"Mornings Should Be Illegal," she grumble.

Celeste hated mornings, and she especially hated mornings where she woke up to laughing pack members, an infuriatingly smug Alpha waiting in her kitchen, and, for reasons beyond her understanding, a framed photo of last night’s lake disaster on the packhouse wall.

Celeste stared at the picture in horror.

It was a perfectly timed shot of her mid-fall, arms flailing, just before she crashed into Hunter’s chest in the lake, and his stupid grin was ...