After a thousand years, immortal polar bear shifter Sindre finally finds his mate—on a talk show. In the city where anything goes, an impromptu wedding is just a taste of what's to come. Startled into going through the ceremony, Miranda can't stop the big, virile man from staking his claim on her and releasing her bear. Sindre can't believe his good luck and will do anything to keep his mate at his side, up to and including taking marital advice from Atlas Leonidus. An independent woman with a successful career, Miranda melts at his touch and shuns his control, except she can't control her bear.
“Everyone, let’s welcome Sindre Høgensdal! Give him a hand,” talk show host Sophia Steenbarger urged the studio audience.
They clapped. Even though no one else occupied the small dressing room, Miranda clapped, too. She heard the thunderous applause and enthusiastic shrieks and cheers that greeted the appearance of the former Norwegian Forsvarets Spesialkommando or FSK commando who had become an international celebrity after helping to foil an attempted assassination of visiting European and Russian dignitaries, killing three of the terrorists, and taking a bullet in the leg for his trouble. The media immediately latched onto the towering warrior, a modern Viking they called him. Always on the lookout for a handsome, new face, Hollywood soon pursued the warrior as he recuperated from the wound that shattered his knee. Although the surgical knee replacement gave him a new joint, the result was not quite as good as it used to be.
Media articles reported that he wanted to continue serving his country. However, “not quite as good” hadn’t been good enough to return to service in the FSK. With gratitude and medals commending his valor and honor, the Norwegian government let him go. Miranda stared at the flat screen television mounted near the ceiling and smiled to herself as she privately acknowledged, without rancor, that the big man deserved the accolades. He might not have been an American soldier, but he’d fought defending the ideals and security of his own country. His loyalty to Norway deserved respect.
Watching the screen overhead, she smiled a little as he raised a hand to acknowledge the squeals and cheers and wolf whistles that greeted him. Beneath the tawny scruff coating his cheeks and jaw, she could see the hint of red as he blushed at the attention. It was nice to know the man could blush. He walked with only a slight limp; poised and confident. She watched as he bent down to shake the talk show hostess’ hand and the hands of the gold medal ice skater and celebrity chef whom Steenbarger had already interviewed.
“Towering” did not begin to describe him, Miranda thought with an audible sigh of admiration. Even sitting down, the man was tall: six feet and seven inches of pure masculine pulchritude, according to IMDB and Wikipedia. He was built like a comic book superhero. Even beneath the exquisitely tailored cut of his suit, she could tell the man carried not an extra ounce of fat. The razor sharp, military short cut of his hair did nothing to hide his fierce hawk’s beak of a nose, chiseled cheekbones and blue eyes that blazed like glacial ice. His deep, resonant voice could have given Barry White a run for his money. She watched as he aimed that sharp gaze at the audience, scanning over the faces as though searching for someone specific. The microphones picked up a collective sigh of admiration from the audience, echoing hers.
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.