Bad Hera Day

She may be the goddess of marriage, but no man is gonna tie her down...without the right ropes.

Danger. Excitement. Adventure. That's what Hera thought she was signing on for when she agreed to join the Gods of Thunder Motorcycle Club, led by her brother Zeus. Just the thing for a smoking hot, slightly lost divorcée who also happens to be the Greek goddess of marriage. Instead, her primary sources of entertainment seem to be picking bugs out of her teeth and finding yet another creative way to sabotage her peacock-painted Harley so she can ride in the comfort of the club's support SUV.

But this time she broke her bike a little too well. With the rest of the club on a tight schedule, they leave Hera behind to wait for the local mechanic to perform a miracle. A mechanic who fills out his coveralls better than any mortal she's ever met.

Hey, maybe getting stuck in the sticks won't be so bad after all.

With his days as the Norse God of Wolves long behind him, Fenrir has settled into a routine that suits his lone wolf ways. Ride into some small town, work a menial-yet-satisfying job for a while, then move on before anyone catches wise to the fact that he never ages.

Then she rides into town.

Glamorous Hera always turned heads back when they ran in the same heavenly circles, but seeing her poured into skin-tight leathers and sitting astride a beautiful bike really lights a fire in Fenrir-one he thought had died centuries ago. Not that it matters. She thinks he's some mortal bohunk grease monkey with more brawn than brains. Fine by him. He needs to keep a low profile anyway.

When Hera finds a wounded wolf pup on the outskirts of town, Fenrir must reveal his true identity to save the pup, opening a Pandora's box-worth of trouble with a nearby werewolf pack. If he were smart, he'd blow town, leaving the goddess who gets his motor running and the fate of a besieged wolf pack in his dust.

He never claimed to be smart.