Knot a Midlife Crisis

Knot a Midlife Crisis DAISY EMORY TURBO KITTEN INDUSTRIES Knot a Midlife Crisis by Daisy Emory. Copyright © 2023 Turbo Kitten Industries. All rights reserved. Cover design by The Book Cover Boutique. Published by Turbo Kitten Industries. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, by photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of the book. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized printed or electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. www.CatherineBanks.com Turbo Kitten Industries™, P.O. Box 5012, Galt, CA 95632 To Avery for loving me without limits and never giving up on us. Contents 1. Brooklyn 2. Buck 3. Brooklyn 4. Kirk 5. Brooklyn 6. Tyler 7. Brooklyn 8. Buck 9. Brooklyn 10. Brooklyn 11. Buck 12. Tyler 13. Brooklyn 14. Tyler 15. Brooklyn 16. Tyler 17. Brooklyn 18. Kirk 19. Brooklyn 20. Tyler 21. Brooklyn 22. Kirk 23. Brooklyn 24. Tyler 25. Brooklyn 26. Kirk 27. Brooklyn About the Author About the Author CHAPTER 1 Brooklyn “What do you mean you’re cutting me off?” I asked my father, my brows nearly touching my hairline. Dad sat at his mahogany desk, the gorgeous, pure blue Lake Tahoe water and snowcapped mountains visible through the double doors behind him. Those doors led to a patio with a full bar, chairs, a couple tables, and most of my teenage and adult memories. When he was out of town on business, I could be found in one of those chairs, soaking up sun or breathing in the chilly winter air to clear my head. Winter was my favorite time because of the snow we always got. Dad looked up from the papers he was signing, his desk constantly piled high with documents, to the point that only those sitting across from him knew it was mahogany. “Exactly what I said. Until you find a pack, I’m cutting you off financially. You can forget that ridiculous vacation you planned. We all know you’re just dealing with a midlife crisis.” Laughter was probably not the response he expected, but that was what he got. His brows furrowed, he steepled his fingers, and cleared his throat. “Brooklyn, you’re clearly not taking this seriously.” After wiping the tears from my face, I said, “Dad, I’ve been financially independent since I was seventeen. My trip was paid for by me. I haven’t taken a penny from you since I became an adult. I know you’re used to Annabelle and Norma taking you for everything that they can, but I’m not like my sisters.” I wasn’t like my sisters in so many ways that it hurt my brain to even try to list them. Not only was I not a married mother with a pack, I wasn’t ever, ever dependent on my parents’ money as an adult. His eyes widened and he started furiously searching on his computer. Standing, I said, “Search your records all you want, Dad, but you’re only going to prove that I’m right.” He stopped his search, returned to his stoicism, and said, “Be that as it may, you have a duty as an omega, to this family, to find your pack and produce heirs.” Like a barb to the heart, I cringed. Did he not realize that I was trying? Did he not know how many apps, agencies, and other sources I’d utilized to try to find my fated mates? Hundreds of dates. Hundreds of rejections. I wanted to find the men who completed me more than I wanted my business to succeed, but since they seemed to not exist, I focused on my business. Plus, I hated the idea that it was my duty to have kids. Sure, I wanted them, but it was my body and it was ultimately my choice. “I’m sorry to be a disappointment,” I snapped and spun on my heel. “I’m going on my vacation, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” “Brooklyn!” he called after me, but I ignored him. Once in my room, I resumed packing my bag, throwing in the teeny tiny bikini I’d purchased recently for this occasion. Maybe, I’d just find some men who might be willing to wait until my next heat to impregnate me without any additional strings. Sure, I wanted a pack, a group of alphas to knot me when I needed, or wanted, it. A group to treat me like a queen. My mother had had three alphas and one beta, the men I considered my fathers, who had pampered her. They had treated her like she was the only woman on earth and growled at anyone who ventured too close to their sun. I wanted all of that. I wanted men who cherished me. However, I also wanted to provide an heir, like my annoying sisters, that my parents would dote on and love. One I could snuggle with and spoil. Honestly, even if I never had a child, though, I really wanted to find an alpha, at least one, who loved me. Somewhere out there, there had to be an alpha for me. Just one. Of the billions in the world. There had to be one who would want me. Right? * * * “What do you mean the counts are off?” I asked Marcus, my right-hand man in the business. He was a single alpha without a pack,