May 2026

Dear Readers:

I’m thrilled to say I’ve finished my next book, Master of the Hunt. It should be out sometime in June. I wanted to give y’all a little taste, along with a cover reveal. This is another piece I did with CGI. The only AI element is the magical effects around star she’s holding.

I love doing covers. Life can be stressful, and sometimes the only time I can get my head to shut up is to create art.

Cover Reveal

It helped that this book was huge fun to write. Dearg and Iona are bad-asses who confront shape-shifting monsters and their own demons in between having fabulous sex.

Here’s the excerpt: 

A werewolf prince must protect a lovely police chief despite the mad god who wants her dead. 

Sidhe Prince Dearg Galatyn is a werewolf, spymaster, and Blade of the Dragon God. When the dragon repeatedly sends him visions of a beautiful cop’s horrific murder, Dearg knows he must save her at all costs. Otherwise, she’ll be only the first to die. 

Iona Anann is both the granddaughter of a goddess and the police chief of Summerwood, a quirky town full of magical creatures who make fantasy films. When the feared Sidhe prince walks into police headquarters and shares his horrific visions, she has no choice except to accept him as her bodyguard. Then the murders start, and magical assassins begin coming after Iona and their desperate fight for survival begins. 

Yet in the pressure cooker of blood, magic and danger, Iona and Dearg find themselves falling in love. But with a mad god targeting them both, what hope of life or love do they have?

In this scene, Chief Iona Anann meets Prince Dearg Galatyn.

Excerpt:

As the prince strode in, I rose to my feet and circled my desk to meet him.

Cachamwri’s Egg, he’s huge. He had to be six-five at least, with the muscle to match. Rather than court garb, he wore a short-sleeved black knit shirt tucked into charcoal slacks. He looked as if he were trying to cosplay as a human. If so, it wasn’t working. Sidhe men were typically lean, but Dearg reminded me of a tight end for the Chicago Bears. That, or that sculpture of Rocky.

“Dearg Galatyn, Prince of the Two Kingdoms,” he said in a velvet rumble that made me blink. His smile was so warm and open, he instantly transformed from Darth Fido to Prince Do-Me-Now. He had a rough-hewn kind of good looks rather than the unearthly beauty typical of Sidhe of either sex. His jaw and cheekbones were broad and masculine rather than narrow and inhumanly beautiful, with lips so full and sensual, my libido purred. Unlike most Sidhe nobles, he wore his curly black hair shoulder length rather than down to his hips. Guess the Blade didn’t want to give his opponents a nice long handle to grab. My fingers twitched, wanting to stroke all that hair, find out if it was as soft as it looked…

Stop. It. Being a fertility goddess’ grandkid could make professional etiquette a challenge.

“Uh… Iona Anann, police chief of Summerwood.” I’d have bowed had he not offered a hand for a human-style handshake. I took it, feeling those long, wolf-hot fingers engulf mine as I gave him my best professional smile. “Your highness, you honor us… ”

“Let’s dispense with the royal etiquette. Besides, I’m the one who should be bowing to you — you’re the demigoddess.” His charming smile clashed with watchful eyes. That probing, uncomfortable stare was enhanced by opalescent irises with flecks of glowing magic. Yep, he was definitely a Galatyn.

“The only title I use is Summerwood Police Chief,” I told him. “Goddess is my grandmother’s job, not mine.”

A sudden flare of green sparks drew my gaze to the intricately tooled sword belt cinched his narrow waist, supporting a wide scabbard and Dragon’s Breath. The weapon was spitting green sparks, and I eyed it warily.

I was no stranger to energetic cutlery — my grandmother created weapons for the worthy heroes and royalty of Immortal Earth. Dragon’s Breath was something else again, imbued with so much power it made the air seem to waver around it like pavement on a hot day.

What’s going on in Summerwood that the dragon god would send his troubleshooter with a weapon like that? What did I miss? Damn, but that was a chilling thought.”Your sword seems to be leaking,” I told him as I gestured toward a guest chair.

There went that charming smile again. It still didn’t reach his duelist’s eyes. “Yes, I know.” He sat down, deftly maneuvering the blade so it wouldn’t tangle with the chair if he had to rise in a hurry. “It’s pissed off at me.”

“Pissed about what?” I asked, intrigued.

“I haven’t killed anyone yet.”

Before I could react to that revelation, something red and blue rippled across the biceps of the prince’s right arm just below his shirt’s short sleeve. I thought at first it was a tattoo, but… It moved, curling around his arm, then spiraling down his forearm. When it reached his thick wrist, the dragon tattoo lifted its head off his skin, popping three-dimensional, and looked at me. Its eyes glowed gold, and each red and blue scale shimmered. Its long, reptilian muzzle curled in a smile that looked downright sly. Being my mother’s daughter, I’d seen a lot of weird shit, but the power that blazed off that thing… “Cachamwri, I presume?”

It laughed silently. The Dragon God was animating that thing.

“Interesting tattoo.”

Dearg looked down, and the dragon’s head twisted to look up at him. He jerked, eyes widening. “Well, that’s not good.” The dragon lowered his head and sank under Dearg’s skin again, then turned and swam his way back to coil around the prince’s biceps. As it propped its long muzzle atop its coils, thin white tendrils of vapor slid from its nostrils, wafting through the air like cigarette smoke.

“I think he’s showing off,” I told Dearg. “I didn’t even know Cachamwri had a sense of humor.”

“He does, it just tends to be sadistic. And this isn’t a tattoo — more like a birthmark.”

That’s right, he was the Heir to Heroes — another of the stories Grandmother had told me. Every king of the Cachamwri Sidhe for thousands of years had been born with that mark. According to legend, when the dragon mark moved, it meant the god expected something of his Heir.

“My father says he’s seen his mark animate a few times, though never the way mine does.” Dearg’s handsome mouth twisted. “The priests of Cachamwri’s shrine insist I’m ‘beloved.'” His arch tone suggested he didn’t much feel beloved.

“So what have you been sent here to do? Gods don’t use that kind of power without a damn good reason.”

He hesitated, studying my face as if to gauge my reaction to what he was about to say. “I’ve been sent to prevent your assassination.” The last of the easy charm drained from those remarkable Galatyn eyes. “And I’m going to have my hands full keeping you alive.”

Book Goodies!

If you’d like to read the prior book, Master of Desire features the heroine of Master of the Hunt when she’s a little girl.

For half-Sidhe billionaire Conal Donovan, rich people problems include an ex- who’s an evil Fairy goddess named Siobhan. When Siobhan sends a team of werewolf terrorists to kidnap and torture him, he’s rescued by Helena Baker, African American, former FBI agent, and wolf-shifter. But Conal’s not out of the woods, because Siobhan has sworn to kill him, his sisters, and all his Sidhe friends. He and Helena decide the only way to protect the innocent is to focus Siobhan’s vicious jealousy on them by pretending to be lovers.

Helena Baker’s best friend is a gun inhabited by a retired death god, so she can handle werewolves. She’s less sure about the handsome white guy with the talking phoenix and the relentless commitment to protecting his sisters. Especially considering that she’s in her Burning Moon — the werewolf version of heat. Her pheromones make Conal just as interested in her as she is in him. But is their growing love real? And what will happen when the hormones wear off?

Love really shouldn’t be this complicated.

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Fury

She’s a vampire hunter. I love those.

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Here’s a free book that I’m going to pick up — it sounds intriguing!

She buried her gift at seven. Fifteen years later, it’s come back hungry.

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Thanks so much for reading my newsletter! I hope your May is a terrific one!

Lena Austin — Ugly Duckling: Jean-Paul, incubus editor for Bedtime Stories Press has been assigned a new author. Dominick may be a fantastic author, but when he gets aroused, the situation gets ugly. Literally. Jean-Paul is sure he can handle Dom. Maybe…

Anne Kane — Pixie’s Playmates: “While the story had an engaging quality, I feel that the flavor of the sex was too vanilla for Bedtime Stories Press.” When Bedtime Stories Press review coordinator Pixie calls the reviewer into the office she finds out “B.J. Smith” is really two very drool-worthy males who want to demonstrate their toys. What’s a pixie to do?Marteeka Karland — Shut Up! As official kitty of the Bar and Grille for the Bedtime Stories readers and authors, Callie has the last say in everything she does and with everyone in her vicinity. Then Troll makes a proclamation that could very well get someone killed. Anyone who can get the last word in on Callie gets to have his way with her in bed. It’s a proposition Eli can’t refuse. Callie’s about to get all the loving from Eli she can stand. If she can just shut up.

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