Old Fantasy

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.

From the vast lore surrounding King Arthur, Camelot, and the Knights of the Round Table comes an anthology of gender-bent, race-bent, LGBTQIA+ inclusive retellings.

The day I turned 19, I expected to gain what little freedom I could within the restrictions of my bank account and the hallucinations that had haunted me for the last six years. I expected to drive away from a life that had been dictated by the tragedy of others and shaped by the care of strangers. I expected to be alone. Actually, I relished the idea of being alone. Instead, I found fear I thought I'd overcome and terror that was more real than anything I'd ever hallucinated before. I'd seen terrible, fantastical, and utterly impossible things...but not love. Not until I saw him.

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.

When a deadly fly flu sweeps the globe, it leaves a shell of the world that once was. Among the survivors are 18-year-old Nico and her dog, on a voyage devised by Nico's father to find a mythical portal; a young artist named Kit, raised in an old abandoned cinema; and the enigmatic Deliverer, who lives life after life in an attempt to put the world back together. As swarms of infected flies roam the Earth, these few survivors navigate the woods of post-apocalyptic New England, meeting others along the way, each on their own quest to find life and love in a world gone dark.

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.

They called me an amplifier. And they had bred me, raised me, and trained me to be a killer with preternatural precision. I was capable of taking, holding, and transferring power that wasn’t my own with a simple touch. Skin-to-skin contact. Along with four others of my generation, I could infiltrate any magical organization, extracting whoever or whatever I’d been ordered to extricate. Then I could destroy all evidence of our passing presence. They had made me. They directed me. Controlled me. Then they tried to kill me.

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.

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.

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.

Sir Callan Clanmor of Glenarchy has lost himself in war to forget a wife he does not love and douse the pain of love for another who can never be his. But as events unfold around him he is forced to confront both his memories and pain... The Old Woman of the Stones is a romantic fantasy novelette set in a fictional world comparable to fifteenth-century Scotland with mythic elements based in Scottish folklore.

Bad magic and good witches don't mix, but I make it work. Spellbooks are a witch's best friend, especially when they're passed down from your beloved dead Grandma. So, when an anonymous caller is interested in buying mine, my answer is nope, not ever, go away. Problem is, they won't take no for an answer. With suspicious newcomers in town and the increasing odds someone thinks my spellbook is full of dark magic, I find myself with no shortage of motives or suspects. Good thing I'm dating Ian, the world's sexiest paranormal problems expert.

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.

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.

On a world called Heaven, the 10 major religions of mankind each have its own land governed by a capital city and ruled by a Hegemon. That Hegemon may be a god, or a prophet of a god. Smaller religions have their own towns or villages of belief. Corvyn, known as the Shadow of the Raven, contains the collective memory of humanity’s Falls from Grace. With this knowledge comes enormous power. When unknown power burns a mysterious black image into the holy place of each House of the Decalivre, Corvyn must discover what entity could possibly have that much power.