Susan Clark

I can't believe he showed up here...the ex. Right when things are getting good—like I might actually have this whole Alpha thing under control—good. Or I'm ready to go on a date with the hottest guy I've laid eyes on—so good he could melt my panties off—good. But now, the ex is here, throwing his weight around, and pulling all the shots with me and the kids. (Who, by the way, are as excited about his arrival as I am.)

Ascending to alpha of the Black Crater Pack of freaking werewolves wasn't even remotely on my radar. I was just hoping the move to Oregon with my kids would mean less drama than dealing with the ex. Guess that didn't work out. Now, as it turns out, making friends in midlife is one giant pain in my backside. And believe me, I have enough aches and pains as it is. While some of the pack is thrilled there's a woman in charge, like the sexy guy I just can't stop thinking about, there's a vocal group who'd rather eat glass than see me succeed.

"Happily Ever After" wasn't supposed to come with a do-over option. But when my husband of 20 years packs up and heads for greener pastures, and my son heads away to college, that's exactly what my midlife becomes. A do-over. This time, though, I plan to do things differently. Age is just a number, after all, and at 40 I'm ready to carve my own path. Eager for a fresh start, I make a somewhat unorthodox decision and move to a tiny town in the Sierra foothills.