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Strange bedfellows rock worlds. Urban fantasy and a slow burn romance wrapped into a serial that will keep you up reading long into the night.
Reluctant recruit to the nines, I became Faery’s regent by default.
Shira, Circle of Assassins, Book One
If they had one of those anonymous rehabilitation programs for folks like me, my introduction would be, “Hi, I’m Shira, and I kill people.” Except rehab suggests killing people bothers me. It doesn’t.
Neither am I particularly committed to anything other than not being caught.
Quinn, Circle of Assassins, Book Two
The only constant in my long life is murder. Assassin for hire, to put a finer point on it.
I’m an earth wizard. Usually, we’re on the peaceful side. Not sure what happened to me, but I never fit in with my kinsmen. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
Rhiana, Circle of Assassins, Book Three
I’m one of the old ones. I’ve lived many lives, done many things. I’ve been called sorceress, witch, and far worse. Mortals have hung me, burned me, staked me out, and left me to die. What a pack of fools. I’m immortal, and their petty attempts were laughable.
I’m basically a mountaineer at heart. I remember many hours at my desk where my body may have been stuck inside four walls, but my soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. There’s a timeless element to the mountains. They feel like old friends as I visit them, and visit them again. There’s nothing like standing on a remote pass where I’ve been before and seeing that the vista is unchanged. Or on an equally remote peak. Mountains are the bones of the world. They’ll prevail long after all of us are dust. It feels honest and humbling to share space with them. I hope I’m blessed with many more years to wander the local landscape. The memories are incomparable. They warm me and help me believe there will be something left for our children and their children after them.