Forsaken

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Their Mission is Redemption…

A Fallen Siren Novella, Book 3

Join Agents Emma Monroe and Zack Armstrong.
She protected him. He loved her.
They can trust one another with their lives, but what about their hearts?

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Reckoning

Their Mission is Redemption…

A Fallen Siren Novel, Book 2

Join Agents Emma Monroe and Zack Armstrong.
She’s sacrificed. He’s suffered. They’ve both been betrayed.
Now it’s time for a reckoning.

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Captured

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Salvation takes teamwork…

A Fallen Siren Prequel

Join FBI Agents Emma Monroe and Zack Armstrong.
She’s a Siren. He’s a Werewolf.
Their mission is redemption.

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Cursed

Cursed

Salvation takes teamwork…

A Fallen Siren Novel, Book 1

Meet FBI Agents Emma Monroe and Zack Armstrong.

She’s cursed. He’s damned. Together, they make one hell of a team. [Read more…]

The Union

The Union

Forbidden, Book 3.5

The woman had the power to turn me inside out with just one look.

“You never stop surprising me,” I told her this morning before leaving her bed. Truer words were never spoken. Here she was, now sitting across from me during an official briefing. Why am I surprised? Because Alex doesn’t work for the PSF, the Preternatural Special Forces. Alex is human.
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Behind the Mask

Behind the Mask

I should have known when I woke up pleasantly sore in a strange apartment with a man wrapped around me that my life was about to get complicated. It wasn’t going to mean anything , I’d lied the night before when, intoxicated by pheromones and champagne, I let him take me home. As I’d gathered up my clothes and planned my escape I’d assured myself it had been a momentary lapse, that I’d never see him again. Apparently that, too, had been a whopper. Because here he was, on the other end of a Glock 19, and he was pointing it at my chest.

“Police! Don’t move.”
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Skin

Skin

I had always thought that painting would be my greatest passion. Then I met Rose.

I first laid eyes on her at a show in Paris. She’d come to see my paintings. She never spoke with the artist; she explained when I introduced myself to her. She wanted her critique to be pure, her opinion unvarnished. When we shook hands I held on to hers a little too long.

“Have dinner with me,” I said. “We don’t have to talk.”
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Refuge

Refuge

The leaves in the trees fluttered in protest as a fierce rumble of thunder shook the mountains. Lightning split the rapidly darkening sky, opening it up. Rain poured down hard and fast, stinging my exposed skin. The inn where I was staying was a good three miles behind me, but up ahead was a covered bridge. It promised shelter, refuge from the storm.

The white cotton dress I was wearing had become drenched, transparent, and was molded to my body. I broke into a run. The sound of the slap of my sandals against the pavement, the smell of the surrounding pines, and the feel of the cool rain in the middle of the hot summer day took me back to a time when my life was simple and uncomplicated.
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Smokin’

Smokin'

“What are you doing? You said you’d quit,” said Sharon as she pulled the cigarette right out of my mouth. The sun had set a few hours ago. But it was springtime and still warm. Sharon was fresh from a bath and I had just come back from my evening run.

“I did. I’ll quit again right after this,” I told her, reaching for the pack of cigarettes I’d left on the counter. She beat me to it. Damn she was fast. “Hand them over,” I said, trying to sound bored instead of desperate.
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It’s Magic

It's Magic

Forbidden, Book 2.5

The air is unseasonably cold and the streets are covered in a dense fog, courtesy of the thick marine layer that seems to have crept inland from the coast. I hang back in the shadows, away from the lone streetlight and survey the familiar neighborhood. It’s as black as pitch outside, but I can see my quarry clearly. She’s standing on the sidewalk bathed in moonlight, her skin translucent, the long thin column of her neck beckoning to me. Almost as if she can sense my desire she sweeps her hair behind her shoulders and the loose spill of fiery red curls tumble down her back.

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