Here we go: the official Beware of Dog debriefing post. I reserve the right to tack on additional posts in the likely event that I forget to include something of importance here. There will be spoilers, so I'll include a cut to keep plot details off the main blog page. Proceed at your own risk! And if you haven't grabbed your copy yet, you can find it here:
“Something’s up with you.”
Mercy glanced over without turning his head. The fire didn’t quite reach Walsh’s face, just a red flicker against his pale eyes. “I’m lying on a big-ass rock and I haven’t showered in days. Yeah. Something’s up.”
One slow shake of Walsh’s head: not buying it. “You slipped out of dinner the other night.”
“For a smoke.”
His brows went up. “You need to be very careful, brother. If you like young ones, that’s your business–”
Mercy put a bite into his voice, one Walsh would know wasn’t bullshit. “Yeah, it is.”
“ – but Ava, that’s a whole other issue.”
Mercy glared at him.
Anyone else would have caved and looked away, but not Walsh. “I’m just saying, is all. I’m the first one to notice. But I won’t be the last.”
While I was writing Fearless, I was already envisioning stories starring the rest of the Dogs, and that definitely flavored the amount of attention I paid all the secondary characters when I wrote scenes like this one. Obviously, I didn't share everything I already knew about Walsh here, but knowing him inside and out helped me craft Mercy's perception of him. Secondary characters serve first and foremost to provide outsider perspective for a hero, but if that's the only way an author views a character, the characterization inevitably falls flat. That's how you end up with "sidekicks." With secondary characters who either throw up roadblocks for the sake of plot, or who serve as a hero's "yes man." Your main characters then feel very main charactery, and everyone else is cardboard high school play props. Conversely, fleshed-out secondary characters with their own agency and agendas increase the tension in a realistic way.
On a lighter note: the campfire scene is my favorite of Chapter Nineteen because, as was inevitable, people are starting to notice. Mercy and Ava have zero chill when it comes to one another. An outside observer who is busy, or caught up in his own thoughts all the time (*cough* Ghost *cough*) won't notice, but the quiet, thoughtful people in their sphere are definitely picking up on the vibes.
The next scene is Ava's first day back at school, and the meeting she has with Maggie, the principal, and the guidance counselor. It was important to me that we get to see Maggie's maternal ferocity on-page. Ava's still young here, and still has timid moments - at least around adult authority figures. But it's no wonder she turns out as fierce as she does as a mother given her own mother's fanged approach to dealing the school on Ava's behalf.
Mullins aimed a wagging finger at Maggie. “That attitude right there is why Ava’s having trouble getting along with her classmates.”
Maggie fired back. “That attitude is the only thing that gives my baby hope that she isn’t alone when it comes to dealing with the spoiled Mean Girls who run schools all across this damn country. You can run this place, Mullins” – she gestured to the room around them, the school – “but you can’t run my family. You keep Ainsley Millcott away from my Ava, and you and me won’t have a problem.”
This scene, and others like it, provide an interesting opportunity: in a novel in which the outlaw MC was painted as villainous, Maggie's blunt, threatening approach with Mrs. Mullins would rightfully paint Maggie as the bad guy. But my approach with Dartmoor has always been that, if I'm writing from the MC's perspective, then they don't see themselves as villains, and my characterization of them should always be intimate and sympathetic. We the audience know that Mrs. Mullins and Mr. Freeman are seeing someone who is essentially a mob wife use said mob as a threat against public school employees. But we're sitting in that chair with Ava, and we share Maggie's outrage that Ava is treated differently not just by students, but by teachers and administrators as well, because of her background. We also, like Ava and Maggie, know a faint prickling of fear that Ava will be denied opportunities, or even harmed, by a principal's prejudice.
It's not Music Monday, but Mondays are for the Fearless read-along these days, so I'm posting the Beware of Dog playlist today.
Thank y'all for supporting the book! It was fun and refreshing to write, and I got very attached to Cass, and Shep, and their relationship.
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| With the cat, of course |
Beware of Dog published one week ago today! Feels like longer.
If you haven't grabbed a copy yet, you can do so here:
If you have read the book, you can keep scrolling for some personal headcanons/alternate version of scenes. There are spoilers here, so proceed with caution!
Ready?
Last chance to back out...
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She sighed again, and tucked her hair back when the wind swept it across her face. “I’m not upset with you,” she said, softening. “I know none of this was your idea. Shep was…well, Shep was being a good guard dog, but not with any kind of finesse.” Her gaze turned thoughtful as she studied Cass’s face. “But he wasn’t doing it on anyone’s orders, and if he had been, he definitely wouldn’t have had clearance to go into the Blackmons’ home and lay hands on a little rich boy flying his colors.”
Cass nodded. She knew that was true. But her pulse was still racing, and she didn’t know if she’d like the rest of what Melissa had to say.
“He did what he did on his own. It was an emotional response.” She tilted her head a fraction, hair blowing out to the side, blue gaze shrewd and too-knowing. “He really cares about you a lot.”
Inwardly, the statement filled Cass’s chest with warmth. It sent pleasant shivers down her arms and back. But it frightened her a little, too; cut too close to the bone of all that she’d been thinking and feeling lately. “If you say so.” She missed the mark on flippant. Her voice trembled at the edges.
Melissa wasn’t deterred. She was locked on, grave-faced, in full-on detective mode. “I don’t know Shep well,” she started.
“No,” Cass said. “You don’t.”
Melissa blinked, but otherwise took that statement in stride. “I have, though, learned a thing or two about the Lean Dogs in general in the last four years. Presidential orders are well and good, but if one of these guys thinks his woman is in danger, he’s going to do what he’s going to do, and he’ll deal with the fallout with Maverick afterward.”
“I’m not his woman,” Cass protested, but damn, it sounded good. Sent a thrill through her.
It's been QUITE the busy week, so I'm behind on replies, emails, comments, etc. But I wanted to pop in and say THANK YOU, dear readers, for buying, supporting, and reading Beware of Dog, and leaving such lovely feedback. This book took much longer to publish than I anticipated, but I'm proud of it, and it wound up being tons of fun to write. So thank you, thank you 💖
If you haven't yet heard, book six in the Lean Dogs Legacy series is now available!
I'll post a full debriefing sometime next week. Until then, happy reading.
And that's a wrap!
I've spent ten years writing these characters, and in some ways, it feels like a long, slow decade, and others, it feels like a blink. I'm insanely proud of the final books in both the Dartmoor and Lean Dogs Legacy series, for a variety of reasons. Both are brimming with full circle moments, but both are bursting at the seams with all the characters we've met along the way; all their baggage, all their growth, all their love for one another.
I tend to focus on my failings, and what I need to do next, but sometimes it's important to look back and see how far I've come.
All told, there are eighteen books across the original series and its spin-off series. They're best read in chronological order, which is also the order of publication. It goes:
Fearless
Price of Angels
Half My Blood
The Skeleton King
Secondhand Smoke
Snow In Texas
Tastes Like Candy
Loverboy
American Hellhound
Shaman
Prodigal Son
Lone Star
Homecoming
The Wild Charge
Long Way Down
Nothing More
Lord Have Mercy
Beware of Dog
Shaman (Ian's novella) is the only book not available in paperback, and all the rest are also available for Kindle, Nook, and Kobo, as well as paperback.
Over the course of the series, the club goes from a big criminal fish in the relatively small pond of Knoxville, to an international underground superpower. It's wild to look at everyone at the end and see how far they've come.
If you ask me about my favorite book, or favorite scene, or favorite line, it would shift from day to day. Walsh is my favorite Dog, but I don't know that his is my favorite character journey; I'd be hard-pressed to choose that. As of right this moment, I'd say my two favorite scenes in the whole series are two from Lord Have Mercy: feeding Big Son; and Aidan, Ava, and Ghost in the St. Louis cathedral.
I'm not going to lock the series away in a time capsule and say I'll never return to it. It's always a possibility. As of now, I don't have any pressing stories within the universe I want to tell. The series has found some new and first-time readers in 2025, and I hope its audience can grow. These characters are so vivid for me, and have taught me so much as a writer, that I'm always going to find blog inspiration in them, and maybe a fluffy bonus scene or two to share here on the blog.
I'm also running a chapter-by-chapter Fearless read-along, so be sure to join us for that every Monday!
And if you haven't read Cass and Shep's story yet, it'll be one week old this Saturday! You can grab it here:
Now I'm curious: after ten years and eighteen books, do y'all have a favorite book? Character? Couple? Scene? Any character you were hoping to get a book for? Lemme know!
Thank you all for all your continued support! It's been one heck of a ride. 💖
Devin gazed at the phone a moment longer, then nodded to himself, blacked the screen, and slipped it back into his pocket. “Right then,” he said, face creased with smile lines. “Our girl wants us to get along. She wants me to treat you with kindness, so that’s what I intend to do.”
He stuck his hand out, and it was a friendly gesture, this time. “Hi. I’ve no idea what my real name is, if I ever had one, but I’ve been Devin Green for forty-some-odd years now. It’s suited well enough.”
Shep was still reeling from the text. Simple words, and a truth he’d already known, but hearing the way Cass had strung it all together for her father had left his sinuses stinging. He accepted the handshake. “Frank Shepherd. I’m gonna marry your daughter.”
Devin’s smile lines deepened. “Good. I think that’s what she wants.”
In case you missed it, Beware of Dog dropped on Saturday, and you can grab a copy here:
I won't do an official debriefing post until next week, so I can discuss spoilers, but the book inspired today's workshop post about narrative tension.
I can't write a story if I don't have a firm grasp on my characters. But the engine that drives any story is narrative tension. You can have the wildest, most creative plot in the world, but without tension, the narrative is going to fall flat, and turn out boring and forgettable. Tension can be high, it can set your teeth on edge and make you squirm while reading, but it can also be subtle and low stakes.
Obviously, there's tension present in the main conflict between the heroes and the villains. In Beware of Dog, that tension comes from Sig Blackmon and his family, and the people they hire to do their dirty work.
But I wound up leaving quite a few scenes on the cutting room floor because they amounted to nothing but fluff, with zero tension present. I might end up putting them here on the blog, for anyone who likes the fluffy bits, but I felt like they detracted from the novel itself, which is chock full of tension.
There's the romantic/sexual tension between Cass and Shep, of course. Then there's the tension of their relationship being secret: both of them are worried about telling her family, and, to a lesser extent, Maverick and the rest of the Dogs. There's tension between Cass and her roommate, Jamie, who she's trying to help. And, some of my favorite not only in this book, but in the whole series, the tension between Devin and his kids, and amongst said kids themselves.
In real life, tense relationships between family members are not fun. But if Devin and his brood were loving and well-adjusted, those family scenes would be boring on paper. In BoD, it's a low-stakes sort of tension. By this point, we know that Fox and Walsh love each other, but that tension between them makes their conversation on the clubhouse porch interesting, rather than a sap-fest. And for Shep, much like Mercy, he resents Devin's absence in Cass's life, and isn't shy about expressing his feelings on the matter.
“Your boys have been giving me shit,” Shep said, “and now you’re gonna give me shit, and none of it’s gonna scare me off, so why don’t we cut it out already?”
Devin studied him a long, unblinking, eerie moment, then nodded, and the life flooded back into his expression. “Fair enough. But I’m still going to say my piece.” He shifted his weight, cocked a hip. Ready? Or relaxed? God knew. “Son—”
“Don’t call me son. I’m not your son, and I hate your f***ing guts.”
Devin’s brows twitched, but mildly, and not with anything like surprise. “That’s a bold statement.” His lips quirked. “I’ve not heard the old ‘hate your guts’ since the boys were in short pants.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Smart. They’ve said it since.” He tilted his chin. “Them I understand. Why do you hate me, then, Francis?”
Not only does all of this interpersonal tension create a more interesting reading experience, but it also makes it much more rewarding when two characters finally come to an understanding. Just like trials and tribulations make a character's journey more satisfying, so too does a disagreement or a personality clash elevate a friendship when it finally forms.
He doesn't have a ton of page time here, but I love Devin in BoD. I would say he's become one of my favorite characters to write, but he pretty much started out that way. Instead, let's say I'm thrilled to see so many readers express their affection for him, now that he's grown on them.
After, replete in the slanted bars of sunlight, Ava whispered that she loved him.
He didn't reply, but he folded her love up tight like a note and pressed it deep inside himself, where no one would ever find it.
Once one of my books is out in the world, I don't ever sit down and reread it. I flip through them, to check details for the follow-up books, and to create teasers, or blog posts. But I don't read them word-for-word. This read-along has been a unique exercise in that respect. I always know what I was trying to accomplish with a given scene, and, ten years after its publication, it's been rewarding to look back at Fearless and see that (at least from my perspective) I hit the emotional marks I was aiming for.
In the case of Chapter Eighteen, I'm glad of the way Mercy and Ava's romance feels doomed. This is the calm before the storm, but we can see the clouds building along the horizon, and we know, through Mercy's and Maggie's POVs, that the peace won't last. Ava knows they're doomed, too, but she's got youth and hope on her side; she doesn't want to dwell on all the ways they're headed for disaster, and instead keeps trying to pull him along toward a hopeful place with her. It's (purposefully) a little bit heartbreaking that he won't say he loves her back.
In thinking about future books, this period of optimism, and the subsequent fallout, breaks something soft inside of Ava. She was always going to be a lioness, like her mama, but the wound to come is going to leave a nasty scar. She forgives Mercy down the line, of course, because her love for him is unconditional. She even forgives Ghost. But the Ava we see in Lord Have Mercy is the direct result of being young, and in love, and hopeful...and then having all those hopes dashed in violent fashion.
James didn't mind cleaning up the spill; Ghost didn't want the spoiled milk poured in the first place.
Properly placed foreshadowing is, in my opinion, part of what grounds a story, no matter the genre, in the real world. The club grows by leaps and bounds over the course of the series, and even here, early on, we see Mercy recognizing that Ghost is ambitious, and isn't going to rule the way James has.
Fearless does so much heavy lifting with regard to setting the stage. It's the reason it's such a large book, and why it doesn't focus solely on Ava and Mercy's relationship. So much of what we learn about the other characters here, even just sprinkled throughout like the quote above, means that later books make complete sense. My goal from the start was to create a place that felt tangible, and real, and like you could pick up the phone and call any one of these characters and know how they'd respond.
This is the chapter where Mercy has Ava bite him on the chest. One of those feral scenes I really enjoyed including, because they're that couple.
Like Leah, I'm "proud-slash-freaked-out."
As the youngest of ten half-siblings, Cassandra Green worries she’ll always been seen as the “baby” of the family, even though she’s about to turn twenty. Life as an art student in New York is peaceful, steady, and with the club at its most powerful and settled, Cass ventures deeper into civilian life, trying to carve a niche for herself among her fellow students. But when her roommate is assaulted, she turns to her assigned Lean Dog protector, Shep, for support.
When he was first placed on Raven Blake’s security detail almost three years ago, Shepherd wanted no part of looking after her teenage sister. Now, though, he’s finding any excuse to stay in Manhattan to keep an eye on Cass. When she lands in the crosshairs of a rich and influential family, he realizes his feelings aren’t just protective anymore.
Book Six in the Lean Dogs Legacy series takes place after Lean Dogs Legacy Book Five, Nothing More, and Dartmoor Series Book Ten, Lord Have Mercy.
When Cass checked, she saw Tenny gazing at him with tender fondness, and her chest warmed with the knowledge that things had turned out just as they were always meant to.
Writing is just as much about knowing what not to say as it is knowing what to say. If I've done my job well, and the characters are distinct and "real" feeling, then logical choices present themselves with little fanfare. In the thick of writing a novel, dialogue feels natural; I know exactly what a character wouldn't say in a given situation.
But before the writing starts, there's always options. Choices to be made about the course of a character's future. What I publish is always what felt right to me; what clicked seamlessly into place and made the most sense. But in the early stages, I often toy with other possibilities.
I know I've mentioned before that when I wrote Prodigal Son, I originally flirted with the idea of Cass ending up with Reese. But of course, once I introduced Tenny, that plan changed. Toly saved her from a kidnapping in The Wild Charge, and though I never seriously considered pairing them up, there was a spark of possibility there - enough of one that I knew it wouldn't feel out of left field if, a few years later, the two of them wound up together.
Cass kept skirting the edges of my imagination while I worked on Long Way Down and Nothing More. Her journey, her situation, was more like Ava's than any other leading lady's I'd worked with since Fearless, and I wanted to give her a chance to take the spotlight. But who should I pair her with?
That's the wrong question. It's not so much picking and choosing romances, as letting the inevitable unfold. All my early ideas felt forced, so I knew they weren't good. For a long while, throughout all of Nothing More, in fact, I contemplated sending Cass to Knoxville. The conflict of Beware of Dog was always going to happen, but in early iterations of the novel, it drove her out of state, to the safety of her brothers in Tennessee. There, she might have a fling with Evan. Or Lewis, the young farmer Aidan takes under his wing in Lord Have Mercy. I even considered coming up with a new character to serve as her love interest. For every novel, there's a flipside, a "what might have been." What if Tango and Ian had wound up together back in Loverboy? We'd be looking at a very different Dartmoor landscape right now. In the same vein, I knew that there was certainly a story there for Cass in Tennessee, and maybe even love. But no story takes place in a vacuum. Once you make those creative decisions, you have to stick with them, so you'd be better be sure of them.
I didn't feel sure of anything regarding Cass until I considered Shep as her partner, and then everything fell into place.
Their banter is some of my favorite in the whole series, and I'm truly in love with Shep's very in-character love confession. I had no idea when he first strode into Raven's office and introduced himself with sleazeball flirtation that he'd be perfect for Raven's little sister, but that's how it played out. That's how it works.
Even ten years on, I have those waffling moments where I debate the direction of the series, and its characters; but those ten years have taught me to wait patiently, and, eventually, the right course will make itself known. That's also one of the fun parts: the thrill of discovery within your own universe.
To be crass, he wanted to sleep with her, yeah. But not because he was bored, or curious, or because she was convenient. She was nineteen, and very inconvenient considering her dad and brothers were trained assassins, and she was club family besides. Hooking up with her was not, could not be a one-time thing, not given his level of emotional investment, but it would cause the kind of scandal that fractured families and upended MCs.
He had the stupid, teenage butterflies, sure, the sweaty palms, but it was more than that. He wanted to watch terrible reality TV with her. Wanted to put food on her plate and watch her nod her approval when she ate what he’d made for her. Wanted to hear her deep-breathing on the neighboring pillow and know she was safe; that he could close his eyes, and drift off, and that he’d be between her and whatever terrible thing might kick down the door. Wanted her on the back of his bike. Wanted his name inked on her somewhere that others could see it, and know she was taken. He wanted her to be his. In every way that counted. And he damn sure didn’t want to have to drop her back off at her dorm, even if that was the best thing for her.
Damn. He guessed he loved her.
He knew he did. Of course.
But he guessed he was in love with her.
Shep has honestly been a ton of fun to write. Cass, too, but I already knew that. I've been surprised by what a delight Shep is.
Fingers crossed for this weekend, guys!
After a two-week duel with the death flu that's been going around, I'm back! If not as good as new. But I'm upright, and getting my stalls cleaned without help (thank you, Mom!), so that counts for something.
If Chapter Sixteen was a line crossing, then Chapter Seventeen is the tipping point. Once could be considered an indiscretion, but twice is a decision, and now there's no going back.
We start at Green Hills, the Dartmoor Inc. nursery. Obviously, as the author, I know what lies ahead, and I know that Carter will end up being a loyal and respected member of the club, and I genuinely like him "as a person," if you will.
But Ava takes some time to see Carter for who he truly is. Just as her bullies are locked in their prejudices, so too is she. She's lumped Carter in with his friends, but this scene here, where he comes to check on her, and show his caring, proves that was short-sighted of her. Their conversation out by the mulch pits is the start of their friendship.
Personally, Ava thought Carter should have taken a plastic cafeteria fork to his friend’s eye in the fifth grade, but beggars couldn’t be choosers in situations like this.
This line here offers a teasing glimpse of that ferocity of hers that's partly her upbringing, but mostly just hers. Maggie's legacy. In anyone else's mind, it could be an idle statement - people say outlandish things like this all the time without really meaning them. I don't even think Ava, at this point, knows how much she means it in a literal sense.
With Maggie, I talk about her being the soft power in contrast to Ghost's hard power; she's just as brutal, but her methods are clothed in smiles and "bless your heart"s. With Ava, she's the precision, bladed weapon paired with Mercy's brute strength. Mercy has this very natural violent streak, and so does Ava. With Mercy, given the sheer size and strength of him, that violence is a blunt instrument. But Ava can't brawl, and wrestle, and punch her way out of a dangerous situation, so she's always going to use a knife or a gun when it's time to get her hands dirty. Her violence is barbed and bladed, and, on the page, it sounds more wicked than Mercy's, at times.
From the nursery, we hit the road for **Plot Development.**
Re: Tammy's FB question about the designer drugs: I did do a good bit of research. Kids will take literally anything, I fear. In high school, there was a girl sharing her epilepsy pills with her friends. Why, I don't know. But for the purposes of the book, the drug is meant to cause significant harm, and therefore paint the Dogs as villains.
Then back into the good character stuff.
“He’s not the kind of boy she needs to be dating. Thank God she’s not interested in that kinda thing yet.” His little smirk across the table said, Not like you, huh?
Maggie forced a smile. Oh, baby, if only you knew.
I'm Maggie in this situation, only less loving. Oh, Ghost, you dumbass.
There's a line in Lord Have Mercy, from Ava to Aidan there at the end, at the St. Louis cathedral, when Ava tells him, paraphrasing here, that "the way I would do absolutely anything for Mercy is the way Mom feels about Dad." That's true, and the whole series bears it out; but in this book, specifically, Maggie's hiding things from him on Ava's behalf. The text never delves too deeply into the emotional toil this subterfuge takes on Maggie, but she handles it more gracefully than most.
(Side note: I see some readers describe the other couples' loves stories as not being as "epic" as Ava and Mercy's, and I'd argue that the sentiment itself is there; the love is every bit as strong. But the two people who love each other are just very different people from Ava and Mercy, and so that love is going to look and sound different.)
Walsh sat sideways in his chair, facing…God knew what…and sipped his beer, a mostly silent drinking buddy.
Walshie, you'll always be my favorite.
Sin, Mercy reflected, came packaged according to severity, to color, to regret. There were those deep, red sins, all bloody and irretrievable, tasting of murder and betrayal, a hint of the satanic on the back of the tongue, tickling the throat with fire. His usual brand of sin, if he was honest.
Then there were the sinuous curves and loops of silvered, uncertain sin; the kind whose consequences were a dim shadow against the bright backdrop of the here-and-now. The kind with slow-eating jaws. A malignant sickness of a sin.
The real meat (ha) of the chapter is, of course, Ava and Mercy.
I say each week how startling it is to go back and see this version of Mercy compared to later-it-the-series Mercy. Fearless Mercy is a vague shadow of his true self. And, like Ava, we won't know until much later just why he sees himself as "warping" her.
Diving into the swamp with him like this brought up the same old questions; she wanted to pick at the scab, pry up the boards and find out what dark thing had happened that made him hate Louisiana. She always asked, and he always dodged her and sent her off on another topic before she realized what he was doing.
Dee took everything he cared about, and still, there's her voice in the back of his head telling him he's defective and wrong somehow, just like his father; that he doesn't deserve anything good. No other woman could have convinced him to take this kind of leap; it had to be someone he loved completely and unconditionally, and that's Ava.
“Now, Daddy never caught him, no,” Mercy said, his voice a lullaby. His accent thickened when he told swamp stories, the Cajun flavor shoveled on in spades. “No one did. But the story went that Big Son was like a pet gator, and he mighta been too smart to take a bait, but he’d eat right out of your hand if you fed him. There was this spot, this shady place in one of the glades, and a deep pool, and you could find Son there, if you’d a mind to feed him. He’d come up if you called him. Three rocks in the water, one after the next. It had to be three. The first one – that coulda been a fish jumping, a frog diving in. The second – after the second, Son would start listening. He’d think about coming up. And after the third, there he was. ‘Come get it, you big son of a bitch,’ and he’d swim right up to you. I heard murderers fed bodies to him, so no one would ever know…”
Mercy's storytelling is one of my absolute favorite elements of the novel, and it's one of the things that I think earns the book its "Southern epic" categorization. Every epic needs a mythological figure. In Mercy's mind, that figure is Big Son. But in Fearless itself, that figure is Mercy.
There are many scenes in Lord Have Mercy that I would consider favorites, that I really enjoyed getting to write. But the scene I'm proudest of is the one that brings the above quote full circle, when Mercy, and his fillette, and his son, and his brothers are all on the dock, and Colin gets the honor of doing the calling this time. If you know, you know.
"Just you wait, Baron Strange. You'll want my help, and you'll want it soon. You'll unlock that door, and you'll enjoy me. You're going to turn the devil loose, and trust me, when you do, you're going to want to be on my good side."
I released Dragon Slayer and Golden Eagle in 2019, and I've both never been prouder of a year's worth of writing, nor more in need of a break from the dense and dark subject matter of the Sons of Rome series. It's not my most popular series, and so I decided I needed to focus on better selling books for a while. I did that, but now that Dartmoor is complete, I very much want to dig back into my paranormal world. Golden Eagle left off on a satisfying note, but there is much more story to tell, across centuries, and across the globe.
The original timeline has been adjusted a tad: I decided to add in a novella, The Winter Palace, that will run concurrent of Lionheart and follow Nik's pack's adventures in Buffalo, NY while they heal their wounds and decide just how involved they want to be in Vlad's war. It's high time Trina got a little immortal insurance for herself, and Alexei got himself a bound Familiar. And Mia's about to discover that Val's psychic abilities are communicable.
As for Lionheart itself, I remain torn on just how much of my original idea I want to share. I've waffled: do I trim down the flashbacks, keep them neat and clean, and provide only the gist of the Robin Hood and the Crusades story? Or do I keep to format, and flesh the past out the way I always intended? Honestly, the readers who hate this series are going to keep hating it no matter how much trimming I do. Why not just go hog wild?
I have no idea how much longer Lionheart might take me, but I'm hoping to release The Winter Palace before year's end. I think it would make for a lovely holiday release (if blood and magic are your holiday vibes of choice).
If you're a new reader, here's what you can expect from the Sons of Rome Series:
When his head listed to the side, he let it; propped his temple on his knuckles and watched, tired and helpless, as Oliver began to slowly pace the width of the rug, fiddling with the ring that Erik had given him.
“I don’t blame Askr,” he said. “Nor any of them. I’m still new to this, and there are elements of it I can’t hope to explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced it firsthand.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug mirrored by the humorless lift of half his mouth. “Most days I’m not sure I believe myself.”
“I believe you.”
“You’re biased.”
Erik felt a fast, but quickly-killed flare of temper. No one had ever questioned him as much as Oliver; it was his right as a paramour… but this wasn’t questioning. Not really. “If you’ll remember,” he said, levering fondness into his tone, “I was the one who told you of the existence of drakes.”
Oliver kept pacing, but shot him a sideways glance, loaded with sass.
Erik sat back in his chair, relieved at the sight. “I was raised in the North, darling. I don’t doubt magic, nor do the others.”
Oliver’s lips pressed together, a wry, flat pretend smile. “So it’s me they doubt.”
“Ollie—”
He lifted a hand in a bid for silence, and turned to walk the length of the rug once more. “No, no. They’re right to.”
“What?”
Oliver stopped, and turned to face him, hands clasped together. His expression did something tense and unfamiliar that Erik didn’t like at all.
His pulse kicked up a step, and Erik repeated, “What?”
Oliver’s look of indecipherable concentration intensified. “They’re right to doubt me. Probably they shouldn’t listen to me at all. And neither should you.”
It was, without question, the strangest thing Oliver had ever said to him. It was alarming. Erik’s heart slammed inside his chest.
He sat up straight and said, “Oliver, what is this? Where is this coming from?”
Rather than answer, Oliver resumed pacing, hands at his sides this time, using his thumbs to crack each finger with a sequence of nervous flicks. “Is the war winnable?”
Erik was beginning to wish he’d poured himself a cup of wine before beginning this conversation. “Is the… every war is winnable.”
Oliver sent him a dark look. “Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t suit you.”
“What would you have me say? That I’ve led my entire nation to war, but I don’t think we can win?”
Oliver spun toward him, brows drawn. “Did you?”
“No.” He was more than a little stung. “I’m not Náli. I’m not some—some cocksure child who thinks he’s invincible.”
“Náli is actually quite frightened and morbid all the time.”
“You know what I mean, Oliver,” Erik growled, half expecting Oliver to recoil.
He didn’t.
It's been a hot minute since I worked on the Drake Chronicles, so I was convinced I would have a tough time changing gears and getting back to it. My paperback proofs of Beware of Dog are set to arrive today, so I'm working on Avarice of the Empire in the meantime.
To my pleasant surprise, I was able to dive right back into this world. Book Five left us in a bit of a lurch, and plenty of readers expressed their anger/disappointment in Oliver, and even Leif. Book Six offers us some *revelations* on both those fronts, and I'll reiterate that everything is going to be okay with Erik and Oliver. And even Leif. And Amelia. I said before: let me cook.
The good news is that I feel sure I can make Book Seven the final book in the series. Yay! So AOTE, and the one more. I'm looking forward to wrapping things up and having the whole story out there. In the way of all ongoing fantasy sagas, things have to get worse before they can get better, but they definitely will get better. I don't do sad endings.
Once I'm finished with BoD edits, I can turn my full attention to the Drakes, and I'm hoping to get this one out before the fall. Fingers crossed!
She knew Carina’s type: the country club mothers for whom a child was just another merit badge on the Girl Scout vest of life, who turned to the bottle the moment their “precious darlings” needed anything more than a patented proud smile. Carina wasn’t worried about Mason, Maggie knew – after all, the doctors had said he was out of the woods as far as the whole dying thing went – but was worried about her social standing now that her son had almost killed himself with a party drug.
The use of the phrase "another merit badge on the Girl Scout vest of life" here is a case of me folding a little bit of my real self into the fiction. I've always applied it to the equestrian world: those riders who were in it for the prestige of blue ribbons, who treated their horses as disposable vehicles. But it certainly applies here with regard to Carina Stephens and her son.
Maggie is a uniquely Southern heroine because even though she can be a hardass, lethal when necessary, she wields soft power like a pro. Some of that's down to her formal cotillion training growing up, but most of it's simply a cultural staple. She can play nice when she needs to, all fake saccharine sweetness and "bless your heart." We see her skills at play here in this scene, and will see them more in later chapters.
Ava, meanwhile, is still having A Time (in a bad way) with Mercy.
Caught up in the moment, he didn't realize how badly she was hurting until afterward, and then he panics a little bit - for more than one reason. He hates that he caused her pain, and if you're thinking "why didn't he know to be more careful?" consider that, up to this point, he's only ever hooked up with club groupies: casual, unemotional sex with experienced women. Mentally and emotionally, he's still in a very immature place. He's finally slept with someone he actually loves, and he hurt her, and he feels fumbly, and stupid, and like an ass. Then layer in the panic that he's finally crossed the line with her, and OMG, how are Ghost and Maggie going to react when/if they find out? His first instinct is to get rid of all the physical evidence of what happened and put some distance between them in case her parents get home earlier than expected.
He's freaking out.
Ava, of course, reads this as a rejection, as him not caring, and that's the tragedy of it all.
I want to wish all dads a Happy Father's Day, but extend a special "Happy Father's Day" to all the poor horse dads out there. 😄
I started asking for a horse the moment I could talk. It was the only thing I wanted to do in life. My parents tried to sidetrack me with me other pursuits early on: ballet, jazz and tap, gymnastics, band. I was fixated. They started me out with smaller pets: finches, frogs, a dog, a rabbit. But I wanted to ride. My mom rode as a kid and teenager, and she was fully on-board, but my dad took some convincing. I finally started lessons when I was nine, and we bought my first horse, Skip (there he is!) when I was ten. Dad might have been reluctant before I became a full-fledged horse girl, but once I was in the saddle, he never once tried to discourage me. He's not exactly an animal person, but he knew that it was my dream. Over the years, friends and family members alike tried to convince me that horses were a phase, and that once I started dating, or went off to college, I'd sell my horse and pursue "adult" hobbies.
Well, I'm thirty-seven, and just celebrated Kit Kat's second birthday yesterday, so it's safe to say it wasn't a phase!
Thank you, Dad, for all the entry fees, and the show barn camp chair naps, and the awkward well-wishes before I went into the ring. For being there the night we put Cosmo down, and knowing how painful each goodbye has been over the years. You didn't ever ask for the equine life, but it found you anyway.
This picture was taken by a barn friend who was starting up a photography business and wanted some practice. I'm either 14 or 15 here, and I'm glad she insisted on a group shot. Skip and Spoof have both crossed over the rainbow bridge now, Skip in 2011 and Spoof in 2023. Miss you, boys. ❤
(Also deeply regretting my choice in riding breeches.)
Happy Father's Day!
He sipped his drink, and after a few long moments she saw the line of his shoulders relax; saw him sink down deeper in his chair. His fingers drummed on his glass, and his nostrils flared as he let out a deep breath that had the firelight leaping down the holster straps on his chest.
Then he turned to her. With eyes that weren’t honey, or burnt sugar, no, not now. Gold eyes. Lion’s eyes. The firelight licked over them, carved dark shadows beneath his cheekbones. His hair was already starting to dry, faintly curling at the ends, framing his sharp jaw.
“Are you alright?” she asked, softly.
He dipped his head, a nod of thanks. “Yes. It just takes me a moment – after.”
After what? She didn’t ask.
