What’s a single, pregnant woman supposed to do when her family kicks her out? Go to Preor Choosing Station Tau and hope a dragon shapeshifting alien is her mate, of course.

Delaney Cole found her mate among the Preor only to watch him die—through his own eyes thanks to the Knowing.  Now, what’s she supposed to do when she discovers that her second mate is the male who’d killed her first?  It doesn’t matter that he’s gorgeous, that his peach scales invite her touch, and his thick muscles make her fingers tingle with the need to caress him.  She shouldn’t want such a violent, deadly male, but… she does.

Zadri was born a son of Syh, orphaned and unwanted, and he never imagined actually having a mate.  Yet, Delaney is his. Yes, he was the one to rip out her first mate’s throat, but now that he has experienced the Knowing with her, he will not let her go. Her lush curves, inner strength, and unborn young belong to him—wholly and until he takes his final flight.

When others attempt to rip her from his life, he will explain the gravity of their error. Slowly. Painfully. He only hopes he can reach her before they escape.

Read an Excerpt

Zadri wondered what terrors plagued the small female before him. She thrashed on the medical platform, her small arms tugging against the firm restraints around her wrists. He mentally snarled at their presence but could not deny their necessity.

The woman whimpered and jerked her right arm, fist only raising a few inches before relaxing back down to the soft surface beneath her. She turned her head so quickly her dark hair followed the movement, hiding her face from his sight. That same snap came again, allowing him to see her once more.

Allowed him to see her delicate nose, the tip rising ever-so-slightly. The fullness of her lips, lips he ached to taste. Her face was slightly rounded yet her cheeks appeared hollow, a sign of her need for sustenance though he did not believe she’d wanted for long. The elegant line of her pale neck, skin so light he could see the slight blue-green tint of her veins.

Zadri did not allow himself to focus on her breasts, a hint of shame filling him for lusting over a female that was not awake.

A female that did not belong to him.

He did let his stare wander to the mound of her belly, the roundness not caused by what humans called fat but by a dragonlet. No, that was not correct. Humans called their offspring children.

The offspring inside this female was human and considered small according to Human-Healer Butler—the human-Preor mate of another warrior. He wondered if it was due to the woman’s hunger and difficulties, or if the child’s sire was merely weak.

Though all human males were considered weak. None on Earth were stronger than the Preor—especially not humans. He decided the diminutive shape was its sire’s fault.

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Ridgeville: Mating Instinct

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Published: May 1, 2016
Length: Boxed Set
Ridgeville #99
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**This is a boxed set of ALL Ridgeville books. If you own these titles individually, DO NOT purchase this book.**

The shifter men and curvy, growly ladies of Ridgeville have all huddled together in one massive volume. From Maya and Alex and all the way to Grayson and Honor, they're having fun, kicking butt, and getting mated in this collection.

Every shifter wants to get mated, right? They just have to follow their instincts.

The COMPLETE Ridgeville series books 1-11:
He Ain't Lion
You're Lion
Ball of Furry
Head Over Tail
Fierce in Fur
Deuces Wild
Sealed with a Purr
Like a Fox
Big Furry Deal
Lion's Honor
Freaking Purrfect


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Violence is never the answer… unless you’re a Preor warrior.

Rendan sen Tarkan, Offense Master to the Preor Third Fleet, has found his human mate. She is small compared to him, but her curves, delicious scent, and sky blue eyes call out to his soul. He has waited for a female for over two centuries and he will fight—kill—any who dare attempt to take her. Even one of his own males.

One moment Carla was unemployed and the next she was on the Preor battleship, working as a nurse for human-Preor mates. Oh, and the next moment? That was when she found her sexy, alien pink-scaled mate. Then she watched the muscular dragon shifter get beat to hell. And then she was assigned a condo in Preor Tower on Earth. The person in the condo next door? That sexy, alien pink-scaled male.

Learning about the proud alien warrior isn’t trouble free, but it’s easier than almost dying. Yeah, almost. But the Preor who tried to end her life? Well, he doesn’t quit easily. She only hopes Rendan is there to save her when the alien tries to end her life once again.

Read an Excerpt

In many ways, Carla was a pushover. A good glare could send her scurrying away, and a solid frown would have her backing into a corner.  She didn’t even want to think about how she reacted when someone yelled at her.

She was not a pretty crier.

But under certain circumstances, she had a backbone of steel. Specifically, when she worked on a patient. When she gloved up and got her nurse on, she was all business and absolutely zero patience.

Wait, that was a lie. She was the liarest of liars. She had to amend those ballsy thoughts. Oh, they still applied—most of the time. Just not when she was on a Preor ship surrounded by Preor warriors—big, winged, deadly, highly skilled, dragon-shifting, Preor warriors.

And at the moment, her definition of “surrounded” meant two—two Preors.

Healing Master Whelon stood behind her, peering over Carla’s shoulder while she worked.  The massive, gray Preor was nice… but massive.  Silver hair, tanned skin, and wide-spreading wings accented his size. They combined with his broad, bare chest and clinging katoth—similar to Earth leather—pants. The fact that his coloring was similar to the ship’s walls just added to his imposing presence.

He’d never done anything to her—never shouted, glared, or snarled. He’d been nothing but gracious and overjoyed when she’d joined the Preor staff as a nurse specifically meant to care for the human-Preor mates onboard. That couldn’t banish the fear, though.

Fear of large men and the damage they could cause.

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Hell’s Gates

I’m Caith Morningstar: bar owner, leather wearer, shoe worshipper, werewolf, Orlando’s resident ass kicker and… Satan’s niece.

Orlando—land of that famous mouse—is on day three hundred sixty-two of my demon ban and life is… boring. Until a demon finds a way around my magical blockade with a new demonic drug. Now humans are getting high and disappearing while tweeners—magical beings that live in the land between On High and Hell—are grinding on my last, violent nerve. When my son is infected with the evil taint, I realize this demon has forgotten my rules: order, secrecy, discretion, and don’t screw with me or my stuff.

Bryony is mine. Orlando is mine. This dem’s head? It’s gonna be mine, too.

But, as much as I want to deal with this alone, I can’t. I have to face Samkiel—my fallen angel mate I lost to evil. On High has given him back some of his angelic mojo and I need his purifying hand to cleanse human souls, his help tracking down the local dealer, and him at my side when we locate the dem determined to get his claws into the mouse’s house.

I lost Sam once and survived. The question now is whether I can survive losing both of the men I love most?  Or rather, will the world survive?

Read an Excerpt

I stroked my new bat where it rested on its shelf beneath the bar. The pristine, polished wood was smooth beneath my palm and I traced the Louisville Slugger logo branded into the surface.  Just beneath that, I’d had my BFF Jezebeth add a little something extra for me with her magical mojo. Property of Hell’s Chapel along with my bar’s logo. I was gonna add my name, Caith Morningstar, but since the humans knew me as Caith Murray this time around, I had to stick with something generic. Blech.

Man, I remembered the good old days when a gal could keep the same name for a few centuries without a problem. Stupid digital-computer-age shit.

But bitching didn’t change the fact that I was sitting in Hell’s Chapel with a new bat and no one worthwhile to use it on.  Even worse? I’d had this one for nearly a week. A week. Unheard of. Maybe I was going soft.

I sighed and scanned the bar, hoping for some action but knowing there wasn’t going to be much.  A couple of punk-ass trolls were getting into an argument over a round of drinks to my left and it looked like they were being polite about it. For trolls anyway.

Same shit, different night with all of my regular tweens—peeps that lived between On High and Hell—filling the stools, along with a handful of strays that had wandered in off the streets.

Slow. Boring. Bored to the billionth degree.

It was what I’d wanted though, right?  I’d banished the dems—demons—from Orlando a year ago because of my asstastic family. Though, why I’d ever thought they’d be better than they were still escaped me. My uncle was the devil and my mother was his sister, so… yeah.

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Published: May 31, 2016
Length: Short Novel
Dragons of Preor #3
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Kozav found his mate and then he lost her. Now it’s time to hunt…

Grace Hall is a nurse, not a doctor. But when five Preor warriors are brought to the emergency room and the doctors won't touch the aliens, she steps forward.  One warrior draws her more than the others. His teal wings, muscular body, and pain-glazed eyes have her torn between two desires — needing his touch and desperation to heal him. She’s going to save the Preor males, even if it kills her.  When she loses consciousness after healing them, she realizes it just might.

Kozav sen Aghin, Primary Warrior of the Preor Third Fleet, wakes on the Preor battleship fully healed yet plagued by a feeling that something is wrong. And something is… Kozav's mate was left behind on Earth—alone and unprotected.  Unacceptable. Kozav's guilt for his actions in the past still plague him and he is determined not to fail again. The curvaceous, green-eyed, dark haired human female is his to protect, his to claim and his to keep.

When someone attempts to murder Grace, Kozav is prepared to do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Even if it means killing one of his own.  Or will it be Kozav with a sword through his chest?

Read an Excerpt

Grace would probably lose her job if she stabbed the woman in the eye. That knowledge didn’t lessen her desire to do the aforementioned stabbing, though. Nope. Her fingers itched to change her grip on the pen, tighten her hold, and then stab, stab, stab.

She swallowed hard and pushed back her irritation. It wasn’t the woman’s fault. Deep breath. Or even her mate’s fault. Another deep breath. Nah, the problem was with Grace. Envy turned her into a violent bitch. Not homicidal, thankfully, but a bitch none the less.

A sappy sigh drew her focus, pulling her thoughts away from the need to pluck out the chick’s eyeballs and back to the task at hand. Mainly, verifying the match. As a Senior Mating Representative, it was her responsibility to verify matches via a handy-dandy checklist and out-process the new, happy couple.

Screw it, she was a glorified cashier. And not even a well-paid one. She got minimum wage to perch behind a desk in her agency provided skirt suit with a smile on her face while she wished mates well on their way out the door.

Not before greasing the Intergalactic Mating Agency’s palm first, though. The IMA did a lot of good… for a price. Overhead, right?

Another sound, this one more of a hum, and Grace lifted her head, not even a bit surprised at what she found. The couple—a human woman and her blue-skinned Bellatani mate—were wrapped around each other. Like, literally. The Bellatani had four arms that he used to stroke and pet his new mate. A hand disappeared beneath her skirt while two others worked on the buttons of her blouse and then that fourth disappeared… somewhere.

Now was the time to put a stop to it and not just because she was jealous. IMA had a clear policy about mating during outprocessing.

Grace cleared her throat. “Ahem.”

One of the two moaned.

“Aaaa. Hemmm.”

The moaned response was longer that time. The woman shifted in place and Grace realized the Bellatani’s missing hand was on his pants, fighting to free his erect length.

Yeah, she wasn’t going to ogle an off-worlder. Not today. She normally worked in mating intake, which was fine, but today the girl who handled exit interviews was out, which meant Grace had to step in and… she was not a voyeur.

She reached for a nearby tablet, one of the older thicker models that was kept around for just this purpose. Sure, it worked just fine and could access agency data, but its true purpose was for…

She lifted the hunk of plastic and metal and dropped it to the desk. Boom.

(It really was big.)

The woman squeaked, the Bellatani roared and Grace smiled. At least she had their attention.

Long, pale fangs unfolded from the alien’s mouth and Grace held it together, not flinching when he hissed. Bellatani talked a good game but generally didn’t touch a female that did not belong to them. Not in anger or passion. Which meant she wasn’t scared. Much.

“Hello, I’m Senior Mating Representative Hall. Congratulations on your match. I just have a few forms to complete before you two can get on your way and enjoy your new lives together.”

The Bellatani still glared, the woman blushed, and Grace flicked her finger across the desk to display the first—of many—form. “Now, sir, if you’ll place your palm here…”

And so it went. One couple in, ten thousand credits collected, one happy couple out. Over and over again.

She reminded herself she was happy for all the others who matched. Really, for the most part, she was happy. Except when she got home at night, said good-bye to her mother’s carer and then watched her mom sleep. Sleep that would be interrupted by bouts of coughing or bone-shaking shivers around one and again at four.

Last night had been bad and the morning hadn’t shaped up any better. To top it off, she had two long shifts. First at the Intergalactic Mating Agency and then she had to head to…

More moaning.

Dammit, they were going at it again. She should have remembered that about the race. The second they encountered their mate, it was all about getting horizontal and they didn’t care where or when. Vertical could work because many of their males were extremely strong. Plus, they had the extra arms thing going on.

Grace picked up the tablet and dropped it, the three of them repeating the same events from moments before. She ignored the hiss she received and kept her attention on the human woman. “If you’ll first place your palm here, confirming your willingness to mate with…” she glanced down at the now-flickering tablet. “Riz’ta Sico’rolqir, we can get you two out of here.”

Beings matched with off-worlders had to agree to leave the planet. No print, no mating.

The woman slammed her hand down, shaking the desk with the force, before plastering her lips on her new alien mate.

“Great, if you two have any questions, feel free to call the eight hundred—”

They vanished from sight, ignoring her completely.


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Published: February 29, 2016
Length: Short Novel
Dragons of Preor #2
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He wants to return to Preor and she wants a job, but you don’t always get what you want.

Lana Cooper is down to her last hundred dollars, has no job, and her clunker of a car has finally clunked out. How has her life become such a cluster of horribleness? Oh, right. A guy. Only she doesn’t get a chance to beg for a job. Nope, one walk along the beach changes everything. Oh, she has a job now… as the mate to a hot, hunky Preor dragon male.

Taulan sen Pavon is anxious to return to his home on Preor. Yes, he’d journeyed to Earth in hopes of finding a human mate, but now… Now he would like to heal in the privacy of his aerie. Wings destroyed and body damaged by an explosion, he has no desire to watch others find joy with their mates while he remains unworthy and alone on a ship filled with thousands. But then he finds Lana. Lana with her alluring smile, sparkling eyes, luscious body, and whose mere presence initiates the Knowing.

Can he live long enough to claim her? Can she see past her father’s prejudice to love him? Both questions are pointless because there are still Preor who despise the joining of humans and dragons. They will stop at nothing to drive a wedge between the races. Including murder.

Read an Excerpt

Taulan’s nose filled with the stench of burning flesh and singed wings. The scent overwhelmed all else to the point that he could not identify the attackers.

The traitors.

Moments ago, his only concern had been to ensure the Ujal delegation was adequately protected. A request for additional warriors was immediately answered and he’d sent a half-dozen fierce males to protect the War Master and Ujal both.

The moment Engineering became vulnerable, the traitors struck. First, one explosion rocked the ship, the vessel listing toward the port. Before he’d opened his mouth to issue orders, another blossomed before him. The starboard side was engulfed in fiery flames for a brief moment.

Fire that could not touch him—him or any other Preor. They were born of the flames, their bodies producing heat as if their very blood was replaced by fire. The explosion was merely a distraction.

The deadly assault came immediately after.

With the first roll of orange and yellow that blew the panels off Engineering’s portal, Taulan broke into a run. He shifted his wings aside and reached back. His hands found his blades easily, the worn handles melding to his palms after all these years. Passed from one generation to the next, they were as old as the Pavon family. Older than even War Master Jarek’s blades.

The handles of the honed metal filled one hand and then the other, wicked silver gleaming in the now dim halls. The ship quickly suppressed the flames, but it did nothing for the rest of the chaos.

Taulan stepped into the hall and blocked the first strike, meeting his attacker’s gaze. The Training Master—Prasho—snarled at him, baring his long fangs.

Prasho hissed two words that identified him as the enemy. “For purity.

Purity. Purity of the Preor blood, purity of their race, purity of their souls.

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Grayslake: More Than Mated

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Published: February 28, 2016
Length: Boxed Set
Bears of Grayslake #7
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Six bestselling books of werebear hotness in one bundle and at an awesome price! Read about these werebear brothers who call Grayslake home as they find their own happily ever afters.

Mated to the Bear - The first day of Mia’s new life in Grayslake, Georgia is not going as planned. The house her grandfather left her looks ready to crumble, boxes cover every inch of the floor and—oh—there’s a bear cub in her pantry.

Claimed by the Bear - Who needs claws when you’ve got a baseball bat? Lauren Evans sure as heck doesn’t. Human Lauren has a protective streak a mile wide and one immediate goal in life—get her best friend out of an abusive household. If that involves a little bat-based redecorating, so be it. Unfortunately—or fortunately—a certain sexy-as-hell cop breaks up the fight before she has a chance to really get going.

Hunted by the Bear - What should Trista do when faced with a hunky werebear who can’t decide if he wants to kill her or screw her? Half-hyena, Trista has spent years rotating between Grayslake, Redby, and Boyne Falls. When the Grayslake Itan—the local clan’s werebear leader—orders a purge of all hyenas, she finds herself fighting to hold onto the hand-to-mouth life she’s created. Her carefully built existence is threatened further when a gorgeous werebear strides into her life and demands not just her heart, but her very soul.

Chased by the Bear - What happens when a half-blind weremole girl falls for a scarred werebear guy? A match made in furry, dirt-caked heaven. Mostly. Weremole Kira Kolanowski has spent twenty-nine-ish years of her life half-blind and occasionally half-dead. (Her family isn’t exactly loving.) In an effort to remain fully alive, she moves to Grayslake, Georgia, with her poor excuse for a guide dog—a guide dog who decides to lift his leg and relieve himself on sexy-smelling werebear Isaac Abrams’ belongings.

Seduced by the Wolf - Reid just killed her father. There’s no way Evelyn’s gonna mate him now… Dammit. Werewolf Reid Bennett has one goal: investigate the Brookfield clan’s Itan. Reports are coming in that the male is abusing his werebears and--even if he’s a werewolf--Reid will put a stop to it. Unfortunately, the resolution ends up being permanent and now Reid’s the clan’s leader.

Bared to the Bear - A Grayslake short story! Mia’s looking forward to a lazy Sunday afternoon with friends, family, furballs, and veggie dogs.

**This title is NOT listed on Amazon.**

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Hell’s Chapel

I’m Caith Morningstar: bar owner, leather wearer, shoe worshipper, werewolf, Orlando’s resident ass kicker and… Satan’s niece.

In the tween—between On High and Hell—I’ve got three rules: order, secrecy, and if you can’t manage that at least have some discretion.  Wait, make that four: no one screws with me or my stuff.  Orlando—land of that famous mouse—is my home and people are either gonna get in line or get out.

Except someone didn’t get that memo.  Now, I’m gonna bust out my bat and smash some heads.  I’ve got zombies demolishing my home, vamps chasing me, and on top of the normal violence in my life, I’m quickly falling for an angel.

I can handle the blood, gore, and frustration, but can I deal with the pain of loving—possibly losing—the angel Samkiel? Probably not, but I’m gonna try anyway.


This is Celia's first foray into urban fantasy as Lauren Creed. What's the difference between Celia's urban fantasy as Lauren and her rocking shifters?

Well, the chicks are still sassy, still curvy, and pretty kick ass.  But with urban fantasy, the world really DOES revolve around her and the ass kicking includes things like swords, knives and the occasional bomb. There's a guy hanging around somewhere who is totes hot, but he's there to look pretty, provide a little muscle, get down and dirty without a lifelong commitment. And he's hot. Did she mention hot?

Basically: lotsa blood, lotsa gore, lotsa chick saving the world combined with a fanatical love of shoes and a totally bangin' ass.

Hell's Chapel: The Orlando mouse's house is filled with demons and she's just the bitch to keep 'em in line.

Read an Excerpt

I shoulda bought a bigger bat. Maybe one of those aluminum jobs. Or steel if they made those. I bet I could get one on the internet. I could get anything on the ’net. Right then, something a little stronger would be appreciated. Metal wouldn’t leave such a big mess for the brownies to clean up once the dust settled.

I cradled the wood, familiar weight settling in my palm, melding with me like an extension of my arm. Louisville Slugger, a classic, a good friend no matter how recently I’d snagged him from the sports store.

“Batter up,” I mumbled under my breath. Then again, I could have screamed the words and not a single being in the bar would have noticed. “Fucking thelac warriors,” I grumbled. “They should know better than to drink themselves stupid.”

“Incoming!” Jezebeth, Hell’s Chapel’s resident bar bitch, and best young witch in the city (her words, not mine), shouted and then covered her ears. She sank beneath the counter, hiding, while I handled things.

I ducked, missing a flying beer bottle, and gritted my teeth when it crashed into the mirror behind me, shattering it into a million small pieces. Custom cut mirrors were expensive. Dammit.

The general betweeners, called tweens, fled at the first sight of trouble, scrambling toward Jezebeth to settle up and scurry home to their mommas. The remaining patrons stuck around to see how the night would unfold. Demons and angels—dems and gels—slumped in their chairs, watching the melee, picking up their glasses when someone needed a table to throw.

I climbed on top of the bar, black soled calf-high Fluevog boots leaving smudges on the polished cherry surface. I’d have to remember to give the brownies a little extra cash to clean up the mess.

I kicked bottles and glasses aside, traveling along the wood toward my prey. Pretty boy had to poke the thelacs and now he was learning what it meant to tangle with something more powerful than himself. Thelacs were seven feet tall, heavily muscled, black-skinned, ageless warriors and they were no one to mess with. They had all the time in the world to become the baddest of the bad.

On High and Hell, save me from idiots. Since I had a few gels in the vicinity, I hoped someone was listening.

My leather pants moved with me like a second layer of skin, tight and hugging my curves. It was like being naked while dressed. The black hue let me blend in with the night, become one with the darkness when it enveloped Orlando, Florida. Home of that famous mouse and… Hell. Well, a tiny bit of it, anyway.

Right now, the clothing moved with me while I flipped from the bar, ass over head, and around again until I landed in a protective crouch in front of the asshole who began the violence. Thelacs had never heard of sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. They tended to simply focus on the sticks and stones half of the saying. I faced off against the warrior, bat still gripped in one hand.

“Aw, Caith…” The warrior pulled his punch and I ducked, his fist missing me by a hairsbreadth. The scent of his charred skin filled my nose. The males must have been training inside Mount St. Helens again. There was a reason true thelac warriors were darker than night. There was no better place to train than in the bowels of an active volcano. At least, in their opinion. So, while they sweated to the oldies, they were burned to a crisp.

Still facing the warrior, I straightened once the danger slipped past and met the demon’s red-eyed gaze. “Don’t Aw, Caith me, Drek. This is my bar and you and your friends are tearing it to shit because some pretty-boy punk troll is an idiot.”

Said troll must not have liked being referred to as a punk. Though it could have been the “idiot” portion of my comment.

The shift of air, a delicate wind brushing my back in a caress, alerted me of his movement. I spun on the ball of my foot, stepping to the side and shifting my weight as I twirled around to crack him on the back of the head with my bat. Wood splintered on connection, showering the bar floor.

Which… was why I really wanted a metal one.

I dropped what remained of my weapon with a frown and poked out my lower lip. I’d had him the longest of all my bats. Three whole days. “Sorry, Louis.”

“Heads up!” I didn’t take my gaze from the now unconscious troll but raised my hand over my head, fingers uncurled. Another hunk of wood flipped through the air to land in my palm. I so loved Jezebeth in a non-lesbian way.

One of Drek’s friends shuffled toward me, boot scraping the concrete as he eased forward. I swung, the world blurring with the rapid movement, and shoved the end of the wood against the stranger’s chest. “Don’t test me.”

He snorted, rolled his eyes and looked to his friends. They snickered along with him as the idiot took another step forward, pushing against my hold. I really hated baby warriors. “You had to bring the babies, huh, Drek?”

I readily admitted I wasn’t much to look at. At five-foot-four inches, I seemed short compared to half the beings that crossed my threshold. My curves made most doubt my strength, even though my frame hid rock solid muscle beneath my layer of jiggle. While I may have the face of a pixie and the hair of a goth chick who spent too much time dying her strands with Kool-Aid, I was the ultimate Hell’s spawn with a capital Bitch.

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Poking the Vamp

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Published: February 3, 2016
Length: Short Novel
Knight Protectors #3
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Kate saved him from dying (Again? He’s a vampire. She has no idea.) and Joce saved her from dying (by killing her). When she awakens as a vamp, she’s not sure it’s an even trade.

Joce Magli, vampire and Knight Protector, thinks of humans as food and nothing more.  Until he meets Kate—doctor, savior, and most delicious woman he’s ever tasted. And don’t get him started on all her lush curves… She is his and when circumstances force his hand—when it becomes a choice between life and death—he claims her forever.  Kate is his fire, his vampire mate, and then she’s actually on fire and there is the half-God trying to strangle her and… yeah, it’s been a bad day.

And it’s only going to get worse.


Read an Excerpt

A hospital emergency room was not the place for an eight hundred-year-old vampire. Ever. It didn’t matter that Kate was related to the woman currently standing in the middle of the emergency room, looking as if she’d just stepped off a Paris runway. She was still a vamp in a building filled with injured humans.

Easy pickings…

Dog tired, feet aching, and body pushing through her fatigue, Kate Bennett slowly made her way toward the statuesque woman. Before seeing the vamp, she’d looked forward to finishing the last two hours of her shift and then she had a date with her BFF that included waffles and then a night in a warm bed. Alone. Lola was her BFF but they weren’t that close.

Until she saw Galla.

All hints of exhaustion fled as adrenaline spiked in her veins.

Kate hadn’t anticipated seeing the woman for at least another six months. Like clockwork, Galla appeared on her doorstep on Kate’s birthday. Typically decked out in the latest European fashions and layers of jewels. She would blow into Kate’s home, make herself comfortable, and then they’d exchange blood. Well, Galla would prick her finger and give a droplet to Kate.

This timeless woman was two things to Katherine: 1) her grandmother many times over (ages were never ever discussed) and 2) a vampire. Vampiress? Regardless of what she was called, she’d long ago charged herself with looking after the Bennett family line. For some reason, she focused on Katherine in particular.

Galla had never given her a definitive reason as to why. But the woman had fangs so Kate wasn’t about to push. She also never understood why giving her a droplet of blood each year kept her “safe.” Galla’s words, not Kate’s.

Of course, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was in the world that could threaten her.

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What’s hotter than an alien with scales? An alien with wings and scales, not to mention a hot body.

At 457 Preor years old, Jarek sen Claron is a dragon ready for his final flight into the skies.  This voyage to Earth as the War Master of the third fleet will be his final assignment. Once he has helped his fellow Preors secure human mates, he will return to Preor before the madness of loneliness overtakes his mind.

That all changes when he meets Melissa. Human Melissa with her sparkling eyes, bright smile, and body that would make any hot-blooded male drool.  Unfortunately, she never registered as a Preor mate hopeful. No matter, the Knowing stretches between them and there is no way she can resist him. Until she does.

Jarek wishes to give her the choice to mate him, while everything inside him screams to take Melissa beneath his wing, now. No choosing necessary.

But should he draw her to his side when his enemies are circling? Many males do not believe the son of a Preor mass murderer deserves to have a mate.  Can he survive the coming battles? Or will he die without tasting sweet Melissa’s lips?

Read an Excerpt

They called it Knowing. When young, Jarek had always scoffed at such a thing. A Knowing. The idea was absurd. The masters and teachers heard his words and clucked their tongues, shaking heads and ruffling wings—clear signs they pitied him for his ignorance.

Then he’d lived year to year, watching his friends and peers experience their own Knowing.

Such as when Evuklar stopped in mid-flight, half way between Atue and Derilia above the Skoria forests. He’d pulled his wings tightly to his body, released a bellowing fire-tainted roar, and performed an aerial maneuver their masters never taught, diving into the trees. Later, after Evuklar saved his new mate from a group of Skors chasing her, he explained the dragon in his heart had stolen all control.

That was part of the Knowing—the recognition of their mates and subsequent tie of their minds. The rest… the rest was the gift of unerring knowledge of all that came before their lives. The collective history of their race, blood history, was opened to them.

It was large, vast, and heavy, Evuklar said. Something that could only be endured with a mate at his side to help shoulder the burden.

Jarek stopped doubting then. No, there were no doubts, but envy was now his constant companion.

Even four hundred twenty-two years later, the burn of envy filled his veins. He pushed the emotion down, unwilling to let it overpower him. If he allowed his emotions to rule his body… Well, they might as well send him on his final flight now and not wait until the madness of loneliness stole his mind.

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M&M Mating Agency Boxed Set

All four of the M&M Mating Agency stories in one volume!

Wanting a Mate - Sometimes a gal’s gotta admit defeat and decide how many cats she’s gonna have when she’s old and crazy…

Hunting a Mate - Does love at first sniff exist? Archer and Paige seem to think so. Well, more like Archer says yes and Paige says no. But don’t worry, they’ll work it out in the bedroom.

Protecting a Mate - Werebear Foster never imagined himself with a mate. Not when his massive animal is constantly on a hair trigger. He definitely didn’t think he’d end up with a sinfully sweet and curved in all the right places wereferret named Melanie Baxter.

Buying a Mate - Mate a woman for her millions? Sign weredragon Taron Jones up! He didn’t begin life as a mercenary jerk, but being exiled from the clan tends to make a man willing to do a lot to survive. Including mating a human female who isn’t truly his mate. Or is she?

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Dashing Through the Stars

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Published: December 1, 2015
Length: Short Story
The Ujal #5
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The holidays are a time of love, joy, and… meeting a new alien species?

Prince of the Ujal, Tave fa V’yl-Zeret, will do anything to make his mate happy. Even if that means celebrating a holiday he does not understand. (Tave does not care what human lore states, a single human could not circle the globe and deliver toys to every child.)

This year’s biggest concern isn’t whether he purchased enough toys for his youngling, but the alien battleship that enters Earth’s orbit.

Are they friend? Or foe? Will Tave’s family and friends live to see Christmas morning? Or will they all perish on Christmas Eve? For there is a humbug willing to go to any lengths to stop peace talks. Lengths that include kidnapping royalty and… assassination.

Read an Excerpt

Tave woke to sensuous kisses and delicious caresses from his mate’s small hands. She stroked his chest, her soft hair brushing his skin as she explored him. Those delicate fingers danced down his abdomen and his scales trembled just beneath the surface, threatening to appear. Yes, she wrenched that much control from his grasp.

Rina did not pause in her attentions, continuing south until she reached his shaft. It did not take him long to catch up with her passion and he hardened within moments of that first touch. Then she tormented him. She stroked him from base to tip, drawing his need forward until he focused entirely on her touch, on her hand barely encompassing his length. Tingles of pleasure shot through him when she rubbed her thumb along the tip of his shaft.

He groaned and flexed his hips, reveling in the slide of his cock through the circle of her fingers. She used his pre-cum for lubricant, making each new thrust easier than the last. The scent of his desire entwined with hers. And her sweet musk… It tangled with the crisp salty air, filling his lungs with two things he loved most—his mate and the sea.

“Rina,” he murmured and found he could not remain still any longer. He reached for her, teasing her as she tempted him. Tave traced the curved lines of her form, palm skimming her waist and flare of her hips. Her skin was silken smooth, more rounded after her pregnancy with their youngling, Theresa, and he loved her added curves.

She was lush and delicious, her body begging for his hands, his mouth. She had other marks from her time carrying Theresa—what she called stretch marks—but he saw them as battle scars. Proof she fought hard to carry their daughter.

It made him love her all the more.

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Buying a Mate

Mate a woman for her millions? Sign weredragon Taron Jones up! He didn't begin life as a mercenary jerk, but being exiled from the clan tends to make a man willing to do a lot to survive. Including mating a human female who isn't truly his mate. Or is she?

Taron's dragon says the curvaceous female belongs to him.

River says she only needs the muscular lickable weredragon for a marriage license and nothing else.

The Browning siblings... They say River will marry this thing over their dead bodies.

And that is too good of an invitation to ignore.

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You’re Kitten Me

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Published: November 11, 2015
Length: Short Novel
Tiger Tails #2
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Want to mate a wolf? It's easy. Just make him—er, her—howl.

Braden, the second in the national weretiger pride, put Veronica on a plane back to wolf lands for her own protection. With DoPE—the Department of Paraphysical Entities—secretly determined to control shifters through any means necessary, he needed her out of harm’s way. Especially since “any means necessary” includes the forced mating of the daughters of alphas to humans of DoPE’s choice.

But going home didn’t keep Veronica safe—DoPE still went after her—so now she’s back in Wilden… Back with him. With her so close, her delicious scent calling to him, taunting and teasing him at every turn, he’s not sure he can resist the curvaceous, delicious Veronica much longer. Screw it. He can’t. He wants her and he’ll figure out a way to have her—even if he is a tiger and she’s a wolf.

Except DoPE hasn’t given up. They have new tricks up their sleeves—deadly ones—and they’re resolute to test them on Braden. Can he survive their tactics and keep Veronica safe?

Read an Excerpt

There could only be one reason for her father’s decision. Only one reason he’d lost his mind and ordered Ronnie back to tiger land, er, Wilden. A wolf in a pussy town? Yeah, no.

She stepped closer and laid her hand on his forearm. Her movements were slow and careful so she didn’t draw the national wolf alpha’s anger, only his attention. “Daddy?”

He swung his amber-eyed gaze to her, fury blazed across his features. She couldn’t blame him, not after the previous night.

“What?” he snarled.

The flesh beneath her fingers vibrated with his anger, and the scent rolling off him nearly had her baring her neck in an act of self-preservation. It was only her wolf’s strength, and the knowledge he’d never hurt her, that kept her on two feet instead of her knees. Everyone else in the room had dropped to the ground long ago. Colin, the beta, stared at her, his eyes wide and beseeching. She could practically hear his voice in her head.

Submit and shut up already. What the fuck is your problem? 

Her problem? Her daddy needed someone to break the cycle before he tore apart half the world with his anger. Okay, not literally half the world, but the man could do some damage.

She ignored his snapping and kept her voice solemn, her face serious as she met his gaze and answered his question. “Crack is whack.”

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Fast and the Furriest

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Published: October 21, 2015
Length: Short Novel
Tiger Tails #1
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Ladies, like a tiger's stripes? Tug his tail and keep him forever!

The wolves came first. Followed by the bears. Finally, lions decided to play in the spotlight, but the tigers have held off. Let everyone else get stared at. Ares was happy on his mountain with his pride while humans thought they knew all about the different shifter species.

Their secret was safe…until her. One reporter took tigers from the shadows and thrust them into the limelight by releasing a picture of a tiger shifting. Specifically — him.  (What could he say? A little moonlight, a little fur…)

Now he has a town of stripe-hunting women looking for a tiger’s tail to pull and… a full moon on the horizon.

Can he keep his tigers from being mated against their will? Better yet, can he forgive the one woman responsible for outing his species?  Ares isn't sure, but he's willing to give it a shot.

Read an Excerpt

Ares never thought he’d say the words in his lifetime, but he opened his mouth and out they came. “You can’t eat a human just because he looked at you funny.”

His sister Claire glared at him. “He was gonna pull my tail.”

God save him from paranoid tigers. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he asked the obvious question. “Were you wearing your tail?”

“No,” she grumbled.

“Then please tell me, by all that is striped and orange, how the hell did you think he could tug your tail if you weren’t wearing it?” Claire winced, and he realized he may have been shouting by the time he finished his question.

But who could blame him? His mother should have killed Claire at birth. Not because anything was wrong with his sister, but mainly because twenty-two years later, she was a real pain in Ares’s ass.

He took a deep breath and tried to find some sort of calm. It hadn’t worked so far, but a man could hope. “Claire, you know how it works, we all do.”

Mating was a three-step process for tigers. Sex without a condom to give their partner a few shifter characteristics and see how their significant other handled those changes. Then a bite made the changes permanent.

Neither was the true tie that would complete a mate bond, though. The most important, the action that once taken could never be reversed, was the tail-tugging. It went soul deep and formed a bond that only death could break. With or without bites, that one act couldn’t be revoked. For a tiger to have their tail pulled, to have that binding forced on them…

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Protecting a Mate

She hit him with a door, so he stole her heart…

When wereferret Melanie Baxter meets werebear Foster Lawson, every part of her ferret stands up and takes notice. After her ex offers to sleep with her sister, Melanie isn’t inclined to listen to his sweet nothings. Then she meets a bear who smells so good, with the muscles and the ice blue eyes. And… yeah.

He wants to take things slow, his bear doesn’t…

Werebear Foster never imagined himself with a mate. Not when his massive animal is constantly on a hair trigger. He definitely didn’t think he’d end up with a sinfully sweet and curved in all the right places wereferret named Melanie Baxter.

His plans for a slow seduction of his mate are destroyed when a man from her past steps forward and tries to take what’s Foster’s. Not. Happening.

Read an Excerpt

Melanie ignored her ringing phone for the fiftieth time. She already knew who was calling and she had better things to do than talk to her asshole ex. Because, seriously? He offered to bang her sister when Paige needed banging and… It really didn’t matter. Right now, she had to get to her sister’s office at the M&M Mating Agency and drop off the file Paige had left at home that she so desperately needed.

Mel figured if her baby sis wasn’t banging her new mate every five seconds, she might have remembered the thing.

But she wasn’t envious or anything.


She scooted into the elevator as the doors slid closed and pressed the button for Paige’s floor. Nervous energy flitted through her as she waited for the thing to freaking hit her floor already. She had to drop this off and then race to the other side of town to begin her rounds of fetching paperwork from each of the Catson Construction build sites.

Because, God knows, foremen for some reason couldn’t stuff their reports in an envelope and mail the things. Or even better, scan and email the information.

Build a skyscraper? Yes.

Slide a sheet of paper into a slot and push some buttons? No.

She wasn’t aggravated with the males.


The elevator finally came to a gentle stop, a low ding announcing its arrival, and the doors parted.  Melanie strode into the lobby, intent on the receptionist desk which held a very good looking male.

Helloooo there.

Dark hair, tanned skin, and those eyes… Oh, wait, she couldn’t forget all those muscles either. Her little ferret chittered and wiggled in appreciation for the man. And he smelled… divine. All predator and growly hunkiness. He wasn’t her mate, but he was still sexy as hell.

“Hi, I’m—”

“How you doin’?” His voice was deep, filled with sex, and… his identity hit her like a ton of bricks. There was one constant at the M&M Mating Agency. Well, two, but only one who drove Paige up the wall.

“You must be Max Rowe.”

“I am. Are you looking to sign up, baby?” His gaze traveled over her, from toes to nose, he took in her body. “Lemme start a file on you. Twenty-nine, five-five, and just waiting to hop on my di—”

“I’m looking for Paige. I’m her sister, Melanie.” Melanie forced her lips to form a smile. Her little sister told her Max was a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.

“Oh.” And like that, his passion was replaced with… fear. “Can you not tell her—”

“Mel! Thank you so much!” Paige raced down the hallway and snatched the papers Mel brought along. “I’ll see you for dinner, and Max, don’t think I didn’t hear you! I’m sending you to sensitivity training. Again.”

Melanie tried not to giggle. She really did. And… failed. She ignored Max’s glare and spun on her heel, anxious to get to her real job.  The one where they actually paid her to race all over the city, stare at hunky, sweaty guys, and pick up after them. Paper-wise, anyway. She’d cleaned up after a guy once, for years, and she wasn’t getting hauled into that trap again.

What had her new friend Chloe’s mom said? When you first start dating and living together, don’t start doing things for him unless you’re willing to do them for the rest of your life. Rest. Of. Your. Life.

Melanie got back on the elevator and not-so-patiently waited for it to return to ground level. Once there, she raced through the lobby and out the front doors. It took no time to hop in her car and then she was gone, racing out of the parking lot toward her first stop.

She pulled onto the highway, blinker clicking, as she merged with traffic and once again her cellphone rang. One good thing about having a steady, asshole ex-boyfriend who never wanted her to work—he bought her everything she wanted and put it in her name. Including the lovely little Mercedes convertible she currently occupied.

She listened to her car identify the caller and groaned when the voice simply said, “caller unknown.” Which meant it could be any one of the job sites.

As she slid across lanes, only a few horns blaring, taking her exit, she pressed the call pickup button. “Melanie Baxter speaking.”

If she were at the office, she’d go into her whole spiel of “thank you for calling blah, blah, how can I make your day wonderful?”


But she was driving, so there had to be some leeway there.

She still hadn’t gotten a response. “Hello? This is Melanie.”

Mel put on her blinker once more and pulled into the construction site, only one horn spouting behind her, following the makeshift road to the construction trailer. The new foreman wasn’t hanging around outside, nor did she spy the truck assigned to the site for worker use.  Which meant she’d be going it alone. Good, yet bad because she would have really appreciated more eye candy.

She turned off her car and looked at the car’s nav screen as if she could see the caller. If the person didn’t answer, she’d have to end their one-sided conversation because she had things to do. “Hello?”

“I saw you.” The voice was mechanical, distorted, and unrecognizable. “I saw you, you little slut.”

Then pure silence, telling her the call had been cut.

Slut? Her? She’d had the same friggin’ boyfriend for years until he decided fucking Paige was in the best interest of his career.

Had to be a wrong number. Had to be. Because otherwise she’d have to be scared and Mel refused to get worked up about it. Not when her life was finally going the right direction.

Melanie snatched her purse, tossed her phone in the bag, and then shoved open the door, swinging wide and right into the path of… a hot hunk of yummy man.

Yeah, he was sweaty and dusty from the site, but that didn’t matter. Not when she took a deep breath, captured his scent and realized the male currently clutching his stomach was one hundred percent hers.

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Seduced by the Wolf

Reid just killed her father. There’s no way Evelyn’s gonna mate him now… Dammit.

Werewolf Reid Bennett has one goal: investigate the Brookfield clan’s Itan. Reports are coming in that the male is abusing his werebears and--even if he’s a werewolf--Reid will put a stop to it. Unfortunately, the resolution ends up being permanent and now Reid’s the clan’s leader.

The only positive about his new situation: curvy werebear Evelyn Archer. She makes his wolf howl and he aches to explore every inch of her lush frame. He’s the clan’s leader and he knows exactly where he’d like to lead Evelyn—his bedroom.

Evelyn doesn’t know what to do with Reid. Sure, he’s the sexy wolf her werebear wants to nibble and claim, but she has bigger issues to deal with. Such as the fallout of her father’s death… at Reid’s claws.  Okay, maybe she can take a break for one little lick...

They both have plans for the Brookfield clan… and each other. Except there’s a small problem—someone wants them dead. Nothing new for Reid, but a threat against Evelyn is unacceptable. When it comes to Evelyn, he’ll break all the rules to keep her safe, including dusting off his homicidal tendencies again.

Read an Excerpt

Reid really wished he had a smoke. Or a drink. Damn, a drink would have been nice. Just a shot to soothe his nerves a little. Unfortunately, his therapist—in another bid to get him to calm down—decided drugs would mask the problem.

Since when did beer and smokes become drugs? It didn’t matter. Mainly because his wolf was even more pissed than normal at not having its beer and smokes. How’s that, Miss Therapist?

He should take a picture of what happened when he didn’t get his “drugs” and text it to her.

Sometimes a patient takes two steps forward and one step back, Mr. Bennett.

A dead body? Huge step back.

Nothing for it, he was gonna have to call it in. The question became, who did he get in touch with first? His therapist since she wanted to be his number one go-to person when he had an “episode” or his boss Terrence, the Southeast werebear Itan?

Considering Reid was a wolf and he’d killed a bear…

With a sigh, he dug in his pocket and tugged his phone free. He sought out Terrence’s number and then tapped the contact. It rang once… twice… and then the male answered.

“What happened now?” Terrence growled.

“Aren’t you merry fucking sunshine this morning?” he couldn’t help goading the bear. The Southeast Itan may have helped him out of a tough spot—taken him in when the Southeast Alpha kicked his ass to the curb—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give the male shit. Pack or not, Reid was still as alpha as they came. Submitting to a bear just wasn’t in his wolf’s skillset.

Killing though… He nudged the bloody body with the toe of his boot.

“Reid, who died?”

Take out one bear before sunrise and everybody thought he was some sociopathic murderer.

All right, it’d been a pack, one whole pack, that day, but the assholes screwed with his family—and then covered it up. Wolf didn’t particularly care for that and showed ’em.

Maybe he was a sociopathic murderer. But if he was, was this murder really on him? Terrence knew he was a fucked up piece of work. If anything, the death of this bear was on his shoulders, not Reid’s.

Now he was thinking like his half-sister and the woman’s best friend.

“Reid,” the other male snapped.

“What?” he snarled.

You called me. What do you want?”

Right. Wolf hated being challenged. Sorta why he was in this situation.

“You sent me here to Brookfield.”


“Just laying out the facts, boss man.”


“Wolf don’t like your tone,” he growled.

“Your wolf and I came to an agreement, and it’ll get over it until we meet again. What. The. Fuck?”

“Kiss your kids with that mouth?” Now he grinned because giving him shit about cursing around his half-grown children was fun as hell.

“Reid.” The tone, the way the r rolled off his tongue and ended in that rough d told him he should quit playing with the bear.

“We got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

Reid stared down at the male before him. He took in the guy’s size, ignoring the deep wounds that cut to the bone as well as the shallow cuts that marred his chest. Those were from when he’d just been playing with the bear, showing him he shouldn’t mess with his wolf. Pure fact, at the best of times his beast didn’t like being challenged. Without beer and smokes? Like was no longer in his vocabulary. Loathed though… That was a little more accurate.

The wolf did some good work on the man’s legs. One long stripe from hip to ankle. Nice and clean. Part of him—way down deep and almost forgotten—experienced a twinge of regret. Not a big portion, but there was something.

Then he remembered who threw the first punch. And the second. Then the third strike was a kick.

Reid warned him good and hard before he retaliated.

Making a big mistake here. Stop now and walk away. Keep this up and I’ll own all your shit in the next fifteen minutes.

It’d taken eight.

Eight minutes of fangs, claws, and blood and now Reid Bennett—sociopathic murderous werewolf—stood over a dead body.

“Problem’s about six-two, six-three. Between two twenty, two hundred fifty pounds. Hazy on that since there’s a shitton of blood on the ground.” But that sounded about right. Head wounds bled like a bitch. Thinking about bleeding had him looking over his own body. He had a nice set of claw marks down his chest, but it was just a flesh wound. His wolf took care of in no time. His biggest concern was his shirt. He liked that shirt.

Terrence sighed and Reid imagined the male was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, and pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at the ceiling. He’d seen the position often enough. Mainly when Reid had done something. “Tell me it isn’t the Itan.”

“It ain’t the Itan,” he immediately replied. How should he know? It wasn’t like he checked the bear’s ID before the dick took a swing at him.

“Do you even know who it is?”

“No.” He shrugged. Wolf didn’t care who stepped up. Just that it wouldn’t back down.

“Can you please verify his identity for me?” The words were hissed into the phone and he knew Terrence was gritting his teeth.

Reid rolled his eyes and bent down, shoving his hand into one pocket and then the others until he found what he was looking for. “I have Patrick Archer. Huh, guess it is the Itan.”

Well, that sucked.

“Fuck me.”

“Not my type, but thanks, boss man.” He grinned.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” the bear snapped.

Reid tossed the wallet onto the male and then clenched is free hand into a tight fist. “When I found him trying to rape a twelve-year-old bear, I took it very seriously. When I stopped him and that asshole tried to take my head, I took it very seriously. Calling you, looking at that piece of shit and wishing he was alive so I could kill him all over again… Yeah, my wolf is feeling fucking serious.”

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Amazon Nook Kobo Apple Books Google Play

Published: August 20, 2015
Length: Novel
The Ujal #4
+Add to Goodreads

He’s an Ujal who knows he’ll never have a mate. She’s a human who doesn’t want to take another chance on love. One small child doesn’t give them a choice.

With her toddler in tow, Vanessa Walker travels to Tampa, Florida to begin her new job at Ujal Station Tau. Then problems arise—her daughter is ill, and a sexy, demanding, overwhelming, purple-scaled Ujal is determined to do whatever he can to save Tabitha. When they realize Tabby isn’t ill, she’s Ujal, plenty of people don’t want Vanessa raising her newly tail-sporting alien daughter. Ujal royalty may support her, but only one person—one Ujal male—makes her feel safe: Erun fa Arex.

Erun fa Arex earned his position through blood, sweat, and scales with a trident as his constant companion. On Earth, he is the captain of the principessa’s elite guard, a worthy Ujal warrior matched by few. On Ujal, he grew up as a child slave forced to fight for sport and others’ pleasure. Fighting left physical and mental scars while the master’s growth-hormone injections left him unable to father younglings.

Erun never considered mating and having a family of his own until he meets Vanessa and Tabitha. Now he realizes everything he rejected—a mate and family—is exactly what he desires. And he will fight to keep them… to the death

Read an Excerpt

Vanessa hadn’t recovered from the loss of her husband only to have her daughter die. She wanted the privilege of murdering the little pain in the butt for herself.

All it’d taken was one second, one quick glance at a passing male, a quickly whispered question because she was lost, and Tabby was off like a shot. The toddler ran as fast as her little legs could carry her and… right into the path of oncoming traffic. Her baby was going to be run down by a hovocar. Or, God save her, a hovobus.

Adrenaline flooded her body, her gaze focusing intently on her rapidly retreating child. Panic overcame her, blanketing her in a wave of fear that nearly sent her to her knees. Her heart pulsed a rapid rhythm that stole the air from her lungs. She ran as hard as she could, legs pumping. One shoe flew from her foot and the other soon followed but she didn’t care. Not when her last reason for living was so close to death.

“Tabby!” Nessa ignored the Ujal male who’d paused to answer her question and raced toward the street. She bolted, uncaring who she pushed out of the way as she made her mad dash toward her giggling child. “Tabitha!”

Tabby glanced at her, those legs still pumping, and she giggled. “Catch!”

No.” Now wasn’t the time to play catch. Any time other than now would be great. She pushed hard, fought for air and demanded her body give up whatever strength it had left. Just let her get there. Just let her— A sob escaped her throat, the feet separating her from her child seeming like a great chasm.

A horn honked, the sound booming a symphony in her ears. A warning. A death toll that told her she was moments from losing what little joy she had in her life. “Tabby…”

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Honey and Fur Boxed Set

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Published: August 17, 2015
Length: Boxed Set
Honey and Fur #3
+Add to Goodreads

Two bestselling books are now bundled together for one great price!

Hedging His Bets - Honey loves running her bar and grill, catering to humans and shifters alike.  But there are two things that dim her love of the place: cocky assholes who think they own the world, and cocky assholes who think they can flex their muscles and wreck her bar when throwing a temper tantrum.  Unfortunately, the drop-dead gorgeous, hotter than hot, shifter man she secretly loves is both.

Dragon Her Feet - Sometimes a girl’s gotta flex her quills and lay down the law… Katie Carmichael may not be a scary badass dragon capable of toasting her enemies to a crisp, but that doesn’t mean she’s a pushover. And sure, the roaring, fire-breathing hottie is, uh, hot, but she’s a chick with a plan. A plan that includes a secluded old farmhouse and doesn’t include a tall, heavily muscled, and totally delicious weredragon.

This book contains the following novellas in the Honey and Fur series: “Hedging His Bets” and “Dragon Her Feet”. If you already own these books, please do not purchase this title.


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The Ujal Volume One

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Published: August 1, 2015
Length: Boxed Set
The Ujal #99
+Add to Goodreads

The first three books in the bestselling Ujal series at one low price!

Vados – A human woman, a tail-sporting alien, and a deadly hurricane… of course they’re going to hook up! Or rather, they did hook up. But that was then. This is now.

Tave – Rina Zeret is not prepared to settle down. At least, not with a genetically selected mate. She wants true love and a happily ever after. Unfortunately, her mother has other ideas and submits Rina’s biological material—the woman’s a hairbrush thief!—to the Population Ministry to see if they can find a genetic match for her. Suddenly Rina is presented with Tave fa V’yl, Crown Prince of Ujal, High Warrior of the Ruling Caste and Earth’s greatest ally. Her mother is going to be so happy.

Rhal – Sometimes a lie is the only way to get to the truth. Rhal fa Adar—Ujal assassin—is a liar and Cara is more than ready to beat the truth out of him.To Cara Marte, the Ujal are everyday average people—er, aliens—who occasionally grow fins and scales. They’re friends and colleagues, and mates? Cara knows she wants Rhal fa Adar—with his thick muscles, midnight black scales, and dark eyes. He always keeps her at arm’s length, sharing pleasure and nothing more. He wants her but refuses to mate her. When she discovers the reasons he told her are lies, she takes her battered heart to the Intergalactic Mating Agency. Her match is out there, and the agency promises to find him. But what if all she can imagine is a future with Rhal?

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