Archive: September 30, 2018

?Hacked, Patched, And Looking To Escape?

Hey babes,

Insane week. I’m not just talking about the Kavanaugh hearings—which, my fuck, I still don’t expect any sort of justice or vindication to come forth after the long history of rich, white male privilege. I want to have hope but common sense is wasted in this country when it comes to government and business. Common sense, basic logic, empathy, human emotions, scientific fact, any base level of decency; it’s all foreign to these people. But yeah, still I hope.

The guy is a blatant liar. Every word out of his mouth. That is the problem with credibility; I can’t believe him because he lies again and again. Once you surround yourself in lies, it’s impossible to pull yourself out. You’re not owed a seat on the Supreme Court, so stop lying like a dumb fuck and try to show some fucking empathy already.

Sorry, this shit has been upsetting. I didn’t realize that America would be facing one of the biggest ethical cases of the history of the damn country this week. It’s been intense, and I’m sure triggering for many. There was a reason all those women protested worldwide when Trump was elected. Some people thought it was because Hillary didn’t win, because of the blatant unfairness. The truth of the matter was a known repeated rapist and sexual assailant, (one known victim a minor,) was elected into the highest office of this country by the electoral college, and politicians once again said rape doesn’t matter. Women don’t matter. Power over a female’s body still belongs to rich, out of touch senior citizens running this country.

Women are fucking angry about it. We all should be.


Anyways, something got into the website. It was caught immediately by my hosting company, and after a little work, it’s all cleaned up. To be clear, I don’t store any customer financial information on my website. I designed it that way from the very beginning cuz I didn’t want to worry about exactly this. What is stored are emails and whatever name you may have signed up with, so if you used a nickname/alias on the site and find it being used as a greeting in an email to phish your info, yeah, that could potentially be from my site. There isn’t actually any indication that information was taken, but I just want to be upfront about it all just in case.

I’ve increased security, found the exploit used to get into the site and updated/patched. Restored a later version of the database so apologies for the comments lost. I guess it was a known issue with the software so the company had a patch ready. Recoded most of the website just to ensure potentials would no longer be potential. Uh, oh, and I got rid of all the free members—all the free stuff is no longer behind a login. I just added a disclaimer, cuz really, there were too many 1 time logins and I guess people just weren’t bothering to find the email with the password they set. @[email protected] Make shit easy for everyone.

But, in cleaning up the member list, I might have accidentally deleted expired users who weren’t actually expired. The subscription software does this thing where it doesn’t update the expiration date if you let the membership expire and then pay later—it’s been an issue from the beginning and very frustrating to catch it happening. So if you’re a member and you can’t login, contact me immediately! That shit can be fixed in seconds. I just verify with Paypal and it’s done. Do not be quiet about this cuz the guilt will fucking kill me. (Don’t kill me. Don’t be that douche. Speak up! XD)

I need an escape

So I left the ER where I spent Saturday with an antibiotic for an infected tooth. I should have gotten the fucking thing pulled the first time around, but I was just enjoying life too much and cockily assuming it wouldn’t hit again. >_< I’ve learned. My fuck, the pain of the last few days. The mold has been killing me. The tooth inflames and screams in pain every time I breathe the wrong thing in. I’ve been living with ice in my mouth and pressed on my neck to keep the swelling down. What a mess. I finally got some sleep wrapped up in the car (got this amazing blanket that doesn’t set me off like the others ones do. What a relief.)

I think after this very stressful half of week of coding like a mofo, I’m going to find a good, sexy book to read for Sunday, and hopefully solve this pain thing. I’m grateful it hasn’t gotten as bad to have the multiple chemical sensitivity come back, but yeah, I’m scared that’s where it’s leading. =_= But hey, I finally slept during the night instead of day, so win?

With that in mind, a plethora of sexy books. I’m sure something on this list will help me hide for a day or two.

Of Princes False and True

A tennis match? Starting a war between the Duchy of Avann and the Kingdom of the Westlands?

Only in a fairy tale.











Nothing But Trouble

Adrian would be the first to admit that his life has been filled with trouble…












Honey From The Lion

​Soulmates across time. A love that was meant to be.












Remember Tomorrow

When artificial memories are everywhere, how can you tell what’s real?












Greyson Fox

Greyson Fox, the man, the myth, the legend. The highly sought after, self-proclaimed permanent bachelor. Or so the rumor mill goes…












No Way Out

It’s April of 1816 in Another England. And Jeremy—a whore from the Dock—is living in a guest bedroom in the London home of the (in)famous Iron Marquess, with over fifteen days missing from his life.











$0.99 Mated To The Demon Prince

Sean knows what those wicked, hellfire eyes want. Him, on his knees, taking every finger, tongue, tail, and tentacle.

⌛Musings of Mortality, Suffering, and Mercy⏳

Hey, babes

I find myself in mourning. Unexpectedly. The digital age has created this ability to connect with others from so far away. We can meet a person yet never meet them. Know a person and never share their day. Realize only a month after his 30th birthday, you’re never going to hear from him again.

I’m going to be talking about some heavy stuff today, and it’s totally up to you if you want to read it. Sorry I haven’t been posting free and cheap reads lately. The return of the mold has made simple shit feel difficult, and I’m trying to keep most of my focus on writing. I will get back into the swing of it all eventually, promise. I think the weather going cold again is helping. I’ve been updating The Paranormal Academy For Troubled Boys pretty consistently this month (outside of when the mold first jumped me,) and I’m happy it’s flowing so well.

So, yeah. No matter how heavy the stuff is below, it’s important to remember thoughts aren’t reality, and I am very happy living no matter the circumstances. I go into suffering, suicide, and transformation today. I find it to be cathartic at a time like this for me and want to share that, but it’s important to know others don’t find comfort but more pain when bringing up these subjects. I get it and it’s okay.


There aren’t a lot of people who can hold a conversation with me. Even fewer who can look past my strong opinions, blunt nature, and very rough angles for long. Online, I talk about topics that offend most people, in a manner that also offends, and few dare to jump in to discuss. Wade Hartley was one of those rare gems who jumped in, and damn, how sad it is to lose him.

I think it was because of those touchy, combustible topics that I felt so close to him, because it required such raw honesty and a total lack of shields to get through. You can’t challenge the established disorder and have your sense of identity get in the way. It requires a stripping of all those trappings to really sink into a concept and try to suss it out. It’s easy to feel bruised in conversations like that, like you’re battling instead of exploring, being pushed down instead of someone just trying to understand a new concept. I don’t know if you realize it, but there are a lot of people arguing on the Internet while others assumed they were having conversations. Jumping into such a potentially volatile atmosphere while promising to not make it about the bruises you feel to your ego takes a bravery few have.

Most people passed us by with scornful anger and mumbles of rules and morality, terrified to even glance into that part of their mind. It required a fearlessness, as does facing death and shaking hands.

Talking with Wade was a freedom few people can offer, a lack of judgment and a way to learn to stop judging, stop expecting, and just accept. And that is the ultimate kindness Wade’s memory has given me. I can accept his choice even if I don’t agree with it, the same way we accepted each other’s strong opinions even though we didn’t always share them. I still battle what will be while he embraced it on his terms. And yes, even though I feel sorrow, I’m also joyful he found whatever level of acceptance he needed to release himself from the torture of existence.

We want life to be sacred, to mean something, to be valuable and counted even as it’s a mere blip in the eternal void of the universe. When we raise life up on some sacred altar, we lose sight of the actual living. Life is mundane, concrete, simple pleasures mixed with daily work and sometimes deep thoughts that feel bigger than reality. Our minds know no bounds even when our bodies find limitation after limitation. It takes a certain bravery to expand your mind so freely, to be giant inside a contained, fragile shell while the mere concept of mortality can push the strongest mind toward insanity. And in all minds there can be a depth of pain and suffering that feels limitless and without end.

While so many slipped away, unable to see the pain and agony of life as I experienced it battling mortality, PTSD, mold toxicity, and an existence where fairness is merely a concept, Wade didn’t look away. And that really should have been knowledge enough, because most shy from brutal reality while the ones who have suffered long enough see and accept and understand. They see the beautiful humanity within and reach, unafraid to fall into the darkness of despair. They have lived there too and offer comfort in companionship.

That is all we have for each other: each other. There are no answers, though always many questions. But when there is that darkness and despair, there is at least another—many others—out there who know, who feel, and somehow it is a little easier.


As sentient, self aware beings who fear the inevitable end, we cling to the memory of how we perceive the people around us. This is the honoring we have for those brave souls we meet as we go forward another day. There is a hope to preserve that beautiful light snuffed out that makes us less alone in this arduous journey. We offer immortality of a person in our minds while our bodies continue to exist in this concrete world alone, aging, deteriorating, counting down to an end we must all face but few can dare to look at and see and embrace. We choose if we feel sorrow so deep to drown in, or love and compassion every time we touch upon the memory of a person. We choose to feel, to react, and be changed by those memories instead of still and unmoved by the intangible.

Many battle with reality, deny it because when you cannot change the concrete you feel empowered to at least deny what is. But there are the rare, the brave who will accept, and love with great gratitude what is, and release the suffering others cling to. When we can accept that suffering isn’t required to live, perhaps as a society we might learn to finally live without suffering instead of seeking to escape such pain at all costs. That is my hope for all and where my sorrow lies when I remember Wade.

I wish he could have lived without suffering, but at the same time, it was his suffering that allowed him to reach out and connect with others who were otherwise overlooked and discarded. I see those who suffer, and they desire to be seen, known, valued for who they are and not for the circumstances that distort them. Inside, we are all worthy, and what a cruelness of our insane minds to ever consider otherwise. Wade and I might have never recognized each other if not for a familiar pain, so even in suffering there is gratitude and acceptance and a little less loneliness.

We can choose to be unmoved or we can reach out and connect, seeking that lifespark and base understanding no matter how imperfect the playing field and events of life may be. We can have the bravery to be known and to find others who accept us even when some struggle to accept who they themselves are. It is a gift for the brave who endure the cruel, careless imperfections of life and dare to let their shields fall away anyways. We have learned nothing can ever hurt us more than how we hurt ourselves in our minds.


There is a theme in my writing you may have noticed. Suffering leads to transformation. It is a belief I’ve held for a lifetime before I could even truly perceive or voice it.

I don’t talk about my past suffering much—you hear terms from me like mold toxicity or pain or disability or brain fog, but I don’t really call it suffering because on that level, it is not. Depression is such a meaningless word to me. As someone who had it for over 10 years straight, I never recognized depression on those television commercials selling antidepressants. Feeling ‘blue,’ or just tired, down, unsocial. I had depression during a time in my life when I didn’t even know the word depression, and it wasn’t blue; it was insanity. Agitated depression. Anxiety. PTSD. Symptoms confused for bipolar with ups and downs, but never really ups, just fresh energy and an amazing level of disassociation. Life was behind a veil, a veil that could never lift. A death shroud that colored everything, and although I could tell it was there, distorting life, no amount of fighting with it ever really set me free.

When I was living in my adoptive family’s house from the age of 13, to around the age of 26 when I finally left that place, I was in severe, debilitating mental anguish. It was something that grew worse and worse the more the years passed. It turned out to be sourced in the mold that had taken over the basement my bedroom was located in from water flooding in every season, and beneath that, untreated PTSD from a trauma that happened at the age of 3. How I knew reality wasn’t by mold or clinical terms, but by insanity, and despair, and a certainty that death surely would be a better way to exist than to continue as I was.

It was all I knew for years. No one could help me. My days were spent existing for others, watching the ones I loved the most dying while pretending I was human outside that house. During high school I cared for my mother, who eventually died of cancer soon after I graduated. Then there was college, which I left when my father got dementia and eventually died of kidney failure. After that I found the household I was in suddenly abusive, dangerous, filled with the trash of a hoarder and someone with a violent temper and I didn’t know how to escape. No one could understand what was happening in my head—I could barely express the torment, the decay of norms and joy and life I could only remember. I was too broken to help myself outside of coping every day by creating art and trying to bring some order to these very broken adults around me. It was my normal until some form of self preservation kicked in enough and I got the fuck out and started living life for myself.

When you hear about the last, what, seven? years of my life when I started writing in my previous apartment, where I was bed bound from the mold toxicity, not knowing the source, certain death was coming because of the inability to move, the Parkinson symptoms, the brain confusion and damage, the insomnia mixed with absolute exhaustion, those years were so different compared to my years suffering in my first house. The pain was less, the distress was less, the wish to die wasn’t there. It was like being a victim of torture only to find myself being slowly suffocated this time around. Even though it was a fresh hell, I was not alone. I understood the mental anguish, sank into the realization it wasn’t forever, and I was surrounded by loved ones who understood it too.

The main difference was, I wasn’t depressed. I don’t know if depression is ‘blue’ for other people. I don’t know if what I felt was unique. All I know is a doctor diagnosed what I was going through back then as chronic depression and agitated depression, and as I knew it to be, it was a festering torment on the mind that changed me into something less than until something even baser awoke in me to break me out.

I survived that first moldy house and the insanity it created in me that I perceived as real. I couldn’t discern being inflicted with a mental illness but that I was a mental illness and nothing more. I survived out of spite, out of instinct, out of a greater fear of death than of pain. I became a creature that had value in creating, and someone who sought value in others, in people and their intriguing psyches, and eventually, I became a human again when I saw that value in me. It was a transformation—one I never sought but had to experience—and it grew me into a being far more empowered and in love with the world and those around me than who I was when I started.

Now when I survive, it’s for that, for others, for understanding, for the belief that the futility of the inevitable should never stop this moment now from being the best it can be. And no, I hold no ill will, no anger, no disdain for anyone who decides to step forward on their own and plummet into the inevitable darkness of death. I understand it too well to ever condemn anyone for such a choice, even though I do feel sorrow to know the suffering they must feel to push them there. I want everyone to find the relief I eventually did find, all those glowing moments that made and continue to make my life worth hanging around for.


Who are we to decide the form? I don’t know if there is a more beautiful concept than the ending of suffering: a mercy, a forgiveness, a release. But that mercy can’t happen without suffering to occur first. We cannot be saved without being lost. Sometimes the most wonderful kindnesses can only exist because of the worst of conflicts.

Ego death was my most recent mercy, and I truly believe I will never suffer the way I ever did in the past because of it. Even the extreme pain in my body and brain these last months fighting the sudden infestation of mold in the house we’re renting and living out of my car was not a suffering, but a clean pain of life without the emotional torment and torture and rot that can occur when I lose track of reality and get caged in my mind. The cage isn’t there anymore, just forgiveness and understanding, and a very bad habit of thought pattern to want that cage to hide in.

Learning to let go of suffering is the greatest gift you can give yourself. I don’t know if it’s something that can be taught, but fuck, I truly hope it is. In the end it’s a journey a person takes on their own, but guides are there to point the way. We remain. Not all of us, but we remain and are replaced because this is not unique. This is humanity the only way I have every known it to be. We suffer and transform and we live on the brink of inevitable.

It’s okay to be who you are, babes. It’s okay to hurt, and it’s okay to let the hurt go. It’s okay to not be alone anymore and to learn to love yourself. There is no wrong in how you choose to live, but there can be great rewards when you do seek to live your life in bravery and accept those bruises as they come. It’s worth it to meet someone new, or someone strangely familiar, to learn what can be learned, and find a little more truth inside.

It’s okay to despair and know you weren’t the first, and you won’t be the last, and nothing will ever be forever. The mortality of all living forms can be just as merciful as the eternity we can experience in our sweetest thoughts.

It’s okay to be okay. I promise. You still remain even when the suffering is gone.


You Ever Wonder How Books Make Money

Hey, Babes,

Hmm, so another different newsletter this week only cuz my brain is on fire… mostly metaphorically. I could spend my time talking about all the fucking injustice in my little slice of the world (mostly what I focus on when not writing but I know how oppressively unhappy politics can leave people.) Or I could talk about the mold that has taken over my neighborhood this week. Like, it’s a cloud of spores every time I drive near the house and the rest of the surrounding area isn’t much better. But that just depresses the fuck out of me because I have no idea if and when it will improve. My heart is set to hummingbird, blood pressure is in the pits, and everything hurts. I was in the house for a good couple of week, writing consistently, brain working gloriously, etc, but now it’s back to being in the car seeking little spots of relief.

But hey, I got a car and can find places that don’t kill me too much, and I just got to wait it out. The town where I used to work basically blew up from a giant gas disaster (40 houses on fire) so that was intense and there are a bunch of people without homes in eastern Massachusetts because of it. Mold doesn’t look so bad atm. So I’m talking business strategies today, cuz that’s where my brain is to avoid those other topics. (Ah, avoidance. Such bliss XD) Also, I like this kind of stuff: pattern recognition, problem solving, cause and effect, trial and error, etc. It’s cool beans.

Strategizing a new sales model—aka, a peek into my brain

I hopped onto my Book Report page for the first time in a while (I’ve been ignoring a lot of this shit so I can just focus on writing and getting healthy) and got some interesting numbers with my Amazon sales. For those who don’t know what Book Report is, it’s an app that allows you to view your Amazon book sales and page reads and break it down in a gazillion different ways to understand what is selling and what’s not.

So, the numbers were revealing. Out of 48 books, 6 of them were making over 77% of my Amazon income. Intense. That means I have 42 books just sitting there barely making money. What a waste.

So, a couple main thoughts this resulted in: what is similar about these 6 books, how do these 6 books brand me as an author, and how do I get those other 42 books to start making money? Here’s my breakdown.

1) What do these 6 books have in common?

To figure out why these books are a success, we need to look at a few different aspects of what makes them similar. These aspects aren’t what an outsider to selling books might automatically think. You might be asking questions like how good is the story, or the characters personality, or did each one totally have a quirky best friend; or you might want to know if it’s a horror MM verse a romantic MM. Unfortunately, it’s rarely so deep when it comes to writing. The genre plays a roll, but you need to take into account things like cover design, blurb writing, Amazon algorithms, length, etc. Some examples.

  • 3 of these books were KU (kindle unlimited) reads. Hellcat, Demon Bonded #11, and Taken By Beasts. These are my only books enrolled in KU, and they’re already at the top of the income pile. Be it algorithms or just readers unwilling to throw down cash outside of KU when on Amazon, this program generates income.
  • 4 of these books are either bundles or collections: Taken By Beasts, Demencious Saga, Apprentice Saga, and Bullying Teacher: the complete serial.
  • 5 of these books are between 60,000-100,000 words
  • All of them have newer covers verse my old, moldy style
  • 4 have newer blurbs with an understanding of genre copy-writing
  • 4 have been extensively edited, or written originally in my mold free style, aka, quality of writing is better
  • 5 books are paranormal, with Bullying Teacher being the odd man contemporary title out
  • All of these books are high heat
  • Demencious Saga and Apprentice Saga are books previously to my most recently released Demon Bonded book #11. It’s known that books just released in KU get about a month of a ranking boost before a different set of algorithms kick in, meaning all 3 could be a fluke to watch for.

2) If I had a smaller catalog of books on Amazon, would it be easier for new readers to find these 6 books that are already drawing the most attention? What kind of ‘brand’ am I presenting right now, and would it be improved by only having these 6 books on Amazon instead?

This is a question I’ve been poking at for about 2 years when I realized just how much my brain had been impaired by the mold. And even if it hadn’t been an illness at the root, I think it’s a good question for any author to ask after a few years of self-publishing. What are you presenting to your audience, and is that message clear? When someone sees your name on a book, do they already know what that book is going to be about? Do your stories have a consistency of genre/trope, quality, subject matter, etc?

For the varied author, this might be a terrifying question. What, I’m supposed to only write one type of book? If you enjoy writing a variety of topics, no, but if you’re looking to create an income off your books, fuck yeah. Consistency is important. What do you think of when you hear names like Anne Rice, Stephen King, Nora Roberts, RR. Martin, J.K. Rowling, Diane Steele, James Patterson? If you’re familiar with these main stream authors, you immediately think of the ‘type’ of book they write. The genre, be it horror, romance, political intrigue, vampires to wizards to castles and assassins. If J.K. Rowling came out with a contemporary romance in the modern world, wouldn’t you be confused as fuck? If she did decide to write a book like that, it would be smarter to put that book under a completely different pen name so she wouldn’t water down her wizard brand. Otherwise, you might pick up that new book and wonder why there are so many wizards in the rest of her books.

So yeah, here I am looking at my catalog of books asking myself, what am I selling to people as an author, and is that message clear? Not only that, is what I’m selling what I want to be writing?

Books like Hellcat, The Paranormal Academy for Troubled Boys, and Demon Bonded are series I want to write. I wake up thinking about them, plotting them, wondering what those characters are going to do next. And the shorter fics that you find in Taken By Beasts? I enjoy making those even if I don’t usually write them in groups but once in a while between novels. As for Bullying Teacher, I love everything about that book from the high heat to dirty sex, but I don’t like contemporary fics the same way I do paranormal. I don’t like having to make everything feel ‘real’ which is why that book is still such an exaggeration (which probably makes it less believable, but fuck it, real life isn’t that interesting.) So yeah, I can at least say I 100% enjoy writing the books that are selling.

But the other question, is the message of what I write clear? That’s much harder to discern (aka, probably not clear at all.) The genre/trope of dubcon and paranormal are pretty strong themes but other things like consistency in quality and plot are not. Being sick did not allow me to really grow as a writer but just write to escape thoughts of being sick. What I thought was good enough back then isn’t remotely so now that I’m healthy. As a writer, do I want to be known as someone who has interesting ideas but doesn’t follow through, doesn’t push to make a complicated story that really satisfies? Do I want to be known as the author who can’t be assed to edit and ensure every sentence actually makes sense? I’ve tried to read some of my first published books, and my fuck, I don’t even understand what I was trying to say sometimes. (looking at you, Blackthorne @[email protected]) It’s not pretty.

3) How do I get the other 42 books to make me money?

Now, if I was any other author, this would be a question of do I continue to sell the old books, remove them permanently, or edit them and then try to sell them? Do I seek out other platforms and go wide (put my books everywhere you can) and see if that draws in an audience of new readers? Which made me ask very bluntly: has going wide done anything positive for me?

No. I don’t know how to rank on other platforms outside of Amazon, and the platforms themselves have a poor algorithm and SEO set up. I don’t want to do the work to climb to the top of those platforms, especially when it’s much harder to even gain a foothold without those algorithm aspects. I think I made a little less than $100 a month on my books total on other platforms. These platforms can’t compete with Amazon—that fucking monopoly is taking over everyone, let’s not pretend, and KU is part of the problem. But fuck, I want to make money so I’m going to feed the beast for now.

But I have an option most authors don’t take, and that’s the subscription site. Something I realized I haven’t been putting center. The subscription site is how I can make those 42 books generate income while keeping them from watering down the quality of my brand, and stupid me, I was competing against that subscription site by putting those books on other platforms instead of making it so the only way to find them was on the site.

Which leads me to the key: Exclusivity

It goes against the grain as a writer, lol, but so do a lot of marketing strategies. For example, free books. Free books are the quickest way to get people on your mailing list and notice that you exist (at least before Instafreebie started making free so redundant people hoard those digital files and will never have enough time to read them all.) But there are so many authors terrified of giving their work away. They don’t see it as fishing for new readers, but just throwing their hard work away, and because of it, they don’t take the risk and they don’t get noticed.

In the same way, exclusivity on one site instead of spreading your books out everywhere to find as many eyes as possible seems risky, potentially suicidal. How will people find you? Well, through Amazon. Because that’s where most readers find you anyways because it is so fucking hard to compete against that corporate giant. The readers are already there, so that’s where you seek them out.

It helps that those in the KU program already understand the idea of a subscription service. Will they all think that my small number of books is worth the same cost as the thousands of books in KU? Probably not. But the ones who enjoy my type of writing, the genre, the tropes, will be interested enough to give it a month and see. And if they like the new stuff coming out, they may stay.

Crafting a new strategy

So, after I went through all those questions above, I came up with a new strategy I’m going to be focusing on for the next year. The two main goals of this strategy is to

  1. create books that work for the KU program which will push views, ranking, and ideally sales
  2. ensure the subscription site is utilizing all those books of exclusive content to the best of its ability
  3. make sure I focus on branding for both sites

For part 1, it’s about taking those aspects that work in KU and focusing on them. This includes longer stories and bundles. So, if I wanted to have Heat in KU, I would make sure I bundled it with its sequel, Bite, maybe even Feral if I have it written by that time. This would allow for more pages to be read, pushing more income out of one sale instead of the hope the reader would seek out the sequels and read those too.

KU allows for a different strategy in this regard compared to selling book by book. When you’re selling pages, you want as many pages there to be read instead of leaving it up to the reader to seek out the rest of the pages in another book. Make things easy for your reader and give them everything up front. This would also mean rewriting and editing the fuck out of Heat and Bite to ensure my writing is cohesive and at a quality that could sit side by side on the shelf with a book like Hellcat, which is high heat, novel length, and has a cohesive plot that’s well edited.

For part 2, I want to go into creating an exclusive feel to the website and that content. I want to push that there are books to be read that you can’t get anywhere else, and while you’re waiting for me to finish a novel, you can read this too. I need to convey to readers the value of this content, a value that has just gone up if it can’t be found elsewhere. This also means working on my sales funnel and ensuring that my ads in the back of books are pulling people where they need to go.

Part 3, is two fold, and should be thought out on all the different levels. Branding might seem like one of those buzz words, but it matters big time. I want my main series to be my brand on Amazon. When someone picks up a Sadie Sins book there, I want them to think, oh, like Demon Arms, or Mated to the Demon Prince, or Demon Bonded. That’s my goal of a brand on Amazon, those 3 main series going forward. That means those series have to be front and center, be of the highest quality writing I have, covers and blurbs must be exemplary, and the books that are shown side by side with them need to have elements that reflect those series.

Branding for the website, though? Oh, we’re pushing the hardcore erotica and taboo nature of my books you can’t find elsewhere. Not only is it exclusive, but it’s super naughty, and way too hot for Amazon. It’s the idea that these books, if left out in the public, could somehow bring the world crumbling down (or so those shame based censors would have us all believe when it comes to erotica. XD) I want to use that not as a reason to hide my books, but as a reason for readers to come find my dangerous books. Selling sin, basically. <3

Sales Funnels

I mentioned this when it came to the website, and I want to expand because if you’re selling something on the Internet, you need to understand what a sales funnel is.

You ever see those totally transparent, kinda sleazy blog posts where someone is saying how much they love a product, it helped them after they had this terrible problem (let’s say it’s a weight loss product,) and hey, if you have trouble losing weight too, you should BUY NOW!!! In bright link letter and giant font? Yeah, that’s a sales funnel of the most obvious type. I’m not judging sales funnels (they’re a structure while it’s up to the user to decide if it’s used for good or evil,) I’m just giving you an example that I think we’ve all come across where it doesn’t feel like the end goal is to actually give the reader of that blog a solution to their problem, but just put some cash into the blogger’s pocket

Sale Funnels are all about conversion. Grabbing as many eyes as you can, pulling in the ones interested, and leading them to the end. Cuz I study other authors and marketing, I’ve watched as some authors push certain marketing books in other people’s newsletters with the intent to sell a how to market, or how to brand, or how to write—or breath through your fucking nose and hop on a leg—e course at the end of that sales funnel. I saw an annoyingly transparent sales funnel for one of those master classes (I get the ads on Facebook all the time cuz Facebook knows I’m a writer) where another author claimed to have taken the Master Class of the author in question, and how it was worth the time, etc. Sales funnels may come in different shapes and sizes, might stretch across different areas and employ many strategies, but the goal is still always the same, to get people to the end of the funnel.

So, for myself, when I’m putting books up on Amazon, my end goal is not to make a fuck ton of money there because I had a bestseller (don’t get me wrong, that would be fucking awesome XD) but more, my end goal is to put out work that a certain group of people will enjoy consistently enough to want to see what else I write and invest their free time, and their money, in reading what I write. Instead of directing them towards my back catalog of books on Amazon, I would instead be directing them to that back catalog on my website where they can also get my taboo fiction they never would have had an opportunity to find on Amazon. It’s important that I’m putting my best work forward in that regard with those Amazon books, and creating a brand that promises to continue that quality when you come back to the site.

So when I say authors don’t understand the value of a free book, that’s because they don’t understand a sales funnel. That free book is at the top of the funnel, drawing potential readers in to fall in love with your stories and invest in you as a writer. Instafreebie is great for that, as well as Goodreads giveaways. When you have a blurb at the back of your book telling people about books they haven’t read yet, that’s part of a sales funnel. When you get your book in other author’s newsletters, that’s part of the sales funnel. My newsletter is part of my sales funnel where I might not even be advertising my books, but you’re seeing how I write, and that might interest you enough to pick up one of my books. Every free book on my website is part of a sales funnel where my hope is the reader will invest and want to stay and grow with my books.

I guess I don’t think of my sales funnel as sleazy because I know that it involves me keeping a promise to readers and to myself. That’s not just of quality editing and stuff, but of being committed to what I do, to taking the time to make the story the best I can, and knowing I’m not going to grow bored and run off and never finish a story or some shit. If my end goal was to sell a book, that would be when it all ends. An exchange of cash for story, but by making the focus about building a readership that wants to grow with my stories, I’m promising those stories will be there to grow with. I wish I could have started off healthy, that I could have made that promise look far more stable in the beginning, you know? As a sales pitch, that would have kept people invested. But reality is not a sales pitch, and all we have is reality at the end of the day in all it’s imperfectionism.

Complicated or clear?

I love this kind of shit because of the intellectual challenge. Patterns, structures, and then all the trial and error as you find out what works and what doesn’t. Whether I’m actually good at it? Eh.

So I just removed those 42 (or nearly) books from Amazon and I’m already seeing the KU sales fill in the income those other books brought in, as well as exceed it. Will it hold once Demon Bonded #11 loses it’s algorithm push? No clue. I haven’t been doing any advertising or cross-promotion lately, just playing with Amazon atm. I’d say it was just because of the experiment, but really, I’m so lazy about this kind of shit. =_= I’m looking to create a system where once it’s set up, I don’t have to fuck around with it. I can just add new content, publish books, and the system perpetuates itself. It’s like building a house around my books in the hopes that I can keep the writing process and my income completely stable. But first I have to make a system that works, that sells, and you know, I should probably advertise. >_>

If Amazon tanks, or the KU program fucks up and refuses to count pages again, or maybe they change it all completely again, my system would have to change to adapt. If Amazon decides to censor all mm fiction or says my books cross their acceptable line, again, the system would need to change. It’s always good to reevaluate and question your strategy for this kind of thing anyways, cuz just because something is working doesn’t mean it can’t be better, too.

So, yeah, there’s an inside look at some of the things I do to sell books. I find it all really fascinating <3 (I’m a nerd, sorry. XD) But hey, if you’re interested in understanding how some things on the Internet make money, this might be interesting to you as well. Nothing wrong with making a living.

Hope everyone is safe during this crazy hurricane season. Peace, babes.

Sneak Peak At Theodore From Demon Arms

Hey, peeps ^^

So I caught a cold this weekend. It’s dragging at me but so far I’m doing alright. Found myself at a party Saturday discussing Internet economics to politics to PTSD (because no, I don’t give a fuck about your kids) and somehow it’s Sunday night—Monday morning—and I’ve just slept the weekend away. So, for this week’s newsletter, I’m doing something random. I’m sharing my stuffed mushroom recipe that I just made cuz I wanted some decadent stuffed mushrooms (but are gluten, egg, and mold free unlike the ones at that party,) and I’m going to give you a sneak peek into the Demon Arms rewrite.

Now that my brain is, you know, ‘functioning’ XD I wanted to rewrite Demon Arms to ensure it matches the many novels that are to follow. The other novels do a lot of character changes as we go along. We see different aspects through different characters because these peeps are hanging around long term and even if their love story isn’t in the particular novel of the moment, they will be later. I wanted a kind of soap opera/community feel with the Academy guys. Which means, the dual perspective in Demon Arms needed some expanding. Which means, we need some grumpy as fuck Theo!

Wylie is never really going to know the shit Theodore goes through to ensure he isn’t picked off by sorcerers the moment he ends up in jail, but the readers are now going to get a clue. I love Theo, and I think he’s the perfect Academy caretaker to really feature for Demon Arms, cuz hey, dragon buddies. <3

But first, a recipe of delicious decadence

It’s one of my favs; Paleo, no carb, high fat, and perfect now that the weather is getting cold where I am—aka 3 days ago it was a heat wave and too hot to turn the oven on and now it’s cold and autumn. @[email protected] And just so we’re clear, I’m not someone who really ‘sticks’ to recipes. I change shit up when I have different stuff on hand, so this is all adjustable. I like diced kalamata olives instead of the crab, feta instead of goat cheese, scallions, almond meal for a little crunch, that sort of thing. It’s all good. Oh, and the love of my life can’t stand the texture of mushrooms, so this stuff does make a great dip too. I’ve made different versions all at the same time just to switch things up too. Stuffed mushrooms can be time consuming, so it’s nice to play when you do take the time.

  • 1 Vidalia onion, chopped finely
  • 6 cloves of garlic, minced
  • 1 pound of bacon, crumbled
  • 8 ounces of goat cheese, crumbled
  • 1 can of crab meat
  • 1/2 stick of butter
  • 2-4 packages of baby bello mushrooms, washed with stems removed (I use the baby bellos cuz I like the mushroom/stuffing ratio better this way, and they’re damn filling, but your choice.)
  • Salt, pepper, whatever seasoning you prefer. (I usually just salt stuff cuz of my mold allergy, but I’m sure there are a million ways to add some extra zing.)


Cook and crumble bacon once cool (I cut it for ease.) Melt butter in a pan and saute onions and garlic together. While that’s cooking, mix the goat cheese with the crab meat and bacon in a large bowl. Then slowly mix in the onion and garlic that’s still hot/warm from the stove so the cheese melts down. Prep mushrooms, and preheat the oven to 350 F. Stuff the mushrooms with a small spoon (I pile it on high) and place on a buttered pan or oven safe casserole dish. Once the oven is preheated, pop the mushrooms in, and if you have an oven safe bowl, put any leftover stuffing in there to make a nice dip. Cook for @25-30 minutes until the tops are browned, and voila! Deliciousness! <3

An unedited sneak peak into the Demon Arms rewrite, aka, a peek at Theo being, er, homicidally emotional…

The October morning was just gaining heat when Theodore stalked out of the police station. The sidewalk was empty of everything but slowly dispersing mist, and the side street the station was located on was free of any Thursday morning commuters.

Redham was the suburb over from the sparsely populated town Collin had chosen to build his house. The police district covered the entire area, but were more used to dealing with traffic accidents and personal property damage than anything paranormal. The peaceful streets and friendly faces of the town had the opposite of a calming effect on Theodore as he sought a place free of interruption. Everywhere he looked, he saw only potential victims and gaps in security so wide, there would be no way to effectively fill them.

Theodore had arrived the moment the station allowed visitors in, but not before a sleepless eight hours as he and his colleagues worked to keep Collin McPherson alive. He was tired, cranky, and more than aware his magic was not responding as it should. The young man who was following doggedly after him was proof of that.

Theodore eyed the police intern as he paused by a decorative, black metal gate and patted down the pockets of his long coat. The intern stopped short when Theodore did and held out a plastic wrapped sandwich in offering. He couldn’t have been older than twenty and had a hopeful shine in his eyes that refused to fade no matter how much Theodore scowled.

“Get lost,” Theodore ordered.

The intern whimpered and knelt down on the concrete sidewalk. Theodore rolled his eyes when the man lifted the sandwich above his head and held it out like a ritual sacrifice.

“Damn it.” Theodore sighed heavily and did his best not to make eye contact. Short of spelling the guy to fuck off, there wasn’t much he could do. Hexing a human in broad daylight right outside a police station probably wasn’t the smartest of moves, even if he was seriously contemplating it. His power was fluctuating from all the stress of this insane situation. Although he’d only been there less than an hour, Theodore was already fed up with having to socialize with so many people. He hated people.

Theodore dug through his coat pockets while muttering under his breath each time he failed to find his goal. He only wore the long, black despoiler jacket when he was in the mood for battle, and the many hidden openings within the layers of fabric had saved his life more than he could count. In his current mindset and with only the basic of tasks required, Theodore discovered having so many pockets to be annoying as fuck.

He patted through a multitude of daggers, razors, wands, and a small sword made of diamond the metal detectors always failed to notice; vials of poisons, sedatives, excitatives, hallucinogenics, paralyzers, purifiers, and anesthetics all in uniquely shaped bottles just in case his sight was impaired; wards for all occasions, mostly for the killing and shielding kind; and deadly, impossibly strong wires and nets, some so thin they were nearly invisible to the human eye. His fingers caressed a particularly painful but nonlethal weapon the same moment he looked at the intern still kneeling like a fool. Theodore resisted the urge to see what a swarm of metal chiggers—spelled to burrow into the thickest of pelts and cause excruciating pain short term, and insanity long term—might do to human skin.

“Found you.” Theodore smiled grimly as he slipped his fingers free from his breast pocket and withdrew a slim, gold compact that fit into his palm. He clicked it open with his thumb and revealed an ordinary, circular mirror within. “Show me Michael Whiteheart.”

In seconds, his reflection faded and the mirrored glass grew misty. Theodore tapped his foot impatiently as the seconds ticked by. He glared down at his handmade, goatskin shoes dyed the color of blood with a shine so bright he could see his own reflection. They went with the suit, a bespoke number he had tailored to ensure he could move naturally—and more importantly, unnaturally—without destroying his clothes while also remaining professional in appearance. He’d once taken out an assassin and only had a wrinkle in the left pant leg to show for it, even with all the blood.

There was a soft whimper and Theodore glared sideways. The intern was still trying to entice him with the disgusting, premade sandwich riddled with carbs. He might have missed breakfast, but he was hardly desperate.

Theodore fixed his attention back to the mirror when a man’s face began to appear. He had a square jaw, strong, Roman nose, and piercing blue eyes that were currently sharp with agitation. “Michael,” Theodore greeted simply.

“Sorry for the delay. The guys are off the walls this morning. They know something is up but haven’t gotten wind of the details yet.” Michael’s eyes darted up, and by his exasperated expression and the sound of something crashing in the distance, he was still at the Academy. “Did you find our shifter punk?”

Theodore nodded and looked around to make sure he wasn’t being overheard. He scowled at the intern and turned fully. With a few quick words, he spelled up a cone of magic around him to absorb any vibration of the air and prevent sound from escaping. “Collin was right. The kid’s a dragon.”

“Fuck,” Michael growled. The mirror immediately emptied of his face, and Theodore was left to stare at a curtained window dripping in green and purple ivy while he listened to Michael rummage through his office for something.

“I got a call back from Doe’s detention house in West Bristol,” Michael explained. “He’s flagged. They’re going to have him on a bus to Daiker by this evening. I think my questions must have tipped someone off, because when I last checked, the Redhem cops hadn’t even classified him.”

Theodore pursed his lips and ignored the growing urge to walk the perimeter of the station and ensure it was free of danger. “It was only a matter of time,” he reminded gruffly. “Once the Lifecare paramedics identified the mark, we both knew it would be less than 24 hours before someone came around looking for dragon blood. Right now, Doe is in the safest cell this backwater precinct has until I can get him out of this death trap.” Theodore glanced over his shoulder at the intern and shook his head in disgust. “This place is a joke. They have no defenses in place that can impeded a sorcerer of our caliber.”

Michael reappeared in the mirror with his golden curls of hair askew. He squinted at something behind Theodore. “Who’s your friend?”

Theodore grimaced and moved the compact so Michael had a clear view of the kneeling intern. “They really need to work on their hiring process. He has no magical shielding, and I can’t shake him.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and focused on Theodore’s defensive expression. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Theodore muttered. Michael’s eyes bored into him and Theodore avoided his gaze.

“Here, pass me over,” Michael said abruptly. “I’ll take care of him.”

Theodore scowled at the idea of having to get that close to the intern. “Fine,” he huffed. He took down the sound dampening spell with a wave of his hand, and turned on his heel. The intern had his head down, and his arms were shaking from the strain of holding his hands above his head for so long. Theodore shook his head at the stupidity of it all and pointed to the spot right in front of his shoes.

“You. Come here. No, put down the disgusting sandwich.” Theodore held his hand up warningly when the intern jumped up and rushed toward him. “Small steps. Touch me and I’ll decapitate you.”

It was clearly a strain for the young man, and Theodore watched his every movement warily. The last time he lost control of his allure like this, he ended up with three very rude sets of hands trying to tear his clothes off.

“No, don’t kneel,” Michael said quickly when the intern stopped in front of Theodore. “Come on, Theo. Hand me over, then walk away. You know how your power gets.”

Theodore rolled his eyes but did as Michael asked. He placed the compact into the intern’s hands, who immediately held it close to his heart like it was a precious gift. Theodore took two steps back, and held his finger up when the intern went to follow. “No. Stay. Listen to him, That’s an order.”

Theodore stepped swiftly down the sidewalk, his ears straining to hear what Michael was saying. Michael, as usual, was unbearably calm and compassionate when it came to the magically enthralled.

“Greg, was it? I don’t think you can tell what you’re doing right now, so I thought I’d help you understand the situation you’re in. You see, you’re stalking my associate.”

“Wait, what? He loves me. I mean, well… What?”

“Yeah, I get that you believe that, but you don’t even know his name, right? He definitely doesn’t know yours. Can you remember when you first met him?”

“Uh… I saw him. He was walking down a hall and… and he left. I didn’t want him to leave.”

“Idiot,” Theodore muttered down at the leaves scattered on the pavement. “Stupid, punk idiot.”

“Yeah, not really something to build a relationship off of,” Michael said cheerfully. “The thing is, Greg, you’re coming on really strong, and my associate is starting to feel uncomfortable. You don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, right?”

“No, I… what? Who are you?”

“Let’s go for a walk, Greg. Turn, and start walking. In a few blocks, you’re going to start seeing things more clearly.”

“But… but he’s…”

“He told you to do as I say. You’re not going to ignore the magic man in the mirror, right, Greg? Come on, let’s go find some coffee.”

“For fuck sake,” Theodore growled when Greg started walking back toward the police station with Michael clutched in his grasp. With a flick of his finger, the compact sailed out of Greg’s hands and landed in Theodore’s palm. “Go!” He pointed down the street. “Get me a coffee from a shop more than four blocks away, then sit there. Do not return to work today.”

The intern blinked owlishly. “What kind…?”

“Black, no sugar. Now!” Theodore barked.

Greg was torn between his unnatural wish to stay in Theodore’s presence and the compulsion to do as he was told. Theodore’s glare won him over, and with a beaming smile, Greg turned and quickly jogged down the street to comply as readily as possible.

Theodore watched him go while wondering what fifty magically enhanced metal burrs would do to human flesh. It was probably irresponsible to not test them out on a human, really…

“Theo, you’re growling,” Michael spoke up from the compact. He draped a tie around his neck and efficiently twisted the knot in place.

Theodore only growled louder, then sighed abruptly. “He’s an idiot.”

“Who, Greg?” Michael shot him a sardonic grin. “You know what your allure does to humans. Hell, you can seriously mess up anyone when you actually try.”

“No, the kid.” Theodore combed fingers through his hair roughly. His scarlet locks fanned out and fell perfectly around his shoulders. “Fuck, he is such a stupid kid. He was joining a gang!”

“Theo, volume.”

Theodore spelled up another sound absorber and didn’t miss a beat. “Do you know how quickly Doe would have been hunted down if anyone in the underworld got wind about the ‘new kid’ who could tear through metal with his bare hands? I saw Collin’s door. Anyone with a fucking brain would know a dragon came through that mess.” Theodore cut his hand through the air in frustration. “If he was spotted even once pulling some kind of shit like that, it would be all over. Dead, he’d be dead! He’s not even an adult, and he’d be fucking dead.”

The compact sparked in his hand. Theodore snarled and glared at Michael, who peered back pointedly.

“Calm down. Your power is growing erratic.” Michael looked around the limited view his vantage gave him. “There are no wards where you are. Don’t make yourself a target by freaking out at the kid being an easy target.”

Theodore opened his mouth to tell Michael off, and his eyes burned with power. “Shit.” He raised his arm to block his gaze from Michael’s view. He took a deliberate, slow breath.

Michael pursed his lips. “You alright?”

“Fine. Pissed off,” Theodore added sharply. He bared his teeth and after a quick look around, stalked over to a maple tree surrounded by a metal grate. He ducked behind it where the bright red and orange leaves hid him from above. “Michael, if Collin hadn’t told us, that kid would already be…”

“But Collin did tell us,” Michael interrupted smoothly. “Even if he hadn’t, either you or I would have seen the healer mark and the door and put it together in moments.”

Theodore huffed up at the leaves above. “Only because you’re listed as Collin’s emergency contact. In one night we nearly lost two. My fuck, I can’t get over that. It was a 911 call, for fuck sake!”

Michael nodded calmly and shrugged into a suit jacket. “Yes, and now they’re allowed to deny service to paranormals. We knew this was coming.”

Theodore gritted his teeth and growled up at the sky. “It’s starting so quickly.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t sooner,” Michael said flatly. “The precedent was set in that court case over a month ago, yet we’re only just seeing the first of private companies ignoring basic human rights for paranormals.”

“Because we’re not human, remember?” Theodore spat bitterly.

“Don’t repeat that disgusting drivel. Paranormals are absolutely human. Everyone should be treated with a basic level of dignity and respect no matter their appearance or abilities.”

“Yeah, good luck convincing the human race who still commits genocide on each other.” Theodore’s eyes sparked with rage. “Same but different might as well be asking to be murdered by these trigger happy, heartless fucks.”

Michael sighed. “Theo, I can’t believe I’m the one saying this to you, of all people, but you need to get your emotions under control. I don’t think I’ve seen you this shook up since, well, since Alex passed away.”

Theodore winced at the mention of his brother. “Don’t.”

Michael frowned sympathetically but didn’t push the subject. “We’re on top of this. Bear is here and he’s promised to stay the night if needed. I’m minutes from meeting with the governor to get Doe transfered. Everything is under control. You just need to keep your cool and remember why you’re there.”

Theodore closed his eyes and took another slow breath. This one seemed to take, and he followed it with a second and a third.

He didn’t want to think of Alexander, or how Wylie Doe was just a little too similar with his foul mouth and stupidly big heart. It wouldn’t matter who Doe was if he ended up dead. He wasn’t even nineteen, and Doe was going to have every homicidal sorcerer in the area looking to murder him before the day was out.

The gruesome reality was what Theodore needed after his difficult interview with Wylie. He had a job to do. He was going to do what the police couldn’t and keep Wylie Doe alive at all costs.

Theodore opened his eyes and fixed on Michael’s patient expression. “Any news on Collin?”

“Rob says he’s going to be fine. He had to put him in a magically induced coma for the energy transfer.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow. “He agreed to that? Seriously?”

“Of course not,” Michael said with a smirk. “Collin wouldn’t agree to anything until he called the governor personally and demanded Doe be released. Then he made me promise to make it happen.” Michael’s eyes grew stern with the responsibility he was carrying. “Listen, I don’t think the kid understands his healing comes with an energy drain. You might want to explain that to him. Collin said he’s new to healing in general.”

Theodore shook his head as he was hit with a fresh wave of frustration at the thought of Wylie. “He has no clue. I’m serious, Michael. He has no idea what he is and even less of a clue of what’s coming for him. The kid is ignorant as fuck. He’s lucky he’s alive because I have no idea how he made it under the radar this long.”

Michael was silent for a long moment. His voice was solemn once he spoke. “Good. That means he hasn’t lived his life in fear.”

Theodore sneered, his fangs sharp. “Don’t use that optimistic, silver lining bullshit on me, Whiteheart. The kid doesn’t know how to defend himself. Every asshole with a wand will be looking to bleed him dead and he doesn’t know fuck shit about anything.”

Michael fought a chuckle. “Sorry, forgot who I was talking to for a moment.” The mirror shifted as he grabbed a briefcase. “Have you gotten any sleep at all? You’re more bitchy than normal.”

“I’m awake enough to hex your ass through this portal,” Theodore warned. He pushed himself off the trunk of the tree, relieved to feel more like himself. “Get on that asshole governor and remind him how paranormals are actually human.”

Michael snorted. “You mean spell him stupid. Trust me, if I didn’t know that place was locked down with magical detectors, I’d use everything I have. The guy is bigoted as fuck.” Theodore’s frown turned grim at the reminder, and Michael caught the change. “We’re going to save this kid, Theo. We both know the odds if Doe ends up in Daiker.”

“He’ll be killed and dissected before he even gets there,” Theodore said tersely. He squared his shoulders and his eyes darted to the police station he needed to defend. “This is the only warning you get, Michael. If you can’t fix this through the proper channels, I’ll deal with it my way.”

Michael’s eyebrows drew down sharply. “Do no start killing…”

“I need to make a phone call.” Theodore clicked the compact shut without a goodbye and stuffed it in his breast pocket. He patted down his jacket and fished out a cell phone, saw it was Diego’s, and stuffed it back into the pocket.

“Fuck this day,” he muttered under his breath as he searched through his array of hiding places. “Winchester… Diane Winchester of Social Services… Ah ha!” Theodore held the phone up, only to frown when it refused to turn on. “Fucking magic!”

Theodore rummaged through his pockets again and pulled out a stack of small, heptagon wards. He sifted through and flipped each one over to discern which spell was which. “Stupid Michael. I’ll kill whoever I want to kill, Mr. nosy, overly ethical, bleeding Whiteheart who thinks he’s everyone’s knight in squeaky clean armor…” Theodore suddenly grinned, his teeth sharp, and slapped a buffer onto the back of his phone. The machine immediately chirped to life and the signal connected.

Theodore paused as he glared at the phone and exhaled heavily through his nose. He just needed to make it through the next hours and hope no one showed up to capture and kill his eighteen year old, ignorant as fuck, smartass dragon shifter. One day. After that, everything would be golden.