But this is no bard’s song. All of this was because of the dragon stone necklace I scavenged from that dead mage. I knew it was magic when I saw it. Well, it was and it wasn’t. Dragon stone they call it, but what it actually is, is a dragon’s egg. When I touched it, I felt the need to put it around my neck for safekeeping. When I did, the necklace embedded itself inside my skin, making me the new dragon’s envoy. It has since been my duty to protect the egg until she’s ready to hatch. How do I know the egg is a she? Easy, she talks to me and is helping me to bring out my natural magic talents. Sometimes I’d rather it was a bard’s song, as it can be tiring. Although I must admit, having a dragon inside you comes in handy when people are trying to kill you.

    He should be relieved, happy even, yet he is left with more questions than answers.In his quest to discover his heritage, he has a single clue to follow, a man named Eamon. When dangers appear from unexpected sources, he embarks on a collision course between his search for answers and helping his friends survive.His journey will test his physical limits, his resolve, and ultimately what he’s willing to sacrifice.

     Punished by God for the betrayal of his son Jesus Christ, he is forced to live out the existence of a broken man for eternity, unable to die. Although immortal, he has been bound by rules; never allowed to find love, raise a family, or make use of the items of wealth that he has acquired over the two millennia. Throughout time, God has given him tasks that he could not refuse where his skill with a sword has proved to be invaluable in smiting wayward demons and, at the end of 2012, an angel, the messenger of God presents him with his greatest and most important mission. For three days, he is to protect six-year-old Charlotte Hope as she approaches her seventh birthday. She is 'The Light', whose purpose it is to shepherd humankind out from its hedonistic ways. However, the forces of Hell also wish to acquire the child for their master, Lucifer, so that he may drain her light and become unchallenged in his crusade to dominate the kingdom of man. With the aid of the unlikely pairing of police detective Gary Cross and prostitute Abi Colter, can Judas protect Charlotte so that she may save all humankind and in turn release him from the curse allowing his entry into the White Kingdom, or will Lucifer succeed and bring forth the Apocalypse? Judas is a dark fantasy, supernatural science fiction page-turner to engross fans of James Herbert, Shaun Hutson and Dean Koontz. A sword and sorcery, action-adventure epic that will leave you yearning for more as you follow our gruff and uncompromising antihero in his quest for redemption and salvation.

     While attempting to save the lives of his fellow orphans he manifests a magic like power. He soon learns that using this power comes with a great risk to his own life. A beautiful sorceress, clad all in black, soon arrives with an offer to adopt him and teach him how to properly wield his powers. Once they leave, he learns that the sorceress is really the leader of a group of adventurers, and they're not the type of heroes that he has ever read about in books. They’re the kind that steal, get drunk, rob graves, loot tombs, and shoot people in the back. They basically only do what they need to in order to have a really good time. Badger is wondering what type of tale has he gotten into, because he has never read a story quite like this one!

    Follow Mira's story as she faces life as a single mother, wrestles with the constant call of the ocean to her mermaid nature, and joins an all-male salvage team who is less than thrilled to have her. When my mother died, I ran to the ocean like a coward. Its cradle of salt puckered my memories and withered my sorrow like a grape drying in the sun. I had cheated grief and was foolish enough to think I had gotten away with it.When Nathan died, I couldn’t run away. No matter how much I flinched, bending toward the Atlantic the way ivy strains for rays of light, I could not leave. Grief was back to take what belonged to it for the time it was allotted. I had everything I wanted a few short years ago. My mate. My daughter. A home, a family. It made my head spin to think how much could change so suddenly. I mused, wondering later if I was the only mermaid to ever walk fully through the five stages of grief. But I had my daughter.Targa had yet to turn, the color and shape of her fins were yet to be revealed, but she would. I had been so sure of it then. Siren genes are passed from mother to daughter, without fail. Young legs melded into a shimmering virgin tail in response to a salty sea. But Targa didn’t turn in response to ocean water, not the first time, not any time after that. Something was wrong. I shoved my fear down deep into some dark corner where Targa would not see it and said with a smile that we’d just have to keep trying. I had turned at the age of three, but if there could be late-bloomers in the human race, why not ours too?Her fifth birthday came and went, still she hadn’t turned. Concern sent its barbs into me like a thistle, then it rooted and grew.Targa and I had weekly late night secret swims in the Atlantic, which had once been fun but were now polluted with expectation and suspense. Coaching sessions (my idea), where I attempted human psychology exercises I’d found in outdated textbooks at the library; guided visualization, breathing techniques, and even a failed go at hypnosis. The memory of her skinny little frame sitting in a bathtub containing more salt than water (Targa’s idea) is still enough to fill my eyes with moisture.I don’t know exactly when she lost hope, but she hid it expertly, patiently participating however I asked.I ignored the creeping thoughts that whispered in my mind; she didn’t even like water, didn’t really want to go for swim, couldn’t hear the ocean calling her. I would shove the thoughts away violently, excusing them as nothing but my own anxiety. It was ridiculous. A daughter of a mermaid who disliked the ocean. Impossible. When I muzzled those fears, I became aware of others of a different kind. Not my own, but hers, for me.She could see the want in my eyes. Whatever mechanism bees and dogs used to smell fear, Targa had it for despair. She could sense it on me, reeking like cheap perfume. Her eyes dipped in desperation, her obvious desire not to disappoint me sliced through me like a white-hot blade from heart to gut. She thought she was my tormentor. The realization struck like a hammer and gave me the strength to do what was needed: Let it go.The ocean could call. I’d let the smell of it crucify me, the sound of its waves crash against me, echo through me, call me, beg me.Targa’s need and my love for her was greater. If she never turned and I was locked in a land-cycle for the rest of our lives, so be it.So be it.