I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Reluctant Princess

“Syd,” I say. “If I were to step down as heir, would there be a place for me here?”

She reaches out and takes my hand again. “Without question,” she says. “Any time, come as you are, you betcha. And hell no. Yes, because I miss you and love you and it’s not the same without you. The kids adore you, life is better when you’re here.” She looks away from me, up at the star-filled sky. Her sorrow is a living thing between us, my wolf snuffling at it and whining. “And no, because you are so much more than a servant to anyone. And if you came back, I’d worry it was for the wrong reasons.”

Seven years have passed since Charlotte took her place as heir to the werenation. Still unmated and resisting her position, she longs for freedom she will never have, and life with a mortal man she loves. When a powerful new pack appears, Charlotte is instantly suspicious. Cicero Caine and his weres aren’t exactly what they seem. But the arrival of old enemies and a rising threat to all werewolves throws the wereprincess into the middle of a vast conspiracy, challenging the very foundations of what she’s been taught to believe.

Lychos Cycle

I sit in the back of a non-descript van, unheated and bare to the steel floor. The windows have been painted over, the only light coming through the front windshield. Sage huddles next to me, shivering, favoring his shoulder. The two guards from the restaurant watch over us, one with a machine gun in his lap, the other cradling a handgun.


Sage turns his head, lips next to my ear. "Who are these people?"


I don't answer. He already knows, doesn't he?


"Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?" He doesn't sound petulant, or complaining. Just solidly anxious, though his old strength runs through him, keeping his voice steady, his whole being poised for action.


"No," I say. "But we are fugitives and they are the only resource I have to win our freedom."


Chapter 39: Fugitives