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Fashionably Dead Down Under (Hot Damned)

Welcome to Hell. Literally. The Hell where the Prince of Darkness is hotter than Hades, Hell Hounds smell like brownies, and the Seven Deadly Sins are addicted to Facebook…. Not to mention the soundtrack in the Underworld is Journey. For real.

I should have known no good could come from offing my parents in the space of 20 minutes no matter how psychotic and evil they were…. Now I find out my family tree includes almost every deity and mythological being alive while Ethan, the one and only love of my undead life, has a limited time down under before he turns to dust.

In the land of Sin, you’d think I’d get some nookie time with my man, but no. Baby Demons, cousins, and grandparents put the kibosh on that. Blue balls are the new normal. What the hell does a half-Vampyre/half-Demon have to do to catch a break? Apparently find a freakin’ sword, calm Mother Nature’s unmedicated mood swings, and make sure Mr. Rogers keeps his sticky fingers to himself during weekly poker with the Devil. And I have three days to do it. By all that’s unholy, I thought Ethan’s Vampyre family was crazy…. Trust me, they have nothing on the Demons.

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A Fashionably Dead Christmas (Hot Damned)

This is a holiday paranormal romantic comedy novella for your listening pleasure!

It’s Christmas at the Cressida House, and all hell is breaking loose.

Tree? Decorated and lit. Elf on a Shelf? Seated with style. Baby Jesus on the mantle? Fourteen neatly in a row. Life-size Nutcracker? Creepy, but standing proud. Invitations sent to entire immortal family to celebrate the holiday? Possibly the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever done.

Mixing heaven and hell on my cousin’s famous birthday seemed like such a brilliant idea. I wanted my baby’s first Christmas to be special – memorable. I’d like to chalk my heinous idea up to having been falling-down drunk, but that won’t fly, as it’s insanely difficult for a Vampyre to tie one on. So instead I’ll deal with obscene gifts from relatives, kidnapped rock stars, and catering by Mother Nature. To complicate matters, our new family pet thinks the whole house is his toilet. Ethan and I can’t even find a room with working lock on the door to spread a little holiday cheer.

Never, never again. Christmas from now on will be at a freakin’ spa for the undead – no poles for dancing and no slumber parties with the devil.

I just have to make it through the next 24 hours without beheading a beloved one. Merry freakin’ Christmas – and Happy New Year.

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Fashionably Hotter Than Hell (Hot Damned)

What does a frustrated Vampyre do when the woman he’s chased for 200 years is still trying to get away? He plays dirty, that’s what.

Welcome to my own personal hell.

Name: Heathcliff. Occupation: Vampyre Warrior – one of the deadliest in the world. I plan. I fight. I win. Always. However, it’s never taken me this damned long to get what I want before.

Only I would be blessed with a Vampyre mate I’d have to chase for two centuries. The chemistry between us is steamy, and the sex is sizzling, but I want more – I want it all. Now, just as I’m finally wearing Raquel down, I find I have competition, not for my mate’s hand but for her very existence.

Raquel may run and she may hide, but she is mine, and I will no longer take no for an answer. Whatever is in the way between us doesn’t matter. We were made for each other. Nothing anyone can do will change that simple fact…except maybe the Trolls…or the Wraiths…or the reclusive, insane Vampyre sister of my King who wants to drink my mate dry for reasons no one will freakin’ explain to me.

Damn it, I thought the chase was difficult…keeping Raquel alive might prove to be my undoing.

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Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned)

Vampyres don’t exist. They absolutely do not exist. At least I didn’t think they did ’til I tried to quit smoking and ended up Undead. Who in the hell did I screw over in a former life that my getting healthy equates with dead? Now I’m a Vampyre. Yes, we exist whether we want to or not. However, I have to admit, the perks aren’t bad. My girls no longer jiggle, my ass is higher than a kite, and the latest Prada keeps finding its way to my wardrobe. On the downside, I’m stuck with an obscenely profane Guardian Angel who looks like Oprah and a Fairy Fighting Coach who’s teaching me to annihilate like the Terminator. To complicate matters, my libido has increased to Vampyric proportions, and my attraction to a hotter-than-Satan’s-underpants killer rogue Vampyre is not only dangerous…it’s possibly deadly. For real dead.

Permanent death isn’t on my agenda. Avoiding him is my only option. Of course, since he thinks I’m his, it’s easier said than done. Like that’s not enough to deal with, all the other Vampyres think I’m some sort of Chosen One. Holy hell, if I’m in charge of saving an entire race of blood suckers, the Undead are in for one hell of a ride.

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Lies, Damned Lies and History: The Chronicles of St. Mary, Book 7

I’ve done some stupid things in my time. I’ve been reckless. I’ve broken a few rules. But never before have I ruined so many lives or left such a trail of destruction behind me.

As Max would be the first to admit, she’s never been one for rules. They tend to happen to other people. But this time she’s gone too far, and everyone is paying the price. Grounded until the end of time, how can she ever put things right?

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Just One Damned Thing After Another: The Chronicles of St Mary’s, Book 1

“History is just one damned thing after another.”

Behind the seemingly innocuous façade of St Mary’s, a different kind of historical research is taking place. They don’t do ‘time-travel’ – they ‘investigate major historical events in contemporary time’. Maintaining the appearance of harmless eccentrics is not always within their power – especially given their propensity for causing loud explosions when things get too quiet.

Meet the disaster-magnets of St Mary’s Institute of Historical Research as they ricochet around History. Their aim is to observe and document – to try and find the answers to many of History’s unanswered questions…and not to die in the process. But one wrong move and History will fight back – to the death. And, as they soon discover – it’s not just History they’re fighting.

Follow the catastrophe curve from 11th-century London to World War I, and from the Cretaceous Period to the destruction of the Great Library at Alexandria. For wherever Historians go, chaos is sure to follow in their wake….