Sam is the most promising swordsman among this year’s crop of Paladin trainees...and knows it. Brash, cocky, and unbeatable with a sword (well, almost), Sam is the kingdom of Thule’s best hope against the violence wrought by demons. The only problem is that Sam is really Lady Samantha, daughter of the seventeenth Duke of Haywood, and if her father has his way, she’ll be marrying a Paladin, not becoming one. But Sam has never held much interest in playing damsel-in-distress, and so she rescues herself from a lifetime of boredom and matrimonial drudgery. Pity that Tristan Lyons, the Paladin assigned to train her, is none other than the hero of her childhood. He hasn’t recognized her as Lady Samantha--yet-- but if he does, he’ll take away her sword and send her packing. Sam is not the only trainee hiding secrets: Braeden is a half-demon with a dark past that might be unforgivable. Sam, Braeden and Tristan set out for the western coast, charged with rooting out an infestation of demons that has made the West unlivable. As they travel, they uncover a deep-seated corruption of power that threatens to derail everything they stand for. Rebellion stirs, led by a rival faction of warriors who tempt Sam to join them with an irresistible offer. A war between men is coming, and Sam must pick a side. Will saving the kingdom cost her life -- or just her heart? Reminiscent of Mulan, but with a medieval fantasy twist, Paladin is a tale of adventure, action, and romance.

A collection of writerly dares to inspire you to write your novel.

Essays on Writing is a collection of thoughts I come across during my writing journey. They cover topics such as grammar, editing, writing, publishing and very often character and story development within the expectations of genre or society.

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"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.

Seeing Karla Simmons naked had been on the list—oh, yes, that had definitely been on the list. But she wasn't supposed to be dead and clawing at the bathroom door.

One bridge. Two guys. Three secrets. Four therapists. Five attempts. Six months. Seven bad habits. Eight family meetings. Nine visits. Ten cuts. One death. Spiritual #4

I stepped towards him, the Mate that was to be mine for all eternity. But before I could leap into his arms, he put his hands up, as if to tell me not to do what was an instinct. I held myself back, it confused me that he wasn't standing in front of me with open arms, and he was closed off. Before I could truly grasp what was happening, he said in a low sexy voice that travelled through my body sending tiny shock waves throughout, "I don't want you."