Rockin' Reviewer

When I was a little girl, I dreamed a handsome knight would come and rescue me from my wretched mother. He'd ride up on his white steed and break the curse I've been fated to carry since the day I was born. Funny how things changed over time, how the fairytale twisted into something far more crooked—and darker—than I ever imagined. In reality, my knight is scarred and broken, living alone in a castle of bones that overlooks the sea. He isn’t searching for me. He never was.

My father called them messengers. He once told me they walked among us and that somewhere in this dark and godless city, there shined a faint sliver of hope. I had only to look for the signs. Well, I’ve spent my whole life investigating the inexplicable and all I've found are the unsettling vestiges of iniquity—the evidence of another world shrouded by the obscure. Purgatory to some, where depravity hides in shadows, and girls like me are little more than delicious bites of temptation. Others call it Nightshade.

Fresh off a breakup and an eviction, I started my day like any other: a book in one hand, a coffee in the other, and faking that can-do attitude inspirational memes are made of. I was ready to take on the world—and I did. Unfortunately, it was the Underworld. One freak accident later, I’m standing face to face with the sexy-as-sin and dangerously powerful Prince of the Underworld. He has a few burning questions for me—like how a mere human unlocked the door to the Underworld’s prison and released its prisoners.

When a fellow FBI agent is kidnapped and a protected witness vanishes, Leo Gallagher will stop at nothing to find them both. So when he discovers a link between the case and a single mother in Wyoming, Leo and his trusty K-9 partner rush to question Alicia Duncan. Could she be the key to locating the missing persons?

When environmental activist Nova Morales wakes thousands of years after a nuclear fallout, she is surrounded by magic, monsters, and war. The earth she fought to protect is in pieces, along with her heart. Everyone she loved is dead. All she wants is to find answers, but instead, she finds herself the unwilling prize in an Unseelie mate hunt. Elf Guardian Leaf has always prioritized duty to the Well. His fate is his own, despite what the Prime and that insufferable psychic Clarke say about him being fated to a human from the old world.

Solitude, serenity, and sanity are vital to Moriah Copeland's life. Focused on helping kids the system forgets, she is unaware of the powers she harbors deep in her soul. But at night, her vivid dreams waver between a scene of her worst nightmare, and a true confidant. Imagine her surprise when she realizes her dreams might be more than they seem, she suddenly has crazy magic powers, and three strange men crash a too good to be true second date for help finding their long-lost friend.

They raided my club. Destroyed everything I own. And stole the man I love. Now, it’s up to us to get him back. But we aren’t the only ones searching.

At the edge of a cliff, in the pouring rain, the man I once loved attacks me. His fingers tear at my flesh, his breath hot in my ear as he spews venomous words of hate and promises of death. My only hope is Scythe. The psychopath locked away inside the mind of another. Letting him out will only cause chaos and violence. And yet, I utter his name and free him to save myself.

"Do you want some Goldfish crackers, Bliss?" Those were the last words my brother said to me before he was shot execution style. A childhood code only he and I knew, and one that had a single, clear meaning behind it.

I knew hot flashes were supposed to be hot, but I didn't expect flames. One day I'm in anger management, normalizing the cordial hate between me and my husband. The next, we're divorced, and he has taken both our house and the business we built together. I'm 40 years old and living above our empty restaurant, plotting my next move. And then the world around starts lighting up - literally catching on fire. I'm starting to think my defining characteristic may not be my snark or my cupcake-baking prowess, but spontaneous combustion.