The series is complete!

Did you know that the end of August marked my 10th publishing anniversary? That's right--21 books in 10 years.  And the release of my latest book, Semi-Reckless, marks the completion of my Harper Hall Investigations series. If you preorder now, the book will show up on your ereader like magic on 9/6. But because I'm impatient, here's a little sneak peek:     

Chapter One

The thing that really sucked about dying? No one ever let you live it down.

It was a fact Haven Hall had learned the hard way.

She’d only been dead for two measly minutes, and two years later—two years!—she was still riding a desk at Section 8, doing stupid research, instead of being out in the field, hunting demons and other paranormal threats to polite society like she should be.

She was a legacy hunter, for crap’s sake! In what weird, alternate reality did the daughter of Harper Hall and Noah Riddick end up sitting behind a desk for a living?

Haven had been taught to fight practically from birth. As a dhampyre, a half-vampire/half-human hybrid, she had way better-than-average strength and senses, could see auras, and was psychic. She should be leading teams of hunters, not doing research and giving them intel like some kind of supernatural librarian.

Meanwhile, everyone was so focused on that one measly time they nearly lost her that no one seemed to give a single crap about what she’d lost. And especially who she’d lost.  

But she wasn’t going to think about him. Not now. This was about her career, not her stupid broken heart. 

Because once again, a staff meeting had just ended, and once again, everyone had walked out of the Section 8 war room with an assignment. Everyone but her.

Haven didn’t want to pout. Pouting didn’t reinforce her position that she was a grown-ass adult who could handle herself. So, instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and shot her mother a sharp frown. “You can’t keep me in the research department forever,” she said, sounding petulant even to her own ears.

Her mother raised a brow at her and shoved a stubby pencil behind her ear. “You underestimate me.”

No one underestimated Harper Hall. Not twice, anyway.

Harper’s career trajectory was the stuff of legend. She’d run the most successful paranormal PI agency in the country for years before grabbing the reins of the government’s top-secret operation to hunt down supernatural threats to humanity. And she was surprisingly intimidating for a fifty-something-year-old woman who looked like she was still thirty-something, sometimes forgot to comb her hair,  and wore T-shirts like the one she was wearing now. (The shirt said, “Jesus Loves You. But I think you’re a cunt.”)  

But Haven wasn’t intimidated. She was annoyed. Supremely annoyed.  

“Mom,” she began as calmly as she could, “I’m perfectly healthy. There’s no reason to keep me from working. If I was anyone but your kid, I would’ve been cleared for active duty a week after…the incident.”

Her mom leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “The incident. You mean when you got hit with a blast of demon energy and your heart stopped for two minutes? That incident?”

She was about to remind her mother of all the times she’d almost died on the job but was stopped when her father laid a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything. Just shook his head.

For a guy who barely ever said anything, Noah Riddick had no trouble communicating his feelings. He was silently telling her that arguing and pointing out the hypocrisy of this whole mess wasn’t going to help her current situation.  

Her father had been the cool voice of reason between her and her mother for as long as she could remember. Haven and Harper were all fire and passion. Someone had to be level-headed and pragmatic to keep the family running, and that job typically fell on her father. It was a fact that would probably shock outsiders, because when it came to how he looked, she’d heard him described as the love child of Superman and Wolverine, a biker from an MC romance novel, or a violent felony waiting to happen. And, of course, there was the lady at the grocery store who told her he looked more like Haven’s hot older brother than her dad, which was just gross.

But anyhoo, she knew he was right. Haven sighed. To her knowledge, no one in the history of, well, ever had won an argument with her mother. Not even her father (also a powerful dhampyre), or her grandmother (an empath who terrified everyone she came in contact with.)  “Can I at least get off research detail? I’m dying over there.”

Harper narrowed her eyes.

“Poor choice of words,” Haven mumbled, slumping in her seat.   

Her dad cleared his throat like he was stifling a chuckle. “What if we put you on triage instead of research?” he suggested. “That’s a step up, right?”

Barely. Triage involved taking complaint calls from all manner of paranormal folk across the country and deciding which claims should be investigated, in what order, and how many resources to send. It was basically a mystical project management position with a little 911 thrown into the mix.

Calls ranged from vampires who thought humans/werewolves/witches/demons were out to get them (they usually weren’t), to old shifters who were afraid younger shifters were doing stupid shit that would expose their existence to humans. (Which happened all the damn time. Frankly, it was a miracle humans were still blissfully ignorant about the existence of shifters and demons and thought the only paranormal threat they faced was from vampires.)

But she didn’t want to seem ungrateful, because her dad was right. Project manager beat librarian in this particular scenario. So, she swallowed her indignation at having been sidelined (again), and said, “That’d be great. Thanks, Dad.”

He beamed at her and leaned down to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “You’ll be fantastic there.”

She’d be bored out of her gourd. But her dad was adorable when he was happy, so she decided to keep that thought to herself. “Looking forward to it.”

Her mom snorted, knowing full well she was lying through her teeth. Just another hazard of growing up with a powerful psychic. “I’ll have one of the trainees set up an office for you in the East wing.”

The East wing. Where everyone who washed out of the hunter training program went to rot.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

​Who knew life after death could suck so hard? 

Like it so far? It's available for preorder everywhere books are sold. All the details are RIGHT HERE

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