Book Four
Coming June 27, 2014!
Julia's sworn enemies are safely sequestered in a prison of the fey and her forever mate has been chosen. Not by blood, but by a circumstance shaped from coincidence. However, it's not enough to save Julia and the others their fate by the hand of the Alaska den. Whose reacquisition has come alarmingly full-circle to capture them.

Tharell of the fey aligns with the Singers, Were and remaining vampire to take back the one true Queen. Only Julia can stop the interspecies wars and establish a truce of genetics that would free all the groups from extinction and conflict.

Can they rescue Julia and her allies before it's too late? Will the Red Were's lineage prove to be the catalyst of victory against a corrupt pack that's grown too debauched by greed and power to be overcome?

The following excerpts are intended for a new adult audience, ages 17+


Book Three of the Blood Series


Julia has Awakened and in so doing bound herself to her one true soulmate, the king to her queen. The blood-binding which was foretold between fang and claw ultimately rescued her from certain death, the Circle of Protection is now complete.

Yet, another would-be queen vies for the position of ultimate ruler and believes she has found an ancient loophole that will upset the new balance of potential peace that has been put into play by Julia's prophesied reign. Jacqueline will stop at nothing to achieve her goals, even using the dreaded Were to further her victory.

Cynthia and Adrianna form an unlikely alliance to survive against an enemy that now has help for his madness to take shape. Emmanuel, the Feral and Truman find themselves drawn to defend and protect a new order with a past that haunts their efforts, while a broken Were rises to a position of power through sacrifice and the one woman that holds his heart.

Can Julia and her one true mate bring peace to the species and rescue the ones they love? Will the Blood Singers fulfill their destiny to unite three groups of sworn enemies to come together as one?

The following excerpts contain spoilers to those that have not read SINGERS & SONG....


Chapter One, September 17, 2013. A pre-release peek at Book #3 of the Blood Series:

Chapter 1


Buck scented the dawn as it broke the canopy of the trees with columns of light that appeared washed by blood. His claws spit dirt behind him in a spray, racing toward the scent of a female that could never be his.

And another he was tasked to protect.

He was the go-to dog, used for his stealth, and his I don't give a shit attitude.

Slash had nothing to live for, there were no matings in the horizon for him, his face was a ruin from battle and his position of Alpha undermined by Alan Greene. He did not hold it against Greene. It was what it was.

There could be only one successor. It was the way of the Were and their distant cousin, the wolf. Were weren't picky: if packmaster was what you sought, you must kill to obtain it.

Death didn't bother Slash... but for what? However, want and genetics were two different beasts. The first was intellect, the latter was about biology.

And Buck's biology was asserting itself in one fell swoop of animal preordainment.

His wolf wanted Adrianna, lone Alpha female of the Northwestern den. His wolf didn't give two shits if she was unobtainable or off limits. There were four subspecies of Were: gold, black, gray and red. 

Buck knew that his grandsire had been a fullblood red. Depending on how one surveyed circumstance, it gave Slash unfortunate proclivities. Wonderful in war, a detriment in interaction within his den. There might be some logic in the natural counter-evolution of the dwindling red Were population. Perhaps nature strove to eradicate that which was self-destructive.

In this case, Slash needed every ounce of red blood he owned. He knew that Tony had taken Cynthia Adams, newly manifested Singer healer and Adi of the Northwestern Pack. That was all the intel as motivation Slash needed to pursue their scents.

It could be he wasn't alone as a cross scent moved over his path and his paws punched the ground as he straightened to semi-upright, his flesh and bones bleeding into his half-wolfen form.

Slash lifted his snout. Immediately he found the scent of his packmates. And one other, whom he did not recognize.

Slash knew what the unknown Were was in every fiber of his being.


Like himself. His human-looking brows lowered over a prominent brow ridge, where green eyes spun languidly, with keen intelligence.

And bravery, a common default of that particular variety of wolf. Or stupidity. Slash thought bravery and stupidity were very close railroad ties in his parallel universe.

A faraway scream shattered the stillness of his hesitation in the forest. Slash swiveled toward that unnatural sound in the wood full of creatures.

It was not the sound of an animal but a female.

One who was in peril.

Slash ran, and to the east a small pack of Were ran to intercept him. David, the Southeastern Packmaster and Karl Truman, who had been turned by David's bite and brought by the blood of the red wolf that were already part of the fabric of his genetics.

They too had felt the pull of the Were in one area. They veered off their premeditated course to the Region One Singer compound and instead, made their way to the cloistered and mixed group.


Holy smokes, Cyn thought, watching as the snake in the grass leader, Jacqueline, made her way toward them at the same time as Tony.

Her wary gaze locked with Adi's as Cyn poured her newfound healing energy into the female Were. As the damage made from the telekinetic fall caused by that bitch reversed itself, Cynthia decided right then if they survived this next mess, she was going to hurt them.


Cyn loved Jules, she did. But where Julia was soft and thoughtful, Cyn was decisive and pragmatic. That translated to: don't fuck with me. Or, better: don't mess with anyone I care about. Cyn didn't know where her fierce loyalty stemmed from and understood it was unreasonable.

But some things just were what they were, unchangeable like the sun rising and setting.

Cyn stood from her crouch next to Adi, the leaves crunching under her feet. She felt rather than saw Adi stand as well, the fur gone, replaced with features that looked heartbreakingly young in the unforgiving light of dawn. The ethereal colors of pink, orange and red covered them as Adi and Cyn backed away from the pair.

Adi glanced at Tony and Jacqueline as they drew nearer. “Oh... shit sandwich,” she said in a shaky voice. Cyn barked out a laugh brought on by pure adrenaline and nervousness.

Tony got closer, scanning their faces and said, “You bitches are mine.”

Gawd, Cynthia thought, he's like a B-rated movie or something. Some of her dismissal of his lack of intellect must have shown because his brows dropped above his eyes, casting them in shadow and hiding them from the first light of the day.

She couldn't help that he was a dumb ass and didn't mind him knowing. But, Cynthia flicked her eyes at Adi, then her gaze slid to Jacqueline; poisoner of her bestie, and she felt a frown darken her face.

Jacqueline smiled at Cyn and it never reached her eyes. That bitch didn't have a legit bone in her body.

“Well, well... what do we have here?” Jacqueline asked like she was inquiring about the weather.

Tony's gaze shifted to her. “Shut up, Singer bitch.”

Jacqueline turned that laser beam of cruelty at him and Tony fell to his knees, hands at his throat, the universal sign for choking as obvious as if he'd said the words I can't breathe.

Adi and Cyn began to back away. Cyn didn't know Adi's thoughts but she figured if psycho one and two wanted to go at it, they could. Without the her and Adi in attendance.

Tony plunged to his hands and knees, his fingers clawing at the forest floor.

“Are you going to be a good dog?” Jacqueline asked in a cultured murmur.

Tony's body trembled. To be brought low by a female Singer... or any female was a blow to his considerable ego. But as the oxygen left his body and blackness began to eat at the edges of his consciousness, he gave a nod of his head, very like the tap out so popular in cage fighting.
Survival was paramount to Tony.

When he felt her hand in his hair he cringed, gasping where there was no breath to relieve him as he hung there, suspended between consciousness and not. His palms slapped the decomposing earth at his sides. The two females he hoped to denigrate a dim memory.

He was so aware his life hung in the balance.

Jacqueline scratched behind his ear, then petted his head. “There, there... you will do as I say... or die,” she warned softly.

Sweat broke out on Tony's under his nose and a low mewling sound broke the seal of his lips, robbing him of more precious oxygen.

“Comply or die,” Jacqueline repeated, her fingers tightening in his hair, jerking his head back with a strength borne of her lineage. Royal blood, mixed with age, gave Jacqueline power she otherwise would not have possessed.

The cords on Tony's neck stood out, his face turning purple. His hands beat the damp earth, fingers involuntarily clenching into the dew-kissed soil. Finally, moving against her brutal hold, he gave a stiff nod.

His eyes met hers, black meeting black and Tony knew... that he'd met a female who matched him. Who maybe was more than he. Tony hated it. It also made him terribly aroused, violence and sex inextricably linked inside him. When death swirled around him, instigated by this Singer wench, he wanted her.

It made no sense. But it made perfect sense for Tony to embrace it.

“I smell your desire, Wolf,” Jacqueline stated. “And I do not rut with dogs like a bitch Were... you stupid creature.” She released Tony abruptly and he fell, the invisible steel band that had been around his sternum instantly gone.

He gagged, coughing and alternately sucking greedy lungfuls of oxygen.

After his coughing fit settled down into breathing without choking, Tony looked up. His eyes sought Jacqueline's but her's lay elsewhere.

During their power play, the quarry had fled.

Tony didn't have to wonder if Jacqueline had wanted the Singer and female Were. He would have. And in that, Tony assumed, they were much alike.

Maybe in other ways as well.

He smiled. “Nice going... the females have fled.”

Jacqueline lifted one small shoulder in dismissal and replied, “It is of no importance-- I have you,” she said, her eyes drilling into Tony's, the black depths like dimly lit obsidian marbles. “And you will use that keen nose of yours to retrieve them.”

He stood, coming to her side and showed his neck.

Jacqueline laughed. “You need not show me your subservience. I know that I have it,” she said, giving a low chuckle, her hand lifting in the air and closing tightly in a fist at her last few words.

Tony frowned, looking down at her. He could crush her; wanted to. He also wanted her in the other way as well. Those two warring impulses were cross-wired in his brain. They always had been.

He cocked his head. “Tell me, pure Singer,” he began with thinly veiled sarcasm, “do you have Were in your lineage?”

Jacqueline was instantly offended, though her gaze skipped away like a rat that couldn't find its hole. “There are no mongrels in my ancestry.”

Tony could smell her lie. “Uh-huh,” Tony responded, and scented of her deeply, his nostrils flaring wide. What he found gave him pause. She might not know, he thought. If that were the case, she was not all that she seemed.

“Come... Were,” Jacqueline began to walk away, her body showing that that path of conversation was clearly over.

Tony gave a great exhale then followed.

“I suppose you have some plan, Singer?” Tony said in a low voice, the growl of his kind threaded through it as they moved through the forest, the smell of the woods overwhelming to his sensitive nose.
Jacqueline didn't feel warned, he could do nothing. Only a certain type of Were was a danger and this Were of the black posed no threat. Less than a threat, if the truth were known. But Jacqueline was all about the tools inside her arsenal. And that is what Tony was to her.

A tool. Jacqueline buried a snicker, though she was quite sure he could scent some of the emotion behind it. However, with her Tracker abilities, she could scent as well. The advantage was hers. After all, he knew not what she possessed and his skill set was an open book.

Perfection. “I do have a plan as a point-of-fact,” Jacqueline replied.

Tony stilled, grabbing her thin arm. She quirked a brow, looking at his hand on her like filth in the flesh.

“Bite me,” he said with a smirk.

Jacqueline flushed with anger and opened her mouth to deliver a scathing quip when he put a finger to his lips. “They come from the east.”

Jacqueline could sense nothing, smell nothing. “Who comes?” she asked instead of the retort she had planned.

Tony growled low in his throat. “The packmaster of the Southeastern den... and one that my nose doesn't recognize.”

They stood for a few moments in a wood gone still. The small animals hiding as the unnatural predators closed in around them. Jacqueline wondered why she couldn't sense them while Tony wondered what could be done. Their thought processes were not know to each other but were eerily the same.

“Ah!” Jacqueline hissed.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed.

Jacqueline swiveled to him, her skirts swirling and getting caught in the debris of the forest, her eyes flashing like black fire. “Tell me you can do something.”

“I can't...” he reluctantly admitted. “What about you? You're this tight-ass Singer...”

His airway began to close and his palm flew up in supplication, the bitch stole his breath... and not in a good way. “I didn't mean it as a dis....”

It opened with a gasping release.

“Jacqueline,” she said off-handedly.

Tony nodded as he made his hand stay by his sides instead of going to his throat. He wouldn't give the bitch the satisfaction.

“I simply meant maybe you can sense something.”

“No,” she said in a curt word.

Well, damn- chop my nuts off, Tony thought.

Jacqueline paced, a ripple of disquiet building as the scent of the pack grew stronger.

Suddenly, Jacqueline knew what to do.

“I'll cover our tracks while you squire us away.”

“How?” he scoffed.

“Is the why of it really important?” she asked, crossing her arms in impatience.

Tony could smell the other Were. They'd take them and for some reason, the Singer bitch's skills were down for the count. Too bad she was all up his ass. Why couldn't she have a blank spot with him?

His fucking luck.

Jacqueline didn't ask his permission and he remained silent. Of course he wanted to know what kind of Singer mojo she had going on. But it was obvious she had the upper hand.

For now.

He watched Jacqueline's symmetrical features distort in concentration. When Tony's sense of smell left him it felt like he was blind, so used to the million different scents that had always been a part of his existence.

“What have you done?” he whispered.

“I have the ability to Negate others... talents.”

“I can't fucking smell my own ass. I'm nose-blind,” Tony said in a growl, his fists bunching by his sides.

She smiled. “Good. As I don't want to be party to you partaking in an orifice fest.”

He scowled at her. “Good? Fuck no, we're goddamned blind...”

Jacqueline folded her arms again underneath her breasts and Tony's eyes dipped down to take in the sight. She stared at him for a pregnant moment. “You're a crude beast....” she stated as fact.

Because it was.

“Tony,” he said by way of delayed introduction.

“Well, Anthony...” Jacqueline said slowly as she circled him. “I do not have a highly refined mastery as Negator so... the best I could do was blanket a five mile radius. If it were my primary skill, I could have left you in a 'scent bubble' that encapsulated you and left everyone else senseless. Alas, I cannot.” She looked into his eyes and he glowered back at her.

Tough broad, he thought with the beginning of grudging admiration.

“Fine,” he said. “Get on.”

He burst his skin and it slid off like a snake's. The gunk, blood and sloughed marrow pooled into the absorbent forest floor, dampening it with his transition.

Jacqueline tensed at the harsh speed of the change, then smiled and went to him. She grimaced as her clothing became ruined with the residue of the change, her hem six inches deep in his human cast offs.

“Where?” he asked in a voice filled with gravel, filled with the pain of the rapid change he'd forced on himself.

She bent and whispered into his ear. Tony's smile was worn strangely by the face of his wolf.

His admiration grew for Jacqueline. She was diabolically clever.

Tony might spare her after all... if she could be bent to his agenda.


Cyn and Adi stopped running, their hands on their knees, chests heaving. Cyn had a killer stitch in her side, putting both hands on her side, bending over at the waist as she did. This sucked.

Adi stood first. “That blew goats.”

Cyn laughed. “Yeah... totally.”

“Who is that bitch?” Adi asked, her nose involuntarily moving toward where they'd just come and finding her usually deft senses dulled. She gave a frown, her dark blonde hair falling forward and sweeping half her face away behind the curtain of it.

Cyn shrugged. “I think she's the one that hurt Jules.”

Adi frowned. “How do ya know?” Her root beer brown eyes earnest.

Cyn squirmed from the question. She was gonna sound like a tard. “Well... here's the thing. I just became... something. That Singer thing you were talking about? Yeah, that.” Cyn stood, her breathing still irregular. “And now... well when I healed Julia there was a...” Cyn stopped, her pale green eyeballs rolling upward, thinking. “A... taste to the poison.”

“Poison?” Adi asked, her frown deepening to a scowl.

Cyn nodded. “Oh yeah, it was poison and somehow, the bearer of the shit leaves their mark.”

“Like a signature?” Adi asked.

“Yeah. Good call, mutt.”

“Huh,” Adi said, head bent, her face speculative. It wasn't a good look.

“Hey, I didn't mean anything by it.”

Adi met her eyes, ignoring the dig. “I screwed up, big time. I should've...”

“What? That whack job... she mowed you over with her head,” Cyn said, tapping her temple. “There's nothing you could have done, Adi,” she said, looking down at the much shorter girl.

“Yeah,” she said, still looking at her feet. For all her bravado, she sure took a lot of the responsibility on her shoulders, Cyn thought.

The girls stood quietly for a time then Adi said, “It's time to make our way back.”

Cyn shook her head. “No, they'll be expecting that. It's not safe.”

“It's safe,” a voice said from out of the forest.

“Holy shit!” Cyn yelped, stumbling backward and Adi grinned with relief.

“What's so damn funny?” Cyn asked, insulted. “I think a drop of pee came out!”

“They're Were... and I know them.” Adi's confidence returning in one fell swoop.

“Friendly?” Cyn asked, putting a tree trunk in front of her like a shield. Not that it'd do a damn bit of good. She'd seen a Were throw another through half a tree, felling it as smoothly as an ax. Yup, things were so not okay if they weren't friends.

Then several things happened at once.

Two large males moved into the open patch of forest between stands of trees.

They were in half-wolf form, which was creepy as hell, but Cyn was getting used to it. Which was its own slice of weirdness. She recognized one instantly and was relieved. The second one Cyn recognized seconds later.

They were kinda naked so strong eye contact was advised, the age old answer to the question: no, fur doesn't cover all. Still, it was like when you knew you weren't supposed to look it made ya itch with wanting to. Cyn realized it was pervy but when a bunch of half-werewolf men were walking around with their mucho commando action... well...

Then after several heartbeats of scrutiny she began to recognize a third was Karl Truman from Homer. Cyn blinked slowly.

Truman stepped forward as she took a step back.

“Cynthia Adams,” he growled and Adi cocked a pale brown eyebrow at Cyn in surprise.

“Nice to meet you,” Cyn said, adding, “again.” It just couldn't get any stranger.

He dipped his chin in a parody of a greeting and it was too much for Cyn, she simply sat down on her ass where she stood. They could figure out what to do with her but there were too many freak-outs presently.

Her restaurant manager was a Were.


The cop from Homer that had been hot on her trail was now a Were.

They were naked half-werewolves.

Weirdness squared.

Truman was the same as Jason, his body covered by a shadow of scarlet fur, his eyes were orbs of green in his head... spinning, always spinning.

What did it all mean?

For her.

For them?

For Julia.


July 29, 2013

A quote... who says this, Readers?

“That I loved her. That I love her like the moon loves the stars... with a jealous persistence that borders on obsession. So if it be that you do not, I have enough love for the two of you...."

July 8, 2013

“I haven't forgotten who I am,” Jason said, his hand going to his chest, thumb pressing deeply into the muscles of his bare chest, tattered denim barely clinging to provide a semblance of modesty.

“She has,” he said, pointing a finger at Julia and she lost it.

It was the last accusation of how awful, incompetent, ungracious and uncaring she'd put up with. His rant hit low and deep, tearing something apart inside her that she didn't know she had.

Julia strode to Jason, five feet four to his six feet one and open-palmed slapped him without breaking stride, the ringing of her flesh on his filled the silence with the sharp echo of her anger. It made her palm burn and her wrist ache. “Don't you tell me how wrong I am, how much I suck and how you don't give a shit about me. I get it. And,” Julia's eyes struck his like a patch of searing sunlight, “... FYI, I didn't ask for this.” Her lip trembled with the need to cry and she held it in, biting the inside of her lip to do it.

Jason's eyes blazed and he reclaimed the stride she'd given up, looming above her, the imprint of her palm an angry smear of red on his face.

Julia was simply too pissed to be scared, her anger at everything over the past two years coming to an ugly head. Jason put a tender hand on her head, smoothing over her hair from the crown to the soft roundness before it dipped to her spine. “I hate you, Jules,” he whispered as he pulled her close to him and she nodded, tears rolling despite the blood that filled her mouth to stop it.

“I know,” she replied softly.

Then he drew her into his arms and kissed her, his breath sucking in as that drop of blood inside her mouth burst between them like a gem of inception. Jason wrapped Julia against him, his lips moving away from her mouth and pressing soft kisses all over her face as she gasped and cried, clinging to him and kissing him back, her hands moving up to link together around his neck and he buried his face into her neck, half picking her up.

“I love you,” Jason said against her neck before he allowed himself to be torn away by Scott.

Julia watched that slice of vulnerability like a fleeting cloud race across his face. “I know,” Julia whispered for only his ears to hear....

May 14, 2013

Julia stood, looking at Jason from ten feet away.

It might as well have been ten miles, so much distance separated them.

“How could I have ever loved you?”

“I don't know... wife,” he said, his gaze level on her face, anger vibrating through the room like a bullet that ricochets.

It was crazy, Julia knew it, but he made her feel guilty for everything.

I guess ya can't feel guilt unless you own it, she thought.

Julia turned her back on her husband, her soulmate steps away but within arms reach and ignored everyone but Cyrus and William, who lay on the floor, more dead than alive.

“What do I do?”

Cyrus laughed. “That's easy, just put your wrist above his nose.”

Julia's brows came together, her hair slipping forward as she began to reach out with her arm but she hesitated. “What'll happen?”

Cyrus' smile faded, his expression turning serious. “Biology,” he said simply just as Julia's arm grazed the tip of William's nose.

With a choking roar, William's back bowed, his mouth opening to reveal fangs that sprang from the flesh that held them like ivory hooks now free.

William scooped Julia tightly against himself and sunk those deadly fangs into her arm before her next breath, her fear a tangible thing.

Julia gasped as he gulped her blood.

For the second time inside a day.

Jason and Scott came forward.

For all his rage-filled words, Jason's face held the same expression that Scott's did.


Not for themselves.

For Julia.

April 30, 2013
A small passage

“Oh... shit sandwich,” Adi said in a shaky voice. Cyn barked out a laugh brought on by pure adrenaline and nervousness.

Tony got closer, scanning their faces and said, “You bitches are mine.”

Gawd, Cynthia thought, he's like a B-rated movie or something. Some of her dismissal of his lack of intellect must have shown because his brows dropped above his eyes, casting them in shadow and hiding them from the first light of the day....

April 23, 2013

Jacqueline swiveled to him. “Tell me you can do something.”

“I can't... what about you? You're this tight-ass Singer...”

His airway closed and his palm flew up in supplication, the bitch stole his breath... and not in a good way. “I didn't mean it as a dis....”

It opened.

“Jacqueline,” she said off-handedly.

Tony nodded  at the introduction.

“I simply meant maybe you can sense something.”

“No,” she answered in a curt word.

Well, damn, chop my nuts off, Tony thought.

Jacqueline paced, a ripple of disquiet building as the scent of the pack grew stronger.

Suddenly, Jacqueline knew what to do.

“I'll cover our tracks while you squire us away.”

“How?” he scoffed.

“Is the why of it really important?” she asked.

Because he liked to fucking know from what corner the shit was gonna fly so he wouldn't get caught in the stink. 

Tony could smell the other Were. They'd take them and for some reason, this Singer bitch's skills were down for the count for them. Too bad she was all up his ass. Why couldn't she have a blank spot with him?

His fucking luck.

Jacqueline didn't ask his permission and he remained silent. Of course he wanted to know what kind of Singer mojo she had going on. But it was obvious she had the upper hand.

For now.....

Book One of the Blood Series
FREE at the following retailers:

A sub-species of human beings....

Twenty-year old, Julia Wade, a young woman tragically widowed, is in the middle of a bizarre bid of two mythical species who are vying for the unique properties she offers; her blood. The vampires need her to balance the food load of the human species and give them their coveted “Lightwalkers.” The Were wish to be moonless changers; a Rare One can make that a reality. 

Julia wants to belong to herself. 

Can she free herself and  begin a new life? 
Page 154
The Feral

He began to salivate before she pushed it through the slot, her wrist and part of her forearm vulnerable to injury.

The man sprung forward, scooping the prey out of her grasp and lightly scratched her with his talon as she withdrew.

Their eyes met for a moment as she snatched her arm back through the narrow distribution slot. She cradled the arm against her chest, the blood from the scratch soaking her T-shirt beneath.


Adi had never been more glad for the one foot thick acrylic partition. She knew who would be the victor between the two of them if he escaped...

For the first time in her life, Adriana was scared. Scared of another wolf.

He was more Alpha than any she'd ever known.

And she didn't scare easy.

Page 49

   Actually, she didn't. She looked up at the oversized pudgy Elvis rendering. His mouth clown red, his tassels and studs on a grotesquely distended belly in an unflattering white was not something she wanted in attendance. Even if they were in cheesy Vegas. Even if they had stolen away to get married.
   Jason huffed, planting his hands on his hips. “Okay, I see you don't see that as a sign, Elvis is the Symbol of Vegas.” His eyebrows raised and Cyn giggled.
   “I think he looks pretty gay, Jason,” Kevin agreed, smoothly siding with Julia.
   “Thanks for the love, ya ass,” Jason said.
   Kev barked out a laugh. “Anytime, pal.”
   Beaten, Jason looked over the small pamphlet of chapels, finding a few more on the list. His eyes shifted to Julia's, hazel with flecks of green. “The only thing you don't want is him?” he jerked his thumb toward Icky Elvis.
   Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Jason. No chunky monkey in white polyester. It's a no-go.”
   He glared at her and Julia said, “Yeah, that.”
   Jason sighed. He and Kevin put their heads together as Cyn came over to Julia, giving her a look from head to toe. “Glad I could get you out of those fugly boots, Jules.”
Julia smiled, Cyn had outdone herself. Julia didn't look great in white but as Cyn had explained it, “you've earned white, virgin princess, but let's work with the weirdness that is your complexion.” Julia had rolled her eyes, letting Cyn transform her.
   Julia caught sight of herself in what could only be described as a fun house mirror, her long dress, grazing the floors, spiky ivory heels peeked out from underneath the hem, a platform gracing the bottom. Cyn had pinned her hair in an elegant up do, leaving a few wisps hanging down.
   A row of creamy pearls with a champagne-colored wash encircled the base of her throat. Her mother's.
   A lump gathered in her throat and she looked away from the reflection of her sweetheart neckline, satin and lace colliding in a fine webbing that cradled her breasts. The absence of her parents on this important occasion best left to future reflection.
Like never.
   Jason had dressed in a deep navy suit, his tie a subtle crimson. A slash of color against the whiteness of the shirt.
   Julia thought it looked a little like blood against the backdrop of white and shivered as a subtle feeling of foreboding stole over her. It was shattered when Jason flashed his smile, stabbing the pamphlet with his finger.
   “Found it, babe!”
   Julia leaned forward and he drew her in next to his body, looking at where he pointed.
   “Gnome Chapel.”
   She cocked her brows. “Really, Jason?” He smiled nodding.
   “That's just switching out one creepy audience member for another,” Cynthia said with revulsion.
   “Nah baby,” Kevin said, pulling her tight against him and pressing a kiss to her temple, almost crushing the bouquet of lavender flowers she held.
   “Hey! Watch the flowers, graceless.” She giggled.
   Kevin grabbed the bouquet, jerking it up over his head, slamming his lips against hers, his free arm coming around her back and pressing her harder against him.
   Julia agreed, gnomes were creepy too. She looked up at the bigger-than-life-sized Elvis statue and sighed.
  Choices, choices.
  Anything was better than Elvis.

Page 25

   Julia felt something integral slip into place, the pain slipping away and becoming a burning mass.
   “Hey whack-job!” Kevin said, going for the gun at the same time that Jason did. It wasn't choreographed and as their bodies moved, a gap opened and Terrell pointed the barrel.
   At Julia.
   All that focus, a warm liquid pain that she buried for the moment came to her in a sliding push. With nothing but raw emotion, she looked at the black hole of the gun and gave a mental shove as the hammer pulled back.
   It clicked.
   Time slowed down, Jason twisting the gun away even as the bullet rushed toward Julia, Cyn screaming in the background and Kevin landing on Terrell, their bodies crashing to the floor.
   Julia moved as the bullet entered the curtain of her hair instead of the fragile bones of her face, its course veering at the last moment and she fell sideways away from the trajectory. Hitting Cyn, they both stumbled into the lockers.
   “Julia!” Jason hollered, sprinting to her side, kicking the gun away as he came. His eyes frantically took in her body, checking for damage.
   She was unscathed.
   As sirens wailed in the background Jason turned around, leaving Julia in Cyn's arms and grabbed a fistful of hair on the top of Terrell's head. Using it like the dull side of a hammer he picked his head up and slammed it into the floor.
   Again and again.
   Cops came and pulled him off but the damage was done. Terrell lay in a pool of his own blood, spreading into the soles of all who had gathered.

Page 50

   The cabbie stopped a scant five minutes after they'd left the terminal.
   “I let you off here. Eight dollars,” he said without verbs.
   Julia frowned. Don't speak English, fine by her, but be civil. She handed him the twenty and he gave her the change.
   She slid out of the taxi and found herself on a cement sidewalk surrounded by a wall of people. She didn't make eye contact with anyone but went to the first bus she saw and showed the driver her two bucks, five dimes and one penny.
   “How far?” she asked.
   He searched her face. “How far do ya need to go?” he asked, a kindness in his eyes.
   She paused, aware of a line forming behind her. “As far as this will get me,” Julia said, leaving it in his hands.
   He nodded. “Let's play it by ear, okay miss?”
   She nodded, so grateful for the unexpected kindness she felt her eyes glisten again. She had turned into an absolute cry baby. All it took was him saying that one phrase Aunt Lily had used, her home that was so far away coming to the forefront of her consciousness without mercy. She swiped at the wetness on her cheeks and gave him a watery smile as she moved to the back of the bus.
   She sunk down in the seat, putting her knees up on the seat in front of her and looked out the window. As she gazed through the filthy glass the bus pulled away in a plume of noxious exhaust, leaving the depot for parts unknown.
   Julia shut her eyes, remembering...

William & Julia:

She listened to his blood as a melody.

Her blood to William was a symphony.

There really was no comparison....

Update Nov. 6, 2011:

This is the first novel I wrote and it was finished in 2007. I put the manuscript away and when I arrived at the idea for the Death Series, I began that. Now that I have three books completed in both the Death Series and Savage as well, I have revised Blood Singers and it is now available.

Other Titles in this series:

Book Two of the Blood Series

New Adult

Julia has been ripped from the escape she'd planned for herself. When she awakens to discover that her reality has shifted to include a supposed soul-meld with a man she hates... and who hates her, she rebels. Julia doesn't want to be Queen of the Blood Singers if it means captivity in a gilded cage.

Broken from the horrific events surrounding her friends, Cynthia migrates to the very city that Julia resides in and determines to find her as the police follow the bread crumbs she left in her wake. Detective Truman's discovery at her apartment exposed her departure for the escape it was.

The Feral has come full circle and must begin a new life from the shadow of the old. His placement in the hierarchy of the pack is uncertain when he finds that he has an integral enemy already in place and a pack member to protect. While he desperately seeks answers to what had been... what could be.

Can the vestiges of Julia's former life be restored so she might reunite with her one true love or has that door closed forever because of supernatural circumstances beyond their control?

August 3

Alan frowned thoughtfully. “Five-eight, blonde hair, green eyes, slim, rocking hot bod. Scared, desperate. A no-show...” Alan spread his hands out to the side.

Truman waited. “Heard you've been through some domestic stuff.”

Alan's eyes became wary. “Yeah. So?”

Heard they never found the perp that beat your sister.”

Alan stared at Karl. The seconds turned to moments.

You know anything about that?”

Alan shrugged. “Nope. But,” his eyes drilled Truman. Hazel ones. Honest eyes. “Good riddance. I hope his dick falls off.”

Nice sentiment, Alan.”

He shrugged. “You ever have anyone hurt by violence?”

Karl nodded. “Yeah. Can't escape it with what I do.”

Fair enough. Now tell me, no bullshit. Where is Cynthia Adams?”

Truman opened his mouth to lie. But in the end, he told the truth. He was so tired of lying. He just couldn't bring himself to tell another.


By who?”

Not who, what, Truman corrected.

He kept that part to himself.

Written July 28

“Whoa, pony...” Cynthia said, raising a palm.

“It's actually wolf,” Adi corrected.

“No shit?” Cynthia asked, gulping as she unconsciously took a step backward.

Adi grinned. “I shit you not.”

“Huh. That's kinda bad for me.”

“Nah. We're not asshats like the Homer Pack,” Adi said.

“Oh great, I'm so relieved,” Cynthia said in a droll voice. She was so on board with believing that- not.

“Listen, Blondie....”

“Bite me,” Cynthia said.

“Don't tempt me, dollface.”


"Julia... don't look at me like that," Scott's eyes bore down on her face with care, concern and anger.

"I'll look at you any way I want. After all," she cocked her head and pegged him with her bourbon eyes, smoldering with heat, hatred, "we're soulmates, right?" she spat with derision.

Scott's eyes narrowed. How could he be bound with someone like her? It wasn't possible, he wasn't the committing type.

Scott didn't choose this.

Julia read his expression. "Don't worry about it, Scott. You were the Big Ass Protector. You've done your Boy Scout duty, you can dump my ass, nothing is stopping you."

No... nothing was stopping him.

Except, Julia was his. 

His to protect, his to take care of.

Eventually, his to love. 

It wasn't about choice, it was a mandate from the fiber of his being, inexplicable, tangible.... and as he looked at her angry face, so obviously against her will....

Page 16

“Will this be a gentlemen's promise? Will this relinquish my coven of recompense by blood or other?”

A formal question asked in the old way. It caused a valley in the conversation.

Merlin's eyes became hooded. “You have my word of honor.”

“I will take it,” Gabriel said, sticking his hand out. Merlin slipped the coolness of his inside Gabriel's grasp and for a brutal moment their flesh was crushed together in promise.

However dark.

It was done....

Page 25

Merlin surreptitiously wiped the bead of sweat that slid down his skin and dampened the collar of his long sleeved button down. He had met Gabriel, as requested, in the outdoor eatery where the cattle grazed in their concrete pasture. Pioneer Square was the backdrop to their covert meeting. Even with the shade of the umbrella above the table they were seated at and using sunblock with the highest zinc count, a light smolder played across his skin. It was microscopic, humans would not ken to it but it would have been obvious to a supernatural.

It was obvious to him, the discomfort of his body a slow broil.

Yes, as the leader of the southeast region he was part Singer, part vampire. He could tolerate daylight, but it was a near thing. An almost allergic reaction would settle on his body and he itched for the night, the relief it afforded him.

Not that Merlin would admit that to the Rare One before him. Impervious to the time of day, he could do all that vampire could, more skilled as a point of fact. However, he did not need to drink blood. It was a shame that the Rare Ones who were male were sterile in their breeding potential with vampire. It was the female that was so precious.

And the northwestern region that Gabriel ruled had procured one.

Then lost it. Most puzzling.

Gabriel lightly drummed his fingers and looked at the pale leader opposite him and realized that the politics of their meeting had already begun. He steepled his fingers, his shoulder length hair slid forward in golden waves, framing eyes that were the deepest amber, startling. He pierced Merlin with his shocking golden gaze and said what he hoped would end it, repay their coven.

“I have come to offer recompense for your assistance with the location of the Rare One.”

Merlin cocked a pale blond brow, his Singer heritage lending him a fair complexion. He would have traded that in an instant for the tolerance to full sunlight. Alas, it was not so. The only advantage he was afforded was the echo of humanity of his outward shell. But his internal composition was creature of the night. The human faรงade a wonderful window dressing for many things, he supposed. He came back to the comment at hand. It would not do to become distracted while dealing with another coven leader.

“And what do you offer, blood?” Merlin guessed, disgruntled.

When Gabriel outlined the payment and what Merlin would need to accomplish that task, Merlin thought on it for a long moment, his stare never breaking from Gabriel.

Finally, he replied, “Agreed.”

Page 43

Julia squirmed against the intimacy even as she began to press forward. It was almost like a witch's spell, cast by genetics, directed by fate....