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Dream Weaver

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forbidden
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werewolves
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Blurb

Caroline "Carly" Waite is a Hunter's daughter. If only she knew it! Then, maybe she wouldn't have fallen for Kiernan Peters, werewolf of the Crescent Moon Pack. Kiernan knows she's his mate, and from a family of Hunters, but he's determined to have her. A silver bullet shot in the dark sends both back to the pack, who must now decide whether to accept or reject them. For, without Kiernan’s pack, there will be no way to survive the Hunters. Can Kiernan accept his place of Beta in the pack to protect them? Or are they doomed to be Hunters' prey?

Dream Weaver is created by M. Francis Hastings, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

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Chapter 1 : RenFest
Carly It was hot. That was what most people didn't get, and what surprised traveling vendors at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival. In summer, Minnesota was HOT. Not an "it's fifty degrees in Florida and now I need a coat" type of thing, but an "it's 95 degrees and you could swim in the humidity" hot. Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes, actually had more than 13,000 of them, and all of them were quite happy to add to the heavy moisture in the air. Carolyn "Carly" Waite of "Dream Weaver" was fanning herself with a hand wool carder, sweating in the shade of the booth she shared with her friend Dawn Price. Dawn was a weaver and was working at a large loom in the shade of the shop. Carly was leaning over the rustic counter, trying to attract customers to their stall. Carly spun and dyed yarn, but right now, the skeins were in the kettle soaking. She'd run out of fiber to spin, and carding at high noon on this particular day was heatstroke waiting to happen. It didn't help that they were in their garb—peasant-type clothes, complete with fitted bodices. Carly's breasts were nearly spilling out of the top, covered loosely by a white peasant blouse. Her long black hair was plaited into a braid down her back, and a crown of dried baby's breath completed the ensemble. Sweat beaded on her skin ran between her overflowing cleavage and also and down her back and legs. If the costumes weren't so thick, she'd look like a wet mop. At least she wasn't one of the characters who needed to be meandering out in the sun among the press of the first-day crowd. Then, the heavy costume might just have killed her. "How's it going, sis?" a teasing voice asked before her younger brother, Matthew, came into view down the dusty path. He leaned on the counter, giving Carly a wink and Dawn a taste of his come-on-and-date-me smile. "Same old, same old," Carly said, suppressing a smile as Dawn ignored her brother, per usual. "Another year, another heatwave. Global warming is real." "True," Matthew said. "But hey, when the icebergs melt, we'll finally have beachfront property." "Ha-ha," Carly replied. "So, what brings you in… shorts and a t-shirt… to our humble booth?" Matthew made a face. "You're never gonna get me in tights, sorry, sis." He slung a backpack off his shoulder. "Mom wanted me to give you this." He plunked a cooler down on the counter. "Ham sandwiches and Jell-O salad, just enough for two." He made big puppy eyes at her. "Oh, go get a turkey leg, you," Carly said. "You know Mom made them for Dawn and me." "Bring some salted nut rolls back while you're at it," Dawn chimed in from her loom. "You got it," Matthew said, perking up a bit now that Dawn had actually spoken to him. Both women watched Matthew disappear into the crowd, Carly envying his cool outfit, Dawn checking out other assets. Dawn gave a loud sigh. "Damn your brother is fine." "Then why won't you go out with him?" Carly asked. "It's the principle of the thing. If I wanted to be another notch on a bedpost, I'd still be with Eric," Dawn sniffed. Ah yes. The cheating ex-husband. Just seeing Dawn's harrowing experience with that asshole was enough to make Carly swear off love for the rest of her life. That and the stiff relationship her parents had with each other had turned Carly off the idea of happily ever after. She'd much rather sit at home and spin than deal with all the headache—and heartache—of a relationship. "Men take too much care and feeding," Carly agreed with a sigh. "That's right," Dawn said. "If I need something that needs cleaning up after and its ego stroked, I'll get a cat." Carly burst out laughing at that, "you have a cat." "I could always get another six before going head first stupid into another—" Dawn trailed off, something catching her eye. Carly turned around and found herself face-to-face with the most beautiful pair of amber eyes she had ever seen. "Oh," she said once she found her words again. "Hello. Can I help you?" "Yes," his deep voice rumbled, almost setting the counter to vibrating as he leaned across it. He sniffed the air and inclined his head, "I think you can." Kiernan Mate. That had been the drumbeat of Kiernan Peters' whole morning. Mate. Mate. MATE. Usually, Kiernan would be at the Wisconsin Renaissance Festival this time of year, but circumstances had conspired against him being ready for it, so he'd opted for the later-opening Minnesota equivalent. He had his tent. He had his woodworking wares. He had a vending spot. He had everything planned and prepared for the new venue, except for one major, unforeseen problem. Somehow, someway, this black-haired, green-eyed, porcelain-skinned beauty had activated his inner wolf with the oldest genetically ingrained imperative his people had. Mate! "Are you looking for yarn? Maybe a rug or a blanket? We've also got some nice table runners and..." Kiernan didn't catch the rest, basking in the sound of her voice rather than the words. When she paused, it took him a moment to realize she was asking a question. Her soft words made his wolf rollover with a sigh and beg to be petted. If it hadn't been for the morning's influx of customers, Kiernan would have been glued to this booth the moment he'd first scented her. As it was, the scent had gotten stronger and stronger until finally, at noon, Kiernan couldn't take it anymore. Though it was probably one of the peak times for customers to meander over to his tent, his wolf's mating call had gotten so overpowering that Kiernan felt lucky he hadn't shifted. Now, he saw why. She was sweating, pretty little rolling drops he longed to catch on his tongue. "Sir?" his mate asked. "Yes," Kiernan said, pulling his eyes from her cleavage back up to her face. His porcelain beauty was blushing. "Um... yarn?" she asked again. "Right," Kiernan said. She was normal, he could smell it, not a were-shifter of any kind. She also gave off a tang that made him frown. It brought back memories, bad ones. But he couldn't in his right mind believe that Fate would have given him a mate who was also a Hunter.

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