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Stone Guardian
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo Get the complete series HERE! -- EXCERPT: It was the screams that woke Nancy. They were bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching howls filled with nothing but pain. It was unlike anything Nancy had ever heard before. Gasping for breath, Nancy’s eyes flew open. She pitched forward and peered around her with bleary eyes, trying to figure out which of her neighbors must have been shrieking … but instead of her ceiling and her warm blankets, she found herself lying in a heap on the side of a dirt road. Above her, gray clouds swirled through the frigid night. Snowflakes drifted down and clung to her lashes and her hair. Why was she outside? The last thing she remembered was diving into bed after Diana left. Panic filled her as she rolled clumsily onto her arms and knees, finding her legs twisted and tangled in endless yards of fabric. It was only when she managed to drag herself to her feet by gripping a lantern-lit street post that she realized she was no longer in her Wonder Woman pajamas. She was dressed in a long-sleeved frock that swirled around her ankles. She grabbed at the thick fabric, tugging and pulling at it, until she realized that she was wearing some sort of antiquated dress and a petticoat. “I must be dreaming,” Nancy whimpered, but she was hardly able to hear herself over the screams still echoing around her. Her chest heaving, Nancy stumbled down the dirt road. She had to find someone, anyone, to tell her where she was and what was going on. This place was unrecognizable to her. There were only ten houses on this small road, as well as a building Nancy assumed was some sort of general store. There was also something almost familiar about the budding town, though Nancy could not put her finger on what it was—especially when she realized that flames licked up toward the sky from most of the buildings. Heat emanated from them, battling with the wintry chill of the air. Nancy froze. She could only stare as the townspeople ran around wildly and begged for help. Suddenly, men on horses charged through the village, some swinging swords and guns while others aimed flaming arrows at people and homes. “The outsiders are attacking!” someone screamed before getting cut down before Nancy’s very eyes. “No … no!” shrieked Nancy. “Wake up, please! I don’t want to be here anymore!” 
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Red Ultimatum
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: ATHENS, GREECE “I saw you die!” “You saw me fall off the building.” “Yes, and you died! I saw it happen. The explosion from below. The fireball that swept up. Your last look. I’ve relived that moment every day since. Oh my God, Marnie, I was there. I saw it all.” “And I’m here with you, Dan.” “You’re not. You can’t be.” “I am and we can be together again.” She reached out to him. Dan Reilly stepped back and stared. She was wearing the same dress, green blouse, and leather jacket she had worn that day in Stockholm; the day Marnie Babbitt returned to his hotel room seemingly regretful; wishing things were different; wanting to make them so. “You loved me, Dan,” the brunette said softly. “You can love me again. Tonight. Here in Athens.” Dan Reilly stopped retreating. Yes, he thought. Here. Athens. He looked at the surroundings. Nighttime traffic was flowing along Adrianou Street. Horns honked. Couples walked arm-in-arm. Tourists window-shopped. Everything was normal until the woman he had desperately loved, the woman who had betrayed him stepped out of the shadows in front of him and into the light of a street lamp. Dan Reilly had just concluded a successful business meeting at Kuzina, one of Athens’ most celebrated restaurants that boasted a magnificent view of The Temple of Hephaestus, the Agora, and the Acropolis. He had come to discuss the final terms for his company’s acquisition of a luxury hotel property currently owned by a Greek billionaire. It would take lawyers months to solidify the terms, but atop the restaurant’s Tarazza, with the golden glow of the Acropolis backlighting them, Reilly and the seller toasted to their relationship with a final glass of Ouzo. It had been a good night for the International President of Kensington Royal Hotel Corporation. As he had walked along the cobblestones on Adrianou, Marnie Babbitt was not on his mind, but suddenly she was there alive and vibrant as ever. Her beauty took his breath away. Her voice was as soft and lilting as the last whispers in his ear. Or the last lies, he thought. “No lies, Dan,” she said as if reading his mind. “This time it will be different.” At first, Reilly had felt immobile. Then he was drawn to her. She reached out to him and stroked his cheek. Her touch was as present as ever. The light gave her an almost ethereal glow. She looked longingly into his eyes and proved she was alive with a lingering, deep kiss. Then she said, “Is that the kiss of a dead woman?” Her tongue, her scent, and her breath were just as he remembered. Just as he missed. So was the quickening of his heartbeat. He withdrew and looked into her brown eyes. They were so bright and inviting. “You missed me. I know you did.” She smiled and took a step back into the shadows. “Come with, Dan.” The sounds of the city faded away. Gone were the car horns and sirens, people talking, dogs barking, car doors slamming, and footsteps on the sidewalk. Everything around him blurred. There was just Marnie and him. He felt his desire for her grow. Then he thought of Yibing Cheng, the woman now in his life. “But—” “It’s all right my darling. I know that there’s someone else. But I’m back. You want me.” More thoughts from his head. How did she know? “You want us to be together again.” “Marnie, I saw… “You saw what we wanted you to see.” She leaned forward and kissed him again. She felt him. He responded. “Now I’m here. To be with you.” He withdrew. “Don’t you want that, Dan? Don’t you want me?” “Marnie…” “Yes.” “Marnie,” he said again. “Yes, my love.” “But you’re—” She suddenly laughed. Her brown eyes went black. Maybe it was the Ouzo, but all he initially felt was a prick in his stomach. Then he looked down. There was the hand that he had loved caressing. But now it held the black handle of a Russian Kizlyar Spetsnaz Special Forces knife. He brought his eyes up to hers. She smiled cruelly, waited a moment, and then twisted the 6.5-inch blade and sliced upwards. Reilly tried to speak. He couldn’t. He felt his legs crumble, but Marnie Babbitt’s grip on the knife kept him on his feet. She twisted again. “Why?” Reilly silently gurgled. “Because this is the way it should have ended.” Marnie’s words confused him. He grabbed her hand with his. Blood soaked them both. Should have ended? Reilly tried to pull out the knife, but she was stronger. Life began to leave him. With a sickly sweet laugh, she repeated, “This is the way it should have ended. You, not me.” Should…have…ended. The words were familiar. He’d heard them before. Many times before. “No!” Reilly shouted in full-throated defiance. “This is not how it should end! And…you…are… dead!” “What?” “You’re dead,” he shouted. “You’re dead!” “No, Dan. No! It’s all right.” He was shaking violently. “Dan!” Dan Reilly bolted upright. He automatically grabbed his stomach. It was wet, but from sweat, not blood. And the woman whose concerned voice was cutting through his dream belonged to Yibing Cheng. “Dan, Dan, it’s okay. You’re here with me. Yibing.” Reilly slowly collected his thoughts. Yibing turned on a night light and faced the man she’d been seeing for just a few months. They were in Athens, but he was not on the street bleeding. But he had had nights like this—in Paris, Washington, and where Reilly and Yibing had first met, Beijing. “Your dream again?” she asked. He gathered his thoughts. “Yes, except this time it was here. Outside our restaurant last night. The street—” “I’m so sorry,” Yibing said pulling him close to her naked body. What did she do?” “At least she didn’t throw me into a woodchipper this time,” Reilly replied lightly. “No plastic bag over my head. No fall from a cliff.” He rubbed his gut. “But she was pretty good with a knife, even for a dream.” Reilly knew what was going on. Shrinks might call it PTSD. He saw it more as a combination of guilt over the fact that he failed to recognize Marnie Babbitt was a Russian plant and guilt that he couldn’t save her the moment he realized she wanted out. It was all manifesting itself in very vivid revenge dreams. But it was not paranoia. There was more that wasn’t in his dream world. Dan Reilly had seen drones out his window after he and Yibing had returned from Beijing. He’d spotted people following them. And they were not his people. Not Yibing’s either. For now, he viewed the tails and eavesdropping as intimidation. Russian or possibly Chinese. But it could get worse. It likely would get worse and not because he was an international hotel executive. It was his moonlighting. Dan Reilly had deep ties with officers at the CIA and even deeper ties with the United States Secretary of State. 
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Can’t Help Falling In Love
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks -- EXCERPT: Luc Woolf sat at the table, a smart-ass grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. “We have to stop meeting like this.” The smooth, deep voice washed over her like silk. She would not laugh at his ridiculous attempt at humor. But damn it all, she felt the curve of her lips as a smile she couldn’t seem to stop, turned them up. “Damn small towns.” He chuckled. “I thought you owned a bar?” “I do.” “But you’re a server on the side?” He tilted his head. “There a large abolition following in Kismet I’m not aware of?” “No. The distillery does great. So great in fact that we expanded into a restaurant. One of the servers had an emergency and needed her shift covered.” Dark brows rose. “And the boss filled in?” “We’re a family run establishment.” She shrugged. “It’s what you do when your family needs help. You help.” Something passed through his eyes. Respect. She had no idea why, but it made a warm fuzzy feeling rise in her stomach. Luc seemed to understand and even applaud her actions of the evening. Stupid. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what he thought. Then why was her heart suddenly racing? “So,” he grabbed his menu again, breaking the moment. “What’s good here?” “Everything. And I don’t just say that because I co-own the joint. Our chef is amazing. What do you like?” “I’m not picky.” He said that, but they were half an hour away from Denver. Hipster central. Trends took off like wildfire in the city and spread like the plague to the small tourists’ towns like Kismet. Currently they’d had to accommodate for everything from Paleo to gluten free patrons. She had no problem catering to a customer who had a food allergy, but she really hated the bandwagon eaters who fussed and complained because they were strictly gluten free and then ordered a piece of cheesecake with graham cracker crust. “No allergies? No weird fad diets?” “Do I look like I do fad diets?” He arched one eyebrow. No, he did not. In fact, the man looked like he ate steel for breakfast and iron for dinner. A dark V-neck sweater clung tight to his chest revealing just a hint of chest hair. The sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, revealing tightly muscled forearms. Damn, had she ever found forearms sexy before? She did tonight. “A meat and potatoes kind of guy?” Her mouth felt too dry. She swallowed, trying for the life of her to find some saliva. “Our steak is amazing, but if you prefer fish, we have a great salmon with dill sauce.” He held the menu in his fingers, but his gaze focused on her. “It all sounds amazing.” Her breath caught in her throat, brain blanking. How did this guy render her speechless with just a look? It wasn’t fair. No one should be that sexy. “Um, yeah. It is.” Clever Charlie. “What can I bring you?” He placed the menu at the edge of the table, eyes never leaving hers. “You pick.” “What?” “You own the place. You know what’s best. You pick something for me.” Shaking herself out of whatever weird fog she’d been in, she laughed. “You want me to pick your meal.” He nodded. Licking her lips, she placed her hand on the table and leaned down. “How do you know I won’t poison you?” He wasn’t exactly her favorite person, and she’d made no bones about it. He leaned toward her until they were inches apart. She could smell the sharp mint of his breath, feel its warmth on her lips and cheeks. Her blood began to heat, heart racing in her chest. This was ridiculous! She should not react this way to a man who’d done nothing but annoy the crap out of her since the moment she ran into him. “You do need me to sign off on your anger management course. If I suddenly die after eating at an establishment you own it might look pretty sketchy to the judge,” he said the words in a teasing tone, the dimple in his cheek catching her eye at his wide grin. Laughter bubbled out of her. “True. Plus, it’d be a shame to poison all that sexy.” The moment the words left her mouth she wanted to shove them back in. Surprise lifted his brow. “You think I’m sexy?” Embarrassment flooded her, so she did what she always did when she felt insecure. She pushed away from the table, crossing her arms over her chest, and brought out her trademark sarcasm. “Don’t fish for compliments. You own a damn mirror.” He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not so bad yourself, Charlie.” 
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Perfectly Polished
-- EXCERPT: Forty-five minutes. Fiona Han discreetly turned off the alarm on her smart watch. It wasn’t that she was having a bad time, these were nice people. But they were people who knew far too much about her, and she was ready for this day to be over. With a small smile, she said, “I called an uber. Hilary, thanks for inviting me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” “I’ll drive you home.” Fiona blinked and stared at Tomas Alvarado. “Umm… Thanks, but I’m fine.” She waved her phone at him and put it into her purse. He stood and looked down at her. “I’ll drive you home.” Eep! She did not want to make a scene. He didn’t give off the axe-murderer vibe, and her friends were grinning at her like he was perfectly safe, but the man unnerved her. Marcia Ortiz, a woman in her mid-fifties, and best friend to Fiona’s mother in law Iris, touched her hand. “You’ll be fine,” she murmured. Fiona rose, tucked her purse under her arm and followed Tomas to the stairs leading from Hilary’s deck to the driveway. She glanced back at Marcia, who winked at her. Eep! Descending the stairs, she was aware of the man behind her. It seemed that for the past two weeks, Tomas had been at her back, without saying a word. Reaching the driveway, she faced three white pick-up trucks bearing the logo for Keeney Building Supplies, the company Iris owned. With a hand to her elbow, Tomas guided her to the one in the middle, distinguishable from the others by the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, and opened the passenger door. Fiona eyed the distance up to the seat of the truck, then down at her pencil skirt and heels. Then she was up. Tomas placed her gently on the seat and reached around to buckle the seat belt. “I’m not a child!” She glared up at him. He met her eyes fully for the very first time. “I know you’re not.” He closed the door and walked around the hood of the truck. Walk was the wrong word. Tomas prowled like a predator. Did that make her his prey? He climbed behind the wheel, his presence taking up all the air in the truck. Fiona wanted to open the window, to breathe, perhaps to crawl out. Placing a large hand on the back of her seat, he ignored her as he turned to back out of the driveway. She could smell him. If she turned her head, ever so slightly, she could brush up against his hand and rub his scent all over her. Where had that thought come from? Fiona shook her head and stared forward. “I live on Dunlop Street,” she told him. “I know.” Tomas met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “I changed the locks on your doors last week.” “Right,” she said in a small voice. To keep the douche canoe of her soon to be ex-husband out. Her eyes got big. “I haven’t paid you yet! I’m so sorry, I forgot all about it. I can write you a cheque when we get to the house. It’s just –” “It’s taken care of.” “Oh.” Tomas worked for her mother-in-law. Iris must have had him do it. “Thank you.” He drove in silence. Not knowing how to converse with someone who clearly didn’t like to talk, she leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She awoke to see Tomas scouring the word ‘cunt’ off her garage door. Fiona threw herself from the truck, stumbling as she hit the ground. She righted herself and flew around the hood of the truck. Tomas whirled and grimaced. “Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod,” she chanted, pacing back and forth in front of the garage. Scrawled in dripping red paint, each capital letter was at least two feet high. Eddie. He’d chosen a public and humiliating way to get back at her. 
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Ambition to Savor
-- EXCERPT: Corruption. Mutiny. Absolute villainy was occurring within the walls of his beloved establishment. Jonathan Tessier had little reason to complain of late. Profit margins were rising, his customer base was expanding, and the recent annual health inspection had wrapped up swimmingly with no findings. After years of fatiguing work and plowing through stress, things were supposed to be looking up for his pride and joy, the Taverne Tessier. However, walking down the street on this early autumn morning, he was feeling neither proud nor joyous. He could see his restaurant across from him as he stood waiting at the intersection, its pristine exterior of royal blue and beige surrounded by trees of warm hues. When he first renovated the place, he had aimed for a clean and regal appearance inside and out, so even if he could not boast of its size, the feeling of elegance, class, and beauty would still be conveyed. And now it was filthy. Metaphorically speaking, of course. 
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The Sun
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks -- EXCERPT: TUG GRANT The cells in each pod at Lino are dull brown concrete with blue metal doors. I shiver as I glance out the thin side window, waiting for the day to start. Everybody wears two layers because there’s a chill that runs through this cellblock on a cold night that you can’t shake. The common area has blue metal tables and chairs bolted to the floor. It would be impossible to make a seat less comfortable than the flat steel circles mounted too close to our tables. I’m tempted to call the Innocence Project. Dick Doden mur- dered my wife, Deb Grant. Doden testified that my friend, Roan Caruso, hired him for the hit. And that’s where the evidence ends. How the hell did I get convicted of murder-for-hire? Prosecutor Bridget Bare claimed the circumstantial evidence was over- whelming. But was it? Is taking out an insurance policy on your partner evidence of murder? Ten million dollars might have been a little excessive, but it’s not enough to convict a man of murder. I had loaned Roan one hundred thousand dollars before Deb’s murder. That loan and the insurance were all they had. It was all circumstantial. Roan never implicated me. 
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Be In My Bubble
-- EXCERPT: “You’re on top of me,” she blurted out, referring to his apartment’s location. The second the words left her mouth, her face erupted in an instant rash of crimson. He chuckled, a low, warm sound that made her stomach flip. “Alright, Emily. It’s night one. Catch you later.” Her rubbish hit the floor, instant-noodle and crisp packets flopping out, as she locked eyes with Robbie. The shock of seeing him made her feel as if she was standing in sand, immobile, stuck. Robbie. Her brother’s friend Robbie. Tall, Australian, self-assured. His chiselled good looks and broad build made him look like the fourth Hemsworth brother, but his floppy dark hair and soulful eyes were more Dev Patel. “What are you doing here?” she said, staring down first at her rubbish and then at her T-shirt, which featured an illustration of a twerking corgi. The lone pimple on her chin seemed to pulsate to house music. He smiled, dimples deepening. “Maybe we could be in each other’s bubble a bit. Stop ourselves from fully hermiting. Seems safe if we haven’t seen anyone else.” 
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Sins of the Fire
-- EXCERPT: “You shall be tied to the blade, for as long as your mind and spirit remain. Is this acceptable?” The earth shook, and the rumble of fire howled from outside of the cave. An ultimatum laid before me. To bind myself within the blade would mean giving up my freedom for eternity. To fight a war that threatened to burn the earth to its core would mean my death. The Gods have brought upon us a calamity no mortal could ever hope to quell. Humans who were once close to us rallied for our demise. Our kind torched them, their lands, and their ilk in sport. Whichever side won, there would be no true victor. Only ash. Would it be acceptable to live the rest of my life as a weapon? Would it be better if I died fighting a lost cause? Imprisonment or death; my options were narrow. Looking down at the human, dressed in burns, I pondered what he thought. He bore no hatred. He held no contempt for my kind after what happened. He agreed to fight alongside me with eyes ablaze with passion. I wondered why. What would make someone turn a blind eye to the wounds inflicted by a beast of my caliber? What allowed him to grace my hand, still slick with the residue of death, and find camaraderie in the midst of devastation? The silence of the cave was beginning to draw on my senses, my own thoughts starting to cloud the noise of the carnage. We agreed to fight together, but fear was a wise and stringent guide. Regardless of it, I had to make a choice. “This is acceptable.” “In doing this, you will relinquish your body. Your essence shall be ripped completely from within. Your magic, your strength and your flames will be in the hands of your wielder. Is this acceptable?” My heart shuddered. It would hurt. I would die, yet I would live. What would happen to my body? Would my heart sit in silence, left to rot in its empty temple? Would my flesh be torn away with my spirit? Again, I looked towards the human. His gaze held mine. Though twisted and bloated, he held me in their comfort. He smiled. He did not need to reassure me with words nor tender touch. “This is acceptable.” “The process shall span the turn of the moon. With the dawn, you shall awaken in your new form. Do you accept the terms of the pact?” “I accept.” The dragon’ s eyes flashed. “The terms have been set, and the pact is complete. May fortune favor you, Mysherra.” As the sword began to gleam, I closed my eyes. Tingling spread across my body as the sensation of my insides were pulled from within me. And thus, through a pain that transcended anything inflicted upon my hide of scales, I accepted my fate. 
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