The dog doesn't die. But the bad guys do.

Blue was as tall as a Great Dane but skinnier, with the snout of a collie, the markings of a Siberian husky, the ears and tail of a shepherd, and the body of a wolf with one blue eye and one brown. Crouched in a sitting position, unable to lie down or sit all the way up, he looked at me from between the bars, and I fell in love.

I adopted Blue from the shelter, and everything in my world changed...

When I brought him home, I wanted something in my life that was worth holding on to. I'd just broken up with my boyfriend and picked up a dog-walking gig on the Upper East Side. I was young and lost...normal.

I was still Joy Humbolt.

I'd never even heard the name Sydney Rye.

Never seen a dead body, gotten beat up, or shot at. I didn't set out to be a hero-couldn't have imagined becoming a vigilante.

But I don't regret what I've done. The lives I've saved...or the ones I've taken.

P.S. The dog doesn't die.

P.P.S. Do not read these books if you have issues with "strong" language, sex out of wedlock, or LGBTQ+ characters.