Jorge
When I left Florida, I figured I’d be a lone shifter. It’s not ideal. I am a panther shifter, and cats like to live in prides, but my family is dead, and my pack let me down. Well, maybe I let them down too. Broken Arrow, Montana, is a long way from home, but I got a job cooking at the local diner and the Devil’s Pack Motorcycle Club hasn’t asked me to leave. I call that a win, considering how my life has been going lately. All I have to do is forget the past and stay out of trouble, but when Daile walks into the diner and asks if she can put her fliers in the window, all bets are off. I’d let this woman put anything she wants anywhere she wants. She’s not a shifter, so trouble, here I come.
Daile
Moving from one small town to another isn’t too much of an adjustment. I like Broken Arrow and the sound of motorcycles when the club rides through. I came here to get away from heartbreak, so I have no business checking out the tall, dark, and dangerous cook. As soon as he catches me staring, I turn my head. I’m just going to find a way to make a living selling my art and not get involved with anyone. That’s my plan, except those sexy eyes and the mysterious way he slinks through town at night might be enough to steer me off course.
