Cover Reveal & Teaser: Warlord’s Mate

It feels as if I’ve been working on this story forever but it’s finally finished and is as epic as I envisioned it to be. Jorrick, my barbarian warlord, is the most alpha male I’ve ever written and I can not wait for you to meet him! 

I’ve been sitting on this cover for a long while. Those on my Reader Group have seen it and were told to keep it under wraps for the time being but here it is! I love this one. It might be due to the long-haired hunk on the cover but I think its stunning.

This story will release on September 6th, 2019 and is available for pre-order but first….scroll down a bit to read the entire first chapter. (For those who don’t like the sexy bits….this story is not for you! I wouldn’t even read to the end of this excerpt if I were you. 😉 )


 

Aliens are real. So are Prison Planets. Marcy Duncan finds out the hard way when she’s abducted and dumped on one and told to run or die trying because the inhabitants of Prison Moon One only want one thing–her. Captured and sent to the Arena, she soon becomes the property of a barbarian warlord everyone fears. He’s a golden-skinned devil wrapped in such a tempting package, her traitorous heart won’t look the other way, a move that might just get her killed when she realizes she’s just a pawn in a game with no winners. A game where she’s the bait.

 

 

Chapter 1

Her wrists were bleeding. Marcy braced her arms on her knees and let her hands dangle away from her body. Blood from the abrasions the metals cuffs made on her skin dripped onto the floor between her bare feet. She’d been wishing for days now that she’d bleed out. Prayed she’d go to sleep and not wake up again but every time she opened her eyes, she was still in the same six-by-six metal room with nothing but a bucket in the corner for her personal use. 

Noise outside drew her gaze to the small square cut into the door that the aliens used to feed her the bowls of slop they considered food. She’d lost track of the days and had no idea how long she’d been here, nor how long she’d been on that spaceship. She snorted a laugh. A spaceship. With all the screwed up bullshit in her life, she would end up abducted by aliens and dropped who knew where. 

Her brother had told her more than once that she’d end up being abducted leaving her dance studio so late at night. She’d taken self-defense classes just to be on the safe side but—who would have guessed it would be aliens that abducted her? She learned real quick that you can’t outrun an alien spaceship when a beam of light paralyzed her, freezing her limbs in place. She blacked out and woke in a cargo hold with twenty other women. Scared, hungry and unable to understand what the ugly fucks who’d taken her said didn’t help her anxiety any either. The day they knocked her unconscious and implanted a translator into her head had been the one highlight of the entire bizarre trip. It didn’t last long, though. Dropped onto a prison moon and told to run or die had brought on a whole new level of weird. More so when they caught her and dumped in here, waiting to be offered as a prize to the strongest alien willing to fight for her. 

Marcy pushed the metal cuffs back and rubbed her thumb over her bleeding wrists. It was so dark she couldn’t see how bad it looked. With her luck, it would end up infected.

Something scurried in the corner and she pulled her knees in. She hadn’t been able to glimpse what ran along the walls but she’d take whatever this planet offered in the way of vermin if it meant she escaped the alternative—becoming the possession and sex slave to some random alien. She would happily live out the rest of her pathetic life right where she sat and not complain about a single second of it. But like it or not, they would come for her, and she knew this little reprieve would be short lived. They’d offer her as a prize and she’d end up the property of some ugly ass thing she could barely stand to look at and spend her life on her back, knees spread wide. Either that, or on her hands and knees, head down, ass in the air. Neither was anything to look forward to.

Marcy leaned her head back against the cold metal wall and stared at the ceiling. Prison Moon One, the galaxy’s most popular penal colony—and the number one reality show in the universe, she’d been told,—had been nothing short of terrifying from the moment she’d been dropped here. Every person here was watched, everything they did broadcast to those who paid to see it. She’d been kidnapped and dropped here for entertainment. Meeting Sara and Emma on the ship had been the one small bright spot in the whole ordeal. Well, until they told them to run or die trying. Emma had refused to go with them, and Sara had run off the side of a cliff and was snatched from the air by a freaking dragon. She’d watched it fly away with her new friend until she could no longer see them. By the time she remembered aliens were chasing her, she’d been found—and brought here to the Arena.

Movement outside her door brought her head up again. She’d already been fed so them coming back so soon couldn’t be good.

The door opened and a guard stepped inside the room. The hired muscle that did all the dirty work for the aliens who ran this place appeared human, if you could overlook the patches of scales that dotted their flesh or their red eyes. They also shape-shifted into dragons but looked different from the one that snatched Sara from the sky. That one had four limbs and wings. These, their wings were attached to their arms. She’d heard someone say the guards were Wyvern. Apparently it was different from your standard dragon.

The one that walked into her cell had a pissy attitude. Bald like the others, his scales ran down both sides of his face but his eyes were larger than most, the red seeming to shine even in the dim light and there wasn’t a thing nice about him. 

He turned those eerie eyes on her as he crossed the small space. “Get up.” He didn’t wait for her to do so, instead, grabbed her by the arm and jerked her off the floor.

“Hey, easy asshole.”

“Keep quiet!” He grabbed the chain attached to the metal cuffs around her wrists and dragged her out of the cell. Two other guards waited outside the door.

“Where are we going?” 

He gave her chains another hard jerk, the metal once again cutting into her flesh. “I said be quiet. One more word from you and you’ll go out with more than your wrists bleeding.” He started down the hall, the other two guards falling into step behind them.

Despite asking them where they were going, she already knew. She wasn’t stupid. They were taking her to the Arena. Playing dumb was just a poor attempt to live in denial for a little while longer but today was the one she’d been dreading. Today was the day she became an alien’s play thing.

When the double doors at the end of the hall opened, bright sunlight flooding inside, she staggered. 

Her time was up. 

Nothing had changed since the last time she’d been there. The main gates were open. One of the brutes was standing there with what appeared to be humans, one of which was naked. The female looked like Sara and her pulse leaped. Was it her? She yelled, “Sara!” just to see if she would look her way. When she did, Marcy’s heart started pounding. She struggled and screamed Sara’s name again, hope making her pulse leap when the girl’s head turned left, then right, as if looking for her. “Sara!” Maybe that dragon hadn’t eaten her after all.

The guard holding her wrist cuffs gave them a yank. “You’re not to speak, human!” He dragged her to one of the cages they kept the other girls in and tossed her inside. 

When she turned to the main gates, they were closed. If that had in fact been Sara, she was now gone. 

She sighed and leaned back against the bars. Everyone in the cell was looking at her, with good reason. She’d been caged with a lot of these girls before they’d taken her into the private cell inside and judging the looks on many of their faces, they weren’t happy to see her. Of course, she’d done nothing since they brought her here but fight at every opportunity while the other humans sat along the back wall and cried and yet, she had never been picked. The guards had always snatched up one of those simpering girls cowering in the corner and acted as if she wasn’t even there. Playing the hard to get along with bitch had worked, even if it didn’t gain her any new friends.

Marcy paced the cage through four fights with her heart in her throat knowing that before the sun went down, that would be her up there for those aliens to fight over. She’d never been made to watch before so, they planned on getting rid of her today, and by nightfall, she’d be the property of one of the aliens lining the make-shift bleachers around the perimeter of the ring. 

She looked over at them, wondering which of the ugly fuckers would be the less terrifying to belong to when the guards came for her. 

“Let’s go.”

Marcy dug her heels into the dirt as they dragged her from the cage. The aliens along the walls went still, every creature there watching her and fear made her lose her mind. She didn’t cry like the others had. No, she kicked, scratched, and fought as if the devil himself had caught her as they pulled her toward the raised platform at the end of the arena and hoped the guards lost patience with her and killed her where she stood. That would be better than the alternative.

She’d watched so many of these fights—knew how this one would play out—and she’d not stand up there like some simpering, screaming girl begging for help. She may be ready to piss herself, but she’d die before they knew it.

Those aliens standing on the bleachers along the walls were all watching her now. Falling off the side of a cliff and being snatched from the air by the dragon that grabbed Sara wouldn’t have been her first choice, but as they pulled her across the hard, packed dirt inside the arena, she wished it would have been her.

She locked her knees, her bare feet sliding across the ground as the guard pulled her to the platform. He yanked her up the steps and if he hadn’t been holding her clasped hands, she would have fallen on her face. 

The hateful guard she loathed so much pulled her to the center of the platform and told her to stay. She tried to jerk away from his grasp but did nothing but stumble. 

The girls in the cells had stopped whimpering, their attention on her. She’d stood in those same open cells day after day as girls were taken and put up here on display, while those creatures that lived here fought until death for the privilege to take them home. Those girls had screamed, cried, and begged and she’d not show the same weakness. If she looked like trouble, then maybe no one would want her.

In all those previous battles, the aliens who fought for the others had laughed when they collected their screaming prize but they’d not take her so easy. They’d not take her without a fight. She’d rather they killed her to be honest and had tried her best to get the guards to do just that. Had caused enough problems to give them reason to, but all they’d done was haul her out of the cage and taken her underground, locking her in a cell all by herself, which had been fine by her. A private cell meant she didn’t have to sleep crowded around a group of girls who stank worse than she did, or try to ignore the overflowing bucket of human waste in the corner. 

She’d gotten comfortable in the dank hole they’d kept her in and she’d been down there so long, she had thought they’d forgotten about her. Now, staring at the aliens watching her, she knew just how foolish she was. It didn’t mean she would go peacefully, though.

Marcy tried to jerk away from the guard again. He snarled, his yellowed fangs showing as he snatched her back into place then cuffed her in the back of the head, ordering her to stay put. 

Like an idiot, she spit in his face.

The laughs from the aliens along the low-lying planks they were standing on echoed inside the ring. The guard growled deep in his throat as he wiped away the spittle. When he brought his hand down, the back of it catching her across the side of her face, pain exploded inside her head as her knees went out from under her and she hit the floor. Jerked to her feet, the guard dragged her to the back of the platform and slammed her against the wall. He lifted her arms, the short chain that ran from each cuff on her wrist hooked on a sharp piece of metal sticking out from the wall and when the guard stepped back, the smile on his face looked feral.

Arms cuffed and raised over her head, Marcy dangled, her toes barely touching the ground. The guard grabbed the front of her dress and jerked it so violently, her body flew forward, then swung back to hit the wall behind her when the material ripped, the dress coming away in his hands. Marcy gasped, and the noise died in an instant. She heard nothing but complete silence. It didn’t last long, though. As if the sight of her pale limbs and fire-crotch was enough to shake the world, the aliens started jumping off the planks and running into the ring.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers as he informed them of the next prize up for grabs and mentioned her hair, which she supposed was a selling point. As long as she’d been here, she’d never seen another red-head. The guard grabbed a handful of her hair and gave her head a hard shake before letting go, her head smacking back against the wall. 

When the world stopped spinning, Marcy focused on the aliens who’d stepped into the ring. Over a dozen leered at her. As aliens went, most of these were on the grotesque side. Bulbous heads, extra appendages, and she hated to even think about what the penis of that flat-headed, gaped-mouthed thing looked like.

The announcer asked for any others. Marcy scanned those still on the planks. More horrifying looking creatures stared back at her. Every size and shape imaginable and one huge—thing—that looked a lot like the beast in one of her favorite book series stared at her. She didn’t think that big ass thing would shape-shift and turn into Jericho Barrons, though. She’d volunteer to be his human plaything if he did.

More than a few of them would have passed for human if it weren’t for their skin color or the mere size of them. A tall alien in the back kept drawing her attention. He stood a good head taller than all the rest and looked to be wearing a skull mask—at least she hoped it was a mask—with large white horns sticking up from the top of his head. Thick brown fur covered his body and even from this distance, she could see his eyes were an unusual, bright shade of amber.  

The aliens in the ring started shifting again. Half a dozen or more were facing the platform when she looked and an orange hulking—thing—stepped down to join the rest. His head was bald and bulky large muscles lay beneath his skin. His eyes were black, his mouth lipless. When he joined the others, three aliens that had been standing in the ring scurried back to rejoin the others on the planks. 

The huge orange thing smiled. Or at least she thought he was. His mouth grew wider as he turned to the others standing there facing the platform before yelling, “Destroy all!” He lifted a beefy hand and pounded his chest caveman style. “Kr’Atek strongest!” He turned to her and growled, “Prize mine.”

The remaining aliens in the ring looked at each other before two more headed back to the planks. The massive orange thing and three others remained. The orange alien faced them and bellowed, “Crush you! Female mine!”

Bile churned in Marcy’s stomach at the prospect of being that creature’s plaything. It was four times her size and ugly as sin. The three other aliens were large as well but nowhere near as muscular as the orange thing. He looked as if he could crush her with nothing but one swing of his fist.

Commotion amongst the aliens drew her eye and her heart gave one powerful thump in her chest when the tall alien with the skull mask stepped down into the ring. The brown fur she’d thought covered his body turned out to be a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He was bare-chested except for two criss-crossing leather straps with varying sizes of blades fitted into slots all along the leather. His skin had a gold tint to it and he was almost as muscled as the orange alien. His thighs were massive and as he crossed the ring, that eerie silence that had fallen over the arena when the guard had stripped her of her clothes fell again as he walked toward the platform. 

To her horrifying disbelief, the orange alien looked almost scared. 

The other three aliens scurried back to the planks when skull face stopped beside them and looked their way. The orange things forehead wrinkled enough for Marcy to think he was glowering at the newcomer and to her amazement, he shifted on his feet and looked between her and the newest challenger. Long minutes ticked by before he bared his teeth. With a loud roaring growl, he turned and walked away.

Skull face was the only one left in the ring. He stared at the orange beast until he’d joined the others, then looked at her. From here, she could tell he was wearing a mask. The only thing she could see of his face was his eyes and the lower half of his bearded chin. A headpiece attached to the cloak held the horns but the rest of him, every bulging muscle, was him. At least he looked human—in an overly exaggerated Dwayne Johnson kind of way. 

He took two steps toward the platform and held up his arm. Marcy could only imagine the fresh hell awaiting her at the other end of that outstretched hand. His gaze slid over her body, pausing briefly at her breasts before going lower and stopping. The need to cover herself burned her face and intensified when he finally lifted his head and locked eyes with her.

The guard grabbed her arms and jerked them from the metal spike in the wall “Let me see you spit on him, human.” He pulled her across the platform and jerked her to a stop inches from that outstretched hand. “I only wish I could be there to see how he breaks you.” He laughed and lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Welcome to Prison Moon One, bitch. You belong to the Warlord, now.”

* * *

The bastard threw her off the platform. Marcy hit the ground with a jarring thump, her face slamming into the ground while her teeth clanked together so hard she bit her tongue. She cursed under her breath and sat up with a groan, glancing at the alien who’d won her by doing nothing but standing there looking menacing. He was staring down at her, some unreadable emotion showing in his strangely colored eyes. 

She spit blood from her mouth and turned her head to glare at the guard. He laughed and jumped to the ground. 

Her alien owner moved so fast she barely tracked him as he grabbed the guard, one large hand closing over the side of the guard’s head before slamming him to the ground beside her. The warlord, as the guard had called him, leaned down, pressing the side of the guard’s face into the dirt and said, “You do not touch what is mine.”

She’d seen many things reflected in the guards eyes since she’d been here but genuine fear had never been one of them. The guard’s eyes were wide and locked on her, his face a funny shade of red.

“Apologize.”

Marcy looked at the warlord, then back down to the guard. The fear she’d seen in his eyes moments ago bled into pure hatred, his face turning a brighter shade of red as the warlord pressed harder on the side of his head until the words, “I’m sorry,” wheezed out past his squeezed lips. As quick as the warlord had taken the guard down, he let him go and stood to his full height. He glanced at her then turned and walked away, heading across the arena without a word.

Another guard stepped into her line of sight as the one on the ground mumbled something under his breath and stood. The new guard grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, then reached for her bound wrists. Marcy winced as the metal cuffs once again bit into her flesh. The pain was enough for her to almost be glad they were being removed but no cuffs meant she was officially someone’s property.

The warlord was now near the arena gates. As the guard worked the locks on her cuffs, he whispered, “Stay two steps behind him and speak to no one but him. You are the warlord’s now. No one exists to you but him. Got it?”

When she didn’t answer, he squeezed her bloody wrist. She winced in pain and looked at him. She’d not seen this guard before. He was bald like the rest of them were and had patches of scales on his skin but something in his eyes said he wasn’t like the others. “Am I to walk out naked? Your asshole friend ripped my dress off.”

“Yes. Like I said, you belong to the warlord now. Take nothing from anyone but him unless he says otherwise.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.” He pulled the cuffs off her wrists. “Now go. He’s the last person on Prison Moon One you want to anger.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned her and shoved her in the direction of the gate.

Marcy could see the warlord walking down the narrow road between the ramshackle buildings outside the arena. He looked to be in no hurry but his stride was wide. Catching up with him meant running, and she’d be damned if she ran after her future rapist.

“Don’t be stupid,” the guard said. “And don’t think for a moment he won’t make you suffer for defying him.”

“I’m not afraid of dying.”

The guard laughed. “The warlord doesn’t punish by killing. He’ll make you suffer and enjoy every second of your torment. Now go before he teaches you to obey in front of everyone watching.”

As much as she loathed to do it, Marcy sighed and started walking. The arena was quiet as she made the long walk—naked—to the gates. The desire to cover herself was strong, but she saw little point in it now. Everyone had already seen everything she’d try to hide. 

Snickers and taunts filled the air with every step she took. The orange hulking alien who had scared most of the others off when they entered the ring to fight was watching her, his expression filled with anger. He was pissed he hadn’t won her, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted her that bad or if it was because the warlord had claimed her with nothing more than a look. 

As she passed the last of the aliens on the planks, the noise they made faded as she stepped outside the arena and the gates closed behind her. Two of the small camera orbs that recorded everything that took place here on Prison Moon One flew into her line of sight. It stopped to hover right in front of her face. She swatted it away and looked for the warlord. He was near the tree line and even though she said she wasn’t running after him, she jogged to catch up. As much as going with him scared the shit out of her, the thought of staying behind for someone else—or many someones—to grab, terrified her more. 

Marcy kept a slight distance between them. Her bravado from the arena was absent now that adrenaline wasn’t coursing through her veins. The warlord never acknowledged her, never looked to see if she was there and Marcy watched him walk as she followed behind him. He was a big son of a bitch with wide shoulders. If his behavior back in the arena was any sign, he had a surly attitude, too. 

They stepped into the shelter of the trees a few moments later and he still didn’t look back. She wondered if she could slow down and let him get ahead of her again and make a run for it.

She studied her surroundings. The trees were sparse. Hiding out in here would be almost impossible and it wouldn’t take him long to find her if she decided to make a run for it. Not that she had anywhere to go. Finding Sara would be impossible. If that had in fact been Sara she’d seen earlier at the arena gates, she had no idea which way she’d gone when she left and besides, she was still naked and with her luck, she’d run into a whole mess of horny aliens who’d take turns with her. If what the guard said was true, then she belonged to the brute in front of her and he didn’t look like the sharing type. They were both shitty choices, but she’d take one rapist over many any day.

The walk through the woods would have been pleasant under other circumstances. The foliage was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Strange flowers dotted the ground, bushes with long fronds of red, purple and orange filled the area and on several of the trees, huge ear-like things that reminded her of fungus was growing on the bark. 

Leaves littered the ground along with a small spiky plant she found by stepping on one. Her shout hadn’t even stirred the warlord’s attention. He was still walking ahead of her, silent, his furred cloak and horned headpiece still in place. It wouldn’t have killed him to wrap her in the mangy looking thing. She could only imagine how heavy it was but anything would have been better than traipsing around naked.

A twig snapped behind her. She turned her head to see three other aliens trailing them. They were spread out in a wide arc, their focus on her. Were these three going to fight the warlord for her? Shit, I hope not.

She faced forward again, staring at the back of the warlords head. “We’re being followed.” He didn’t so much as flinch. “Three big ass aliens about a hundred yards back.” Still nothing. Marcy looked behind her again. They were closer now. “They don’t look friendly, either.” When he still refused to acknowledge her, she searched the ground for something to use as a weapon, grabbing a small piece of wood a few moments later. It wasn’t big or heavy but it might be enough to brain one of the assholes if they tried to jump her.

They walked for what seemed like hours, the three behind them still keeping their distance and she began to wonder if they weren’t with the warlord. They came no closer, and he didn’t seem worried about them, but she tightened her grip on the make-shift weapon in her hands, anyway. 

After stepping on what seemed like every sharp object in the forest, her feet felt like they were on fire by the time the ground cover grew thick, the vegetation soft and cushiony beneath her. Flowers and colorful plants grew in large clusters and it would have been beautiful had it not been for the dozens of long poles jutting from the ground. She came to a stop when she saw the tops were adorned with an array of skulls. Some were nothing more than old bones while others appeared disgustingly fresh. Chunks of meat hung from them and she gagged when she caught the first whiff of rotting flesh. Moans and whispers filled the air and her imagination told her it was the ghosts of those hanging on the pikes. 

The forest was dark here, very little sunlight penetrating the tree limbs. It made her wonder how the plants grew without sunlight. The vegetation along the ground was calf-high in some areas but large spots were barren. As she continued to follow the warlord, she saw why the ground was bare in those random spots. Deep holes had been dug, and she glanced inside one as she passed by it. Several sets of eyes stared up at her. There were people in them—aliens of varying species, all of them dirty and half-starved. She’d found the source of the moans and whispers.

A large clearing sat up ahead, small, crude buildings and tents dotted along the edge of the trees in a wide circle. Aliens in every shape and size filled the open area in the center of the camp and the moment they were spotted, everyone looked their way. 

The warlord didn’t stop walking until he reached the center of the dirt circle next to a large fire pit. Marcy hesitated at the edge of the trees. Walking naked through the woods with three aliens watching her ass sway back and forth had been bad enough but walking out in front of all these aliens into what looked like a small village would be as humiliating as it had been when that guard ripped her dress off. She wasn’t sure she had enough false bravado in her to persuade this many aliens to leave her alone.

The crack and pop of twigs filled the silence. A look over her shoulder showed the three who’d followed them were right behind her now. This close up, she could see they were all the same species. Their skin was a deep, royal blue and while they stood on two legs and had two arms, they didn’t look human-like the warlord did. These three had unusually long legs, their necks long and slender as well. Their eyes were big yellows circles on their faces and it didn’t look as if they had any eyelids.

The one in the middle reached out and snatched the piece of wood from her hands, her palms stinging as the bark ripped into her flesh. He tossed the stick away and gave her a push. The other two didn’t wait to see if she would move or not. They each grabbed one of her arms and ushered her out of the trees and into the clearing.

As she expected them to, everyone in camp turned and looked at her.

A quick glance at those gathered and the fear she felt grew as they led her to the warlord. At least forty sets of eyes turned in her direction and every one she saw gave her a look from head to toe, then back down again. She was ready to beg for clothes as the two holding her arms drew her to a stop in front of the warlord.

Most of the aliens staring back at her were male, but she saw a few females—none of which looked human—standing near the wooden buildings that lined the circle. They gave her a quick glance before returning to whatever it was they were doing. Them paying her no more attention than they had was telling. The females here did as told and nothing more.

Turning from the females, she stared out at the sea of faces staring back at her and she was afraid to even imagine what was about to happen. What did they do with new females here? Pass them around so everyone got a chance to have a poke at them? Was she to be a reward for one of these aliens?

No. You belong to the warlord. The guard had said as much. But—she was his to do with as he pleased which meant, if he wanted her to fuck every single alien in this camp, she’d spend the rest of her life on her back.

Misery settled into her gut like lead. Marcy felt the warlord, more than she saw him, move closer. He was right behind her and she sucked in a breath moments before he grabbed her, one large hand gripping her throat, the other wrapping around her, his hand sliding down to cup her between the legs. She was pulled back against his chest, held so tightly against him she felt close to suffocating as her heart pounded like a caged bird behind her ribs. So much for being brave. If the big bastard only knew she was seconds away from pissing herself, he’d move his hand.

The warlord’s hold around her neck loosened as he slid his hand up to cup her chin, grasping it and turning her head to expose the side of her neck. Just when she started to wonder what he was doing, he lowered his head and bit her. She screamed, pain shooting through her neck as two sharp pinpricks pierced her skin and as the pain intensified, her focus on his teeth inside her flesh shifted as the hand between her legs moved, one slender finger sliding in to press against her clit.

End Of Excerpt

Release day is September 6th so grab your copy HERE.

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About Lily Graison

Lily Graison is a USA TODAY bestselling author of historical western romances. Her Willow Creek Series introduced readers to a small Montana town where the west is wild and the cowboys are wilder. Lily also dabbles in sci-fi, contemporary and paranormal romance when the mood strikes and all of her stories lean heavily to the spicy side with strong female leads and heroes who tend to always get what they want. She writes full time and lives in Hickory, NC with her husband and a house full of Yorkies.

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