Leader of the Pack

by MacInerney, Karen

• ISBN13: 9780345496270
• ISBN10: 0345496272
• Edition: Original
• Format: Trade Book
• Copyright: 2009-07-28
• Publisher: Ballantine Books

Summary

WILDLY INDEPENDENT, SHE'S NOT ONE FOR PACK MENTALITY. On the outside, Sophie Garou is living every woman's dream: she has beauty, brains, and a big-time position in Austin's most respected accounting firm (not to mention a very sexy, very successful new boyfriend). But there's one Sophie would rather keep under wraps: she is a werewolf. Sophie's life gets a little more hairy when her long-estranged father, Luc, arrives in the Live Music Capital to attend the werewolves' annual Howl and reconnect with his daughter. But Luc's plans fall apart after he's accused of murder and arrested by his archrival, Wolfgang, leader of the Houston pack (and one notoriously dirty dog). Wolfgang drools at the thought of Luc's impending execution, but Sophie won't let her father die without a fight. Determined to prove his innocence, she and her friends set out to find the real killer. Along the way, Sophie must deal with taboo attractions, Machiavellian intrigues, sinister agendas, and hair-raising betrayals. From the Paperback edition.

Author Biography

Critically acclaimed writer Karen MacInerney is the author of Howling at the Moon and On the Prowl, as well as the Gray Whale Inn mysteries Dead and Berried and Murder on the Rocks, which was selected as an Agatha nominee for Best First Novel. When she’s not writing, teaching writers’ workshops, or chauffeuring children, she loves to read, drink coffee, attempt unusual recipes, and hit the local hike-and-bike trail. She lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband, two children, and a rabbit named Bunny.

Excerpts

Chapter One


Most of the time, I'm not too crazy about being a werewolf. For so many reasons: the compulsory and inconvenient transformations, the excessive reliance on Lady Bic razors . . . not to mention the difficulty explaining to potential mates that our children would probably grow a natural fur coat and tail every twenty-eight days or so. Maintaining a normal relationship—much less a career—is a hairy proposition when you tend to sprout fangs every time someone pops Moonstruck into the DVD player.

But there are compensations. The lightning-fast reflexes, for example. The ability to scare the pants off of would-be muggers and rapists. The deep, almost carnal enjoyment of a rare prime rib at Ruth's Chris. And, as was currently the case, the ability to smell every nuance of a gorgeous spring day.

It was a warm mid-March afternoon in central Texas, and I was on my way back to Austin from a meeting with my favorite client in San Antonio. The radio was playing full blast and the windows in my M3 were wide open, letting in the mingled scents of fresh earth, new grass, cows, and a complete and total absence of werewolves, which was fine by me. The cows, however, were making me hungry. Lunch had been a long time ago, I realized as I gulped back a mouthful of saliva and reached for my tumbler of wolfs_bane tea.

I was mentally reviewing the more intimate details of my meeting with Mark Sydney, CEO of Southeast Airlines. He was my client, to be sure—and landing the Southeast Airlines account had recently netted me partnership—but most of the afternoon had been spent at a romantic River Walk restaurant staring over a giant margarita at my client's deep blue eyes. I was reviewing our good-bye kiss when my cell phone rang.

I flipped it open as the M3 rolled past another tasty-smelling herd of cows. "Sophie Garou."

"So, how did your 'meeting' go?" It was my best friend, Lindsey.

"Fine," I said. "We did some strategic planning and talked about general accounting practices. Everything's great."

"Are you dating yet?"

"Not officially. We're kind of keeping things quiet; I'd rather Adele didn't know." I didn't want to know what my boss thought of my mixing business with pleasure. And boy, was it a pleasure . . .

"Mark's a good match for you. I liked Heath, but he just didn't have the same . . . I don't know. Zing?"

Lindsey was right about Mark—he was all about zing—but my heart still wrenched a little at the mention of my _ex-boyfriend. Heath had asked me to marry him on Valentine's Day, about a month ago, and I'd had to decline. Partly because I wasn't sure how he'd take the whole "I'm a _werewolf" announcement, of course. And partly because I _suspected he was sleeping with his gorgeous associate Miranda. But even without those rather significant mitigating fac_tors, things just hadn't been right between us for a long time. It was a hard decision, but I was pretty sure it was the right one.

"For the record, Mark and I are not dating," I repeated. Even if we had enjoyed a few—okay, more than a few—steamy episodes together. "He's my client," I reminded her. But Mark was also something else—something even stranger than I was. About a month ago, when I'd gotten into trouble with a pack of deranged Mexican werewolves, he'd appeared out of nowhere wearing wings and what looked like a full-body coat of liquid napalm. Which was convenient—as was the fact that he knew I was a werewolf—but enough to give me pause when I thought of becoming involved with him long-term. It was bad enough that my children would have intermittent episodes involving a full coat of fur and a tail. A full coat of fur doused in napalm would be a bit much. Particularly if it occurred while I was giving birth.

St

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Excerpted from Leader of the Pack: Tales of an Urban Werewolf by Karen MacInerney
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