A beautiful good vs. evil story. I thought the concept was wonderful and unique. It wasn’t just a vampire or werewolf novel it was so much more.
from Paranormal Romance and Authors That Rock
Have you ever dreamed about finding your soul mate? Do you think you’d recognize him as, The One, the instant that you met?
Skye thought that Raine was her dream come true when she finally fell in love with him, but her dreams soon became nightmares when Alec, King of the Vlad Vampire Clan, wanted them and every other gypsy witch of Kersh descent, dead.
She had to find a way to stop Alec, end the war between clans, fight against the werewolves who turned her best friend Morgan, and keep Raine, her Forever Friend, by her side.
Skye thought that her dream come true when she met her forever friend, Raine. But her dreams soon became nightmares when Alec, King of the Vlad Vampire Clan, wanted avenge his lover’s death. He thought nothing of going after Skye and Raine, the heads of the Kersh Gypsy Clan, because they should have protected his Obsidian in The Were Rebellion. She was, in fact, kin.
In order for Skye to have her happy ending with Raine, her forever friend, she needs to learn how to harness her Gypsy Witch powers to stop Alec, end the war between clans, fight against the werewolves, who turned her best friend Morgan, and close the portal to the Underworld before the planetary alignment.
The Puzzle Called Life
This collection of poems about life was written over the course of fifteen fundamentally important years. I was a teenager and young adult who wrote to help me to understand my feelings about life, death, and how to cope. I learned through my writing of this book, that you don’t have to piece everything together all at once and you don’t have to reconstruct your life alone. There are many inspirations that come your way while you go through your straight edges, corners, and funny-shaped pieces of life. These pieces will form a picture you show others. “The Puzzle Called Life” is my picture that I want to share with you.
Publisher: lulu.com (October 23, 2014)
Blue Water Baptism
Blue Water Baptism is my second collection of poems ranging in topic from views on death, God, friendships, and society. These poems were written in the course of ten years and show the “20- something” state of mind that transitions into a “30- something” mentality. I call the collection “Blue Water Baptism” for this reason.
Publisher: lulu.com (July 7, 2008)
A piece of paper peeked through the crack in the case and Heather pulled it out. It appeared to be a love letter from a soldier to his fiancée. The letter read like an all-too familiar 16th century poem from Shakespeare.
My Dearest Gwen,
I love thee more than life itself. The days and nights without you have been far too long for me to bear. I pray that this war ends soon so I can be with you and we can start our lives together.
A rush of heat came to Heather’s cheeks. She felt foolish reading someone else’s love letter, but she somehow just couldn’t help herself.
I miss the touch of your hand on my cheek, the smell of your hair, the fullness of your lips, and the crux of your bosom. My body aches for your closeness each day and night that we are apart.
Heather’s eyes were fixated to the paper, hovering over each word, hanging on each paragraph as if it was a rung to reach on the playground monkey bars, she craved for more in each word and sentence as if she was reading her favorite romance author. Her heart beat fast and her breath, short, as she read on.
I long for the day we can celebrate our love for each other, consummating what our minds have known for years, a blissful, sweet, enduring love that knows no bounds. Hold fast to these words, my sweetness, for I shall come home to you soon.
A cool tingle came down Heather’s cheek as she read the name Rahovart. It was a strange first name, but then again, the letter was old so perhaps the names were weird back then. And for all she knew, letters may have been more formal where you posted the last name.
Feeling flustered from her obvious heat in her cheeks, she folded the letter up and placed it back in the suitcase for safe keeping. As she descended down the stairs, she felt a cool breeze around her shoulders. Heather again crossed her arms to ward off the coolness.
It was hard to keep any focus at work. Those heartfelt words were burning into Heather’s very soul. She had never known a love to be so deep, yet, she knew her heart ached to come across one. A soul mate in this day and age was hard to find and if you came across that kind of love in your lifetime, you could consider yourself extremely lucky.
With a letter like that, Heather wondered what other kind of treasures were hidden in the attic. The suspense was killing her but she had one more hour before she could officially call it a day and rummage through her newly acquired attic.
The hour went on for what seemed like days but it finally ended and Heather found herself rummaging through an attic that seemed almost untouched by the prior tenants. It was almost as if they had abandoned the room all together.
Another cold breeze came across Heather’s left cheek, and this time, she could see a mist form from in front of her. The mist materialized into a hand. Heather felt off balance. She sometimes could see images out of the corner of her eyes and she knew it was her mind playing tricks on her. This was obviously another migraine that was taking over her clear-headed thoughts.
A ripple of arousal came over her as she felt the materialized hand cup her breast. Heather was in amazement. A man hadn’t touched her in so long that she wondered if those parts even worked. Her mind was now erratic with questions.
Why am I feeling this way now? I’m awake! I usually don’t have sexually connotative dreams unless it’s at night.
“Stop your thinking, sweetness.”
Heather couldn’t believe her ears, nor could she believe her eyes. A man came out of nothing and appeared right before her. He was tall and proportioned with dark hair and blue eyes. He was everything Heather could dream of in a man, right down to a chiseled chin. Her heart skipped a beat upon seeing this man before her, but her mind started the double take.
She had not been with a man in ages and her mind was obviously getting the best of her. Her fantasies were running into overdrive and that had to be the reason for this Casanova to materialize before her.
“I’m not a figment of your imagination, Heather. I’m just as real as you are.”
She just couldn’t seem to help herself and watched him walk across the dirt covered path and onto the cobble stoned walk. It was hypnotic watching him stroll as he was seemingly enjoying the night air. That was something she’d grown to take for granted the longer she remained in this god-forsaken place.
She heard his heart rate calm as he walked by her. It was one of the most intriguing things she had ever heard in a human before. Most had rather loud and obnoxious heart rates. Of course, there was no mistaking the fact, she probably had something to do with that.
He didn’t see her in the shadows. He was too busy tending to his walking pace, though she wished more than anything that he’d glance her way. He was an average height for a man, not too tall, but not short either. His skin was handsomely kissed by the sun and proved to be an excellent backdrop for his dark hair.
His face, though gorgeous, had looked a bit warn from his years of living. The corners of his eyes were dotted and drawn with life’s wrinkles. That didn’t seem to matter much, though, he carried them well while he sauntered through the city streets. All of this made her ever more intrigued with this fine specimen of a human being.
She watched him as his backside past her in the darkness. His gait was determined, but light, almost that of a dancer, though she knew he was nothing of the sort. She had been watching him long enough for the past few weeks to know what his profession was.
As she scanned his backside in greater detail she had come to the realization that it was the most exquisite she had ever seen on any creature. She wanted nothing more than to cup his posterior in her cold, dead hands. The curves they boasted were, dare she say, quite divine.
She wasn’t the least bit picky with anything on his body, which was truly a feat for her. It was bothering her, nagging her to the core, that she could find absolutely no fault with him at all.
It completely disturbed her. She was, after all, The Queen of The Damned and her taste was the most refined out of any of her kind because she expected and demanded nothing but the best.
And perfect he was! Her thoughts interrupting her logical reasoning stated.