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My Newest Book: Shadow’s Edge


Anyone who follows me knows I don’t like to write only one kind of story. Sometimes I’m not sure that’s the greatest career move, but it does keep things new; for me and the reader. However at the base of all my stories is romance. I can’t seem to write anything that isn’t ultimately about two people, going through whatever it is they’re going through, falling in love and triumphing over the challenge.

This latest is about a guy who has psychic abilities. Liam is grieving the loss of his boyfriend while helping the police solve a stubborn serial killer case. His unofficial partner is tough, and rumpled Detective Kimball Thompson, a twelve year veteran of the force.

While the two men are very different, they both share the same passion to get this murderous monster off the streets.

This one will be out January 21, 2017! Be on the look out. 🙂


Liam Baker can see things. Dead people like to visit him and tell them how they were wronged. Some might call it a gift, other’s a curse. But either way this ability makes him useful to Los Angeles homicide detective Kimball Thompson.

Some madman is slitting the throats of young male prostitutes and then dumping their bodies in the desert with vague clues of pink feathers and the number five. Usually Liam can talk to the spirits of the dead. But someone is blocking him. Someone is taunting him.

The case is rapidly deteriorating into a violent, psychic pissing contest and Liam can’t see far enough ahead to figure out who wins or who dies.


Thompson pushed one of the shot glasses toward me. “Drink up.”

Scowling, I shook my head. “No.”

He leaned forward and his light gaze was serious. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

“Why do you want me to drink?”

He shrugged. “I want you to loosen up a little. You’re wound as tight as the queen at an IRA meeting.”

I laughed in spite of myself. “I’m not that fun when I’m loose. You need to trust me on this.”

“I’m not saying get wasted. It’s one shot.” His smile was warm and coaxing. He unusually reserved that charm for reluctant witnesses and his captain. “Come on. I want to get to know you better.”

You do?

The cops at the bar were looking over and sniggering every now and then. I was surprised Thompson didn’t seem to care. Most hardened macho cop types treated me like I had cooties. None of them were in a hurry to go out drinking with me that was for sure. I was lucky if they didn’t glare at me when I arrived at a crime scene. I wasn’t sure why they seemed to dislike me so much really. It wasn’t like I was after their jobs. Maybe it was simply that the unknown bothered them because they didn’t understand it.

“Why?” I asked quietly.

His brow wrinkled. “Why what?”

I looked at the tequila shot and then back at him. “We’ve been solving cases together for three months. Why all of a sudden do you want to know me better?”

He sipped his beer and fingered his untouched shot. Then he said, “We work together.”


He shrugged and dropped his gaze. “Look, I should have taken the time long ago. But you’re kind of touchy and I didn’t bother for whatever reason.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “The more we work cases together, the more I realize I respect what you do. Because of that I want to know more about you. Is that a crime?”

His sincerity was like a warm blanket as it washed over and through me. I shivered at the intensity of the feelings it drummed up in me. Confused by the strange sensations I was experiencing, I grabbed the shot and took a sip, coughing as the bitter liquid slid down my throat.

He smiled and threw his shot back in one gulp. Then he licked his lips and that shiver rippled through me again. What the fuck was going on with me? My cock throbbed gently between my legs as he watched me intently. If I didn’t know better, I would say we were having a moment. A sexual moment. But this was Thompson and I didn’t have moments with guys like him. Or anyone for that matter lately.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked softly.

I just stared at him uncertain of what to say and hoping he couldn’t tell what was going on inside of me.

He leaned back against the booth. “Why do you suppose Samuel didn’t talk to you tonight?”

That was still bugging me too. “I’m not sure.” I touched my throat as I remembered the choking sensation that had come over me at the crime scene. It had almost felt as if the presence of the murderer was there instead of Samuel’s.

“Has that ever happened before?”

“You mean the dead person not talking to me part?”


“Sometimes if the body is moved from where the murder took place, it’s like the soul stays behind where they died.” I swallowed. “But from the amount of blood and…” I shook my head. “I think that was definitely the crime scene.”

“Me too.” He cleared his throat. “Have you always had the ability to talk to…?”

“Dead people?” I guess maybe he really was interested in who I was. “Yes. But it’s gotten stronger with age.”

“I hate to picture you as a kid seeing the gruesome shit you do.” He bit his lip.

“I didn’t. Well, at least not at first.” I swallowed hard. “I used to just get feelings about stuff. Like maybe someone was beside me when no one was there.”


“Yeah.” I sipped my shot some more, actually enjoying the heat that was settling in my stomach now. “Then I started actually seeing things that weren’t there. Or at least I was the only one who knew they were there.”

“Like what?”

I laughed. “There was this one guy, I think he was in a gang and his own guys popped him. He would hang outside the front of the Popeye’s Chicken in town, bitching about how he was betrayed and stuff. He was one of the first ones I really heard clearly.”

Thompson grinned. “Popeye’s Chicken is delicious. If I ever get murdered, that’s where I’m hanging out too.”

We held each other’s gaze, smiling a little longer than usual. I looked away first. “Anyway, I started noticing spirits more and more, especially the ones who died violently.” To be more accurate I should have said they started noticing me noticing them. It was as if the second they discovered I could see and hear them, they were desperate to tell me stuff. Sometimes I pretended I couldn’t hear them just so I could ignore them in peace.