Monday, November 25, 2013

Into Destiny - Sneak Peek

 Here's the first look at the final episode of Season Two of The Sidhe!

Chapter One

At the very mention of the word ‘werewolves’, Malcolm froze. Every muscle in his body tightened. Even breathing came hard, with his ribcage so rigid about his middle. Not even his eyes blinked, as he stared right at the Brownie that had just blurted this out when he brought the tray of food to him and Willem.

In that frozen instant, Malcolm didn’t care a whit about the artifact puzzle he’d obsessed over since finding the first piece. His home… His people… were in danger.

Werewolves were something he’d not had to face, but Kieran had. And so had Dawn and Bryce. Werewolves were the things of nightmares, growing bigger than a Sidhe with massive canine jaws as big as his forearm and claws as long as his palm. They didn’t just feed off fey like a vampire. They didn’t just kill the fey, either. They ate them.

And the little Brownie just popped off about it like it was some bit of gossip.

Quick as a snake, Malcolm snatched the little fey by the front of his shirt and jerked him close. He had to know more. Had to know what happened. Had to know if everyone was alright.

But he couldn’t even choke out the words that lodged in his throat. The Glamour Club? Werewolves in the Glamour Club?

Was no place safe?

Jerked from his feet, the Brownie squawked. His small hands covered the leather bands around Malcolm’s wrists, but he wasn’t able to break his grip. Which only proved how fragile the Brownie was. Not since the silver burned deep grooves into his wrists did Malcolm have a lot of strength in his hands.

Willem leapt from his cot where he’d been consulting his journals, hurtled over Tiernan, who’d fallen asleep on the floor, and skidded to a stop just short of bashing into them. “Was anyone hurt?” The Scribe blurted out, asking the question Malcolm needed the answer to.

“I don’t know!” The Brownie wasn’t any bigger than the Scribe, both of them like a foot or so shorter than Malcolm. Both of them with those big, innocent eyes that seemed to plead with Malcolm. Like a child’s.

Like his sister’s.

The very thought of Regan made Malcolm drop his grip on the Brownie. He wouldn’t have done that to her. He wouldn’t have bullied or scared her for anything.

This Brownie couldn’t tell him anything. Malcolm twisted away from him, letting his eyes refocus to see not the physical world around him, but the magical one. As he turned slowly, he didn’t see the wooden frame and the stadium-sized canvas tent that surrounded him and the artifact puzzle.

Magic drenched everything on the Isle of Fey, making the landscape itself glow and hum. Down a little ways, the fey town was alight with every kind of magic. The lesser fey gave off glittering light of every color, depending on their race and talents. But besides himself, which didn’t give off any kind of magic, and Tiernan snoozing on the floor, his energy so knackered that even his magic was pretty much sticking close to him, he didn’t even see any other Sidhe on the island.

Twisting around, glancing up toward the mountain that rose up on the eastern side of the island, Malcolm did finally catch sight of Trip. Her shadows flicked up there with a bruised black and purple hue. So there was one. But where were the others?

He didn’t really even need to ask that question.

They’d all been at the Glamour Club.

Too far away for him to see.

Too far away for him to teleport to.

His hands pumped into fists. Tight and loose. Tight and loose.

Couldn’t hold still.

Couldn’t do anything useful.

His gaze flicked down at Tiernan. He could teleport that far.

Malcolm punched into his palm, furious with his body for fighting him. Shaking out his hands, he banished the tension choking him. When he spoke, it came out rough, but at least it came out. “Wake up!” Standing over Tiernan, he nudged at the bloke’s side with his trainers. “Tiernan!”

The groan from Tiernan threatened death to the idiot that didn’t leave him be.

Willem and the Brownie, whose name Malcolm didn’t know, backed away. No way they were going to be in the middle, if two Sidhe were going to tussle.

Tiernan might wallop him for waking him, but Malcolm didn’t care. He bent down to grab his shoulders and shake him. “Wake up!”

But Tiernan didn’t. Just shoved away from Malcolm and rolled to his other side, then jerked the pillow back up under his head. Just as quick, he was back to sleep.

But it didn’t matter. A whoosh-pop of teleportation made Malcolm’s head jerk up.

Jumping up, Malcolm blinked past the world at the magic again. It hadn’t been real close, but it had been pretty big. Someone with strong magic, like a Sidhe.

Down the hill… All the way to the beach.

Malcolm broke into a run. Once outside the tent, he could see for real the place he needed to go. The slope from here to the beach wasn’t steep, but it was probably a good fifteen minute run through the middle of the village, which was crowded even in the early evening.

Teleporting was more of an accident than an intension. In mid-run, Malcolm ‘slipped’ and teleported just a few strides short of the front porch of the beach house. The sandy ground gave under his feet more than he expected and Malcolm half stumbled the last bit to the porch. He leapt up onto it just as the front door opened and Donovan stepped out.

Malcolm jerked to a stop.

Donovan was alive.

Only… his clothes were all ripped up and tacky with dried blood. Same for Kaitlin, whom he held against him with a steadying arm.

They weren’t still bleeding. Weren’t doubled over or hurting or anything. Dawn had healed them.

But the blood… The rips…

It had been bad. Real, real, real bad.

“Werewolves,” Malcolm managed to breathe.

“They’ve been dealt with,” Donovan assured him in that stoic way. The way that said he’d dropped a mountain on them, or something equally devastating.

“Kieran? Bryce?” Shifting to the side, Malcolm glanced past Donovan, not seeing the magic from either of his mates. Only a figure of white-yellow light and the hazy outline of a Touched human. Who was the one with the light? A Sidhe. Had to be, with that much magic.

Dropping a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, Donovan steered him back towards the village. “They’re fine. No fatalities. The wounded have been healed.”

Oh, geez. It had to have been bad to say stuff like that.

Malcolm let Donovan propel him along the dirt road back towards the town. Already the fey saw them coming, and started rushing to gather about. Not getting under foot, but still listening. “Why now? What happened?” His mind whirled, tumbling and stumbling over itself to understand. When Malcolm first came to the Glamour Club, he’d worried about Changelings, or goblins, or vampires, or even Touch-crazed humans coming after him. It’d not been long before he’d come to think of it as a safe place. A place no one would dare attack unless they had a death wish.

But even though Donovan obviously got tore up some in the fight, he didn’t seem the least surprised. “They probably found the club after Kieran’s brush with them. The sluagh would have kept them back until now.”

Malcolm glanced up at the mountain. Way up there, just now and then, he caught sight of the sluagh against the early evening sky, like great birds wheeling in the air. They’d moved to the Isle just that day, meant to protect it.

The first chance the werewolves got to attack the club, they had taken it.

The fey of the Glamour Club fought them off, but there were some badass fighters at the club. Kieran and Bryce could probably hold their own for a bit, and Donovan was flat brilliant. Then there was the head-bashing kinda fey like the trolls and red caps, that played bouncers for the club.
But the fey of the club weren’t the only ones Malcolm cared about.
He gripped Donovan’s elbow, not letting go until the boss turned his serious attention Malcolm’s way. “I want to get Regan and bring her here.”
Donovan paused, considering what Malcolm asked of him. “Do you think your father will listen?” He asked in a tone that said that they both already knew the answer to that.

“I promised I would come back for her. She’s just a kid. If the werewolves…” He couldn’t even force out the rest of the words.

“First thing in the morning.”

“Now.” Malcolm insisted, the panic mounting already. “Before something finds them.” And there were a lot of bad things out there that wanted the fey. The Sidhe, especially. There weren’t even any warriors at his family’s farm. Regan was just a kid. His da had a shotgun, but what good was that, if he didn’t see the attack coming? Or if they were overrun?

“Not like this.” Kaitlin twisted away from Donovan’s arm. She clutched the ripped front of her own shirt with one hand, and then plucked at the shreds of Donovan’s bloody clothing.

Almost immediately the crowd rustled. Within thirty seconds a pair of Brownies pressed forward with neatly folded clothing for both Donovan and Kaitlin.

Donovan, no more modest than most of the fey, changed right there. His ruined clothing vanishing into the keeping of the Brownies as quickly as the fresh clothing had arrived. Kaitlin switched out more carefully, managing the trick of putting on and taking off clothes almost simultaneously without actually getting naked. The fresh capris slipped up under her mini skirt before she removed it. The loose t-shirt went on over her head before the ripped up halter was pulled out from beneath it. It was kind of like a magic trick how she did it. All sleight of hand and clever timing. He’d seen girls naked before, but never when he was sober and never a girl who was fey. He stared at her with distraction, trying to suss out the way she’d managed the switch without showing anything, until Donovan snapped his fingers and got Malcolm’s attention again.

“You sure you want to do this now?” Donovan asked, all serious and dark.

Malcolm nodded. This time, with Donovan there, they’d have to listen.

Get the rest of the story in the book Into Destiny!

Now available from:

Amazon, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Amazon UK, Amazon CA (and all the other Amazon stores) Coming soon to other ebook markets.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Into Chaos - Sneak Peek

Chapter One

Even with the gauzy curtains enclosing the four poster bed, the light within the room roused Lugh from the exhaustion hangover following hours of carnal exertion. What should have been a pleasant body ache, wasn’t. Frustration cast a pallor over the entire evening. Rhiannon had always been an incomparable tumble, but never once had she left him feeling more agitated than if they hadn’t had sex at all.

As he rolled over, Rhia stirred and glided her thin arm across his chest. Her pale skin possessed the same milkiness. The black tresses of her hair shined like midnight on the water. Her scent teased him with the fragrance of moon flowers like the stillness of the deepest part of the night. As her blue eyes peered at him from beneath sleep laden lashes, there was no doubt that she was the lover he’d relished for thousands of years. And never once had she left him longing.

Never once.

Before last night.

Lugh raised to his elbows, gazing down at the naked beauty entangled with the sheets and his body. Her clever fingers slipped beneath the sheet to tease and tempt him, but nothing she did could rouse him now that his discontentment had set in.

As the Sidhe of the moon, Rhiannon had always reflected his sun while in his presence, just as she shadowed beneath the dark magic of Crom, who shared her bed as often as Lugh. Each bringing Rhia through the fulfillment of her phases, both full and new. Waxing and waning. Just like the ebb and flow of the tides that danced to her influence, she’d always… always… swayed to Lugh’s influence. To his Touch.

But not this time.

At first, he assumed the dark magic within him, sustaining his life, interfered with their bond. He’d sought after the fulfillment, even at the risk of disturbing the cage in which the beast had locked the Seelie parts of him, as the dark shard of his soul possessed him. Yet, nothing he’d done had brought the echo of magic that always flowed between them when they Touched.

Though they had expended themselves for hours, the unfulfilled expectation of that magic, left him raw.

Only now did understanding unravel and fall open to him. It was not the magic or the beast within Lugh that disrupted their joining.

As she gazed into his eyes, a distant smile on her lips, Lugh prickled at the foreignness within her. This dark enchantment saturating her didn’t just color her, it blocked her from him as surely as silver.

The creature before him was not his Rhiannon. Not the Sidhe he’d longed to find more than any other since the Collapse of the Mounds. He didn’t know this woman at all.

Manannan had done this to her. Fixed her in this obsidian of black enchantment. Trapped her within this illusion of herself. Violated and mutilated her magic for his own ends.

Her tapered fingers traced the muscles of his chest, as her mouth explored his abdomen, but Lugh cast her aside, snapping, “Stop, Rhiannon.”

Tickled by his anger, her musical laughter mocked him.

Lugh jerked back the curtain from the bed and flung himself from it. His druidess, stretched out on the sofa, though dressed and armed, lest some fiend of a Changeling or wolf-kin barge in on them. She lowered her book, then her gaze swept over his nude body.

The beast within Lugh snarled, “Where is Manannan?”

Get the rest of the story in Into Chaos...

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Sunday, November 17, 2013

Into Darkness - Sneak Peek

 Here's a sample of Into Darkness, the first book in Season Two of The Sidhe.

Chapter One

The sense of dèjà vu brought on a wave of nausea for London almost as much as the reek of blood.

With her arms crossed over her middle to settle her stomach in the least obvious way possible, London fixed her expression with a hard, impassive stare that matched the other bodyguards at the feed. Borrowed holsters crisscrossed her torso and hips. Each of the four firearms she bore was loaded with silver bullets. But that wasn’t the dèjà vu part.

It was the red silk-clad bum waving in the air as Selena, vampire mistress and her best friend, sprawled over a Sidhe. And like before, the too-sexy Sidhe leaned back against the arm of the sofa, shirt unbuttoned and flung open. The black slacks fit his long legs beautifully. One leg bent up against the back of the cushions and the other stretched out so his foot rested on the floor. His fingers tangled in the vampire’s sleek blond hair, controlling and encouraging.

In this very room, just months earlier, Rico had been the Sidhe in question. That had been the day he enchanted her, cursed her with the addiction to the Touch of the Sidhe, and sent her on a path that landed her right back in this very same room, watching nearly the exact same scene play out.

Only this was no business feeding.

And this time the Sidhe that Selena hunched on was Lugh— former Champion of the Sidhe, former Seelie, and the man whose symbol London wore, having pledged to serve him even unto her death.

As he sat up, Lugh arched Selena’s head back. Blood smeared her teeth. His blood. He kissed her, stealing some of it back with deep strokes of his tongue. That kiss alone was nearly pornographic.

The other four vampires lounging around them laughed drunkenly, as wasted on alcohol as much as on blood and magic.

Lugh reached around Selena to accept the dagger they passed around like the bottles. He found his tumbler on the coffee table, knocked back the whiskey, and then laughed, “Who’s next? Roll the dice.”

Chantalle grabbed up the dice and rolled it. “Three. What’s that again?” She giggled in that vapid, empty-headed way of hers that London knew was only half the truth.

“Inner thigh.” Lugh grinned, flashing the wicked pair of canines he’d only recently acquired with the dark magic that screwed with his head. These weren’t the piercing kind of fangs like the vamps had. These babies were meant to tear flesh, like a werewolf’s or a lion’s.

When Chantalle leaned back on the settee, mini-skirt hiked up and legs spread wide for him, London rolled her eyes. The chick hadn’t even bothered with underwear. Cheap date kind of classy.

Lugh drew the tip of the dagger up and down her bare leg, teasing her as he picked his spot. With a flick and a shallow cut, he drew blood. Grabbing her bum with his free hand, he lifted her hips up to him as he went down on the wound.

This wasn’t the first time London witnessed a vampire drinking game. It was, however, the first time she stood guard over one. As the only human on security, she was the only one without a gas mask. The four vampire bouncers around the room wore them to keep the scent of the Sidhe’s blood from distracting them. Or worse, driving them into a feeding rage.

Even with the exhaust fan filtering the air, the scent of the Sidhe blood wafted out into the rest of The Satin Club, Selena’s club. Even as bad as the other vamps wanted Lugh’s blood, most of them had the sense not to try anything.

On those vampires, the silver bullets in London’s weapons would work just as well as lead bullets. Vampires weren’t the reason for the silver.

Werewolves were.

The local pack had been spotted roaming the area earlier that evening and the very scent of Sidhe blood could turn them feral.

But it didn’t matter. Vampire or werewolf, no one was attacking her patron, even if Lugh was whacked out of his mind lately.

The phone in London’s hip pocket vibrated. Uncrossing her arms for the first time since this parahuman version of a frat party began, London checked it. “It’s him,” she called over the ruckus of hooting as Lugh sank his fangs into Chantalle’s thigh, cheating at the game, but nobody was going to call out the Sidhe. They wanted him— and his blood— too much to play by the rules.

Pushing back from the vamps, Lugh licked at the blood smearing his chin. “Speak with him.” His bloodshot eyes fixed on her. His irises looked dead black in the low lighting, instead of blue. His blond hair, so dark now that it looked almost like it was black with copper highlights, fell in an artistically messy way over his forehead. Even his skin bore a Mediterranean tint rather than the fair skin he’d had when she first met him. All outward signs of the corruption that poisoned him.

London answered her cell without giving anything away to either the elf she spoke to, or the vamps around her. Lugh’s business was private and one of London’s jobs as his druidess was to keep it that way. “Yes?”

Mckenna’s voice crackled a little with the bad reception, which had to be on his end. She never had trouble with her signal when she was in Dublin. “Let Lugh know we’re ready for him. We’re at the Westfall Camp.”

“Right.” London hung up. She only gave Lugh ‘the nod’ and nothing more. He’d know what she meant.

Lugh disentangled himself from the vampires. One of the guys grabbed at his arm. “Whoa! You can’t go! I’ve not gotten my share!”


The Sidhe allowed this feeding at his leisure, not theirs. Something Lugh explained wordlessly by breaking the guy’s wrist.

Not many Sidhe nowadays could get away with manhandling vampires, but Lugh could, by virtue of his sunlight magic alone. If he felt like it, he could vaporize the entire roomful of vampires without even flexing a muscle. Top that off with who knows how many centuries of combat experience and Lugh was badass beyond anything in these youngling vampires’ imaginations.

Pausing just a second before her, Lugh’s gaze dropped to London’s chest. It wasn’t her breasts in the snug knit top he stared at, but the golden pendant she wore. His symbol. The one he’d given to her the day she vowed herself to his service. He did that now and then, fixated on that brilliant charm, and each time London watched for some sign.

But it didn’t come.

And he brushed past her, knowing she would follow and cover his back.

Get the full story in Into Darkness...

Monday, October 14, 2013

Fire 'N Bryce - Sneak Peek!

Here's your chance at a sneak peek of Fire 'N Bryce! This short story takes place between Season One and Season Two of The Sidhe and is the first time we see Bryce's point of view. We hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter One

Even as he did an aerial twist, dodging the stone projectiles thrown at him, Bryce coiled fire between his hands. The heat he generated was tremendous, but that wasn’t what made sweat coat his skin and drip from his red hair. The burning magic was bigger than a rugby ball when he flung it at his assailant. It collided center mass with the stone golem, exploding into smoke and cinders, and searing the top layer of its body. It made a dent, but just barely, and immediately the damage healed right back up, before it raced after him again.

“You need more mass behind your flames,” Donovan instructed.

And Bryce already knew that. He knew it every single time his magic burst on impact instead of driving a hole right through his target.

Growling with his effort, he tried again, coiling up the fire as hot and tight as he could. Shoving all his will into the magic like it was the last thing he’d get to do. Like it was do or die. He shoved his fire hard together between his hands, until his gut ached with the effort of pushing and his body trembled. And then he threw the fire again.

And again it shattered into a rain of burning scraps.

His heart pounded with his need to do this. To prove himself. To be the best Sidhe warrior Donovan ever trained.

The golem rushed for him and Bryce stood his ground. He streamed a javelin of focused flame right at the stone creation’s face, intent on burning its head right off.

It collided with him in a flying tackle that drove his back to the floor. The golem’s shoulder lodged in his gut to take him down hard, knocking all the air out of him with a yelp of pain.

When he didn’t get up right away, just rolled side to side a bit, the golem disintegrated into sand that ran down to the floor where it was absorbed.

Bryce cracked opened his eyes.

Donovan stood over him, hand extended. “You put everything you have into it, but that’s not enough. Not yet.”

Grimacing, Bryce accepted the hand, and let Donovan yank him to his feet.

“Take a break. We’ll try again later.”

“No. I’m good. We can keep going.” He did his best to resisted the urge to bend at the waist and struggle to catch his breath, but his body didn’t listen to him any more than his fire did.

“Take a break,” Donovan repeated.

Bryce limped over to the bench and slumped down onto it. As he mopped the sweat from his face with a towel, he guzzled the water from a bottle. Out in the middle of the practice room, Kieran demolished his third golem, shattering it with unheard sound vibrations that made the ground shiver beneath Bryce’s trainers. Something as inconsequential as sound could tear things apart, when his fire, which should be flat out the deadliest magic of the lot, couldn’t make more than a singe mark.

He knew fire could do some flat brilliant stuff. He’d gotten Donovan to tell him all about the fire Sidhe from the Mounds. Especially the ones that had been Elite, like him. Deadly assassins and fierce warriors. Just like Donovan.

Just like what Bryce knew he could be.

Not like poor Malcolm, with hardly enough magic to rub together to even notice. He’d be furious, too, if he’d gotten the short end of the magic stick. That was why the lad used his knife to strike at the golem coming at him. Bryce and Malcolm were the same age, but Malcolm was thinner and more agile. He looked like a ninja when he tumbled, like he always knew right where his body was in space, but he almost always wanted to charge in with his blade rather than waste time with the fancier stuff.

Both the other lads were deadlier than him. They’d both had their first kills under their belts, too. And if Donovan ever needed someone at his back in a fight, he’d probably want either of them.

Leastwise, for now.

Bryce tossed down the towel and bounded back into the workout room. “OK, I’m ready. Let’s go again.” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

As Donovan raked his gaze over him, Bryce could feel the assessment. Like Donovan was checking him for weakness. Looking for a reason to send him back to the bench. So he flamed over his hands, just to prove how ready he was. The fire licked up his arms, but the heat didn’t hurt him at all. And his sleeves didn’t catch fire either, because it was stuff made by the dwarves and couldn’t burn. Even before he spoke, Bryce could see it in his eyes that he meant not to let him go back in. “I have something else I want you to do. Dawn needs to return to the fairy’s grove. Her foster father is sick and they’ve sent for her.” He checked the wall clock. “She’ll be leaving in half an hour. Just long enough for you to shower and grab an overnight bag.”

His shoulders slumped. The eager grin melted into a grimace. “Fairies?”

“No one travels alone.”

And Bryce knew that rule. Especially now that the Seelie and Donovan had crossed swords. That guy was one bad ass bloke, but Bryce still put his money on Donovan. But if that Seelie meant to hurt Dawn, or even him, there wasn’t much Bryce could do to stop him. He’d coated him with fire once before, and the Seelie had ripped it all apart.

Even still, what would that Seelie bloke want with a bunch of stupid fairies? They were almost a hundred percent unlikely to run into him out in some old mossy woods.

When Bryce didn’t move right away, Donovan gave him ‘the look’ and that got him going.

That look alone should be enough to bring the Seelie to his stupid knees. It scared the living crap out of Bryce.

And made him only all the more determined to prove himself worthy of something more than escorting Dawn to frivolous fairyville.

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Monday, October 7, 2013

Secrets of the Dark - Sneak Peek

(Here's a sneak peek at Secrets of the Dark, a hot Paranormal Romance.)

Running didn’t lessen the drenching downpour driving into Tia Lansing with the cold sting of dozens of tiny whips. She leaped over a swirling puddle too quickly replenished by the runoff to disappear down the storm drain at the curb. Her thin skirt, now a nearly transparent wrap, clung around her knees and cut her stride short of its mark. Tia landed with both feet in the puddle and the freezing water completely covered her strappy sandals. With a squeak of shock at the cold rush over her feet, she jumped up onto the curb.

The streak of street lights glistened off the night-blackened buildings and asphalt, transforming the city into a vision of one built entirely out of volcanic glass. The rain washed away the usual city smells and perfumed the night with its eerie wild river scent. No sound reached Tia through the muffling hiss whispered by each of the billions of droplets falling from the sky like arrows.

She hurried to the underpass where the late night trains rumbled through the city on their elevated railway. In the shelter of the underpass, she shook the rivulets from her bare arms. Her hair clung to her face and curled into wet ringlets over her shoulders. Tia wiped uselessly at her face with her wet hands while she struggled to catch her breath and shiver at the same time.

“You didn’t really dress for this weather.” The voice rumbled low like a distant echo of thunder.

Tia glanced up, startled to discover she shared the underpass with someone else. He half sat, half leaned on the guardrail further up the sidewalk on her side of the street, his ankles crossed casually. The mist of the rain reached out to him but always recoiled before touching him. He hadn’t glanced in her direction but watched the toes of his black leather shoes instead.

A glint of something shiny flashed in his hand before he slipped it down beside his thigh where she could no longer see it. His other hand remained tucked in the pocket of his black slacks. The sharp white of his shirt glowed from under his black suit jacket. Unlike Tia, the rain hadn’t yet touched him. His satin midnight hair remained perfectly parted and combed back.

Tia crossed her arms, both for warmth and to disguise the fact her drenched pastel pink blouse no longer concealed the outline of her bra. Walking carefully so her wet feet didn’t slip in her heels and cause her to stumble, she crept toward his side of the underpass. Her apartment, a tiny one over the Aquarius New Age Bookstore, waited for her several blocks further down in The District, as the locals call the historic market district that remained picturesque and nearly unchanged in the heart of downtown like a gem in a tacky plastic setting.

As Tia passed the stranger a streak of lightning flickered like a strobe, driving back the depths of the night for the span of a breath and revealed not a soul on the hauntingly empty streets. With renewed force, the clouds opened and released a full-on torrent so heavy the rain just beyond the shelter rippled like a curtain and completed closed off the outside world.

“Best to simply loiter until it passes,” he said. With a smooth roll of his wrist the shiny object she’d noticed in his hand caught the reflection of the streetlight. Whatever it was appeared thin and around five or six inches in length. Before Tia could get a good look at it he completed the movement and raised his empty hand to rest against his thigh. The object was gone as if by slight of hand, if indeed there had been an object and not simply a trick of the light.

“It could be a while, don’t you think?” Tia asked, rubbing her arms.

“It is storming with a passion.” He grinned, still not meeting her eyes. “Have you ever known something with this much passion to last?”

“I guess not.” She paced away from him and as she turned to cover the same ground again she found his gaze following her. A shiver tingled across Tia’s skin and she felt her nipples hardening in response. Her arms, still crossed over her chest, rubbed tantalizingly over the sensitive points but she managed to suppress any telltale expression. “Are you from around here?”

“For now.”

“What’s your name?”

He straightened suddenly, coming to his feet and towering much taller than she’d expected. His jacket and shirt, both unbuttoned, flapped open with the movement, revealing a far more toned and massive chest than his previous stance suggested. The shape of him sparked interest low in Tia’s belly and made breathing difficult. In looks, he should have been a model but he carried himself like a cat, all smooth and fluid movements designed for efficiency but graceful none the less. He purred, “Do you need to know?”

Tia froze, recognizing the domination in his baring. Determined not to show fear, she tilted up her chin. “I need to know.”

“Simon. And yours?”

Watching him closely, she replied, “Tia.”

“Nice name.” Simon strode a few paces away, glancing at the impenetrable rainfall. “And what beckoned you to adventure out on a hellish night like tonight, Tia?”

She shifted from foot to foot, not sure she wanted to share any more personal information with this strange man. Then again, she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression of why she walked the streets alone this late at night. “I own a bar downtown. I just finished closing up and I’m heading home.” Living in the city, she’d learned never to display weakness to a stranger. With challenge in her voice she demanded, “And you?”

He chuckled to himself as if finding the question amusing and he eased back toward her. “Just out looking for a bite to eat.”

“Uh-huh,” Tia said, watching him size her up wolfishly as if she were on the menu. A tremble, composed of equal parts fear and excitement, coursed through her. Tia found him far too sexy to trust her judgment. She wanted to stay, wanted to get closer, maybe even touch him but she heard the warning sirens in her head blaring. Best to listen to the warning, she decided and circled a wide path around him toward home.

She was just a step away from reentering the pelting rain when a sudden explosion of thunder overheard jolted her back. Her heels slipped on the slick pavement and before she could fall or catch herself, Simon gathered her in his arms. He’d crossed the distance between them extraordinarily fast.

“Whoa, fella. Hands off.” Tia pushed against his chest, missing the opened shirt so her palms pressed on his unyielding bare pecs. The skin glistened with a golden tan and felt as supple as fine suede.

His hands slid down Tia’s arms, leaving hot trails in their wake. Simon lowered his hands to his side but didn’t step back. Standing so close to her, the rustle of the storm winds blew his open jacket so it fluttered against her torso. The heat pulsing from his body drove away the chills and pulled her magnetically toward him. He asked, “You’d prefer I allow you fall?”

“I guess not,” she mumbled, no longer focused on the minor offense but instead staring with fascination into his eyes. A starburst of white ringed his pupils and flamed into burning yellow only to cool into a red crown circling the edge of his irises. The color seemed to modulate, as if capturing the flicker of a flame in slow motion. “You have fire in your eyes,” she said, only half aware of how stupid the comment sounded.

“Not just in my eyes,” Simon smiled.

A gust of dry heat puffed over Tia and she stumbled back a step in surprise. “What was that?” She touched her newly dried hair and smoothed her perfectly pressed clothes. “How did you do that?”

“That was nothing,” he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“Sure impressed the hell out of me.”

He cocked his head, sizing her up. A grin quirked up the corners of his perfect lips, which were just full enough to imply a melting tenderness to his kisses. The expression softened the perfect planes of his face. With amused surprise in his voice, he stated, “You’re not afraid, are you?”

Tia thought about the question. The adrenaline pickling in her blood rushed not to her muscles, as if to prepare to fight or flee but to her skin, heart and lower regions, making her body ache with a longing only physical contact of a romantic nature could soothe. Breathlessly, she asked, “Should I fear you?”

He considered the question. “Should you? What an interesting dilemma. What should one do in your predicament? What should one feel? I have never pondered that.”

Tia stepped back out of arms’ reach, not able to reconcile the attraction and mistrust mingling inside her. “My predicament? What predicament am I in?”

“That I cannot express in words you would understand.” Simon held out his hand, palm up. “I can only show you.”

She stared at his hand, debating if she should accept the offer she assumed it meant. She hadn’t yet moved, either to accept or retreat when the glowing began.

In a voice as terrifying as the roar of a landslide and echoing with inhuman power, Simon uttered, “Titch Cha, Aroomba Tha.”

A golden light emerged from Tia’s heart, glowing with the brilliance of flaming copper. It grew like a supernova until the light no longer came from inside but surrounded her in a glittering cocoon. She struggled to breathe. The energy, so powerful, so vibrant, expanded her sense of self until she felt she existed both inside her body and yet filled the bubble of light with her essence. “What’s happening?”

As the leading membrane of the energy encased Simon’s outstretched hand, the pressure of the power eased slightly. Tia felt herself drawn to him like a tide to the moon. The energy, not her consciousness, drew her hand into his.

Simon’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise but grasped her hand anyway. With a gentle tug, he dragged himself through the thick power surrounding her until it completely subsumed him.

Tia saw him differently now. A blue snap of flame burned without heat over Simon’s flesh as it fed on gold ripples of energy still spilling out of her.

They came together like two rivers. She flowed outward and he flowed inward, swallowing all she offered. The outflow of energy drained her strength. Her arms circled Simon’s neck, clutching to him as if she would collapse without his support. He embraced her to him, wrapping his arms fiercely about her waist so each of his strained gasps for air flattened her breasts more snugly against the solid burn of his chest. He tossed his head back, a mixture of pleasure and pain crossing his handsome face. They grasped desperately to each other, overwhelmed with the surge passing between them. Each pulse bursting from Tia echoed through her body, through her core, compounding her initial attraction into physical desire.

“Reece Ti’aggo,” he uttered shakily. “Damn girl, you’re delicious.”

“Taste me, Simon,” Tia ordered, raking her fingers through his thick black hair and tugging his mouth down to hers. He hesitated less than an inch from her lips for a fraction of a second, gazing deeply into her with his flaming eyes, before plunging forward. Her lips parted for him and his tongue slipped between them. The light around them blazed and crackled, filling the air with the scent of ozone. Drinking voraciously, he consumed Tia in his kiss. He tasted of wild storms, lightning and magic. Primitive lust flared up inside her, only to cascade out into the bubble of light, building and compounding upon itself as the flow of emotion drowned them. No rational thought reached the surface, only urgency and pulse-pounding need.

Desperately, Tia explored Simon’s body with her hands. Sliding them beneath his open shirt, she traced the shape of his defined stomach. A hiss of excitement escaped him, making her want him so much she couldn’t think.

Genre: HOT Paranormal Romance
Length: Novel (70,000 words)

Monday, September 23, 2013

Secrets of the Dark

 Our first Paranormal Romance release!

 All of our books so far have been Urban Fantasy, but with Secrets of the Dark, we are taking a leap into Paranormal Romance. Loads of sizzling and intense scenes in this one! This novel was previously published through a traditional publisher under a different pen name. We've got the rights back and we are re-releasing it under the Archer and Ravynheart names. It is one of my favorite books and we really hope you love it!

I just love the cover Ravynheart made! Just stunning!


Dangerous and magical in ways she never imagined, Simon sweeps into Tia's life one stormy night and single-handedly shatters her reality. Her friends insist Simon is a threat, and even though Tia knows they are right, his passion and magic draws them together. Could it be that she and Simon are truly soul mates, like he claims? Or is he just using her to increase his magical powers? Simon’s enemies believe so, and they are determined to keep them apart, even if it means killing them.

Genre: HOT Paranormal Romance
Length: Novel (70,000 words)

Available at Amazon, Amazon UK, Amazon CA, and Smashwords. Coming soon to Barnes and Noble and Kobo.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Into Chaos

 Book 2 of Season Two is now available!

  When the Mounds Collapsed, Donovan sacrificed his life and his magic to save the fey realm. It wasn’t enough. Now the growing magic of the artifacts, the enchantment that promises to restore the realm of fey, is calling out to him, pushing at his mind and his magic, distracting him from the plots of the Seelie king slithering into their midst.

One of the most intense and action packed episodes of The Sidhe series so far, Into Chaos picks up where Into Darkness left off, propelling the action toward the climax of Season Two of The Sidhe that is coming with Into Destiny. Now with longer episodes, the three story lines of the Sidhe continue to sizzle in this latest installment.

Available at Amazon, Amazon UK, Amazon CA, and Smashwords. Coming soon to Barnes and Noble, and Kobo.