Enchanting Readers One Author At A Time!

Monday, June 9, 2014

Cynthia Eden's "Marked By The Vampire" Release Day Blitz

Marked By The Vampire
(Purgatory Series, Bk #2)
By Cynthia Eden

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Cynthia Eden invites readers to a dark paranormal world... 

Vampires exist. So do werewolves. The creatures that you fear in the darkness? They’re all real. And the baddest of the paranormals…those who love to hurt humans…they’re sent to Purgatory, the only paranormal prison in the U.S.

His job is to stop the monsters.

Deadly forces are at work within Purgatory. The monsters are joining together—and their plans have to be stopped. FBI Agent Shane August, a very powerful vampire with a dark past, is sent into the prison on an undercover assignment. His job is to infiltrate the vampire clan, by any means necessary.

She wants to help the prisoners.

Dr. Olivia Maddox wants to find out just why certain paranormals go bad. What pushes some vampires over the edge? Why do some werewolves turn so savage? If she can understand the monsters, then Olivia thinks she can help them. When she gets permission to enter Purgatory, Olivia believes she is being given the research opportunity of a lifetime.

Olivia doesn't realize that she’s walking straight into hell.

To survive, they have to rely on each other.

When the prisoners break loose, there is only one person—one vampire—who can protect her, but as Olivia and Shane fight the enemies that surround them, a dark and dangerous passion stirs to life between the doctor and the vamp. Shane realizes that Olivia is a woman carrying secrets—powerful, sinful secrets. Secrets that a man would kill to possess.

And Olivia realizes that—sometimes—you can’t control the beast inside of you. No matter how hard you try. Some passions can push you to the very limits of your control…and the growing lust that she feels for her vampire…it’s sending her racing right into a deadly storm of desire.

Welcome to Purgatory…a place that’s a real hell on earth…

Available for purchase at



I've got a plan, love. Trust me.” He advanced into the darkness.
             Her nails sank into his skin. “No. Look, dammit, I get that it’s too little, too late, but I wasn't exactly high on choices upstairs.” 
             He frowned down at her. She wasn’t looking at his face in that total darkness, but instead staring just over his shoulder.   

            “Give me something hereI mean, make me know that I’m with the good guy.”

            Oh, but he couldn't do that. He’d never been exactly good, not even when he’d been working with the FBI.  If she only knew the things he’d done, she might just run back up to the wolves. “I work with Pate.”

            “Give me more. Why are you at Purgatory? What’s going on?”

            He pulled her closer.  Wanted to take her mouth again but didn’t. Control. “We don’t have time for a fucking long discourse here, love. So here are the simple facts. I’m working undercover—a cover that I blew for you.  And right now, I’m the only thing standing between you and death, so if you want to die, then by all means…” He let her go. “Don’t trust me.”

            In the darkness, he saw her wrap her arms around her stomach. “You…you haven’t killed? Your file was all lies?”

            “I've killed plenty.” Brutal truth. “And that’s why I’m your best hope of survival.”

            She rocked back on her heels. “Have you killed innocents?”

            The woman was so naive. “There are no innocents in this world.”

            Her body trembled. He could see the small ripple that shook her.

            With his back teeth clenched, he demanded, “Now are you coming with me or do you want to try your luck with the wolves?”

            Her hand lifted, tried to find him in the dark. He stepped toward her so that she touched his chest.

About the Author

USA Today Best-selling author Cynthia Eden has written over twenty-five novels and novellas. She was named as a 2013 RITA® finalist for her paranormal romance, ANGEL IN CHAINS, and, in 2011, Cynthia Eden was a RITA finalist for her romantic suspense, DEADLY FEAR.
Cynthia is a southern girl who loves horror movies, chocolate, and happy endings.  She has always wanted to write (don’t most authors say that?), and particularly enjoys creating stories about monsters–vampires, werewolves, and even the real-life monsters that populate her romantic suspense stories.

Cynthia’s foreign sales for her books include translations to Japan, Germany, Thailand, Greece, and Brazil.
(Back in the day…) Cynthia graduated summa cum laude from the University of South Alabama where she studied Sociology (because people interest her) and Communication (because she likes to write about said people).  Cynthia has worked as a college admissions counselor, a teacher, and as an editor. But now, Cynthia is thrilled to be spending her days making up stories.


Presented By 

Cover Reveal Blitz & Giveaway: Hell and High Water by Charlie Cochet

Hell and High Water 
(Thirds Series, Bk #1)
By Charlie Cochet

When homicide detective Dexter J. Daley’s testimony helps send his partner away for murder, the consequences—and the media frenzy—aren't far behind. He soon finds himself sans boyfriend, sans friends, and, after an unpleasant encounter in a parking garage after the trial, he’s lucky he doesn't find himself sans teeth. Dex fears he’ll get transferred from the Human Police Force’s Sixth Precinct, or worse, get dismissed. Instead, his adoptive father—a sergeant at the Therian-Human Intelligence Recon Defense Squadron otherwise known as the THIRDS—pulls a few strings, and Dex gets recruited as a Defense Agent.

Dex is determined to get his life back on track and eager to get started in his new job. But his first meeting with Team Leader Sloane Brodie, who also happens to be his new jaguar Therian partner, turns disastrous. When the team is called to investigate the murders of three HumaniTherian activists, it soon becomes clear to Dex that getting his partner and the rest of the tightknit team to accept him will be a lot harder than catching the killer—and every bit as dangerous.

Available for Pre-Order at 


Sloane observed Dex as he made his way to the center of the mat. The guy had a nice ass too. On that note, maybe it was time for Sloane to get laid. It had been way too long since he’d picked anyone up, but then, the only thing that seemed to interest him these days was the job. Why the hell was he thinking about sex now? He followed Dex onto the blue mat and stopped a few feet away from him, pushing any and all sexual thoughts out of his mind. He had work to do. A lot of work to do.

Dex readied himself, stretching his neck and back. Despite his disastrous introduction, the guy actually had excellent poise. He balanced perfectly on one leg while he pulled the opposite knee up to stretch then swapped and did the same with the other. He bent over and grabbed his ankles with ease then slowly rolled his back to stand upright again. Rotating his shoulders, he shook himself off and hopped on his toes for a few seconds to warm up. His movements revealed he was lithe and flexible, yet Sloane couldn't understand how this was the same guy who had scored top of his class during the training run. It was true he didn't know much about Dex, but he’d read the file the moment he’d been informed of the decision.

Both parents had been killed during the riots when he was five years old. He’d been adopted by his father’s friend and work partner, Anthony Maddock. A year later, his baby Therian brother was rescued and adopted. Went to Berkeley at eighteen for four years, earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Justice Studies, and joined the HPF a year later. Four years after that, was promoted to homicide detective. Dexter J. Daley, thirty-three years old, unmarried, and recently testified against his Human partner in a murder trial. Sloane was still figuring out what to think about that last part.

Dex took his stance, bending his knees, his left leg a little farther up than the right, and his fists up near his face.

“Your stance is good,” Sloane murmured, ignoring Dex’s surprised look. Taking up his own fighting stance, Sloane motioned for Dex to advance. “Okay. Come at me.”

Dex shook his head. “No.”

Sloane paused. Was the rookie messing with him? “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“How about you come at me.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“I’ve seen what attacking you head on does. You want to see what I can do? You’ll have to work for it.”

Sloane arched an eyebrow. Well, if nothing else, the guy had balls. “Okay. Remember, you asked for it.” He advanced, faked with his right to land a left hook to Dex’s ribs. A swipe to his left foot brought Dex crashing down to the mat.

“Fuck,” Dex moaned, rolling out of the way. He jumped to his feet and rounded his shoulders. “Okay.” Bouncing on his toes, he circled Sloane. “Let’s try this again.”

This match was over. Rookie just didn’t know it yet. Sloane was good at exposing weaknesses, and he was already working on discovering his new partner’s.

They slowly circled each other, and Sloane got closer to Dex with each step until he was close enough to throw a punch. Dex blocked it, his concentration focused on keeping Sloane from landing a hit. He was studying Sloane, trying to get a handle on his technique so he could formulate a plan of attack. Rookie was using his head—that was good—but he was taking too long to decide on his course of action and that was bad. Hesitation was something his Human partner couldn’t afford out in the field, not when dealing with Therians. As a species, Therians were faster, stronger, healed quicker, and had a higher level of tolerance when it came to pain.

Dex blocked a left hook to the ribs with his right elbow tucked up against his body, but in anticipation of Sloane faking a right, he tucked his left elbow in as well, leaving his head exposed. Sloane took advantage and clipped Dex under his chin. His head came up, once again leaving himself exposed long enough for Sloane to give his cheek a smack. Dex shuffled back, eyes wide.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I’m sorry. Did I smear your makeup?” Sloane held back a smile at Dex’s glare. This was too easy. Forgetting all about keeping his distance, Dex charged him.

A fierce combination of hooks, jabs, and an attempt at an uppercut were nicely executed, but still not enough to catch Sloane off guard. He blocked Dex’s advances, ducked under a right hook, and grabbed Dex’s leg. With a forceful pull, Dex was once again sprawled on his back.

“I haven’t spent this much time on my back since college.”

Sloane laughed. “It’s a good look for you, Rookie.”

“You asking me out on a date? Because I don’t date assholes,” Dex grumbled, sitting up.

“I may be an asshole, but even I’ve got standards.”

With a smirk, Dex hung his head and held an arm out.

“Giving up already? How disappointing.” Sloane reached out and took Dex’s hand, ready to pull him up when Dex twisted his torso and kicked a leg out, catching Sloane on the side of his knee and sending him down onto it. He was jerked forward and Dex’s legs wrapped around his waist. He twisted his lower body to throw Sloane onto his back. Dex landed on him, his hands pinning Sloane’s wrists to the mat beneath them, their faces inches away from each other.

“So, about that date,” Dex said, laughing breathlessly. His eyes shifted to Sloane’s lips before moving back up and his smile grew wider. The little shit was taunting him.

Sloane didn't know what pissed him off more, that he’d been caught by surprise, or that he was enjoying it. His anger started bubbling up inside him and that pissed him off even more. He didn't get angry. Anger meant the rookie was getting to him.

With a pleasant smile, Sloane jerked his left wrist free to snatch Dex’s in a tight grip. He looped his arm around Dex’s neck, forcing Dex’s arm to come up and around as well. With a swift yank, Dex spun off him and onto the mat.

That was better. Sloane casually got to his feet with a satisfied grin. He took a deep breath to regain his calm and turned, frowning at the sight of Dex on his stomach, his back arching as he let out a frustrated groan. He ignored the curve of the rookie’s spine and the way he looked when he got onto his hands and knees. Jesus, what was wrong with him? It was time to put a stop to this… distraction.

Come on,” Sloane snarled. “Get up. I’m not here to be your Xbox buddy.”

“Come on, Dex!” Cael sat on the floor a few feet away, and Sloane tilted his head, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he teased Dex.

“Aw, isn't that cute? Baby brother is cheering for you.”

Dex lunged at him, throwing his arms around Sloane’s waist in an inane attempt to knock him over. Sloane didn’t go down. He was bigger, stronger, and heavier than Dex, but to the rookie’s credit, he managed to get in a nice jab to the ribs. With a well-maneuvered twist of his body, Sloane was out of Dex’s grip and holding him in a headlock. Instead of punching him, he delivered another slap to his cheek. Dex let out a frustrated growl and tried to push away from him.

“Stop doing that!”

“Ooh, Rookie’s got a bit of a temper.” Sloane ruffled Dex’s hair, pissing him off further.

“Aw, isn't he cute,” Ash teased from the end of the mat.

“Fuck you, Simba!”

Rosa burst into laughter and Ash glared at her. “Are you fucking serious?” He turned back to Sloane with a scowl. “You better kick his ass.”

Dex struggled in Sloane’s grip. “Come on, Rookie. Is this the best you got?”

“This isn't fighting,” Dex spat out. “This is you being a prick.”

Sloane shrugged. “Either way, I've seen what you can do and I gotta say, it’s pretty uninspiring.”

“Uninspiring, huh?” Dex pulled back a fist and Sloane released him, jumping back and narrowly missing Dex’s fist, his knuckles brushing Sloane’s crotch. Sloane gaped at Dex.

“You were going to punch me in the nuts?”

“You said it yourself. This isn't a fight, so yeah. And I would have enjoyed it too.”

“Hey, watch it.” Sloane stormed up to Dex who held his ground, his chin lifted defiantly. Rookie had nerve, but he needed to learn his place. Sloane grabbed him, hauled him off his feet and slammed him into the mat. “Stay the fuck down, if you know what’s good for you.”

Dex ignored him, his breath coming out heavy as he got back on his feet and threw a punch. Stupid little bastard didn't know when to quit. Sloane ducked, grabbed Dex around the waist and once again slammed him back down on the mat. With a low groan, Dex rolled onto his side and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Sloane wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand as he circled Dex. He’d lost count of how many times he’d dropped Dex, yet the guy kept getting back up. Granted, each time took a little longer than the last, but he pushed himself to his feet regardless. Sloane didn't know whether to be impressed or aggravated.

“You’re not cut out for this, Rookie.”

Dex didn't reply, simply glared at him. He charged Sloane with a growl, ducking under Sloane’s right hook and landing a jab to Sloane’s exposed ribs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sloane used the adrenaline pumping through his veins to keep going and bring his fists down onto Dex’s back. Dex hit the mat painfully, his head smacking against it.

Fuck. Sloane touched his ribs and winced. Damn, the rookie had gotten him pretty good. “Why don’t you stay down? It’s only going to get worse.”

With a humorless laugh, Dex rolled onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Let me guess. This is the part where I’m supposed to go crying home to Daddy. “Ooh, my new partner hates me. Boo-hoo.”’ Sloane could see the strain on the rookie’s face as he struggled to stand, sucking in a sharp breath when he straightened. “Well fuck you. Here’s a little FYI for you. I would rather fucking bleed to death than give you the satisfaction, you prick.”

Sloane arched an eyebrow at him. “Charming.”

“I am fucking charming!” Dex shouted, his entire face going beet red. “I am the most charming motherfucker you will ever know, so kiss my perfectly perky ass!”

After some consideration, Sloane cocked his head to one side and shrugged. “I've seen better.”

“Oh, now you’re insulting my ass?”

Sloane opened his mouth when a booming voice came over the speaker system.

“Destructive Delta, please report to briefing room “A” in one hour as per Sergeant Maddock’s orders.”

“Looks like you were saved by daddy after all.” Sloane turned to his team and clapped his hands together. “Okay, hit the showers. See you upstairs.” Everyone headed out, and Sloane made his way to the towel rack. He grabbed himself one to wipe his face, and when he turned, he almost ran into Dex, his rig hanging from one hand.

“Well, let’s see it.”

Sloane threw his towel over his shoulder. “See what?”

“You know.”

“Are you asking me to go feral or whip out my dick?”

Dex looked like he was actually considering it. “Come on. I want to see the alpha beneath the asshole. We’ve got lions, and tigers, and….” Dex shifted his gaze to Sloane’s neck, a strange little smile coming onto his face as he looked back up at Sloane. “Jaguar. Oh my.”

Holy shit, the guy was serious.

Dex shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You’re my partner, we’re in a wide open space, and there are vending machines down the hall for post shift. We’ve got time before we need to get to the briefing room. It’s my turn to see what I’m dealing with.”

Sloane mulled it over. “Okay.”


“Sure.” Sloane circled Dex and crowded him, making him retreat until his back hit the wall. With his arms to the sides of Dex’s head, he watched Dex’s Adam’s apple bob as his new partner swallowed hard. Just as Sloane suspected, Dex was clearly having second thoughts about seeing the “big bad alpha.” He leaned in close, his lips inches away from Dex’s jaw as he inhaled deeply. “Do you know why jaguar Therians are the most lethal of the Felids?”


“My Therian bite has twice the strength of a lion’s. I can use a deep-throat, bite-and-suffocation technique where my fangs pierce through the temporal bones of your skull, right between your ears and pierce your brain.” Sloane gave a little demonstration with his fingers on Dex’s scalp, earning him a scowl. Sloane laughed then whispered in Dex’s ear. “I bet the only word you heard from all that was deep-throat.”

Dex lifted his chin, his eyes dropping once again to Sloane’s mouth before moving back up to meet his gaze. He licked his lips, his eyes clouding over. “Your pupils are dilated. Does that mean you want to fuck me or eat me? Because I might have a problem with one of those.”

About the Author

Charlie Cochet is an author by day and artist by night. Always quick to succumb to the whispers of her wayward muse, no star is out of reach when following her passion. From Historical to Fantasy, Contemporary to Science Fiction, there’s bound to be plenty of mischief for her heroes to find themselves in, and plenty of romance, too!

Currently residing in South Florida, Charlie looks forward to migrating to a land where the weather includes seasons other than hot, hotter, and boy, it’s hot! When she isn't writing, she can usually be found reading, drawing, or watching movies. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers. 

You can find Charlie at 



Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Elisabeth Staab's "Hunter By Night" Release Day Blitz

Elisabeth Staab
(Chronicles of Yavn #3)
By Elisabeth Staab

She wants out
Party girl Alexia Blackburn is only hanging around the vampire compound until her best friend—the queen—has her baby. After that, nothing is going to stop Alexia from getting back to daylight, safety, and feeling like a normal human being. But leaving the vampire world has one big catch...

He needs her to stay
Head of vampire security Lee Goram has hated and distrusted humans for centuries. Feeding on vampire blood has kept him strong...but now it's killing him—and he's horrified to discover that Alexia may hold the key to his cure. He'd rather die defending his king than admit his weakness, but time is running out for the great vampire warrior...

Available for order at 



Lee closed the gap between them. An awareness of warmth and clean sweat cut through the anxious confusion his last statement had injected into her stomach. “Frankly, it’s safer here,” he said. “I’d leave you if I could. However, I’ve received word Isabel is having contractions and insists on having her birth coach.” The wave of his hand conveyed his apparent belief that such an idea was preposterous.

Alexia stepped close, craning her neck to meet his arrogant stare. “What, you think the queen’s birth coach isn't a priority?”

Lee’s large hand rubbed his forehead like it ached. “In my youth, females gave birth. No birthing tub, no special class, no self-hypnosis CDs, no coach.”

What. A phenomenal dick. “Excuse me.” She poked a finger that was supposed to jab into his chest, but anger and her refusal to break eye contact effed up her aim. She ended up poking at the firm, fine muscles of his belly. Pride kept the finger in place as if the landing had been intentional. “First of all, no uterus, no opinion. Second, Isabel got completely fried this morning, so it’s kind of a special circumstance. Third, quit being an asshole. Fourth? Quit being an asshole.”

It bore repeating.

“Fifth, Isabel’s the queen. She can request whatever the hell she wants.”

Lee dipped his chin. “Yes.” His fingers closed around the one still sunk into his abs and pulled it aside. “She can. So. In spite of the fact that we may have an insane plague-spreading nutcase bearing down on us at any given moment, it’s royal baby time. Let’s move.”
Again… What the fuck? 

She opened her mouth but Lee pulled her forward before she could speak. Alexia ignored the tremor that traveled from the place where their hands touched, along her arm and down her body, landing a quiver of want deep in her core. Any time now, it would be fan-fricking-tastic if her body could stop reacting to him like he’d been double-dipped in her favorite brand of pheromones. 

She reached for her blue JanSport backpack, just next to the bedroom door. He made no move to let go or get out of her way, and she was forced to squeeze past his tree-trunk thigh in the process. She failed horribly at ignoring how frigging huge those legs of his were. How the vee of her thighs brushed his leg when she passed, and how her body temperature climbed. Stop staring at his ass. “Right. Got everything ready to go, right here.” She cleared her throat.
“Great. I’ll drive,” he grumbled.

Did he realize, as he tugged her down the hall, that his fingers were still wrapped around her hand?

The Chronicles of Yavn Series

About the Author

Elisabeth Staab still lives with her nose in a book and at least one foot in an imaginary world. She believes that all kinds of safe and sane love should be celebrated but she adores the fantasy-filled realm of paranormal romance the best. She lives in the Washington DC area with her family and one big scaredy cat, where she loves to spend time with good friends, go dancing, collect wacky coffee mugs from which to drink her favorite beverage, and sing off-key in her kitchen (when she isn’t making characters fall in love, that is).

You can stalk her, I mean find her at


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Monday, June 2, 2014

Trista Jaszczak's "Little Red" Blog Tour

Tour Stops

June 2, 2014 
Penny For Them...

June 3, 2014 

June 4, 2014 

June 5, 2014 

June 6, 2014 

June 7, 2014 

June 8, 2014 

June 9, 2014 

June 10, 2014 

June 11, 2014 

June 12, 2014 

June 13, 2014 

June 14, 2014 

June 15, 2014 

June 16, 2014 

June 17, 2014 

June 18, 2014 

June 19, 2014 

June 20, 2014 

June 21, 2014 

June 22, 2014 

June 23, 2014 

June 24, 2014 

June 25, 2014 
Serenity Doesn't Come Easy

June 26, 2014 

June 27, 2014 

June 28, 2014 

June 29, 2014 

June 30, 2014 
Lizzie in Wonderland

Little Red
(Believe Series, Bk #1)
By Trista Jaszczak


Samantha Wentworth has one mission in life; to get as far away as she possibly can from her troubled past. 

When she finds herself on the Louisiana bayou she runs straight into the arms of a very sexy Big Bad Wolf that she just can’t seem to resist. 

Will Samantha continue on her journey, or does the full moon have other plans in store for her?

Available for purchase at 



​I’d misjudged my mileage, and with no gas gauge, I’d had no way of telling when I’d run out of gas. I’m luckily able to roll my bike to a slow and steady stop off on the shoulder of the road. I shake my head, wanting to give myself a good hard kick for not being more careful. I glance around as I hop off. Figures I am surrounded by nothing but woods and, my guess, swamps, and am nearly twenty miles away from any town. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I would make use of the tent in my saddlebags. I let out an exasperated sigh as I undo the chinstrap to my helmet, yanking it off my head, and let my hair fall around my shoulders. I bite down on my lip and contemplate. I can’t leave my bike here on the side of the road. I can’t walk 20 twenty miles and back just for gas with it already so dark out, either. I have no choice. I’ll walk my bike into the woods and set up camp. People do this all the time, right? No big deal. It’s not like the big bad wolf will jump out and get me. 
I gaze into the woods. Darkness has already fallen over the trees. They stand silent and still, as even the animals, it seems, have all gone quiet for the night. I laugh off the thought of the big bad wolf. I guess it’s alligators I have to watch for down here. Or, is it crocodiles? I shiver, put on a brave face, and straddle my bike once more. It’ll take all my strength to waddle it down the ditch and into the woods over the uneven terrain. I figure a short way off the side of the road and into the woods and I should be fine. Enough to be out of the line of traffic, but not enough to get myself terribly lost. 
As I wiggle the bike down the small slope, I begin to exert myself on the flat, but rough terrain as I push the bike forward, throwing my petite body into it as much as I can. I grunt as I give one more strong push forward. The bike lurches along slowly as my helmet clangs against the already scratched black paint. I groan, aggravated with myself more than ever for letting the gas tank get bone dry.
“What in the hell are you doing?” 
I stop dead in my tracks. I hadn't heard a single footstep, not even a twig. I swallow hard and throw myself off the bike, flipping out the kickstand as I do.
I turn slowly to see a rugged looking man staring hard at me. His dark washed jeans are splattered with dirt and debris at the bottom, suggesting that he has been romping in the woods beyond. His heavy boots are caked in a layer of thick mud that’s starting to dry in certain spots. He places his hands on his hips, making his leather jacket open to display a well-fitted tee shirt; defined chest muscles are visible even under the moonlight. His gray eyes shine and shimmer under the light of the full moon as they glare at me in an almost threatening way. No, not threatening. Warning me of something, and somehow worried. His brown hair is styled fairly nice, which is surprising considering the five o’clock shadow on his face. He’s much larger than me. Well, almost everyone is larger than me, but he must be over 6 feet tall. Huge, compared to my tiny 5’5” frame. 

About The Author

Trista Jaszczak is the Amazon.com bestselling author of Loverboy and the highly anticipated release Little Red, coming June 13th.

She is an Air Force spouse and mother to two mischievous and rambunctious little girls. She is creative by nature and not only writes, but is a photographer who braves the cold to chase the northern lights. She also plays guitar and sings, two things that have become a favorite past time of hers when she’s not behind the glowing screen of her computer. And, though she considers it just a hobby, loves to sketch and paint. 

She is originally from Hamilton, Ohio but calls home where ever the Air Force sends her. She currently resided in Anchorage, Alaska where she finds endless inspiration in the pure Alaskan wilderness. Though the rain can seem endless in the fall, and the constant daylight is a burden in the summers, she considers it a privilege to live there.  

When Trista isn’t writing, she loves to spend her time with her family in the vast Alaskan outdoors, plucking away at her old guitar, working out in the gym, or baby her two over-grown Labrador puppies. She loves the great outdoors, the moon, old movies,  and music. She loves being creative, practicing her photography, and wildlife. If you need to get in touch with her, since her life is 10 ways of crazy right now, you can always.

You can find Trista at 



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