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    Chasing The Night: Big Easy Shifters, #3
    Chasing The Night: Big Easy Shifters, #3
    Chasing The Night: Big Easy Shifters, #3
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Chasing The Night: Big Easy Shifters, #3

    By Abby Knox

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    About this ebook

    Part three of the Big Easy Shifters

    By Abby Knox

     

    The morning after …

    Chastity was on the prowl at her cousin's bachelorette party, bound and determined to finally lose her virginity. Mission accomplished, probably, but she doesn't remember much about the main event. Now, on the hunt for coffee and carbs, the de-flowered debutante's walk of shame has her missing her mystery man at every turn.

     

    Gavin wakes up naked and alone in the woods, with vague clues and fuzzy memories of the one-night stand that unfolded after his best friend's bachelor party. But this wolf does not do one-night stands. He's determined to find this perfect woman who rocked his world, and claim her for his own.

     

    Chasing The Night is the third installment in the updated and revised Big Easy Shifters series (formerly titled Her Big Easy Wedding). However, it is not critical to read these stories in order. Although most of the action takes place before, during and after the wedding of the couple in Taking the Belle,  each title in the series is a complete story about one couple. These titles are fun, quick reads full of heat, obsessed mates, strong-willed debutants, rich daddies, claws, fangs, and happy endings!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthor Abby Knox, LLC
    Release dateAug 22, 2022
    ISBN9798201328757
    Chasing The Night: Big Easy Shifters, #3
    Author

    Abby Knox

    Abby Knox writes feel-good, high-heat romance that she herself would want to read. Readers have described her stories as quirky, sexy, adorable, and hilarious. All of that adds up to Abby’s overall goal in life: to be kind and to have fun! Abby’s favorite tropes include: Forced proximity, opposites attract, grumpy/sunshine, age gap, boss/employee, fated mates/insta-love, and more. Abby is heavily influenced by Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gilmore Girls, and LOST. But don't worry, she won’t ever make you suffer like Luke & Lorelai. If any or all of that connects with you, then you came to the right place.

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      Book preview

      Chasing The Night - Abby Knox

      CHAPTER ONE

      Chastity, 8:30 a.m.

      The bride’s cousin from Baton Rouge was having a rough morning.

      Chastity DuChamp opened one sleep-crusty eye. She shouldn’t have done that. The sunlight streaming through the blinds instantly seared right through her eyeballs and into the back of her skull.

      Whenever she visited her cousin Rosemary in New Orleans and slept overnight in one of the many guest rooms overlooking the lake, she always woke with a slight bit of confusion over where she was, at first. But that feeling would dissipate in a few seconds as wakefulness took hold. There was always the lovely four-poster bed and a huge window seat with plush pillows and blankets. She would often be awakened with the aroma of coffee and fresh beignets made by Aunt Betsy.

      This morning was not anything like that.

      This little room was not becoming more familiar to her the more she woke up. She peeked around for clues. The only thing 100 percent certain was that she was definitely not in her aunt and uncle’s mansion in the Garden District. This room had a popcorn ceiling, for starters. And these sheets were not Egyptian cotton.

      How she got here was another mystery. The only clear memory was that she had started the evening at Rosemary’s bachelorette party last night, which had begun at the mansion with a five-course dinner. Having been excited to get the party started as early as possible, Chastity had picked at her food and drunk mass quantities of champagne. The hours following that dinner were a haze of tipsy, silly giddiness. And then the bar-hopping started, at which point things got hazier, more silly, and possibly wandered into the territory of downright poor judgment. And what was a bachelorette party without some breathtakingly stupid choices? Chastity was sure there were plenty of other families’ bachelorette parties that were nothing more than tea and cake, but those people were not the kind to celebrate her cousin Rosemary.

      Rosemary, like Chastity, was a panther shifter and a constant source of headaches for the DuChamp clan. Unlike Chastity, Rosemary did things her own way and was not a panther who could be contained by her daddy or controlled by his grip on the family purse strings.

      Chastity, however, was not used to getting her way. Turns out, one night of sowing her wild oats was all it took to land Chastity in trouble.

      But not too much trouble. After all, she hadn’t woken up in jail, nor did she feel any sense of dread about anything that might have taken place. Judging from Chastity’s current state of not knowing where she was and feeling like a live jazz band was hoofing it through her skull at full volume, she’d say the party was a roaring success.

      Chastity gingerly rolled to one side, stood up, and realized she had fallen asleep in her party dress. She had a pattern of its sequins embedded into the skin of her arms. Those arms were now searing with the pins-and-needles sensation of having been slept on for a very long time. Shaking them awake, she thanked God her legs were working, if a bit wobbly, because she had the urge to pee more than she had ever had in her life. She looked around. There was a door to a small room in the corner. That had better be the bathroom, she thought, because either way, she was going to pee in it.

      It was indeed a bathroom, and after she had relieved herself, she checked her reflection in the shabby little wall mirror.

      This was the one day she was thankful for bad lighting. Never mind that she had skipped her nightly makeup-removal-and-moisturizing routine, because the real story here was the giant hickey peeking out of the neckline of her dress.

      She watched her eyes grow huge and fearful in the mirror.

      Had she been making out with a giant leech? Because that was the only level of suckage that might have produced such a bruise. No way that was going away before the wedding in two days. Shit. Forget about her mother killing her; that old lady would have to get in line behind the bride, Rosemary, and Aunt Betsy.

      Focus, Chas. Focus. Where are you? And who were you kissing last night? Chas closed her eyes, and then she sniffed. A man’s scent. All over her. Like, really all over her.

      She did not hate this scent, whoever it was. Too bad he wasn’t here so she could interrogate him about this giant hickey.

      She stumbled back to the bed to look for her phone. The maps apps and GPS could tell her where she was and how to get back to the mansion. She could probably enlist some of the other bridesmaids to help her sort her evening out. She didn’t want to bother Rosemary with any of this.

      As she dug through the mess of sheets and blankets, Chastity got her biggest clue about the night’s events. There, in the middle of the bed, was a small spot of blood. Her mind raced.

      On one hand…dammit, I missed the whole thing. And then, there was the issue of an oath. A magical pact with her overbearing father. If the thing happened that she thought happened last night, her father would already know, and he’d be hunting down the man who had deflowered his Chastity.

      Now she was desperate to find her partner in last night’s crimes. She looked around the room for clues, but all she found were her pashmina and her shoes. There was something else, too: a soreness on her butt.

      What in the world?

      She lifted her dress and twisted her torso enough to see what it was. A bandage. She lifted the tape around the bandage to reveal a tattoo of a Valentine heart that looked like it had been clawed by a wild animal. On the heart was a letter G written in elaborate calligraphy.

      G? What—or who—is G?

      She needed to find her phone immediately.

      Oh man, she also needed water. And coffee. And a large JB Chicken crispy breakfast biscuit slathered in butter and ghost pepper jelly. And ibuprofen, stat. But first, her phone.

      Ignoring the little blood stain on the bed that most likely represented the end of her innocence, she kept rifling through the sheets, pillows, and blankets. Finally, she found her clutch purse under the bed.

      She opened it and breathed a sigh of relief as she plopped onto the floor. A few undamaged brain cells must have started working again, because she suddenly had the brilliant idea of looking at her photos. Yes! Of course! Surely there would be photo evidence of what had happened last night.

      She ignored the little red dot that indicated she had several unopened text messages — she had resolved not to keep her parents’ up to speed on her first night of true freedom, so no doubt they’d been texting her for updates — and tapped the photo icon on her phone screen. Up popped an album marked "G."

      Because, of course. Drunk Chastity had gone to the trouble of creating a whole separate photo album. But Drunk Chastity could not be bothered to do any favors for future Sober Chastity by fully naming the dude who presumably had taken her flower. That would be her mother’s phrase for it. Her mother, the sweetest and most clueless of all the panther shifters, liked to assign cute names to everything. Virginity was a Flower. Vagina was a Whoo-hoo. Pussy in general

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