A short scene following "Always His" & "Always Mine"

2025 was the year I wrote the most ( 363,967 words ) since the infamous 2018 ( 434,520 ). And in 2025 I did it while treating myself as a person instead of a word-producing-machine so I’m giving it extra points. December ( 64,671 words ) was actually the best month not just of the year but in recorded history since 2017, so that’s a nice way to end things! Also, hitting 65,000 just became my fairly achievable goal for January (or any month this year, because, yeah, I'm taki

Maybe you will say I’m stretching it here, but in truth, I forgot about Devlin, Rami and Naveen… Book 3 got delayed for ages while I wrote the rest of The Stars of the Pack series. New covers for The Werewolves of Windermere series featuring a broody young man barechested adn surrounded by two wolves made of clouds with a full moon lit forest in the background. What inspired you to create the world of Werewolves of Windermere —especially setting it in England's Lake District?

I don’t know if I can justly call “Cracking Ice”  a forgotten love story when it’s my longest book to date (which is also the reason it was published as a serial). But in a way, I’m known for shifter omegaverse, so I do think it gets overlooked. What makes Cracking Ice different from your other books? Other than the lack of howling at the moon, obviously. Well, it took me five years to write it for one. But I guess the reason it did is that I bit off WAY more than I could che

Since my word is my bond... Here are some pictures of my new flat for you. Heavy on the gorgeous skies (should I take up sky photography as a hobby, or do I have to admit I already have? :p) Here are all the photos (3rd one down on the left is from the Pride Parade and it was a bit shocking to me, so I guess I still have some innocence left!) I moved to Buenos Aires with the goal of connecting with people. So far I have attended Pride March with my first girl crush (well, n

You got told this too, right? That you should disbelief anything that felt like a blessing you had not paid for. That nothing was given for free, and that luck was an accident one should distrust. Like you could barter for a sunset to take your breath away, or a peach so ripe biting into it makes you moan, or your own body's unexpected joys--a good stretch, the softness of a hand or a soft cloth over your skin. Ah, but you pay for cloth, you will object. And yes, you do, but