Rhapsodic Cover Reveal and Excerpt

Okay, so this book as been a looooooong time in coming! I started talking about Rhapsodic back in early 2014, when it was called Moonlight Rhapsody and going to be part of an anthology, but the anthology never went through, so I set out to publish it separately. Only ... the idea for The Queen of All that Dies shoved its way in, and I decided to write that series first. So I set Rhapsodic aside--until now.

Rhapsodic is the first book in a NA paranormal trilogy that stars a siren with an armful of magical beads, each one an IOU that she has to repay to the king of the night. I'll have more info on this in the coming months, but let me just say that I am ecstatic to finally get to pick this story back up! It's going to be dark and fun and full of thrills. If you want to read some teasers I've already posted on the novel, you can browse through them here. These teasers are subject to change since I haven't touched what I've written in over two years! If you want to read the description, I've included it with the cover below!

Okay, onto the cover. *Sigh* I think this cover might be my favorite one yet! It's fairly different from my other covers, but I hope you like it anyway! 

Are you ready?

Here it is:

Coming Fall/Winter 2016

Ten years ago I bought an armful of favors from a very bad man, a man only fools and desperate people call upon. They call him the Bargainer, but I know him as Desmond Flynn. If you need a favor, he’s the man to go to. He can fulfill your heart’s desire. 
But every favor comes at a price, and once the Bargainer commits to his side of the deal, you’re magically bound to fulfill yours. Only death can sever that obligation—and trust me when I say the Bargainer doesn’t let that happen. 

I've waited ten long years to repay my debts. Ten long years to forget my dark past and the man who's haunted it. But that all ends today. 

Desmond Flynn has finally come to collect.


Excerpt from Rhapsodic

10 years ago ...

Blood on my hands, blood between my toes. It’s splashed across my chest, and to my horror, I can taste a few droplets on my lips.

There’s far too much of it staining the kitchen’s marble floors. No one can possibly survive that much blood loss, not even the monster at my feet.

My entire body shakes, adrenaline still pumping through my veins. I drop the broken bottle and fall to my knees.

Blood soaking into my jeans.

I stare at my tormentor. His glassy eyes have lost their focus. If I were a braver person, I would’ve placed my ear to his chest to just make sure that his cold, blackened heart had stilled. I can’t bear to touch him, even now. Even if he can no longer hurt me.

He’s gone. He’s finally gone.

A shuddering sob pushes its way out of me. For the first time in what seems like an eternity I can breathe. I sob again. God it feels good. This time tears follow.

I’m not supposed to feel relief. I know that. I know people are supposed to mourn the loss of life. But I can’t. Not him, anyway. Maybe that makes me evil. All I know is that tonight, I actually faced my fear and I survived it.

He’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore. He’s dead.

It takes only a few more seconds for that realization to hit me.

Oh, God. He’s dead.

My hands begin to shake. There’s a body and blood, so much blood. I’m drenched in it. It speckles my homework, and one fat droplet obscures Lincoln’s face on my history textbook.

A harsh shiver courses through my body. The air feels different now that death has touched this place.
I stare down at my hands, feeling like Lady Macbeth. Out damned spot! I dash to the kitchen sink, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in their wake. Oh, God, I need to get his blood off of me now.

I rinse my hands furiously. The crimson liquid stains my cuticles and it's embedded itself beneath my fingernails. I can't get it all off before I notice blood also coats my arms. So I scrub those. But then it’s on my shirt, and I can see it congealing in my hair.

I whimper as I work. It doesn’t matter. It’s not coming out.


I lean over the granite countertop and assess the pink admixture of blood and water that stains it, the floor, and the sink.

Can’t hide from this.

Reluctantly, my eyes slide to the body. An illogical part of me expects him to sit back up and attack me. He’d always seemed like some terrible force of nature. Why would a little thing like death to stop him? When he doesn’t do just that, I begin to think again.

What … do I do now? Call the police? The justice system protects minors. I’ll be okay, they’ll just call me in for questioning.

Nausea rolls through me. No, I can’t do it.

But I have no choice, not unless …

The monster bleeding out in our kitchen knew a man who knew a man. Someone that could clean up a messy situation. I only had to sell a bit of my soul to speak to him.

I dash to the junk drawer, my trembling hands having trouble opening it. Once I do, it’s short work grabbing the business card and reading over the peculiar contact information.

Fear washes through me. If I do this, there’s no going back.

My gaze sweeps over the kitchen. It’s already too late to go back.

I take a deep breath and do as the business card instructs.

“Bargainer, I would like to make a deal.”

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Hugs and happy reading,

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