glen.

      Sure, this wasn’t Beverly Hills, where Melanie had come from, but it was still a civilized area, despite its somewhat remote location on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. People didn’t just go around hunting here at night—did they? Too dangerous to people, let alone any defenseless animals that might be their prey.

      Melanie stood, shoving her fists into the pockets of the white lab coat she still wore, resisting the urge to race out and yell at whoever was shooting. Not that she was likely to see who it was. And if the fool was still there, any movement she might make could turn her into a target.

      Besides, maybe it wasn’t a hunter.

      Maybe it was something else. Something more sinister—like what had happened to her predecessor vet.

      Despite her uneasiness, she felt compelled to glance out there. See if she could figure out what was going on.

      Without being foolish, though. It was late, after ten o’clock, and except for her hospitalized patients she was alone here. She crossed to the open office door and flicked the switch on the beige wall beside it, turning off the overhead light. That way, she wouldn’t be back-lighted as she stood by the window.

      She edged toward the glass, stood cautiously sideways behind its frame, and looked out.

      The area behind her clinic was fenced in, a place where dogs could be let out for exercise and evacuation. The surface was concrete—not as comfortable on tender paws as grass, but easier to keep clean.

      The СКАЧАТЬ