New works

Countdown to Gods

On Friday, The Irish Gods series will be released as a bundle from Extasy. You can get it here.

Today I want to introduce you to Gareth and Ellie. To be honest, Ellie is probably my favorite heroine, and Gareth is just so damn yummy. I didn’t intend to write about the three brothers, but Gareth just demanded his story be told.

So what’s it about?

Fate unwinds as it must.

Ellie Selkirk―elementary school teacher, bartender, and one-time Seer. She has left the world of gods and magic behind and settled into an ordinary life. Gods are just too much trouble, and even worse, they’re dangerous.

Her life—and summer vacation—is upended when she meets Gareth Keir, front man for the band DeDanu and god of nothing. Intrigued by Gareth, Ellie decides to see where this romance will go, thinking it’ll amount to little more than a summer fling. Fate has other plans, though, and when Gareth’s brother, Declan, stumbles into the scene, injured and chased by Hunters, Ellie must decide how far she is willing to go make the man she loves the god he is destined to be, even if it means revisiting her own dark past.

And here’s a taste:

“Oi, miss! You dropped this.”

Is that for me?

She turned to see the man from the store holding out Lo- rena’s picture. It must have slid to the floor when she rear- ranged her bag.

Now that she could see him properly, Ellie decided that the front was as nice as the back. The Clash t-shirt. Angular, almost elfish face. High cheekbones. Nice, kissable mouth. Hair so blond it had to be dyed, all topped off with brilliant blue eyes.

“Thank you.” She grabbed the picture and tugged, but he didn’t let go.

“Where’d you get this?” She could hear his accent, the softer, more intelligible eastern Scottish accent.

“I drew it.” She didn’t feel like explaining about Lorena. She pulled on the paper.

He made the stereotypical Scottish noise of disbelief. “That’s my pattern.” He gestured with is head at the purple tartan.

“It’s mine, too.” She didn’t want to pull again for fear it would rip. Wait. His eyes aren’t blue. They’re violet. Like the picture.

“But…” The paper slipped from his fingers.

A rumble and the smell of diesel made her turn. “That’s my bus.”

When she turned back, his eyes were once again blue. Be- fore he could answer, she headed for the bus, and she didn’t have to be psychic to know he was watching her go, or that they would meet again.

Hopefully, you’ll get to read more than this tiny snippet.