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.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Into Darkness

 The first book of Season Two of the Sidhe is now available! 

 One Dangerous World… Three Intense Storylines… All Collide in Season Two of The Sidhe!

Poisoned with dark magic, Lugh, the former Champion of the Sidhe, is ruled by the beast within, and it has one goal… to reclaim a source of magic that will make it unstoppable. But his allies have not forgotten his quest to restore the realm of fey that will prevent the fey from Fading.

By Lugh’s side is London, a human druidess pledged into his service. London’s got Lugh’s back, even if he’s whacked out of his mind. She’ll need more than quick thinking and her gun to get them out of the trouble that is coming for them.

The Unseelie, led by Donovan, have brought the Sidhe back from the brink of extinction. And now they are not going to let Lugh remake a fey realm under Seelie control. With the young earthborn Sidhe coming into their powers, the Unseelie rise against the forces that would once more see them under Seelie tyranny.

With longer episodes, Season Two combines the three storylines from Season One, with explosive results!

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Length: 27,000 words

Available at Amazon, Amazon UK, Amazon CA, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords and more.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

White Zombie - More Human than Human

 It's been a crazy summer and I am just getting back with updating things like the blog and website. As I am getting myself back on track, I thought I'd share a new Glamour Club video with you! This song is awesome for all of the fey, and even the parahumans, like the vampires and werewolves in The Sidhe series. It's also an awesome song to write to. I hope you enjoy it!

Enjoy: White Zombie - More Human than Human

Thursday, June 20, 2013

New Release: Fire 'N Bryce

 Bryce hero worships Donovan, the former head of the Unseelie Elite who has gathered and protected the fey of the Glamour Club. As one of Donovan's earthborn Sidhe, training to become the new Elite, Bryce craves the chance to prove himself like Malcolm and Kieran have. Which is why an escort mission to a fairy village is the last thing he wants to do. Until what was supposed to be an easy assignment turns deadly.


As we prepare to launch Season Two of The Sidhe, we have just released Fire ‘n Bryce on to KindleSmashwords and Barnes and Noble.

Fire ‘n Bryce takes place between Season One and Season Two.

It also has a sneak peek at the first chapter of Into Darkness, the first book in Season Two, coming out in the next couple of weeks!

Also… We are just loading the last of Season One onto Smashwords in the next few days, which means everything will be showing up in Barnes and Noble, Kobo and other ebook stores in the next few weeks. We’ll announce the links when they go live!

And thank you for joining us on this adventure! We hope Season Two rocks your socks.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Print Books are Finally Here!

 (S. Ravynheart with the two book collection of Season One of The Sidhe in print)

 You’ve been asking for them, and they’re finally here! Scattered Magic and Remnants of Magic are now available in print!

If you’ve been craving print copies of The Sidhe series that you could hold in your hands, display on a shelf, or share with friends and family, then this announcement is for you! We’re excited to bring you The Sidhe series in print. The joining covers for the two books in Season One are beautiful. It is the fulfillment of a dream to see these characters and their stories come to life on the printed page. We hope you enjoy them too!

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Ultimate Urban Fantasy Podcast

 Getting the word out about The Sidhe Series and sharing with readers about the genre of Urban Fantasy has been one of our challenges since we first began our publishing journey. S. Ravynheart and I have tried different techniques, like the blog tours, twitter and social media, and chatting up wonderful folks on message boards. Each one has had its benefits, but nothing that had much staying power. Each tweet, blog post, and message post is but a tiny ripple in the water that quickly gets lost in the sea of other ripples.

To try and communicate with readers and fans of the urban fantasy genre, and share our passion with people who are just discovering the genre, we've teamed up with actress and voice talent, Sherri Semine, to create the Ultimate Urban Fantasy podcast.

On the weekly episodes of the Ultimate Urban Fantasy podcast we discuss books, movies, TV shows, and games that appeal to the Urban Fantasy fan. You can watch our live Google Hangout sessions on Youtube (now with all the bloopers and goofiness left in), listen or watch from our website, or subscribe to us on podcatchers like iTunes. We also have twitter, facebook and google plus, if you want to follow us there.

We feel that this will give our readers and fans a chance to see us, and get to know us. I've felt a connection with podcasters I follow, and even feel like listening to them is like spending an afternoon chatting with a friend. I am hoping our listeners/ viewers feel the same way about us. We hope you'll check out the podcast and let us know what you think. :)

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

The Sidhe on Ultimate Urban Fantasy Podcast

 Ravynheart and I part of a new podcast called Ultimate Urban Fantasy, with our co-host Sherri Semine. On this episode we talked about Season One of The Sidhe, the characters and the storylines, the inspirations and the unexpected turns, and have a lot of fun and laughter. Check out this podcast and enjoy the conversation.

Season One of The Sidhe is available on Amazon. Scattered Magic is the first half and is almost 80,000 words. Remnants of Magic is the second half, and is over 102,000 words. These two books bring you all 16 books of Season One in the correct reading order.

*Spoiler alert: We talk about the plot twists and character development in Season One of The Sidhe.

Monday, March 18, 2013

Remnants of Magic

Remnants of Magic explodes into action as London, an enchanted human, becomes a huntress of the Sidhe, determined to claim by force the addictive magic that she’ll die without. But making enemies of the dark Unseelie sets her on a path that entangles her in the fate and the future of the Sidhe.

Suffering from the Fade, Lugh fights to reclaim the lost relics that will restore the magic of the fey, a near to impossible task. Then an act of treachery poisons him with a darkness he can not purge and threatens to destroy him and all hopes for the fey.

With a magical war brewing on more than one front, Donovan strives to train the teen-aged ‘earthborn’ Sidhe into a fighting force capable of defending the fey. But one of the earthborns is a dangerous wild card, compelled by instincts he doesn’t understand and can’t control.

One Dangerous World… Three Intense Storylines…

Remnants of Magic - The Sidhe Collection #2 contains the second half of Season One of The Sidhe. It features books from the Rise of the Unseelie, Champion of the Sidhe, and Touched mini-series in the recommended reading order. Over 102,600 words of intense Urban Fantasy action and adventure!

This volume includes the following episodes:

Protector of the Light
Keeper of Secrets

The first half of Season One of The Sidhe can be found in Scattered Magic - The Sidhe Collection #1

P.S. - Don’t get confused! The three mini-series that comprises Season One of The Sidhe are also available as individual collections. (Touched, Rise of the Unseelie, Champion of the Sidhe) These three collections contain the same 15 episodes as Scattered Magic and Remnants of Magic. So why do we have the episodes released in different ways? Some folks only want to read one or two mini-series, while some want to have all the episodes in the recommended reading order. We want you to be able to have the stories YOUR WAY!

Friday, March 8, 2013

Rise of the Unseelie!

 New Release!

 In the wake of the Collapse that killed most of the Sidhe, only Donovan - former assassin for the Unseelie Court - stands between the abandoned ‘earthborn’ Sidhe and the predators after their blood, bodies, and magic. Fighting vampires, Changelings, and wizards in modern day Ireland, Donovan must train the teen-aged earthborns into an Elite fighting force before the last of the fey are destroyed.

Outside threats pale to the dangers within, as one of the earthborns becomes a deadly wild card in their midst.

* You’re looking at almost 74,000 words of intense Urban Fantasy action and adventure! *

Note: The Rise of the Unseelie is one of three companion series that comprises Season One of The Sidhe. These three storylines take place concurrently, and have cross-overs and interweaving storyline threads that closely bind the three mini-series. The Champion of the Sidhe mini-series follows Lugh’s story. The Touched mini-series takes place from London’s point of view.

P.S. - Don’t get confused! All 15 episodes from all three mini-series are also available in a 2 volume collection (Scattered Magic and Remnants of Magic). So why do we have the episodes released in different ways? Some folks only want to read one or two mini-series, while some want to have all the episodes in the recommended reading order. We want you to be able to have the stories YOUR WAY!

Katy Perry - Wide Awake

 If you've read Uprising, then you know about the young woman Donovan rescued from the wizards. This song is perfect for her, as she wakes up from her coma, and as she wakes up to the truth about the life that came before the Collapse of the Mounds. There are major revelations for all involved in the action packed finale to the Rise of the Unseelie mini-series, and it set the stage for the action and intrigue coming in Season Two!

enjoy: Katy Perry - Wide Awake

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Uprising - Sneak Peek

Chapter One

The music was dying.

Way far away, so far that Malcolm shouldn’t even hear it, the music just barely, barely played on. Just a whisper. Just a melody that his ears strained to catch. Even cupping his hands behind his pointed elven ears didn’t help. Nor trying to hum along.

But it was out there. Playing for him.

So very far away.

Dying… bit by bit.

And very soon, it would be gone forever.

Malcolm opened his eyes when Donovan’s deep voice covered the music. “Bloodhounds are trackers. It’s what you do best.”

Even though the breeze tugged at Donovan’s night-black hair, the movement of the rock dust in Donovan’s magic only stirred to that Sidhe’s will. Malcolm could see Donovan’s strength of focus through the tight, slow coil of power. You might not know it to look at Donovan, who seemed pretty controlled most of the time, that he commanded such devastating magic. He could tear a gash open in the world big enough to swallow this whole town and not even tense a muscle. Donovan was that kind of badass. Sometimes, when he was close, Malcolm could even smell the earthy scent of his magic and hear the crushing grind of rocks. And as impressive as all that magic was— and it was truly brilliant stuff— that wasn’t even the most amazing thing about Donovan. Not by a long shot.

Malcolm shook out his hands, like that could cast off some of his nerves. Getting ready for business, he shoved up the long sleeves of his t-shirt, showing off the leather bands around his wrists that Donovan had given him to cover the scars. “I’m ready. It’s just… It’s real faint.”

“We’ll find this Sidhe. Just point the way.” Donovan bound a blindfold over Malcolm’s eyes, and then lifted the headphones slung around Malcolm’s neck and settled them into place. The cushions completely encased his ears, so that if Donovan said anything else, Malcolm couldn’t hear it.

With the world closed out, all that Malcolm sensed came from magic. Even from the rooftop of his apartment building, he still caught glimpses of the lights whizzing and flickering out of the Glamour Club across the street. The magic noise from the club wasn’t too bad, though. Not so much that he couldn’t still hear the music. Straining to catch the tune again, Malcolm gripped the headphones with his hands, like that might help pick it up somehow.

Once before, he’d tracked magic; his own magic that still lingered on one of the humans that he’d Touched. And he’d found a fragment of his magic and followed it back to the person attached to it, only it wasn’t the exact human he’d been looking for. Magic was tricky. Slippery. Constantly moving and flexing. And very weirdly, it reached into the fabric of everything. Like little bitty threads. It moved through the sky. It moved through the ground. It went all over the place. Picking out just the thread that he wanted from the current flowing around them was extra tricky. Especially this faint little tune.

But he’d studied it real good. When he’d found the human whose body still held traces of his own magic, Malcolm had found this music, too. The human stole the magic; Malcolm was straight-up positive about that. That human witch, Flora, was all about stealing people’s magic. And this music belonged to a Sidhe, no doubt about that either. It was Touch magic, and only the Sidhe could make that.

A little less sure, Malcolm figured this Sidhe was a lass. The tune had a girly sound to it, he thought. Kinda higher pitched. Like violins or flutes. Kinda… well… pretty. Dainty, even.

He didn’t know. Whatever. Didn’t matter. Lass or bloke, Malcolm meant to find her. Him. Whatever.

Reaching out toward the fibers of magic flowing all about him like neon gossamer strands of ghostly pixie hair, Malcolm stretched out his hand. Shifting his fingers through the energy like caressing the soft whispers of a stream, Malcolm listened for the music he knew by heart.

And the thread he sought curled about his fingertips. A fine thread so fragile it might snap if he tugged on it. Rather than pull on it, Malcolm tilted his head to follow it with his blindfolded eyes as far as he could see before it was lost in the ocean of magic. “That way.”

The solid warmth of Donovan’s hand gripped Malcolm’s shoulder. And in the next second…


The stretching, sliding sensation of teleportation startled him. The lurching movement nearly upset his stomach. Just like in a dream where the ground suddenly drops out so you jump to catch yourself, Malcolm jolted. Only Donovan’s hand kept him steady-ish on his feet. Malcolm widened his stance, hoping to overcome the sense of tilting. If he could open his eyes maybe he could orient himself better, but he didn’t want to mess with the magic. Not now that he had a grip on the thread he wanted.

Donovan’s hand stayed tight and when the wooziness settled down, Malcolm whispered, “I’m alright.” But he couldn’t hear himself outside his own head, which was weird and only made him feel even more disconnected from the ‘real’ and more immersed in the magic.

Malcolm lifted his hand. The thread still interlaced about his fingers. The slack lessened. Turning with it, Malcolm faced the wind. The scent of grass and trees brushed over his face. Other magic sounds reached him through the silence of the headphones, but Malcolm ignored them. Only the music mattered. The fragile, fading song that tugged at him. He pointed toward it. And…


The ground seemed to slide beneath him, stretching to someplace new, and then snapping into place again. Malcolm pitched backward, losing his balance in the massive sense of moving. They’d teleported a lot farther this time. A lot farther. The slip lasted like forever… or about five seconds really… which was forever in teleportation time. He’d always thought of it before as instant. Only it totally wasn’t.

Donovan gripped Malcolm tighter, jerking him back to his feet before he fell on his bum. The ground beneath him really did move under his feet this time, as Malcolm worked at getting his footing. It was soft, like sand. The smell of the sea filled his lungs as he caught his breath.

Taking a moment to orient himself, Malcolm glanced out and then up. Out a ways, maybe a kilometer or so, although he couldn’t be at all sure about that, a massive curtain of magic rose from the ground and arched overhead. “What is that?” The colors flexed and shimmered with a rainbow of hues. He’d seen the curtain of magic in the sky before. For a long time, he’d thought the sky was like a ceiling way, way overhead, but his parents told him ‘no,’ that it just seemed that way. But they couldn’t see like he could see. They couldn’t see magic like him at all. Malcolm had been right. There was a ceiling over them, just made of magic, and it curved into the ground right out there a ways, like they were inside a giant bowl turned upside down.

The squeeze on his shoulder woke Malcolm out of his pondering. “Right, right. Find the music first. I’m on it.” He sucked in a breath and then blew it out. They’d gone so far, he didn’t keep hold of the thread this time. Malcolm lifted his face toward the sky. Ignoring the bowl thingy, he watched for the current of magic. The thread he wanted drifted along with the others, close to the surface. Malcolm reached for it, and like it had come to anticipate his caress, it floated out of the mass and stroked over his outstretched hand. The music played for him. So familiar now, but no less beautiful for it. “Getting closer now. Just there.” He pointed.

Donovan’s hand disappeared from his shoulder, and Malcolm turned to see if he’d left him. But he could still see the man, even with the blindfold on. Now he saw the magic of him only. The way it moved and twisted inside him like watching a neon rendering of the circulatory system. The dust moved about him, defining the shape of him. And like always, the magic reached down into the earth below Donovan like a pipeline of power.

Looking at this magical version of Donovan, Malcolm pointed again. “Just… Right that way a piece. We’re not far now. Just a bit past the curtain-bowl thingy.”

He felt the headphones being lifted from his head and the blindfold removed. Malcolm blinked against the setting sunlight still sparkling off the water. “I don’t understand.” He frowned, accepting the headphones Donovan handed off to him that he needed to give back to Emma, the Glamour Club DJ. “What’s with the curtain? Why can’t we go past it?”

“I think you are seeing the Great Veil. It covers Ireland and keeps out the wizards.” He nodded out to sea where Malcolm had pointed. “I know what’s out there, and you’re not ready for it. You’ve done your part, Malcolm. This is as far as you go. I’ll take it from here.”

Now Available!

 Champion of the Sidhe - A Sidhe Collection

For thousands of years, Lugh has been the Champion of the Sidhe, protecting all the races of fey and their realm. Until an assassin’s treachery bringing the realm crumbling in on itself. The survivors are scattered throughout modern day Ireland, hunted by vampires, werewolves, and wizards. Now the fey are Fading, and only Lugh holds the secret to restore their realm and their magic. A quest that will drive the Shining One into the darkest depths of magic, where the one thing that could save his life will destroy his soul.

You’re looking at over 58,000 words of intense Urban Fantasy action and adventure!

Note: Champion of the Sidhe is one of three companion series that comprises Season One of The Sidhe. These three storylines take place concurrently, and have cross-overs and interweaving storyline threads that closely bind the three mini-series. The Touched mini-series takes place from London’s point of view. The Rise of the Unseelie follows Donovan (aka Jhaer) and the earthborns.

P.S. - Don’t get confused! All 15 episodes from all three mini-series are also available in a 2 volume collection (Scattered Magic and Remnants of Magic). So why do we have the episodes released in different ways? Some folks only want to read one or two mini-series, while some want to have all the episodes in the recommended reading order. We want you to be able to have the stories YOUR WAY!

Friday, March 1, 2013

Season Finale of The Sidhe!

 At last! The big finale of Season One of The Sidhe is here!

We are so excited to bring you Uprising, with all it’s action, twists and turns, and most importantly… ANSWERS!

Description for Uprising:
Awakening to his bloodhound abilities, Malcolm’s following dangerous instincts he doesn’t understand and can’t control. As Donovan discovers the truth about who murdered Danu, war is brewing on more than one front, threatening everything the Unseelie have fought for.

We're gearing up for Season Two of The Sidhe! There's loads more story to come!

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Donovan vs. Lugh

 We're getting ready to release the final book in Season One of The Sidhe, and the big, anticipated run in between Lugh and Donovan is about to happen from the Unseelie point of view. Uprising is the title of the fifth book in the Rise of the Unseelie series, and it is jam packed with twists and action we hope answers some of the burning questions from Season One, and opens a new can of worms for Season Two.

Speaking of cans, this song from Sick Puppies is about the can of whoop-ass that Donovan intends to open on Lugh when they meet up for the first time since the Collapse of the Mounds. I hope you agree that it is awesome!

enjoy: Sick Puppies - You're Going Down

Monday, February 18, 2013

Sneak Peek - Keeper of Secrets

 Chapter One

With each of Lugh’s long strides, the footsteps that trailed him drew closer. In the pre-dawn shadows of the city, little stirred, as if the night held its breath. The darkness about Lugh aroused the darkness within—that taint of black enchantment that blended and corrupted the light of his innate magic. Like a drop of ink into a crystal clear pool, twisting and dividing, finding its own pattern and flow as it poisoned the whole in an inevitable spread. Yet only a drop. Only a hint. A flavor. A whispered suggestion that fixated with the same hypnotic coil as the ink in water.

Far from the eclipse of the sun. A manageable urge that throbbed within, with cravings of its own. The shadow of the beast it could become. The beast he could become.

Even in the dark denim jacket and jeans, the street lamps found Lugh in the night, casting shifting shadows that moved about him as he passed through shafts of light. Timing his backward glance, Lugh caught his pursuers in the light pool. Two of them. Large males. Not vampires. These men moved like wolf-kin. Werewolves, as they called themselves now. Heads down, following by scent as much as by sight, shoulders hunched forward with aggression.

Across the street and not far ahead of Lugh, a man rose from a bench, his slow crossing of the street timed for an interception.

And ahead, two more emerged from the alcove about a doorway.

Lugh slowed, the werewolves encircling him.

The shadow within him rose with the sense of danger, summoned forth with bloodlust as if by the beating of war drums. In his mind’s eye, the corruption within transformed into the sleek, muscled beauty of a black panther. Its venomous green eyes a brilliant, illuminated emerald that glowed from within. Craving violence and carnage, the beast merged seamlessly with Lugh, blending with his soul in a dark possession.

One of the wolves growled, “Nothing smells like Sidhe.”

“Nothing tastes like Sidhe, either.” The dark-haired man who’d been on the bench moved closer, unchallenged by the others. The alpha.

Lugh angled himself so he faced the alpha. Two wolves penned him from either side. “Think you to sample my blood? To feast upon my flesh?” The darkness within Lugh twisted the amused hint of a smile that graced his Sidhe-handsome face. “Rather, I foresee your broken bodies sprawled at my feet. Shall we test conclusions?”

Warrior-trained and centuries of battle-honed reflexes reacted with the onrush of attack, fueled by the wicked violence surging within his beast. The wolf to the farthest right reached Lugh first. He backed out of the path of the charge. Bringing up his right arm, Lugh hooked the man from under the jaw with his fingers, digging into the soft flesh beneath his tongue. Catching the jawbone, he jerked back and down with force enough to lift the man from his feet and spin him as he fell, snapping his neck. The falling body continued by momentum into the wolf-kin to Lugh’s left, knocking them back.

Dropping down to a knee, Lugh struck upward at the second wolf on his right, with his fingers straight and stiff as a blade, driving his hand hard into a muscled abdomen, directing all the force into a nerve bundle just above the navel. The scream of excruciating pain proved the strike hit true on his target— no doubt killing the wolf’s appetite once he ceased doubling over and retching up bile.

While he was down, the alpha flung himself onto Lugh’s back. His arms grappled around Lugh’s shoulders. The weight of the alpha meant to drive Lugh to the ground.

Leaning back into the man, Lugh grabbed his trouser legs near the ankle and jerked upward, unbalancing the wolf-kin. With the shifting of his body, Lugh shrugged the man forward, flipping him over his head and onto the ground before him.

As Lugh rose, the two remaining henchmen each hooked their arms around one of Lugh’s. They yanked him up to his feet. Surely, they meant to lift him from the ground, but Lugh’s height defeated that hope. Lugh snarled, bearing his teeth as if he possessed the panther fangs of his beast. Jerking against their hold only made them grip him that much tighter.

Exactly as Lugh intended.

When the alpha regained his footing, Lugh kicked hard from the ground. With fey grace and feline aggression, he flipped backward, using the arms that held him as the fulcrum around which he spun. In the flip, Lugh’s foot caught the alpha in the face, knocking him back once more, with an explosively broken nose.

Lugh’s acrobatics sent him up and over the men that had detained him. Even as he landed behind them Lugh punched out hard, hitting one of the men in the kidney. The impact to such a vulnerable organ might have killed a human. The wolf-kin weren’t so fragile. Even still, the wolf went down with an anguished scream, not to get back up again.

The final man punched at Lugh. A blow that he deflected as if it had been a sword, using his own forearm to redirect the force by impacting with the wolf-kin’s wrist. The were’s forward motion carried him past Lugh, who used the opportunity to latch his arm around the man’s neck. The crook of his elbow looped under the man’s chin and braced his head, then Lugh kicked him in the back of his knee. As his opponent dropped, Lugh jerked upward with his arm, breaking his neck. He released the body to crumple lifelessly to the concrete.

Backing away, Lugh glared down at the four men he’d left dead or wounded at his feet. But only four. The alpha not among them.

Thus far, the wolf-kin had underestimated him. Within the city, they were less likely to risk exposure by shifting into their partial ‘werewolf’ or full wolf forms. Plus the shift took time, longer for the less experienced wolves. But swiftly for the alpha.

The growl of the alpha broke the silence of the night just as he tackled Lugh from behind. Twisting even as they fell, Lugh jerked away from the snap of the canine jaws. The beast within him growled back at the werewolf with animal fury.

The werewolf, a half-man/half-wolf amalgamation of horrifying intent, raked his two-inch claws down the back of Lugh’s denim jacket, hooking into the fabric.

Kicking away from him, Lugh shrugged out of his jacket and the shoulder pack of supplies he carried. If not for the Fade, he’d have teleported away before now, but the expenditure of magic would certainly exceed his reserves. Even the use of Glamour was a luxury that he could ill-afford. But when the werewolf lunged for him again, his longer arm-span extended wide, those deadly claws spread menacingly, and his canine snout curled up in a bestial snarl that revealed teeth meant for rending flesh, Lugh drew upon his personal aspect of magic.

Tapping into the power of the sun, he flared a light so intense as to blind unshielded eyes. It flicked so fast, returning the night to the depths of the darkness, no one’s vision, other than his own, could quickly recover.

The wolf’s pained yip proved the effectiveness of the strike against his senses. The animal drove forward, nonetheless, barreling toward where Lugh had been.

Lugh twisted away, leaving the alpha to bash headlong into the brick wall with force enough to send a spiderweb of fractures through the bricks where his face impacted.

The flaring of the light and dodging the attack had been Lugh. But the beast within him wasn’t satisfied. Possessed of it, Lugh grabbed the unconscious werewolf and shoved him forward again, battering his head into the wall, and this time leaving blood on the impact site. With the third blow, the beast crushed in the werewolf’s skull.

Backing away, he let the alpha fall. His werewolf’s shape slipped back to human without his conscious effort to make it otherwise.

The beast loomed over its victims, snarling a grin. The arousal of aggression still flooding through him, making Lugh’s body ache for more.

“Enough.” Lugh’s own voice sounded foreign to his ears. Deeper. Throatier.

The beast, its violent desires served, skulked back into the shadows of his mind. Appeased for now, but not vanquished. It grinned with wicked amusement at Lugh, knowing its advantages. They wrestled now, but the beast won ground each time they battled. And eventually, Lugh would forget himself in its animal haze.

It had happened to Lugh before. The eclipse, as the fey called it.

And if he lost himself into the dark lusts, then all he’d fought for since the Collapse was lost.

That… and that alone… strengthened Lugh to forestall the black passions of his beast.

Lugh snatched up his torn jacket and the shoulder pack and continued on his way, leaving the wounded to recover enough to make off with their dead or be discovered by the waking city in a few hours, as fortune would have it.

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