Award-Winning Author of Fantasy Romance
“One thousand US dollars. Bid starts at one thousand.” Sloane Davenport edged Baby Elsa to her left shoulder as she raised her paddle to accept the bid. With frustration, she shifted on her tapestry seat.
Bryce Jackson slid her damp palms on the wool fabric of her pantsuit and hoisted herself from her stool in the Singing Kraken Tavern. Pushing her drink away with resolve, she eyed him again. *That's it. No more waiting.*
The first time my oldest son forgot his viola in the Seattle metro bus, I saw how much distress a musician felt at being separated from their instrument and it gave me the spark of inspiration for this story (the viola was found, lost again and found again, thank goodness!)
“I love you.” Sin hoped she’d say it back. Say that this was all a mistake, that she acted irrationally, emotional from the remnants of her ordeal. Say that she’d move all those boxes and things straight to the home he’d worked so hard to design for her. Say that she’d marry him.
This one is probably my favorite cover in all the Black Oak books (and my favorite hero). I wanted to have a very gothic feel for this book so this is what I asked Frauke (my cover designer) in my email when I described what I wanted:
"Brother.” Justin paced the floor again. Then he stopped right in front of Mag. “One of the hardest thing I ever did was to say goodbye to Angela.”
-- Valerian (Val) Callan St-Amand -- Species: Immortal -- Affiliation: Mount-Royal Immortals, Coven of the White Holly (by handfasting), Order of the Black Oak (by the Midsummer Accords)
Nyssa straightened her spine despite the dingy surroundings. “It doesn’t matter where I come from,” she told Mag with a firm tone, “I can easily just walk in this diner and retrieve my sister. You did not need to come.” “I’m the one Vince called.” Mag gently took hold of her elbow, his rich and spicy scent folding over her. “Senora Moreno seems to like you, but Vince and I go a long way.” “Mob.” Nyssa shook her head. “It was written all over him.” “And you disapprove?”
It took me six romance novels to finally write a Scottish hero. I’m married to a Scotsman, you see, and it is sometimes harder to write about the things and people that are closest to you.
Her sister had been offline for six days now. Dread seeped into Nyssa’s bones as again she imagined Cat’s fate. The child could be hidden somewhere in a freezing rundown trailer outside of town. Coerced into drugs, unable to leave.
