I’ll admit I had no business crying over my dumpster fire life while driving through a narrow pass in the Canadian Great Claw Mountains. But in all fairness, that snow drift came out of nowhere.

One moment, I was losing consciousness, pretty sure I was going to die. The next, I woke up inside a luxurious cave home, lying on a cozy den nest—surrounded by three insanely hot bears: a sweet one who smells like a cinnamon roll, a clever one with wicked eyes, and a glaring one with a serious case of resting thundercloud face.

They all want me to mate with them. Now. And stay with them through Christmas and beyond.

Maybe I really did die in that car accident.

This can’t be real… can it? I left everything behind for a fresh start in Vancouver after a breakup that nearly broke me. So why does staying with three bears I just met feel like a dream possibility?

What would you do? Asking for a friend.

Okay, okay, I'll admit it—I'm the worst Wolfennite ever.

I'm not truly one of the devout, bonneted brides who traveled to my sister's wedding in Scotland hoping to find a pious mate in her adopted kingdom pack. Honestly, I only signed up for the free plane ticket and a place to lay low until I could sneak off and start the academic life I've been secretly planning for years.

But my nerdy new life plans are shattered when I—along with all the other potential Wolfennite brides—get kidnapped by our Scottish hosts' oldest and bitterest enemies: the Irish Wolves.

These ruthless (and super not pious) wolves are led by two Irish kings whose real names no one is allowed to know. The Wild King acts like an animal, sniffing at me and whispering filthy things every time we meet. The Sea King is covered in Viking tattoos—and clearly hiding something behind his unfairly devastating smile.

Neither of them care that they've snatched me from the life I had planned. According to them, I'm their prophesied queen, destined to unite the three Irish kingdoms.

Wait, did they say three???

Look, I might not be devout, but I'm completely innocent. So, you won't believe what happens when I meet the third Irish King…

The Ruthless Magnate Will See You Now

Someone I love did a truly terrible thing, and I'm working three jobs on top of my one as a showgirl at the Benton Las Vegas Grand to make up for it before anyone finds out—too late.

Cole Benton III, the ruthless CEO of the Benton Worldwide hotel empire, calls me into his glass office overlooking the Vegas skyline, demanding to know why I stole all the money from one of his grandmother's charity funds.

I can't tell him that.

“You are aware that I could have you fired, arrested, or worse,” he asks, his voice like black ice. Clearly dangerous.

Gulp. There's a reason everyone calls him Triple Ice behind his back, and it goes way beyond the three Roman numerals behind his name. Rumor has it that he's BFFs with the leader of a local cartel and that he's not afraid to call him for favors.

But I can't answer—not if it means throwing the real thief under his “or worse.”

I keep my mouth clamped closed.

And Triple Ice stares at me, his malevolent ice-chip eyes glittering with contempt.

Then he opens his desk drawer and pulls out…. a wedding ring???

Wait. What?!