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Blood may be thicker than water,

but Love wins every time.

Haunted and hunted and holding tight to their happy ending, the Universe’s got Her work cut out for Her, but then again…Fate Will Not Be Denied, right?

One dragon haunted by the past…

One powerful witch struggling to forgive a bitter betrayal…

One ultimate evil so powerful it threatens all they know…

Find the traitor. Stop him from destroying all they hold dear. Life happily ever after. Easy, right? 

It will take compromise and a love created by the Universe. Only Charlie can take the leap of faith, and only for her dragon...

One doomed dragon. One very special woman. One destiny no one could have predicted. Will they save dragon kin or destroy it?

The perfect recipe for sizzling romance, spine-tingling intrigue, sword swinging action and swoon-worthy love. Enter the world of the Dragon Guard… Forever be changed.

Who was he kidding? There was no way this was going to end well for anyone involved. Just another day in paradise.


Speaking of Christine Gorri -aka C.D. Gorri - Have you read WOLF SHIELD YET?

OH MY GOD! You just HAVE TO!!

It is sooooooo good!!!!

Hudson Stormwolfe is a Wolf Shifter and a Guardian of Chaos. Fergie McAndrews is a typical normal with an atypical obsession for shoes. Tossed into a fight between supernaturals, the human woman is about to get got unless he steps in. Her voice, her scent, her smile, all call to his inner Wolf. Ready or not, this Guardian has found his fated mate, but can he save the fiery redhead from harm and convince her that she belongs to him?







Stories from:

Dara Fraiser and ME!!!!!!


This SPECTACULAR set will only be available for a SUPER LIMITED TIME!!!


And since one of my ALL-TIME FAVORITE times of year is right around the corner, HOW ABOUT A T-SHIRT SALE!

30% OFF!


First up…





I just finished the story

and I am SO EXCITED to get it to y'all!

It comes out October 26th as part of Robyn Peterman's Magic and Mayhem Universe and I CANNOT WAIT!

Here's a little (And I mean VERY LITTLE sneak peek of the cover that I designed ALL BY MYSELF!! I know! Can you believe it? I am waiting on pins and needles to show you the whole thing!)

I know! I know! You want to kick me in the shins for that tease but…

this time…


I swear! I can't show you until the story goes up for preorder!

What I can do - is give you a little taste of the story!




(This copy has not been proofed so there may be booboos!)


“So, let me see if I’ve got this right.”

I knew that tone. Hated that tone. Absolutely despised when she used that tone. Had sworn to do everything in my power to never ever hear that tone again.

Yet, there I was. When would I ever learn?

“You, Clementine Cooper, world renowned, award winning, widely sought after, and published in every magazine from Highlights to National Geographic, wants to hang out – for the foreseeable future - in your one-horse hometown on the wrong side of Nowhere?”

Jumping in when she took a breath, I got as far as, “Well…” before Cora, my publicist, manager, and mentor cut me off, her normally gravelly voice from way too many cigarettes and vodka tonics getting lower, more growly, more…judgy.

“You, the aforementioned photo journalist, not only wants to stay in…” Clearing her throat in the most sarcastic manner anyone has ever cleared their throat, I imagined her cloudy blue eyes trying to bore into my soul as they glared over the frames of her black bespectacled cat eye glasses while she made of show of choking out, “Tallulu Parish, Louisiana, in your words described as the Back Ass of Nowhere, instead of returning to the Serengeti with your beloved giraffes, elephants and antelopes? Not to mention, your hundred-person crew of guides, artists, animal rights activists, and personal assistants whom you took nearly thirteen months to choose to…”

Stopping to take a puff of her cigarette that I knew from experience she’d maliciously shoved into the long, obnoxious shiny red holder she favored to keep from yelling at me while we were talking, my wonderful (I say that with all due respect and a shit ton of sarcasm.) mention gave me the in I was looking.

“Well, yes, as you’ve said a hundred times…”

Completely ignoring the fact that I was speaking, the two days older than dirt by her own admission Crane Shifter, powered on with what I knew from experience was revving up to a full-blown rant that could go for upwards for ninety-three-minutes-and-thirty-two seconds. (Yes, I was prone to timing Cora’s tirades. What else was I supposed to? Actually listen? As if.)

“Ahem…photograph a rundown antebellum mansion, smack dab in the middle of the Swamp, where there are Gators – both Shifter and not – ready to eat your blond, feathered ass the first chance they get?’

“Well, yes, but…”

“Am I getting this right, Clem? Did I summarize your wishes in a clear and concise manner?”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t really concise. You kinda…”

“Are you saying that you’d rather I send some hack with a camera to finish the spread for the launch of the Smithsonian’s new and exclusive Conservation In Today’s World? Give not only the money, but the cover – both front and back – the middle fold, ten full pages, and the rights to say you were the first photo journalist ever published in what is sure to overshadow all other conversation publications anywhere in the world to…ummm…let’s see…”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say her…

“Vanessa Vandermere? Just to pull a name outta the hat. I’m sure she’s available. I’m sure she’ll jump at the chance to head off to the desert, make a real name for herself, upstage you, and get a big, fat paycheck to boot.”

Another pause, another puff on that damned cigarette, another ten seconds in which I contemplated pulling every single, long, blond curl from my head. I knew Cora was doing it just to piss me off. Not only did I hate that she smoked, but the fact that she refused to even think about quitting and was shoving her nasty habit in my face, (Okay, she was shoving it into my ear since we were on the phone, but you get the picture.) well, that just pissed me off all the more.

“Give it to whoever you want, Cora,” I ground out through gritted teeth, not meaning a word of what I was saying but needing to try to hold on to a modicum of my dignity while doing everything in my power to keep my secret. “I don’t care if you send the dude who pushes the coffee cart. You know, that wannabe skater whose pants are always at half-mast and his bangs stick up like he slathered them in dippity-doo then ran straight into a wall going thirty miles an hour? Yeah, him. Put his stupid ass on a plane with an instamatic slung around his neck and the camera on his phone as a backup. I’m staying here and following this story wherever it leads me. There’s something good down here in the Swamp. Something readers will love. Hell, it’s damned near Halloween. People will sop this shit up with a biscuit.”

(Yes, my southern roots were rearing their sassy head. Something my New York born and bred mentor didn’t care for nor understand, which meant at that particular moment I was gonna throw all the twang I could into my tone and lob as many ‘silly sayings’ through the mouthpiece of my cell phone as possible. Yes, it was childish. No, I didn’t care.)

“You’re always on my ass about branching out, reaching new readers, finding a new niche that most photographers are either afraid to venture into or just too stupid to try.”


“Do not ‘Clem’ me, Cora C. Crankenbush. Do not go there. Do not…”

“What’s his name, Clem?”

“…go… What?! Huh? Who…? What are you…? Have you lost…?”

“Yep! That’s what I thought.” Her throaty rasp that served as an all-too-satisfied laugh, the one that instinctively made my eyes roll and goosebumps do the macarena up and down my arms, rang in my ear. “You’ve found that elusive creature, the one we all secretly want more than maple bacon doughnuts and quad shot caramel macchiatos, but refuse to admit to wanting because we – the females of this world – think we have to shake our fists in the air and sing Helen Reddy’s I Am Woman at the top of our lungs twenty-four-seven. The one and only, ordained by the Goddess, makes your heart go pitter-pat and your tummy turn somersaults, greatest enigma ever created. None other than – drum roll please – your one and only, True Fated Mate.”

“Well, I never… I mean, that’s to say, how could you think… What are you…” Backpedaling like babies ducks on a frozen pond, trying to dig myself out of a hole that was quickly approaching the bottom of the deepest Pit in Hell, the writing on the wall – Clementine Sure Cooper, you are screwed - flashed like neon over Bubba Lou's BBQ Pit and Strip Club. The icy fingers of defeat were pulling at my tail feathers. I’d been found out bigger than an ex-football star without a glove.

With an exasperated huff that had my bangs flying off my forehead, I tossed my poor attempt at a subterfuge, a stupid charade to say the least, right out the window. Flopping backward onto the overstuffed cushions of the big old couch that used to my granny’s, I groaned, “Well, Gator crap, how did you know? Go on. Tell me how, where, and when I messed up. I know it puts the tickle in your pink. Hit me. Goddess knows, I’m payin’ attention.”

Laughing so loud that I had to pull the phone from ear or risk a lifetime of hearing aids and saying, “huh” like Uncle Bocephus, that old Crane was having way too much fun at my expense. But what could I do? I was cold busted. She’d seen through my ruse and wasn’t going to let me live it down, at least not for a really long time.

“Girl, I know you better than the feathers covering my still-pert-no-matter-how-old-I-get derriere. There was no way, no how you would leave an assignment unfinished, much less agree to let me give it to the Vandermere Witch if there wasn’t something ruffling your feathers in the best kinda way.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not even sure that he knows I’m alive.”

“Okay, yeah, whatever,” Cora scoffed. “Like there’s a man of any species – Shifter or otherwise – ever been born who could resist your charms. Damn, Girl, you’re a catch and that’s coming from somebody who’s seen you the first thing in the morning after a twenty-hour plane ride with screaming, two-year-old twins in the seat behind you before you’ve even smelled the coffee brewing.”


There will be more sneak peeks, I PROMISE!!!

In the meantime,

Catch Up on All The Madness of the Maiden of Mayhem!



That's it for me for today!

I gotta get back to writing DRAGON FALLING!

Coming November 5th to the Crimson Moon Hideaway Series!

There will sneak peeks of this AWESOME story coming VERY SOON!!!

Be Safe!

Take Care!

And, ALWAYS Dare to Dream!

XOXO, Julia



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