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Finding His Destiny, Book 1

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Marissa Mason is a small-town girl who dreams of leaving one day.** Rafferty Wildee is a wolf shifter from one of the biggest wolf packs in the US in search of his soulmate.** When the two meet there is no doubt in either of their minds that they are each other's destiny.

Romance / Fantasy
E. Adamson
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

Marissa’s POV

Okay, so I live in a small town—a small and boring town to be exact. The only thing going on here is bingo on Friday nights, and that’s if you’re aged sixty-five and up. Regardless, I’ve lived in La Puckett all my life, and I keep hoping I’ll leave one day.

It’s now Thursday, and my morning started like every other day of my life. That means I’m working the floor of my ma’s café and listening to her talk about my love life, or lack thereof.

“Marissa, when are you going to find yourself a fellow and settle down?” Ma asked busy scrubbing at the counter and waiting for our first customers to come in.

I rolled my eyes, but not where she could see me. “Ma, there isn’t anyone in this town you could pay me enough to marry. All the men are little boys, or they’re so old they could keel over in the next five minutes.”

“Now, Marissa, you know that isn’t true,” Ma scolded, shaking her finger at me. “What about Jackson Windgall. He is a fine young man and seems to have his eye on you.”

I turned to my ma, my mouth hanging open as I stared at her in shock. “Seriously, Ma? Jackson is not a nice young man. He’s a creep! Not only that, but he must be at least thirty, and I’m only nineteen. Besides, I don’t think I’m the mayor’s wife material.”

Jackson Windgall is our mayor, and his family practically owns the town. I wanted no part of him. There was something about him that rubs me the wrong way every time he gets close to me.

So, of course, who should walk in about that time? Jackson Windgall himself.

“Good morning, Mrs. Mason, Marissa. How are you, fine ladies, this morning?”

“Oh, we are good, Mr. Mayor. How about yourself?” Ma gushed. “Would you like your usual?”

“Yes, please,” Mr. Windgall said with a sickening smile.

“Marissa, get his coffee. I’ll get his eggs and sausage started,” Ma directed.

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered as I headed for the coffeepot.

No more than fifteen minutes later, the café was full of old-timers who didn’t have anything better to do than sit and gossip.

Then I heard it. It was only a low rumble at first, but it gradually got louder. I paused in pouring Mr. Bulger’s tea and looked out the window. Coming up the street was a red Harley Davidson Fatboy, and I would know because I have a fascination with motorcycles.

The Harley stopped outside the café. On it was a man dressed in a black leather jacket, holey jeans, and biker boots. When he pulled off his helmet, I saw he had dark hair. He hung his helmet on his handlebar before sliding on a pair of mirrored shades.

He slowly dismounted and just stood looking around for a moment. Then, as if feeling my gaze, he looked my way. A smirk appeared on his face as he headed toward the café.

“Marissa!” Ma yelled

Coming out of my stupor, I glanced over my shoulder at her.

“Table five is ready to order,” Ma stated.

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered yet again. As I headed for table five, the bell over the door dinged. Pausing, I glanced at it.

Six foot something of all-male eye candy opened the door. The café went silent. As he stepped further inside, he pushed his shades up over his head of wavy, slightly too long, jet black hair. His dark eyes quickly scanned the place before landing on me.

“Now, Marissa!” Ma demanded loudly.

Reluctantly dragging my gaze away from him, I went to take table five’s order while he took a seat at the counter. After getting the order, I headed for the counter. I hung the order up and turned to him, breathlessly asking, “Can I get you something, sir?”

“Biggest glass of unsweetened tea you have, no ice,” he imparted in a deep voice.

“I just made the tea. Are you sure you don’t want it with ice?”

“No, no ice.”

Nodding, I brought him a large glass of tea.

He drank down the whole thing before setting the glass down. Smiling at me, he said, “Now I’ll take it with ice. I’ll also have the biggest, thickest cut of steak you have, rare with a side of fries, please.”

“Alright,” I agreed before turning to place his order.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jackson stand up. He straightened his tie and jacket as he headed our way.

“Where you from, stranger? You just passing through, or are you planning to stay?” Jackson asked, with a fake-looking smile on his face.

The stranger glanced sideways at Jackson, and I’d swear he growled before he stated, “I don’t know yet. I’m just following the breezes right now. Regardless, why would it concern you whether I stay or go?”

Jackson straightened to his full height and replied, “My name is Jackson Windgall. I’m the mayor of this town, so anything that goes on here concerns me.”

“Ah, I see,” the stranger said, nodding his head. “Well, when I decide what I’ma-gonna do, you’ll be the first to know.

“Here is your order, sir,” I told him politely as I place the food in front of him.

He turned and smiled at me. His teeth were white and perfectly straight, his smile breathtaking. “Thanks, love. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Marissa, and yours?” I asked, tilting my head slightly to look at him.

“Rafferty,” he answered as he picked up his knife and fork.

“Rafferty. Is that a first name or the last name?” Jackson inquired.

“Doesn’t really matter. It’s the only name I answer to,” Rafferty stated with a shrug. Then, seemingly dismissing Jackson, he started to eat.

I hid a laugh behind my hand. I found it funny that someone put the mayor in his place for once instead of kissing his tail.

Jackson was almost grinding his teeth, and he’d clenched his hands into fists. Finally, he went back to his table, and after throwing down some money, he left.

I watched him leave puzzled. Jackson never gets mad, ever.


Turning my head, I glanced over to find Rafferty looking at me.

“Boyfriend? Not even in his wildest dreams,” I informed him with a soft laugh.

Not wanting Ma to start yelling again, I made my way over to table five. Once there, I took their order and moved on to table four to refill the glasses. From there, I went by table seven, removing empty plates and wiping the table down. When I finished, I headed back to the counter and found Rafferty had finished his steak and tea.

“Would you like more tea, sir?”

“Yes, more tea, and please, call me Rafferty. Sir makes me feel old, and I don’t think I’m much older than you,” Rafferty said.

Nodding, I filled his glass. Seeing no one else that seemed to need help for the moment, I leaned on the counter, using my crossed arms to hold me up.

Rafferty had removed his jacket and was wearing a snug black tee. Let me say; the man is built. His shirt stretched tight across a muscular chest, and his biceps would give John Cena a run for his money. The waves in his hair begged a woman to run her hands through it. He was clean-shaven, his features sharp with a slim nose that was slightly crooked and a pouty lower lip.

“Do you like what you see, love?” Rafferty asked with a grin.

I have no shame, so I grinned back at him. “Actually, I do. You are a fine specimen of a man, but I’m sure you know that.”

Shaking his head at me, Rafferty roared with laughter which caused everyone to pause in their conversations and look his way. Still chuckling, he propped his elbow on the counter and placed his chin on his fist. “I like you. You’re not only beautiful, but you make me laugh. It’s been a long time since I have felt much like laughing.

“You’re welcome.” Turning toward the window, I spotted his bike and asked, “Why red?”

“Why red what?” Rafferty’s head turned, following my gaze. “Oh, you mean my bike?”


Rafferty moved around on his stool, so he was facing the window. “I liked the black one better,” Rafferty admitted. “However, something told me the person I’m searching for would like the red motorcycle.”

“Who are you searching for?” I asked him quietly, glancing at him sideways.

“Some people call them soul mates, but I call her my destiny. Come, I want to show you something,” Rafferty said as he stood up and tossed some money on the counter. Then he held out his hand.

Looking at his hand, I bit my lip, undecided. Finally, deciding to take the plunge, I walked around the counter and took the offered hand. I felt what could be described as electric tingles, which moved through my body as our hands met. I gasp softly, glancing up at him as I called out, “Ma, I’m taking a break.”

Rafferty grabbed ahold of his jacket with his free hand. He then led me out the door, and we quickly made our way to his motorcycle. There, he tossed his jacket over it and gestured to the picture on the front of it. He asked, “Does this look familiar to you?”

I looked over at it and caught my breath. I almost reached up to grab my shoulder but stopped myself. On the bike was a paw print, a wolf print. This wolf print was unique because it had an extra toe. Most wolves have four toes, and this one had five. Like the one on my shoulder, the one I was born with. Under the paw print, the words Wildee Wolf was written.

“Wildee Wolf?” I questioned.

“My name is Rafferty Wildee. Some say my personality is a little wolfish,” Rafferty answered.

At that moment, I thought I saw his eyes flash gold. Since it had to be my imagination, no one’s eyes could do that. I ignored it and murmured, “Oh. Well, what’s with the paw print?”

“That explanation will take a little longer. Could we maybe meet up when you get off work and talk?”

“I’d like that. I get off at five-thirty.”

“I need a place to stay,” Rafferty mentioned as he looked up and down the street. “Is there a motel in this town?”

I nodded and pointed down the road. “The Shamrock Inn, it’s run by my da and my brother. It’s two blocks that way with a big green sign. You can’t miss it.”

Nodding, he put his leather jacket back on before mounting his bike. Pulling his helmet from the handlebars, he put it on and looked at me. Reaching out, he ran his fingertips down my cheek.

I felt shivers go through me at his touch.

Rafferty smiled, noticing my reaction. Starting up his bike, he began backing up as he said, “Until later, Marissa.”

Then he tore off down the street.

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