Cinders and Fang

The night the Alpha's son walked into my uncle's diner, the Moon told me he was mine. He knew it too. He walked out without ordering, sent a rejection by messenger before I finished closing, and told the pack to leave me the apron. I kept the apron. I also kept my tips. Four years later I own a food truck with my name on the hood and a crew who'd go into the fire for me. The Gulf Coast pack wants somebody to cater their centennial, and the caterer is me. The Alpha giving the toast? Him. Divorced. Disgraced. Silent. Then the hurricane hits and four hundred wolves need feeding. He lifts crates. I run the line. Ninety days, one walk-in, and a decision I never intend to let anyone else make. A rejected mate werewolf rags to romance for anyone who believes the best revenge is a very full dining room.