Old Fantasy

There are stories about people who want to live forever. This is not one of those stories.... Alfie Monk is like any other nearly teenage boy - except he's 1,000 years old and can remember the last Viking invasion of England. Obviously no-one believes him. So when everything Alfie knows and loves is destroyed in a fire and the modern world comes crashing in, Alfie embarks on a mission to find friendship, acceptance and a different way to live...which means finding a way to make sure he will eventually die.

While Thierry is away, the Morrigan will play. Snatching the crown from her daughter-in-law's head wasn't the motherly thing to do, but Thierry doesn't mind trading the throne in Faerie for the ratty couch in her Texas apartment. The old crow is welcome to it. But ruling one world is not enough. The Morrigan wants an all-access pass to the mortal realm too.

Farley is doing his best trying not to dance with death after a solar storm has taken the electrical grid down worldwide, but it seems avoiding danger for him is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The old prepper knows it is not death, but dying, which is terrible. Life for him is either a daring adventure of foraging and trading, or nothing. The great thing about the dead is that they make space and leave stuff behind.

Young Malila Chiu, once a hero of the Unity, emerges from the jungle to deliver a dire message to a beleaguered America: the Deep Scorch, a polyarchy of sentient plants, declares itself to be a potent ally - or a dangerous foe. Familiar and distrustful of the Scorch for much of his long life, Jesse Johnstone stays by Malila’s side for the sake of their love. The grand architect of the war, Unity General Eustace Jourdaine, recovering from grievous injuries, rallies to lead his troops into battle in the hopes of winning a new empire - but for whom?

Book three of the best-selling prepper fiction series, Old Preppers Die Hard. Only the insane have strength enough to survive. Only the survivors determine what is sane. Farley's insanity is not always the logic of an accurate mind over-tasked, but something else, something deeper. He ponders the complexities of looting and scavenging food and shelter in order to survive. Looters get shot for stealing; so do survivalists.

Quinn MacKenna learns that the cure for a blinding hangover is simple.... Stay in bed, and whatever you do, don’t answer your freaking door. Otherwise, you might find yourself roped into a murder investigation with a psychopath attempting to rewrite the Twelve Days of Christmas as a holiday homicide special, asked to rescue a former international spy, forced to dodge bullets with a Valkyrie, or to take on a power-hungry Fae intent on freezing everything he touches.

Ancient rivals, worst of friends, best of enemies: dragonlord Janx and master vampire Eliseo Daisani are the threads upon which a tapestry of lives and loves are woven across the centuries. From the coldest Russian nights to the heat of Chicago's greatest fire, nothing brings the immortal adversaries together - or tears them apart - like a woman. And there is always a woman....

I never got involved in the dirt and the details of an investigation. I never let my preconceptions muddy a reconstruction. And I steadfastly refrained from ever allowing my past to dictate my future. At least until the one person I couldn’t lose went missing. Because then I’d relive every dark moment of my childhood, confront every heartbreak, and even sell my soul if that was what it took to get her back. Because I couldn’t accept a future - not even a promised one of immortality and unbridled power - that didn’t include one of the only two people I’d ever truly loved.

I preferred it when life came in tidy packages. When it didn’t — when something went awry — I was exceedingly skilled at packaging it back up. It was my job to do so after all. I was a reconstructionist. I collected the puzzle pieces, then I gave those pieces to an investigative team to sort out. I didn't ask questions. I didn't offer answers. I saw. I recorded. I moved on. I didn't dwell or obsess. I didn’t hunt down suspects. I didn’t follow clues to find a killer. And I certainly didn’t work side by side with anyone.

The world is getting older. The world is getting younger. The United States is dead. The Democratic Unity killed it. After catastrophic wars and the Meltdown, the Unity rules from its East Coast citadel, leaving the outlands to savages and its strangely altered plants. Providing free health care, employment, computer-less surfing, and recreational drugs at quite reasonable prices, the Unity mandates retirement at 40 before fatigue and error contaminate a culture of youth, innovation, and vigor.

I had everything I’d ever wanted — a successful business with a second bakery in the works, a sexy fiance who I adored, and good friends who loved to laugh almost as much as I did. So of course it couldn’t possibly last. Unfortunately, this time the trouble was homegrown in Vancouver, threatening my own backyard and those who were under my protection — whether they wanted to be or not. I was, after all, the wielder of the instruments of assassination. Apparently, cutesy cupcakes and being nice only stretched so far.

Two more elves were at large in Vancouver, but thankfully they’d been keeping a low profile while I faced the most daunting task of my twenty-seven years — planning and executing my wedding. I was dealing with a disgruntled grandmother with an extensive guest wish list of the magically inclined, all of whom didn’t particularly like each other. Plus a fiance whose concept of time was altered whenever he stepped into a dimensional pocket, and a best friend who’d spent months planning what was certain to be an insane bachelorette party.

I’d been compromised, then turned against those I loved. But no one controlled me. No one took anything I didn’t willingly offer. Not for long, anyway. If the elves wanted a war, I’d bring it. The instruments of assassination would come out to play. The dragon slayer would wreak bloody, sticky vengeance. And then I was getting freaking married—no elves invited. Even a baker of cupcakes and a maker of trinkets occasionally had to set aside the chocolate, the spice, and everything nice to save her friends. And her city.

It is the year 1967 in the magnificent and dreamy St. Petersburg. The world is ruled by the magic of aristocrats, the sounds of rock and roll are blasting even in the palace of Her Imperial Majesty, and Russian Volgas are successfully going up against American Pontiacs on the wide avenues at night. Another frantic unauthorized race under the stars ends in tragedy. Doctors and healers, who have already announced the death of the sixteen-year-old Prince Alexander Gorchakov Jr., attribute his miraculous salvation to his suddenly awakened gift.

For 12 years, I had managed to separate my personal life from my professional life, becoming one of the best reconstructionists in the world - and proving to myself that I could do so on my own merits. Then I’d been forced into contact with my family, reuniting with someone I thought I’d lost forever, and rescuing my best friend. Now I had to savor what little time I had left before the contract with the Conclave came due and my future was wrenched from my control. Except there was one last case to solve. One last set of puzzle pieces to collect, then assemble again.

Miles Kim, cyborg and relic of a war fading from memory, is on the last train ride of his life. When a gang of bandits attacks the train, Miles and 100 passengers find themselves trapped in in a standoff in the middle of the desert. But there’s more to the robbery than meets the eye. An unknown entity has set its sights on the Seraph Express and her passengers. As people start dying, Miles realizes that any rescue will be too late, and no one will make it out alive.

After her twin sister’s brutal murder, former US Army Sergeant Allison “Lex” Luther vowed to protect her niece, Charlie. So when two vampires try to kidnap the baby, it quickly turns into a fight to the death - Lex’s death, that is.

Harper Harlow-Monroe has everything she’s ever wanted. She has a husband she loves, a best friend who is only irritating 50 percent of the time, and a daughter who refuses to be “normal.” So, basically, she has it all.

Tully thinks he’s ready for anything, but he soon learns that when it comes to weird, Eternity has nothing on Fort Charles. He meets the Old Salts, a closed-mouthed league of seamen who are mightily worried about something called the Sailor’s Curse. The group is led by grumpy physician Lazarus Clay and lighthouse keeper Amos Franklin, who talks to seagulls. The old men are favorites among a bevy of drop-dead beauties who the Salts swear aren't really mermaids.

In the 23rd century, fossil fuels are almost exhausted, and Earth depends on energy from a swarm of solar-powered satellites. Conditions are harsh in the space stations that serve this network, and some of the crews rebel. They move away from Earth's orbit and build their own colonies, the "Seven Dwarfs", meant for life, not labor. The real beginning of the Space Age has come at last.