Martha Wickham is here to tell us about By Dawn, The 13th House, horror-paranormal.
Read on for details...
____________________
Horror/paranormal
Date Published: 11-22-2025
Nine Tales. Nine Secrets. All Before Dawn.
In the shadow of Bloomstone
Manor, a dilapidated estate hauntingly known as "Lily Lane", the veil between
the living and the dead is impossibly thin. This collection of nine paranormal
mystery stories explores inheritances, dark family legacies, and spectral
demands, all bound by the Manor's enduring, dark influence.
This
Halloween, meet the three students who dare to knock on the door of "The 13th
House"—a black, unnumbered prison that holds the sinister secrets of the
past. Their trick-or-treating leads them to a terrifying collection of
artifacts: a bent spoon, a rusted key, and a doll's eye. Every artifact is a
clue left by a child who vanished, whispering pleas for help from beyond the
grave. The teens must solve the mystery and free the spirits before the
night's magic fades, or they might become the next secret the old house
keeps.
Every house has a debt. Every ghost has a tether. Uncover the
restless spirits and broken promises that demand attention and resolution.
When the clock strikes dawn, the secrets settle back into the dust and the
lilies—and it may be too late.
Excerpt
Night of the Spirits
Anthony pushed through the thick brush that had swallowed the old path. His
friends told him the house was hidden somewhere ahead, rumored to be haunted.
When he finally saw it, the place looked half-demolished, with climbing walls
that had paint curling and peeling. Yet every window was perfectly intact.
He
opened the front door. Stale, cold air rushed out, thick with dust. His
footsteps echoed through the empty living room.As he moved down the hallway,
the front door suddenly slammed. He spun around and ran back, and in that
moment, he was sure he heard a whisper: Sam.The door wouldn’t budge. He
was trapped. He tried the windows too none of them opened.
Again, the
whisper came, louder this time. Sam.
“Who’s Sam? I’m not
Sam!” he shouted.
A hiss answered him, followed by footsteps
upstairs. Heart pounding, he raced up the stairs. At the top, he stopped and
listened. The footsteps were clear, moving steadily into an empty room. He
followed them.
Moonlight spilt across the floor through a bare window.
The invisible footsteps crossed the room and came to a stop at the closet.
Inside, there was only a small box containing a single book. The spirits
wanted him to find it; maybe it would explain everything.
He lifted the
book. It was an old, battered ledger. Inside, a name was written: Samuel. He
began to read.I made a promise to the spirits trapped here. One of them is
buried downstairs. I swore I would help free them with my rituals. I study the
occult, and they own a golden statue worth a fortune. It must be used in the
ritual. If I hide it now, I can return for it later. No one alive will see me
take it.
Anthony reached deeper into the box and pulled out a loose page,
a torn sheet from another book. It carried a chant and the instructions for a
ritual to free spirits.A freezing gust swept through the room. Then a booming
voice declared:“Complete the ritual by dawn, or be trapped here
forever!”
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked the
spirit.
Once again, he heard footsteps descending the stairs and followed
them. Near the kitchen, the basement door creaked open. He cautiously stepped
down the dark basement steps and saw the cloud-like spirit hovering over a
crypt in the floor, where it looked like a ritual had been started over
someone’s grave. Candles and matches were scattered nearby.
About the Author
Martha Wickham has a knack for finding the
ghosts hidden in the dust. A lifelong student of the arcane and the artistic,
Martha has an Associate's Degree and professional writing credentials, but she
honed her skills in the thrilling shadows of screenwriting and horror. Martha
lives for the secrets that only come out "By Dawn". You can discover more of
her work, including her newest audiobooks, at your favorite retailer.
Anne Kane is here to tell us about Spirit Bear Conspiracy, Brotherhood of the Wild #1, MC romantic suspense.
There's also a great giveaway.
____________________
My mission: Save my woman, guard the secret of the Spirit
Bear, and take down the poachers.
Spirit Bear
Conspiracy
Brotherhood of the Wild #1
by Anne Kane
Genre: MC Romantic Suspense
My mission: Save my woman, guard the secret of the rare
spirit bear, and take down the poachers.
Ryland -- I was tailing a gang of poachers, certain they’d
lead me straight to their kingpin, when a stray arrow from a crossbow slammed
into me. Pain lanced through me and everything faded to black. In that blur of
unconsciousness, I could have sworn a pure white bear stood over me, calm as
can be. When I opened my eyes again, a woman -- curvy and impossibly beautiful
-- was watching me with the cutest look of mixed concern and distrust on her
face.
Kimberly -- I thought I was alone on a tiny island off the
coast of British Columbia until an arrow from a crossbow barely missed
skewering me. With my dog Diego at my heels, I ran to hide in a maze of caves,
my heart pounding. Crouched down in the dark, I listened in terror as voices
and footsteps floated to me from outside. I prayed the shooters wouldn’t find
the spirit bear that inhabited this place. When I finally crept back out into
the daylight, I found I wasn’t the only target -- but the unconscious man lying
in a pool of his own blood wasn’t talking. Victim or one of them?
WARNING: This Riptide action-adventure romance includes
violence, abuse, coarse language, vigilante justice, and adult situations. No
cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Enjoy!
What readers
are saying:
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆5 out of 5 stars.
Diego Rules Poachers Drool !
Loved the start of The Brotherhood series !! It has loose
ties to the Author’s other series called Riptide MC ! The characters Kimberly
and Ryland are well written and a lot of fun to read. The storyline has real
world implications in the animal poaching and for animals living in shelters,
so please be careful if such stories cause you any emotional distress. The book
has a lot of action both in and out of the “bedroom”. I can’t wait to read book
2. 5’s for an action packed read !. · Dianna Rule TX
Spirit bears (aka Kermode bears -- Ursus americanus
kermodei) are a subspecies of the North American black bear with a rare
recessive gene that makes their fur white or cream. Spirit bears are found only
in the Great Bear Rainforest, the world’s largest intact temperate rainforest.
Estimated spirit bear population numbers no more than 400 individuals. The
First Nations communities who have lived in the region for thousands of years
call the spirit bear moskgm’ol, or “white bear,” and view the animal as
sacred.
I watched the woman looming above me through slitted eyes.
So far, she thought I was still out cold, and I intended to use that to my
advantage. I hadn’t seen a female with the poachers, but why else would she be
here? There was nothing on this island to attract a beautiful woman like her.
She pulled her shirt off, and then her undergarment. What
the hell did they call those things? It didn’t matter because now I had an
unobstructed view of her naked chest. Wow. Her breasts were small, a mere
handful each, but they were firm and pert, the nipples pointing upward with a
decidedly cheeky tilt to them. All in all, she had to be the cutest poacher I’d
ever seen.
The dog whined softly. Darn thing probably knew I was faking
it. Unfortunately, animals tended to be a lot smarter than the people they kept
company with.
He didn’t appear to be aggressive but looks could be
deceiving. He certainly wasn’t a small pup. Maybe part shepherd? Or Rottweiler,
given the coloring. I could only hope he wasn’t a trained attack dog.
Why on earth would the gang have brought a dog with them?
Poachers didn’t tend to be animal lovers. Maybe they used him to alert them to
people approaching. Hell, maybe the dog was the reason I’d got shot.
Suddenly he didn’t look so harmless.
The woman leaned toward me, that underwear thing in her hand
and I turned my full attention to her. Time to turn the tables on the cute
little thing.
I waited until she was leaning directly over top of me to
strike. Reaching out with my good arm, I grasped her wrist and twisted it,
neatly flipping her over on her back and landing myself straddling her hips.
Damn, that hurt.
I barely managed to school my face into a fierce grimace.
The dog rose to his feet, growling a warning. I turned my
head and growled back.
“Seriously? You’re sitting on top of me and growling at my
dog instead of letting me bandage your arm so it doesn’t get infected? What
kind of idiot are you?” The woman glared up at me with one eyebrow raised in
question. Apparently, I didn’t look as intimidating as I’d thought.
Ignoring her remarks about my IQ, I scowled down at her.
“Who are you, and what are you doing on this island?” I tried to sound as
menacing as possible, but I had the sinking feeling it was going to take a lot
more than a growly male to scare this woman.
“I could ask you the same question. I’ve never seen you here
before and I come here a lot.” She looked kind of cute, glaring up at me. Under
different circumstances I might even consider asking her out.
I gave my head a mental shake. Wow. Loss of blood was
starting to affect my decision making.
The dog let out a low whimper, settling back down on his
haunches. Cocking his head on an angle, he regarded me calmly. Apparently, he
had decided to give me the benefit of the doubt… at least for now.
“I’m the one on top here so I get to ask the questions.” I
felt the need to point out the obvious. “Who are you?”
She raised both brows, looking decidedly pissed. “Well,
right now I’m a prisoner of an idiot who will probably pass out from lack of
blood shortly. Unless, of course, he comes to his senses and hauls his carcass
off me so I can bandage his bloody arm.”
This was not going the way I intended at all. “That’s not
what I meant. What’s your name? Why are you here?” Maybe it would help my
concentration if I stopped staring at her luscious stream of silky dark hair.
“I don’t think I want to answer that. How about you tell me
your name and why you think it’s okay to manhandle a woman who was just trying
to help you.”
The dog let out an approving woof.
“I’m the victim. I’m bleeding. Remember?” I was starting to
feel like I was somehow at fault.
“Yes, and if you’d get off me, I’d be able to do something
about that. You might want to consider that I’m not the one who injured you.”
“I’m not so sure about that. How do I know you’re not going
to finish me off if I let go of you?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “I just told you I wasn’t the one
who shot you. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it while you were
lying unconscious at my feet.”
She did have a point. I let go of her arms and clambered
awkwardly off her, favoring my injured arm.
“Okay, I get it. You’re probably not the one who attacked
me. Damn arm’s starting to bleed again, and it definitely needs a new bandage.
The last thing I need is to let it get infected.” I held my arm out for her
inspection.
The woman got to her feet, her body language stiff and
angry. She ignored me as she brushed herself off. Finally, she glanced at my
arm. “No thanks. I don’t think I want to help you anymore.”
Award winning author Anne Kane lives in the beautiful
Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue mutt(Merlin the Wonder Dog), a
slightly larger rescue dog (Lexi the Aussie Shepherd) a cantankerous Himalayan
cat, and too many fish to count. She has two handsome sons and seven adorable
grandchildren. She’s always been fascinated by science fiction and fantasy so
of course when she writes, she lets her imagination take over. The one thing
the reader can always count on is that the main characters will live happily
ever after, even if they have to defeat a few nasty aliens first.
When she's not busy writing the next great novel, she likes
to kayak, hike, ride motorcycles, swim, skate, practice karate, play her
guitar, sing and of course, read.
T.R. Motley is here to tell us about With These Hands, a crime thriller.
Read on for details...
_____________________
Crime Thriller
Date Published: December 3, 2025
At the age of 13, Aurelia’s entire life changes when her parents
begin to align themselves with the Juarez Cartel, running drugs and
trafficking women through Rio Bravo, their small town off the Rio Grande
River. Determined to get away from this life, Aurelia collects years of
evidence on the cartel.
At the age of 17, she is forced to run when her parents arrange a marriage to
a cartel member. After working with the FBI to take down most of the cartel,
she is placed in a protection program. Unbeknownst to her, the Juarez Cartel
has rebuilt and is stronger now than before.
In a twist of fate, Aurelia is kidnapped, forced to marry Diego, son to the
leader of the cartel, and produce an heir. Diego, who becomes an unseen ally,
along with Aurelia begin to align themselves with individuals throughout
Mexico to take down the cartel. They will fight, blackmail, and kill to
protect those they love.
In an act of desperation, Diego makes the ultimate sacrifice and enlists the
help of Daniel Zimmerman, a U.S. FBI agent and Aurelia’s first love. On
the day of the raid, will everyone make it out of Mexico alive?
About the Author
T.R. Motley. I have lived in Oklahoma all of my life. For the last 28
years now, I have dedicated my life to taking care of my family and other
families as a nurse. I worked in the Pediatric ICU for 25 years taking care of
extremely sick children. There were highs, when I was able to place a child in
his parent's arms after a being on life support to watch the smile on both of
their faced for a very long time. There were lows, when I placed a child in
their parent's arms, which would be the last time they would ever hold them.
My love of books started as a teen when life was not the best, and I would
place myself in the characters shoes and get lost in the story. As an adult,
it was my escape from reality in a sometimes cruel world. Along the way, my
own stories began to swirl in my head. I always wanted to put those stories on
paper, but needing to be a responsible adult, took the safe route.
On my last week in the PICU, my fellow coworkers and I went on a float trip.
Several people asked if we had it to do over again, would we still have become
a nurse. Surprisingly, only two people said they would. When going around and
asking what everyone would have done instead, I said I would have become an
author. Silence ensued for a minute, before there was a chorus of, "Go for
it!" Two months later, I did a ton of research and started my first novel.
Seven months later, I had a completed piece of work. Months of beta reading
and changes along with and editor, helped round out what my book has become.
Now, twenty years later, I am pursuing that dream of storytelling.
Aurelia's story is about overcoming any obstacle, even when being pushed down
from every angle for most of her life. It is about seeing some of the worst
circumstances in life, facing those head on and fighting back to make her life
better. It is about believing that just because you were born into a certain
life, you can fight for what you want and make your way out. It is about
finding love in the worst circumstances and having life ripped away once more.
It is about a woman fighting in a man's world and excelling. It is about
finding friends in the misted of tragedy and realizing sometimes people will
fight for you just as hard.
We see the mark drug cartels not only leave on the U.S. and Mexico in general,
but in the lives of real people. We see how easy human trafficking and
bringing drugs in from Mexico can be. We learn that people are so greedy for
power and money, that they allow these things to happen. People that should
protect us. This is a powerful story of how Aurelia, who is immersed into this
world, not only fights for herself, but others who have been drug in along
with her. There are powerful characters that Aurelia meets along the way who
join forces to not only help her with this fight but become the family she
never had.
This is a romantic suspense novel, appropriate for ages 18+ (adult only).
Sharon C. Cooper is here to tell us about Surrendering to You, book 3 in the Priestly Family Series, contemporary romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
_______________________
His betrayal cost him the only woman he has ever loved.
Now,
he’s determined to win her back.
Surrendering To You
Priestly Family Series Book 3
by Sharon C. Cooper
Genre: Contemporary Romance
His betrayal cost him the only woman he has ever loved.
Now, he’s determined to win her back.
On the football field Tristan Whitmore might be an MVP, but
after a recent career-ending injury, his world is flipped upside down. He takes
little comfort in his many NFL achievements and a bank account bulging with
more money than he could ever spend. His life feels like it’s over… until he
reconnects with the one woman he’s never forgotten. Too bad she hates him.
Entertainment lawyer, Cree Priestly is not the forgiving
type. Betray her once, and you’re dead to her. Which is why Tristan will never
get a second chance with her. She lost too much the last time he charmed her
into falling in love with him. Letting that happen again would make her a fool.
But when he kisses her, all the buried memories of love, desire, and passionate
nights come rushing back.
But can Cree afford to surrender her heart to Tristan again?
Or are some betrayals impossible to move past?
*All books in this
series can be read as standalones.
“He’s not
my anything,” Cree ground out. “And I think this is a good time to end our
visit. I need to get going anyway. We can talk about Dorian’s wedding later.”
“Cree,
stop. Just talk to him. It’s been years, and you both deserve some closure.”
“I got
closure when I told him to lose my damn telephone number and to go to hell.”
Cree knew
she was being a jerk, but Tristan was still a sore topic with her. Seeing him
again brought back too many memories, and they weren’t all good.
She
gathered her large bag, which doubled as a purse and laptop carrier, and then
she grabbed her trash.
“I’m out
of here,” she said and blew her sister a kiss before walking away.
If Cree
was lucky, she might be able to slip past Tristan without him seeing her. He’d
been forced to retire from the NFL, the National Football League, after an
injury, and she’d heard he had moved back to Chicago.
God, she
hoped that wasn’t true. They probably traveled in the same circles, and that
would mean there was a good chance she’d run into him more than she’d prefer.
Taking
advantage of the crowd that surrounded him, Cree moved around the perimeter of
the space and kept her head down while making her way to the door. She had
barely touched the handle before she jolted from the feel of a large hand on
her hip.
She froze,
but not before a zap of energy flowed through her body at his touch. She knew
that touch. Hell, she’d feel that touch even if she had on three layers of
clothing. Tristan had always had that effect on her.
“Cree, wait. We need to talk,” he said by way
of greeting. His deep baritone sent goosebumps racing over her skin. She didn’t
want to talk, and she sure as hell didn’t want to look at him, but she had to.
When she
turned to face him, anger nipped at every nerve in her body. Damn him for
looking so good. He was still the finest man on the face of the planet with
honey-brown skin, eyes the color of almonds with flecks of gold around his
irises, and twin dimples in his cheeks.
As if
knowing she was admiring his beautiful face, he amped up his smile, and she
cursed under her breath.
Damn those
twin dimples. The ones deep enough in his cheeks to stick her fingers in. And
damn him for flashing them so freely in public knowing they were babe magnets.
“We have
nothing to talk about,” she spat, anger lacing the words.
“On the
contrary, baby. We have a lot to discuss.”
Cree
turned from him and moved just beyond the threshold, but he held on to the back
of her jacket while he stood in the doorway. He didn’t seem to care he was
blocking the entrance, keeping anyone from entering or exiting. The small crowd
that had formed around him minutes ago was still there, vying for the attention
of the other former NFL player whose name had slipped her mind.
As for
Tristan, Cree didn’t want to talk to him. That would only encourage him to keep
showing up everywhere she went.
No, she
needed to stay as far away from the man as possible. His presence was a
hindrance to her peace of mind. It was because of him that she had trust
issues, especially when it came to men. He was the reason she had taken on the
motto—don’t let anyone get too close because in the end they’ll only betray
you.
“The old
Cree didn’t run from anything,” he said, his voice lowered. “Yet, you’ve run
from me twice in a matter of weeks.”
Her jaw
clenched and unclenched. “The old Cree would’ve already kneed you in the balls
to make you release my jacket. Either let me go or...”
Tristan
flinched, then quickly released her jacket and chuckled. “I see you’re still
mean as hell.” The words weren’t spoken in a negative way. There was humor in
his tone and in his eyes. “Please,” he said, all humor wiped from his face. “I
really do need to talk to you.”
Cree
searched his eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She almost gave in to his
request until she remembered—she hated him.
“There’s
nothing for us to discuss. As a matter of fact, forget you ever saw me, and if
you see me out and about, don’t even look at me.
“And on
that note, goodbye, Tristan.”
Now all
she had to do was forget she’d ever seen him. Which might be easier said than
done.
Don’t miss the
rest of the series! They can be read as standalones!
USA Today
bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a
happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys
rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won
numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her
Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award
(2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing
husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To
read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her
latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net
Angela Knight is here to tell us about The Dhampir, a destined mates vampire romance novella, dark fantasy.
Read on for more...
_______________________
A Destined Mates Vampire Romance Novella
Dark Fantasy Romance
Date Published: January 2, 2026
Publisher: Changeling Press
An ancient vampire, Hunter can command any woman he wants -- except the
one woman he needs. His mate.
Genevieve Drake is a Dhampir -- half vampire, half mortal, born and bred to be
the perfect complement to her vampire mate, like those of her family for
sixteen generations. Instead, she chose to become a cop. Three months ago she
survived a vicious attack by a psychotic ex that left her with psychic scars
and a desperate need for a new line of work. Time to rethink her future.
Hunter is tall, dark and handsome -- and very, very powerful. He’s also
been waiting for Genevieve. She was just eighteen when he had a vision that
they’d one day become lovers. He’s been biding his time ever
since. But Genevieve’s experiences have left her unable to trust any
man, even Hunter.
If he wants them to have a future, the vampire will have to find a way to
banish her ghosts…
The vampire's bodyguard was sloppy when he searched Genevieve Drake. He
missed at least three places where she could have stashed weapons. Would have
stashed weapons, if she hadn't been going to an interview for a job she
desperately needed. To add insult to injury, he smirked up at her when he
crouched at her feet to pat her down, hands lingering on her thighs and
calves.
Genevieve gave serious thought to kneeing him in the jaw.
Finally, after a last knowing leer, the guard ushered her into Hunter's
sprawling office, then closed the heavy double doors and left them alone.
"Ms. Drake." Tall, radiating a power that made her Dhampir senses
vibrate like harp strings, the vampire stepped around his big rosewood desk to
shake Genevieve's hand, his grip careful and warm. His touch sent a flush of
magic radiating up her arm. Her mouth went dry, and she felt her nipples peak.
"It's a pleasure."
Her body's intense response surprised her. She'd felt dead from the neck
down for months. "Please call me Genevieve, Mr. Hunter." Not Genny. Never
Genny. Smiling up at him, she used all her years undercover to keep her
expression no more than pleasantly professional.
"It's just Hunter," the vampire said in a black velvet purr of a voice.
He gave her a slow, white smile, his eyes the sharp and startling blue of an
arctic wolf. His features were starkly masculine, with a long swoop of a nose
and a broad, square chin. His hair was thick and black, just long enough to
touch his collar.
He gestured her away from his desk toward two armchairs that sat facing
each other. Just beyond the chairs, a plate glass window ran the length of the
room. Sixty stories below, the glittering glory of Atlanta spread across the
night.
As Hunter ushered her to the chairs, Genevieve studied him. If anything,
the vampire was more impressive than she remembered. Easily six-foot-two, he
had a powerful build that made him look like a warrior even camouflaged in
black Armani. His tie was a splash of crimson against his white shirt, while
cufflinks of onyx and gold adorned his French cuffs.
"It's good to see you again," Hunter said as they sat. The chairs were
positioned so close, their knees almost touched. It was not exactly the
arrangement she'd have expected for a job interview -- but then, this was not
a typical job interview. "You were what -- fifteen? -- when last I saw you."
"Sixteen," Genevieve corrected. And madly infatuated with you. But that
was something she had no intention of sharing. And anyway, it had been
fourteen years ago.
Before Gary. Before she'd been left bleeding in a dirty alley with the
last of her illusions in shreds.
Hunter probably knew about her painfully intense crush. Probably knew
about Gary, too, for that matter. As her father always said, you can't hide
anything from a vampire, so don't even try. "It was good of you to grant me
this interview."
"Not at all. I need an assistant, and you have excellent
qualifications." He watched her settle back into the chair's soft wine red
leather. His gaze sharpened. "Something concerns you."
Genevieve hesitated, caught between her desire not to offend and her
sense of duty. She needed the job, but her family had been Dhampir for sixteen
generations.
Duty won. "Your bodyguard was more interested in feeling me up than in
making sure I wasn't armed. I could have knocked him cold at least twice. In
my opinion, he constitutes a security risk."
Hunter lifted a cool black brow. "He's a former Navy SEAL."
"And a current idiot."
"You are blunt, bordering on rude." Hunter smiled, satisfaction in his
eyes. "And every bit as fearless as I would have expected of Tommy Drake's
daughter."
She relaxed back into her chair. "Well, that's a relief."
"That I took the criticism well?" His arctic eyes heated to burning blue
as he watched her cross her legs. Her knee inadvertently brushed his, and the
contact sent magic flaring up her thigh. Straight into her sex.
She tried to ignore the pulse of erotic heat that flared low in her
belly. "No, I'm relieved you ordered your man to play the fool to test my
honesty. I'd hate to think you'd hire someone that sloppy."
The vampire laughed, a deep, masculine rumble, seductive and warm. "No,
I have not survived three hundred and forty years by surrounding myself with
sloppy bodyguards. And there've been times even careful ones..." Hunter
stopped and rolled his powerful shoulders as if shrugging off a painful
memory.
"Sometimes it doesn't matter how careful or well-trained you are."
Genevieve's voice dropped to a whisper. "Especially if you're betrayed."
He studied her, going still as a predator. Seeing too much. "The scars
from betrayal go to the soul. And they never quite fade, do they?"
"Not so far." Genevieve forced a smile and deliberately sought to turn
the conversation back to business. "What are you looking for in a personal
assistant?"
You, Hunter thought.
About the Author
New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for
Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.
Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.
’s for an action packed read !. · Dianna Rule TX
