A Sneak Peek, and some FREE reads!

Hi, !

Thank you to everyone who participated in the dust jacket giveaway! I have already contacted the winners. But don't fret! I'll be hosting another HUGE giveaway really soon, so stay tuned!!

On the writing front, I officially FINISHED writing and revising The Demon's Kiss, which is Book 1 of the Bloodcaster Chronicles. Now, it's off to beta readers for critiques and more edits, and today I start writing Book 2! So exciting! This series delves a bit more into time travel and the concept of preserving the timeline. I'm so excited for how this world is developing and introducing new concepts and ideas. It's been so much fun to write!

Here's a sneak peek of The Demon's Kiss:

I learned at a young age to kill with a blade instead of my magic. It protected my identity and hid me from those who sought my blood.

The last time someone spilled my blood was when I was twelve. A dark warlock picked a fight with me.

I lost.

When he struck me, a trickle of deep purple blood oozed from my split lip. The warlock, a haggard man in his thirties who stank of alcohol, froze with his arm still raised to hit me again. His eyes widened. The color drained from his face.

“It can’t be,” he whispered.

My heart hardened with fear, and every inch of me screamed to run. To get out before he drained me of every drop of precious blood.

“Blood witch,” he gasped, his eyes glittering with excitement. In his face, I saw what he saw. The possibilities. The powers my blood possessed. The spells he could cast to grant him more abilities.

His brows scrunched together as he no doubt considered his options. He could drain me dry right here. Or he could imprison me and keep me alive to provide an endless supply of my blood.

As he considered, I slowly scooted away from him, breathing heavily. My face throbbed, and fresh scrapes ached on my palms as I struggled to back out of the alley without him noticing.

But my movements caught his eye. He blinked and lunged again.

I shrieked and raised my hands. A purple glow resonated from my fingertips, blasting against him. He ricocheted backward, slamming into the brick wall.

Panting, I jumped to my feet and sprinted away, but he caught me again. He drew a long dagger and held it to my throat. Fury contorted his features, and I knew then what he’d decided.

He would bleed me dry. I wasn’t worth the effort.

He swiped his blade. I ducked and barreled into his legs. We wrestled over the hilt of the blade until I rolled, and he slid forward onto the dagger. A sickening, squelching sound was burned into my memory as the blade sank into his chest. He let out a jagged, shuddering breath and then went still.