Sign up for Ann's News and Events

And Read Timespell for #FREE
Click Here

Magick and Misfits, Books 1-4

Urban fantasy and slow burn romance wrapped into a serial that will keep you up reading long into the night. Over a thousand pages of pure delight.

Strange bedfellows rock worlds.

 Court of Rogues

Reluctant recruit to the nines, I became Faery’s regent by default. Sure, I was next in line for the throne, but I never believed Oberon and Titania were gone for good until first a decade rolled by, and then two, and then ten.

They’ll never be back, and the land is mourning. Or pissed. It’s hard to tell which, and I’m not sure what difference it makes. I split my time between Faery and Earth searching for a way to mend the rift that’s killing my realm. I haven’t made much progress. Time is running through the glass, mocking my paltry efforts.

A sultry Witch is barely a blip on the radar. So what if she counts cards in the casino I run on Earth and makes my pit boss a little nuts? Out of the blue, she spits out the unbelievable, and I discover she’s not a Witch after all. A glamour hid her Fae-Sidhe blood so well, she’d fooled me.

Her mixed blood is an affront. By rights, I should haul her before the Court to face justice. She understood the chance she took revealing herself to me, and her offer to join forces is tempting, but it could cost me my throne.

Some risks are worth the price. If I cross the line, there’ll be no going back.

 Midnight Court

My days as Faery’s reluctant regent have crashed and burned. Either I left the land to rot in a squalid soup of broken promises, or I destroyed her enemies one by one. No choice there. Not really. I’d known some of those “enemies” since childhood, which was centuries ago. They say familiarity breeds contempt. In my case it bred sorrow as I consigned Fae who’d been friends to eternal destruction and fed them to the land.

Dariyah, the Witch-who-wasn’t-one, crossed my path for reasons I’m still figuring out. Her long-lost mother presided over one of Faery’s many dirty secrets, the Midnight Court. Some like to believe Fae blood is pure. It’s not. We and the Sidhe are joined at the hip, and the Midnight Court was once a living symbol of our bond.

 Court of the Fallen

Faery has changed so much I barely recognize her. The worst part is I didn’t see this coming. A few minor skirmishes, sure, but the Unseelie fielded tens of thousands against us. The King of Winter is finally exacting revenge against the consort who spurned him. The rest of us are collateral damage. He played his hand well, attracted powerful allies, and punted us into a definite one-down position.

For the moment.

Pegasus is the king’s primary ally. I possess knowledge that will blow their partnership sky high. And proof in case neither of them believes me. Timing is everything, though. We must wrest Faery from the enemy. I finally hold the land link, but success is far from a foregone conclusion. More blood will flow before we’re done. Buckets of the stuff, but I can’t let that stop me.

Court of Destiny

Faery’s castle lies in ruins, a reflection of the rest of a land I love. My land, my realm, has altered almost beyond recognition. The part that hasn’t changed is the incredible people and creatures who live in Faery. Unicorns. Fauns. Satyrs. Fae. Sidhe. Their spirits have been indomitable, and it makes me proud to call them brothers.

But then, the Unseelie used to be brethren too. Now they stand against us along with a collection of monsters intent on sucking every last breath of life from Faery.

The worst part about all of this has been not knowing whom I can call friend. As we lurch into the endgame, my life, soul, and fortunes are linked with the woman I love. We rise—or fall—together.

If it comes down to a gut-wrenching choice, will I pick Faery or Dariyah?

 

 

About Ann

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.

Contact Ann

12 + 2 =