What happens on the island stays on the island...
Spending a month on "Love Island" for wolf shifters is not my idea of a good time. I'm about to start my second year of law school, and instead of banking hours at a coveted internship, I'm stuck sipping pina coladas on a white sand beach in the middle of the Caribbean.
Okay, yeah. I hear how that sounds.
But hear me out. The whole point of this island? It's a glorified dating show. I have to spend each night with a new, single, testosterone-fueled alpha in a private beach hut because the Council of Wolves believes mating bonds are on the fritz.
Why did I say yes to this? Because my dad made me a deal: he'll pay off ALL of my student loans if I endure one season at Wolf Island.
I had a plan. A good plan that would keep me from getting dragged into someone else's love story. But then my skin starts buzzing around Lukas, and he gets this idea in his head...
He says we're perfect allies since he doesn't want to find a mate either. If we can stay together, we can enjoy our month in paradise without the awkward first dates.
It seems like a perfect plan.
Until Lukas paints on my skin and my lungs forget how to work.
Until the directors change our two twin beds into a single queen.
Until my never-present wolf starts stirring under the surface...