Tag: heart of flame

Heart of Flame Release Date!

Yes, I can fiiinally share that the first book in my new paranormal romance series is available for pre-order and will be released JULY 5TH. Thank gawd, the suspense was killing me. Here’s the preorder link: Heart of Flame on Amazon. And here’s the blurb and cover!


Former homicide detective Chuck Montiel didn’t believe in vampires until the night he was turned. Now he’s a deadly and powerful predator, struggling to hold onto his humanity, and his only chance at salvation is an offer from Branch Zero – a secret organization dedicated to keeping L.A.’s preternatural populace in check. Chuck can either help them track down a dangerous cult threatening the city or spend the rest of eternity under Branch Zero’s surveillance. He’s got no hope, no options, and nothing to lose. Until Misha dances into his bleak existence.

A half-seraph with the face of an angel and hands full of flame, Misha runs the Wayward Heart Hotel, a sanctuary for L.A.’s magical underworld. Branch Zero don’t approve of her or her methods. She and Chuck are on opposite sides of the law, but their connection is shocking and undeniable – they just have to survive long enough to understand it.

Heart of Flame novel cover

More of a sneak-peek at Heart of Flame

Guyyys my little paranormal romance novel is coming out soon. But I still can’t tell you when, so here’s something to nibble on until then.


Emotion and desire had stolen Misha’s voice, and for a long moment all she could do was stare at Chuck, breathing hard, tracing the hard planes of his face and the exquisitely sculpted line of his lips with her gaze.

He had no idea what he was. He’d been turned, his Broken sire had been rightly executed, and Branch Zero had scooped him up and done a spectacular job of convincing him he was nothing more than a useless, troublesome stray.

“Chuck, listen to me.” He frowned, his unblinking eyes never leaving hers, and she balled her fists in his shirt. “You are a vampire. I know it sucks in so many ways, and you don’t have to like it, but it’s what you are now. You’re the ultimate apex predator. You are fast and strong and deadly, but you are also beautiful and powerful and immortal. Your kind practically run half the world, and they use little more than their magic to do so, and the only reason they don’t run it all is because they’re too lazy to bother.” Chuck’s eyes had gone wide, and Misha tightened her grip on his shirt. “You think you have nothing because that’s what Branch Zero wanted you to think. The truth is, you could have almost anything you want, all you need is time and training in how to use the power you have now. But you have more than that too.” As he searched her face, Misha unfurled her fists and rested her hands on his shoulders. “You’re brave. And kind. And good.”

Chuck’s eyes blazed with some barely checked emotion, and his embrace turned to stone. “I’m not,” he whispered.

In his distress, his fangs had lengthened. Misha reached up to stroke one of the sharp tips, and he hissed, eyes going sharp with arousal. “You are,” she said gently. “Brave and kind and good. Also, your hands are extremely talented, a fact which I’ll admit I’ve thought about a lot these past twenty-four hours, and—”

The growl that escaped Chuck went straight through her, stopped her breath in her throat. His hands tightened on her. “Have you now.”

Misha’s stomach flipped. She knew he’d never hurt her, but that didn’t stop the surge of adrenaline as Chuck locked onto her with predatory focus. She managed to nod her head and make a vague affirmative noise, throat gone too dry for words. He drew her closer, wedging his torso between her knees, until her bunched-up skirt stopped him. With a distracted snarl he dropped both hands to her hips and went to push the skirts out of the way, his palms skimming her bare thighs. Sweet Mother, Misha thought, how could such a simple touch make her heart race even faster?

Then he stopped. He bowed his head, touching his forehead to hers, muscles in his neck and shoulders thrumming with tension. He breathed in, seeming to drink down her scent. “Misha?”

She let her fingers drift over those thick shoulders, marveling at the coiled strength in them. “Hmm?”

He pulled back. “Do you want this?”

Author rises from the grave to post the Wednesday snippet

Just kidding, they hadn’t buried me yet!

Seriously though, I’ve been very ill, but I’m on the mend and am powering through the final line edits for Heart of Flame – for which I’ll have a release date in the next couple of weeks! Hint: it’s gonna be sooooon,

Speaking of Heart of Flame, here’s a snippet.


With an armful of jeans, T-shirts, and trunks in various sizes, Misha knocked on Chuck’s door. When he didn’t respond, she knocked again, harder. If he was still in the shower, he might not hear her in spite of preternaturally good hearing—the walls of the Wayward Heart were thick and reinforced with privacy warding for added discretion. If the bathroom door was closed and the water was running, he definitely wouldn’t have heard her.

Her stomach grumbled. She’d burned through a hell of a lot of energy tonight, and the slice of apple pie before had barely touched the sides. She wasn’t going to wait around for Chuck to finish marinating just so she could personally hand him the fresh clothes. While he stood there in a towel, wet and steamy from the—

Definitely not going to do that. Not when she should be downstairs grabbing something to eat so she didn’t get any grumpier than she already was.

Misha let herself in. Yep, shower was still running. She plopped the fresh clothes on the bed and was about to hightail it out of there when she noticed the neatly folded pile of Chuck’s old clothes on the chair by the bathroom door. May as well take them down to be laundered. He’d taken the holster, his belt, and his unloaded gun into the bathroom with him; his boots and socks were under the chair, placed with precision.

For some reason imagining the big, rough-looking vampire carefully folding his dirty clothes and tucking his socks into his boots made Misha’s heart twist.

She gathered the clothes up and resisted the urge to lift them to her face and get his scent. What the hell is wrong with me? Instead, she headed resolutely for the door. That was when the shower shut off. Her heart skipped a beat and she shot an irrational look over her shoulder, sure the bathroom door was going to open. Then she smacked into the end of the bed, smarted her knee on the wooden post, and hissed a very dirty word in a language that had been dead for at least three thousand years.

The sound had barely left her when suddenly Chuck was standing right there.

He’d moved so fast, he was in front of her before Misha’s brain even registered the sound of the bathroom door slamming open. His eyes blazed black with twin points of gold burning in their depths, the vampire instincts in full control, his stark face devoid of any recognition.

Misha went utterly still, not even daring to breathe. The overhead lights flickered, responding to Chuck’s power. She’d startled him. He’d been in the shower—naked, warm, unable to hear anything over the water. In other words, vulnerable. And she’d startled him.

The next sound she registered was the wet, ripping snarl rolling out from behind Chuck’s bared teeth.

Speaking of wet . . .

Water trickled down from Chuck’s short hair, down his thickly corded neck, over shoulders wide enough for Misha to perch on. His vast chest was inches from her face and beaded with moisture, his light golden skin still smooth as silk—a human male’s skin would be pebbled from the contrast of heat and water and cooling air. His pecs were huge slabs of muscle, his nipples dusky and flat, practically begging Misha to brush her fingers across them so she could watch the fine muscles in his torso clench in response. A dusting of dark hair trailed from his chest down toward his navel, and lower . . . and then Misha slammed her eyes shut.

No towel.

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