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Sneak Peak The Profane Series Book 1: Medium Rare Chapter 1d

Sneak Peak The Profane Series Book 1: Medium Rare Chapter 1d

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The Profane Series Book 1: Medium Rare Chapter 1d

November 2009 – The Akkadian Club

“Hey, you want to get out of here?”

Lachlan blinked sweat out of his eyes and looked up at his dance partner: tall, lithe, with brown eyes and close cropped brown hair. Symmetrical and pleasing to look at, if somewhat bland. The drunkest part of Lachlan’s brain wanted to wrap his legs around the guy’s waist and climb him like a tree. The small voice in the back of his brain that sounded suspiciously of his Uncle Rory—the minister—babbled a string of horrified arguments about why he should do No Such Thing.

“I’d love to,” he shouted over the music playing in the club. His dance partner grinned and grabbed his hand, leading him outside and into a waiting taxi.

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Sneak Peak The Profane Series: Medium Rare: Chapter 1c

Sneak Peak The Profane Series: Medium Rare: Chapter 1c

The Profane Series: Medium Rare: Chapter 1c

Previous Parts: 1 | 2

May 2009 – Julie Hobbes’s Apartment

Lachlan shook his head to clear it and threw his empty cup in the trash bin next to the front door.

Inside, the building was dark and quiet, cold in the same way buildings got when management set the air conditioning unit too high, leaving everyone to freeze in the summer despite the fact it was only late spring.

He shivered and glanced down at his hand. The words had begun to smudge from the combined heat of his coffee cup and his own nervous sweat but the unit number was clear enough. He took the elevator up to the sixth floor and got out on another empty hallway.

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Sneak Peak: The Profane Series Book 1: Chapter 1b

Sneak Peak: The Profane Series Book 1: Chapter 1b

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The Profane Series Book 1: Medium Rare: Chapter 1b

July 2009 – Queen Anne Hill

The doctors had told him to take it easy and maybe this didn’t count as taking it easy—he couldn’t drive with the busted up foot or his arm in a sling so he’d had to resort to public transportation—but he had to see Vector. Had to look him in the face and ask:

“Where the hell have you been?” Lachlan demanded before the front door had even swung open. He blinked and snapped his mouth shut on a surprised noise when he looked up into the eyes not of his absentee partner but some stranger. “Who are you?”

The other man squinted those eyes—pale blue and wildly different from Vector’s—at Lachlan, nostrils flaring. Was he—Lachlan stumbled over the thought but there was no mistaking the way the other man was sniffing him.

“What do you want?” the man growled.

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Sneak Peak: The Profane Series Book 1: Medium Rare – Chapter 1a

Sneak Peak: The Profane Series Book 1: Medium Rare – Chapter 1a

Writing is coming along at a good clip this month, and I’m planning on releasing Book 1 in the Profane Series: Medium Rare during the first week of February… Sort of like a 2 year anniversary celebration.

In the meantime, I thought I’d post the first couple of chapters for you guys to take a sneak peak at. These are still rough, mostly unedited, and subject to tweaking before they go to Amazon, but I hope you enjoy them!

I think you can expect 1-2 updates a week until February.

Chapter 1a: May 2012 – Capitol Hill – Lachlan

Last night a girl had died. He only knew this because, as he had left his own apartment the following day for his morning—emphasis in this case being absolutely necessary—coffee run, he had encountered the girl’s grandmother crying just outside her door one floor below him.

“Oh, it’s you, Lachlan. I’m sorry, dear, let me just get out of your way.”

“Good morning, Amelia.” Lachlan Graham paused, one foot on the next step, one foot in the hallway, torn between comforting a neighbor in distress and the amount of energy it would require to deal with her. “Something wrong?” he asked.

Her sigh shivered through her whole body, her hands shaking as she blotted at the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. It didn’t look as though she’d had the time to apply her face that morning before the instigating emotional event, because despite the presence of water flowing down her face, there were no dark mascara stains on her cheeks.

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Are You Ready For Blood & Bone Book 3?

Are You Ready For Blood & Bone Book 3?

Read Previous Part…

We’re so close to publication date on Book 3: The Symbiotic Law and I’m so excited to share it with you all. In a couple of day I’ll be announcing a giveaway for free copies of Book 3 to people who join/are members of my mailing list, but in the meantime I thought I’d wet your appetites with another excerpt from chapter one. Follow the link at the top of this post to get the FIRST SNIPPET and continue reading for the

second snippet

~Lia

Eoin scoffed and stood up with a soft groan. He stood in front of a small mirror hanging on the wall and tugged on his hair. Broad fingers combed through the dirty strands, braiding them into something resembling order that he tied off with a few nimble motions. Satisfied, he turned back to Ethan.

“What are you talking about? You’ve got a whole family. We’ll look after you.” He made a sharp, impatient gesture. “Well, don’t just sit there—pack a bag, and don’t forget the stone. The faster we put a little distance between you and this city, the easier I’ll be able to close my eyes again.”

Ethan stumbled into action. Jeans and T-shirts went into a duffle bag with his bathroom kit and a clean pair of socks and underwear.

With care, he emptied the bottom of his closet, worked loose the floorboard covering his hidey-hole and pulled out the jeweler’s box holding the bloodstone pendant. Touching it made his skin crawl so he shoved it to the bottom of his bag and piled his shit back up until it didn’t look like anything of any importance had been taken from the room.

He found Eoin washing his hands in the kitchen, a plastic bag containing the meager contents of his pantry hooked in the crook of his elbow.

“Do you have it?”

Ethan nodded mutely.

“Do you have a coat? Get it. Never go anywhere without a coat. Except maybe a desert, but even then.” Eoin sniffed and wiped his hands off on his torn sweater.

Ethan figured it was less hassle to just do what he said rather than protest. He tripped over a stack of books on the floor. There were three volumes, two from Jansson that he hadn’t had time to read before the older man’s murder. On a whim, Ethan grabbed those and stuck them in his bad along with his clothes. He had no idea where Eoin planned on taking him or how long his uncle would deem it too dangerous for him to come home.

He bored easily. What if there was no television wherever they were headed? Ethan shrugged off that gloomy thought and grabbed his coat off the hook. It had a layer of dust along the shoulders that made him sneeze.

Satisfied now, Eoin led the way downstairs.

“We’ll have your car.”

“Where are we going?”

His uncle ignored the question. He pressed Ethan back from the front entry and slipped out the door first. After a thorough check of the hallway, he stuck his head back in and grabbed Ethan by the elbow, hustling him down the street to the parking garage where his Audi sat under several tons of concrete, Hondas, and a small fleet of Toyota Priuses.

“You have to tell me where I’m driving us to.”

Eoin pulled out a battered smartphone from his pocket, the Otter case showing significant wear and tear along its rubberized edges. He flicked through a couple pages while Ethan sat, one hand flicking his keys while his eyes catalogued the pedestrians walking by—hoods up and shoulders hunched against the rain but nary an umbrella in sight.

“Head south.”

“Care to be more specific?”

“King’s Street Station.”

Ethan frowned but stuck the keys in the ignition and whipped them out of his long-term parking stall.

###

Patrick Clanahan, Seattle Police Detective, werewolf, recently well-satisfied male, bounded up the stairs to his—what should he call him? Lover? Partner? Mate? His own version of “it’s complicated,” let’s put it that way—a bag of takeout dangling from one hand and an impulse six-pack of beer swinging from the other.

To be honest, he all but whistled coming through the unlocked door. He’d left his—his Ethan well-fucked in his bedroom and now he returned triumphantly with dinner and beer and they were going to give this thing between them a go. It wouldn’t be easy—Pat wasn’t an optimist on a good day, but better trying together than crashing and burning on their own. Right?

Of course, whatever good mood he’d been nursing since picking up their food around the corner evaporated when he shut Ethan’s door and took stock of the silent apartment. The very empty, silent apartment.

The beer clanked against the kitchen counter.

Pat held his breath and strained his werewolf hearing, desperate to be proved wrong, but his initial stock of the scene remained true. Ethan wasn’t in the apartment.

Anger rushed through Pat’s nerves, and he dropped the bag of dim sum, uncaring of how it landed on its side, spilling dumplings and packets of dipping sauce everywhere.

Ethan had promised—! But no, he hadn’t promised anything outright, had he? Pat racked his memory. The other man had said they would try—but his exact words hadn’t been anything strictly binding, just the word of a magician. What stock could you put in that?

Pat snarled and slammed his fist down on the counter, making the wood groan and the beer bottles rattle.

Promise or no, Ethan had said he wouldn’t run away again; Pat hadn’t inflated that fact in his head.

On the heels of the anger, shame and guilt tried to rear their heads, sending his heart beating triple time in his chest, thundering in his ears and pounding hard against his chest until his body began to ache with it.

Had it been a ruse? Or just cold feet? Did he so misjudge their coupling—god, had it only been an hour ago that he’d had Ethan on his back, buried so far inside the other man, Pat cleaving to him in slippery desperation—that Ethan felt the need to sneak away behind his back?

The self-flagellation might have continued ad nauseam if at that moment the front door hadn’t swung open, distracting Pat from his black thoughts. His senses snapped to attention and zeroed in on the figure standing on the threshold: dark jeans, work boots, black shirt, and leather gloves, sunglasses, and a nondescript baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He smelled like bitter herbs, salt, and gunpowder.

Something about the combination made the hair on the back of Pat’s neck stand on end and he tensed, mouth open in a snarl of shiny white teeth—too sharp to belong to any human man.

The man turned to Pat, one hand coming up quick and sharp, and the next moment several hundred volts of electricity shot through Pat’s chest. He convulsed and staggered against the counter, only just keeping his feet under him.

He snarled and tore the TAZER leads out of his shoulder and jerked the gun out of his assailant’s hand. Pat didn’t waste time on a strategy or thought. He barreled into the other man, sending them crashing to the floor.

Pat’s fingers tingled with the change, bones rearranging themselves into heavy, clawed fists as his jaw lengthened the extra inch necessary to accommodate his predator canines.

He took a fist in the gut and scrambled for the upper hand. He boxed a little to blow off steam but Pat was a werewolf first and he’d never feel as comfortable fighting in his human skin as he did in his wolf one. Still, he had heavier bones, inhuman strength, and a good dose of displaced rage on his side.

The other man’s head made a satisfying crack against the floor and his body slumped, going loose with unconsciousness. Pat forced his hands to uncurl from around the man’s throat. He sat back on his haunches, chest heaving, breaths puffing out short and hard from the adrenaline. His nose ached and blood dripped down the lower half of his face, but he could already feel the cartilage healing itself.

A quick check of his attacker’s pockets revealed a glaring lack of identification or wallet—just a business card, the logo faded almost beyond visibility and crumpled with dirty folds. Ethan’s address was written in neat capitals on the back.

Pat fumbled out his cellphone and took a picture of the card, which he sent to his partner at the Seattle Police Department. Sabira Mallory called him back almost immediately.

“Is this about our case?”

“That was fast,” Pat said.

“I was working on my report, so I can give it to Captain Augustas on Monday. You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not. I have a situation here.”

NEW RELEASE NEWS! Cold Press (A Palouse County Romance #1)

NEW RELEASE NEWS! Cold Press (A Palouse County Romance #1)

cold press150x250I’m super excited to announce that my first holiday novel is for sale on Amazon right now for $0.99! Looking for a sweet wintery romance while its cold and rainy (or snowy) outside? Do you love coffee shop AUs? Do you enjoy small town stories? Then check out COLD PRESS.

Blurb

Despite what anyone says, Jordan Kane is not lonely. He’s not. Being alone is not the same as being lonely. At least, that’s what he tells himself. But it’s hard to hold onto his more hermit-like habits when Avery O’Sullivan blows back into town. The sweet–if hapless–writer is hardly prepared for Belleville’s harsh winters, and Jordan can’t help inviting the other man into his home for the holidays.

Two strangers find happiness between a dozen cups of coffee and writer’s block in this sweet M/M short romance. A Palouse County Romance #1 featuring stories big and small from Eastern Washington.

This is a novelette approximately 50 pages long. It contains minor language, some adult themes and a romantic relationship between two men.

Buy now on Amazon!

Blood & Bone Book 3: The Symbiotic Law

Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten B&B Book 3. Even as I type up with quick blog announcement, I’m sitting in Starbucks with scrivener open to get some writing done. My goal is to have The Symbiotic Law finished before Christmas and published close to the new year so say posted.

I’ve kept this book pretty under my hat for awhile now but I’m really excited about it. It’s quite different from the first two books. But I can tell you it picks up RIGHT where book 2 left off–with the boys back in trouble again. It features a whole new cast of supporting characters as well as a couple old faces from books 1 & 2!

When I sat down to conceptualize the Blood & Bone Trilogy, I thought of book 1 as a “mystery” and book 2 as a “horror” novel. Book 3 is definitely the “adventure” novel of the trio and I think you guys will enjoy it.

As a special sneak peak, here’s the first couple pages of THE SYMBIOTIC LAW

symbiotic_law

PREVIOUSLY…

Ethan stared out his balcony window until he heard the front door close. He felt sore, but more than that, his stomach wouldn’t stop jumping around, excess adrenaline still flooding through his veins.

He shivered and dug out a soft, long-sleeved shirt and put it on.

It was the middle of the afternoon. So far he’d watched a man get put in the ground and had his suspicions confirmed: fucking werewolves.

Ethan rubbed at the ache in his chest and startled when someone knocked on the front door. Well, hammered might have been a better description. It was too soon to be Patrick returning with their food.

He checked the peephole and jerked back. The door wasn’t even locked; it swung open.

“Uncle Eoin?” he asked, his voice pitched up in shock. His mother’s brother stood on the other side, disheveled, dirty, and with purple bruises under his eyes. Eoin had a fat lip and a cut across the bridge of his nose, crusty and only half healed. He smelled like the sea.

“Ethan. Thank the goddess.”

AND NOW…

Ethan’s uncle stumbled inside the apartment, one hand falling heavy across Ethan’s shoulder and squeezing hard. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his dark hair lank and slipping free of its tie.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Eoin waved his concern away. “I sent you a telegram. Several in fact. When I didn’t hear back from you I feared the worst.”

“I haven’t had any messages,” Ethan said, leading him over to the kitchen table and pulling out a seat.

Eoin dropped dropped into it with a squelch and watched Ethan as he grabbed the stack of junk mail he’d left to pile up.

“What’s going on? You look—” Ethan’s words dried up at his Uncle wan face. A shiver raced down his back.

Eoin gave a low, wry laugh and pushed his hair off his face. He had green eyes like Ethan but his coloring was darker, tanned and wind burned, hair like a raven in a ponytail, with callused hands.

“I don’t suppose I could get a drink of water?”

The mail slipped between numb fingers. Ethan grabbed water and a granola bar for Eoin and sat down in the chair across from him.

“Thank you.”

“What’s going on?” he asked again.

“I had a visitor, down in Auckland. Not a very friendly fellow, let me tell ya. He was looking for something of your mother’s.”

Dread curdled Ethan’s stomach. Without his leave, his eyes darted past Eoin’s shoulder to the empty kitchen drawer.

Eoin’s eyes narrowed. “You know what he was looking for.”

“Maybe? Who’s ‘he’?”

“Didn’t get a name.” His uncle crammed the end of the granola bar in his mouth and crumpled up the wrapper. “Some sort of retrieval specialist.”

He leaned over the table, eyes intent on Ethan’s face.

“Was he here?”

Christophe’s face flashed across Ethan’s mind but he took in Eoin’s scrapes and couldn’t imagine his ex being responsible for that kind of violence. Christophe never lifted a finger if his mouth would do the trick.

“I don’t know.”

Eoin hummed to himself and sat back. “Oh, I think you’d know if t’were the same fellow. He was looking for a stone. Your mother kept it on a pendant chain.”

Ethan swallowed down bile and nodded.

“A bloodstone,” he said flatly.

His uncle’s eyes worked over his face for a long, tense moment before he said, “That’s one word for it. So, he did come here first?”

Ethan pushed back his chair. “It might not have been the same—” He gestured at Eoin’s face. His uncle grimaced and touched a finger to the cut on his nose. “I had a friend, a former friend, from Toronto show up a couple months ago. He said he was looking for something called a bloodstone.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“No. I didn’t have it.”

“What?” Eoin demanded. The dining chair screeched across the wood floor.

“At the time. It was at the jeweler’s.”

This news seemed to settle Eoin who sat back down and finished his water.

“But you have it.”

“Yeah.”

“This friend, what’s his name?”

“Christophe Granger.”

“I don’t suppose he told you what he wanted with it?”

Ethan shook his head. He hesitated before he blurted, “He said my f—father sent him for it.”

Ethan watched his uncle’s expression collapse on itself, grim and dark under heavy brows. He fanned out his junk mail across the table while he waited for him to say something. It was all bills and ValuePaks and advertisements for Domino’s Pizza.

“I was afraid….” Eoin stared at a scratch in the wood grain under his hands. He sighed and grabbed Ethan’s wrist, holding it tight. “You might have fooled your friend Granger but you won’t be able to fool this fellow. He didn’t seem to be the sort that’s easily dissuaded from a task.”

“But you—”

“Ran away by the skin of my teeth. I put sail to wind and came straight here. I had hoped that you’d get my message and be long gone already.”

Ethan frowned. “I don’t understand. If they don’t think I have it, which they must if they went looking for it from you, then why—” He stopped at Eoin’s guilty expression.

“Your Uncle Liam’s boy—Aiden—he might have let slip something about you inheriting everything. Whatever you convinced your friend Granger to believe, I wouldn’t count on this retrieval man to take it at face value. He’s was a professional. And if there’s one thing you can say about professionals, they don’t leave loose ends to amateurs. That’s what makes them professionals.”

“But we don’t know that,” Ethan protested. His bare feet were cold and his shorts slid down uncomfortably low on his ass. He still smelled a little like sex despite cleaning up and Pat—no, Clanahan—Clanahan would be back with their take away any minute.

“You willing to take that chance?”

“I have a job, I can’t just leave. Shit, I’m a cop. If this guy attacks me I’ll throw him in a holding cell.” Ethan stood and started pacing across his kitchen, agitation making his stomach jump and fresh sweat break out under his arms. His heart beat too fast to be comfortable.

“You can’t stay here,” Eoin protested, his voice grim. It grated against Ethan’s skin. “Men like this don’t work inside your legal system.”

“You’re saying I should be afraid of a shadow that attacked you? That might not even come here? Not going to happen.”

“I didn’t think you’d grow up to be such a foolish boy.”

“Foolish? Me?” Ethan laughed, if you could call the ugly sound coming out of his throat a laugh, and slapped the table between them.

He watched Eoin retreat into himself. Catalogued his weathered clothes, dirtier and more torn than they usually appeared. He hardly knew the man—hadn’t seen him in years, not since late fall ’07 or ’08, he couldn’t even remember exactly.

Eoin, like the rest of the family on his mother’s side, preferred to come and go with little warning or fanfare. They drifted across the world on their boats and barges at the wind’s decree, never settling in one place longer than a season. Nomads, gypsies, wanderers, whatever you wanted to call them, people that Ethan didn’t bear much resemblance to. Despite living in a city surrounded on both sides by water, he hadn’t been out on a boat since—well, since whenever Eoin’s last visit had been.

He looked at his uncle now, the shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed up around his ears and his fingers gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. He didn’t know this man, not well at least, but he knew what fear looked like.

Eoin was worried. Worried about Ethan’s safety. The concern both grated and soothed a tattered edge in Ethan’s brain.

He blew out a frustrated breath and sat back down, reached his hands across the wood, fingers held loose.

“I can’t just pack up and disappear. I have responsibilities,” he said.

“Are they more important than your life?”

“Whatever you think is going on, my life’s not on the line.”

“You sound very certain.”

“I am.”

“So certain that your father won’t…” Eoin grimaced.

“He hasn’t so far.”

“Ah, but you used to be a child, that always affords some protection. Now you’re a man with something he wants badly enough to send someone halfway around the globe to get it. You think he’ll stop at asking you? At threatening? Perhaps. You would know better than I.”

Eoin’s words squirmed in the back of Ethan’s brain where a healthy fear of his biological father—none other than Alexandre Pellatier, the patriarch of the oldest magical family in Quebec—slumbered. The decade since Ethan had run away from Alexandre had done little to squash the instinctive recoil he felt at just the insinuation of his name.

He’d be a liar if he tried to argue that there was no truth in Eoin’s argument. Alexandre Pellatier had not risen to his position of power through niceties and being soft. He was hard, the unbending steel rod running through the spine of their family, holding most of the wizards along the Eastern Seaboard in his grasp. All of it smoothed over by impeccable manners, money, and the irrefutable veneer of politeness.

The clock in the hall ticked off the seconds, loud enough it sounded like the crash of brass symbols reverberating in Ethan’s head. He dug his fingers into the table.

“There’s nowhere for me to go.”

NEW RELEASE: The Omega Prince (The Kingdom of Pacchia Book 1)

NEW RELEASE: The Omega Prince (The Kingdom of Pacchia Book 1)

TOP with title blog small

For Sale on Amazon $2.99

Author’s Note

Here it is! The novella I began writing a month ago for fun because I needed a break from Blood & Bone and all the pressure that comes with that series, here’s the first in a little series of stories set in a AU medieval kingdom called Pacchia where Alpha/Beta/Omega sex and gender are the norm. (this concept is often called Omegaverse if you’re fannish)

I described this book to my writing partner as Medieval Jane Austen and it was a hellofalot of a fun to write. Check it out and lmk what you think!

Blurb

The Tri-fete, an opportunity for the alphas in Pacchia to show off their strength, stamina, and martial prowess, comes once every three years. This is the first time the competition has been held since the Crown Prince Aubrey of Lyle and Wescott presented as an omega and there is much speculation he may take a mate from one of the alphas competing.

But there is more than friendly competition underway as the mysterious Lord Riven returns to court for the first time in nearly a decade and assassins plot against the King.

Prince Aubrey must find a way to balance expectation and personal desire in THE OMEGA PRINCE, the first story set in Pacchia, a mythical kingdom based on the a/b/o gender structure.

This story contains explicit M/M content.

Excerpt

Prologue

He was Lord Riven now, the only son of the late Lord Riven.

A middle child, considered spoilt and indolent in his youth through very little fault of his own. It was the prerogative of the peerage to keep their children in the comfortable style to which they themselves were raised. And so the youngest Lord Riven was instructed by tutors in the manor castle, taught to ride and mock fight, and left to enjoy the pleasanter pastimes in life such as hunting every day except Sundurn, which was reserved for feasting.

The son, known to his sisters and closest companions as Dierik, was little seen at the High Court of the King of Lyle, and there was much talk bandied amongst the other houses when his fourteenth birthday came and went without his joining the King’s Guard as was the want of most noble sons looking to distinguish themselves.

No acts of valor, scholarship, or might were thus put forward to advance the young Dierik, and his name was predominantly forgotten until his twentieth year when news reached the High Court that Lord Riven and his household, excepting the son and the youngest daughter, had been murdered in their beds and the manor castle burned to its foundations.

After that, the name Riven was explicably attached to gratuitous rumors of patricide and plot though no evidence ever surfaced that the son was in fact the root cause of his family’s fall. The damage was already done. The more greedy and tenacious corners of the court, smelling blood, were quick to circle the floundering house. Within a month, expeditionary forces began to make their presence felt all along House Riven’s boarders and shortly after the son gathered his knights and loyal vassals and marched to his defenses.

That was eight years ago.

Review Copies

As with my other books, I will be offering 5 free review copies of The Omega Prince in exchange for a FAIR and HONEST review on Amazon/goodreads/your review blog etc. Fill out the form below if you’re interested in a reading copy 🙂

Book 2: The Convergence Theory Book News

Book 2: The Convergence Theory Book News

convergence rightside up small
Available on Amazon $2.99
So I made a DAY-Of post about the release of my new book here and on twitter but I’m a big believer in NOT SPAMMING my list so after that first day I kind of stayed quiet. But you know, we all have busy lives and don’t always stay up-to-the-minute on our blogroll or RSS feeds. I figure it’s time to make another little post saying Hey, lookit, I published the sequel!

You can read chapter 1 here on my blog.

Blurb:

Walking away from your soulmate is not for the faint of heart…

Following the Matilde Walker murder, Detective Ethan Ellison is back working misdemeanors and minor crimes, but he’s only just begun to realize how much the experience has changed his life.

Meanwhile, Detective Patrick Clanahan would give anything to get the memory of Ethan out of his head. If he can’t have him, and every sign suggests that he can’t, he sure has hell wishes everything at the station didn’t remind him of the other man.

Murder, UST, pining, and emotional turmoil lurk right around the corner for both men as Seattle hurtles to the hottest summer on record and their fates bring them back together in THE CONVERGENCE THEORY, Book Two in the Blood & Bone Trilogy.

This is the tense sequel to THE DUALITY PARADIGM.

Contains explicit M/M and minor M/F content.

Review Copies

As with THE DUALITY PARADIGM, I will be offering review copies for people who are interested. I only ask that you write an HONEST review, state that you received a review copy somewhere in your review, and post your review on the web and link me (Amazon, Goodreads, personal blog etc). If you’re interested in reviewing Book 2 send me an email: liacooperromance AT gmail DOT com.

Book 3 News

So what’s in store next? I’ve got ~33% of the final book in the trilogy written and I’ll be working on that over the next couple of months. Originally i’d hoped to have to ready to be published very soon after book 2 but it looks like early Winter is going to be more accurate. I’ll be posting a sneak peak of the cover and Chapter 1 as we get closet to the release date, so stay tuned!

I’ve also started a tumblr based WIP called The Omega Prince. TOP began life as an exercise in having fun with my writing. I just wanted to write a sweet fantasy AU, not of our world, that examined Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics in a non oppressive culture. IDK about you but I get sick and tired of fantasy AUs that are just our world, with all of its prejudices and misogyny, and the serial numbers scrubbed off.

Here’s the first snippet for you reading pleasure:

He was Lord Riven now, the only son of the late Lord Riven.

A middle child, considered spoilt and indolent in his youth through very little fault of his own. It was the prerogative of the peerage to keep their children in the comfortable style to which they themselves were raised. And so the youngest Lord Riven was instructed by tutors in the manor castle, taught to ride and mock fight, and left to enjoy the pleasanter pastimes in life such as hunting every day except Sundurn, which was reserved for feasting.

The son, known to his sisters and closest companions as Dierik, was little seen at the High Court of the King of Lyle, and there was much talk bandied amongst the other houses when his fourteenth birthday came and went without his joining the King’s Guard as was the want of most noble sons looking to distinguish themselves.

No acts of valor, scholarship, or might were thus put forward to advance the young Dierik, and his name was predominantly forgotten until his twenty-fourth year when news reached the High Court that Lord Riven and his household, excepting the son and the youngest daughter, had been murdered in their beds and the manor castle burned to its foundations.

After that, the name Riven was explicably attached to gratuitous rumors ofpatricide and plot though no evidence ever surfaced that the son was in fact the root cause of his family’s fall. The damage was already done. The more greedy and tenacious corners of the court, smelling blood, were quick to circle the floundering house. Within a month expeditionary forces began to make their presence felt all along the Lord Riven’s boarders and shortly after, the son gathered his knights and loyal vassals and marched to his defenses.

That was eight years ago.

You can read along with the rest of it as I write it here: http://lia-cooper-writes.tumblr.com/ and the tag #the omega prince.

Free Book 1 Day Only (Contemporary erotica)

Free Book 1 Day Only (Contemporary erotica)

Quick announcement to let you all know that my new novellette Ava, Sublime is available for free on Kindle February 14th (and February 14th only!).

Free book by Lia CooperAva, Sublime is a complex short that navigates a critical moment between the heroine, Ava, and the two men she is sleeping with.

Blurb:

It isn’t always easy to know what you want and what you need.

Ava Novak thought she had her comfortable life figured out. She had a job roasting coffee that she loved and a simple sexual arrangement with Brenden and Patrick. What more could a woman want? But a change in their dynamic sends Ava down a path of serious soul searching while she tries to come to terms with how much of herself she’s willing to give.

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