Chapter 12
“On the twelfth day of Christmas my werewolf gave to me twelve contractions, eleven dozen headless werewolves, ten Jen cakes, nine werewolves prancing, eight laughing females, seven perfect kisses, six packs of Oreos, five satisfied smiles, four hours of hotness, three growling males, two cursing pups, and a furball in a fir tree.
Because what’s Christmas without a baby being born?” ~Jen
“More?” Thia dug through the wrapping paper piled three feet deep around the tree. Slate rolled around in it, completely ignoring his gifts, enraptured by the crinkling paper that he’d also decided—as an added bonus—tasted delicious.
“Yep,” Jen nodded. “You’ll get more. Next year. Now go start playing with your toys. And be sure to drag out all the little pieces and scatter them around befor
