What's worse than losing everything you own? Having to mate to keep it.

I have twenty-one days until Christmas Eve to find a mate, or my bar goes to my power-hungry cousin. Twenty-one days to deny everything I believe about independence. Twenty-one days until my aunt's will destroys me.

But my best friend has a plan: three blind dates, three weeks, three Alphas who make my Omega instincts scream. A brooding craft brewer with dangerous eyes and skilled hands, an intense outdoor adventurer whose feral smile promises wicked nights, and a dangerous security specialist whose darkness calls to mine.

They say some Omegas need three anchors. I say I don't need anyone.

Too bad my heat isn't listening.