Bear Of The Midnight Sun (Immortal Shifters Book 3)
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.
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“Do not chase her away before I get a ring on her finger,” Sindre’s deep voice purred.
Steenbarger’s eyes sparkled and she smiled with inspiration. “I have an absolutely fabulous idea!” She looked at the audience. “We’re in Las Vegas, right?”
“Right!” the audience shouted back.
“Surely, somewhere in the audience we have an ordained minister who has the authority to perform a wedding? Do we have somebody?”
Miranda’s heart pounded in her chest and she felt lightheaded.
No, this could not be happening. No, not at all. I am hallucinating.
A large woman whose dark hair was shaved close to her scalp rose and called out, “I can do it.” She dug into her capacious handbag and pulled out her identification. “Here are my credentials.”
Steenbarger jogged into the audience seating and led the woman to the stage. She peered at the woman’s identification and announced, “Bailey Sutton here is a high priestess of Aphrodite and duly authorized by the State of Nevada to perform marriage ceremonies. We have our minister, folks!”
Caught in the talk show hostess’ enthusiasm, the crowd cheered.
“Now, we need a ring!”
An elderly woman rose to her feet and tugged a ring off her left hand. She smiled and held it out, her limbs shaking with palsied age. “My Philip put this on my finger seventy-eight years ago. He’s gone now and I’d thought to go to my grave with this ring. But I think it will have a better use now.”
One of the gaffers darted into the audience to take the ring amid wild clapping.
“We have something old, now we need something borrowed, something new, and something blue!” Steenbarger shouted, thrilled to have the coup of the season on her own set.
A woman pulled off a pale blue chiffon scarf and waved it. “I have something blue!”
Another gaffer raced into the studio audience to retrieve it.
And another woman unfastened a silver and turquoise bracelet from her wrist and held it up, shouting, “She can borrow this!”
Another woman opened a shopping bag and pulled out a small box. She extracted a pair of sparkling earrings. “I have something new! See, the price tag is still on them!”
Miranda sat very still while the circus played on. Cameras from visiting media flashed. The high priestess of Aphrodite hurriedly signed paperwork a backstage assistant downloaded and printed while someone hastily cleaned the old woman’s wedding rings.
“This is insane,” she muttered under her breath and wriggled again.
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
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