Hi guys! We have three authors popping in today to celebrate their new holiday stories, first we have Jodi Hutchins with Yule Love her, then her fellow NineStar Press author Jacqueline Rohrbach with Just in Time, and finally there’s also A.D. Lawless with her new release Mine for Christmas, we have great excerpts from all three books and there’s also a brilliant $10 NineStar GC giveaway, so check out the post and enter the giveaway! ❤ ~Pixie~
Yule Love Her
Being late for work turns out to be a stroke of luck for personal assistant Bec Strom when she catches the later metro bus and meets the alluring artist Joy Stevens. She’s just what Bec needs to distract herself from her overbearing boss and the holiday buzz.
For over a year, Joy has been in a relationship hiatus due to the infidelity of her past lover, opting for impersonal trysts in lieu of an actual connection. She’s grown comfortable with this way of life until Bec steps into her world. Two days before Christmas, the women make a shocking discovery, a metaphorical wrench being thrown into their blossoming relationship. Will they overcome this obstacle and find a happily ever after or will they let a misunderstanding thwart their romance?
Just In Time
The legendary ghosts of Christmas—Past, Present, and Future—failed to cure Evan Eazer of his misanthropy. He hates people, loves conflict, and has a swearing habit to boot. Phil, the Ghost of Imaginary Time couldn’t be more thrilled. Finally, it’s his turn to get off the bench and into the game. He’s sure he can cure Evan and earn back his place in the giving-people-Christmas-epiphanies rotation.
Evan won’t reform easy. He’s immune to Phil’s many charms and seems content to live out the rest of his life bitter and alone. Worse, Phil’s time on the bench has left him ignorant to the ways of humanity. He struggles to navigate the new world and find his place within it let alone help someone else find his way back on the right path.
But one thing Phil does understand about the strange world in which he finds himself is Evan and his pain. He knows what it’s like to be misunderstood by pretty much everyone. But can he get Evan to understand him, too?
Mine For Christmas
Matt Westin was shocked when he ran into Cody, his grade-school best friend—pleased, but shocked. Devastatingly handsome was an understatement when it came to Cody, with his hazel eyes, wide smiles, and broad shoulders.
It was less shocking, months later, when Matt found out just how far he’d go for Cody. A desperate request for Matt to play his boyfriend over Christmas and save him from his mom’s meddling blind-date plans completely hammered that fact home.
Matt couldn’t resist saying yes, not when it meant getting closer to Cody. The only question was how would he ever be able to let him go when it was over?
Yule Love Her Excerpt!
Yule Love Her, Jodi Hutchins © 2018, All Rights Reserved
Bec was late for work. Snow flittered throughout the streets in front of her, obscuring her field of vision as she hurried down the sidewalk to catch the next metro bus. She chewed nervously on her lower lip as she clambered up the stairs, paid her toll, and found an empty aisle seat. The vehicle smelled of burnt dust, sweat, and coffee, the familiar morning aroma swirling around her. The phone in her coat pocket buzzed, making her curse under her breath before plucking it from its hiding spot to check the screen. It was her boss, of course. She answered with great reluctance. “Bec Strom.”
“Where the hell are you, Becca?” Christina Macre snapped. Bec could visualize her boss sitting behind her desk, heeled feet propped on the surface among the paperwork with her hands wringing the strawberry-shaped stress ball as she scowled at the Bluetooth speaker. Bec took a deep breath and readied her excuse.
“I’ll be there in five, Chris. I’m sorry. The idiots above my apartment flooded their bathroom again, and the place was a mess. I had to move all my crap to the unit across the hall so it wouldn’t get ruined. The disaster made me miss my bus.” Bec had hoped Christina was in a good mood that day, but from the sound of her response, she was anything but.
“I don’t give a shit what your excuse is today. You should’ve been here twenty minutes ago, and I needed that report an hour ago. You better hurry.” She disconnected the call. Bec sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. In hindsight, she should’ve taken a damn Uber, but with her metro card paid through work, she felt a waste of money. She had to take in the scant benefits her employment offered so she wouldn’t quit on the spot.
“Sounds like a rough start to your day,” a voice beside her said. Bec shot her head up, having not realized another person occupied the window seat in her haste to answer the phone call. The woman smiled, obsidian eyes meeting hers and tanned cheeks holding a pink tinge from the cold. Her black hair was pulled back into an adorable messy bun and a thick scarf adorned her neck.
Bec chuckled lightly. “Oh, yeah. It’s one hell of a way to start a Monday.” She looked down at her phone as she received a text from Christina.
I hope you stop by Starbucks on the way up. I’m going to need caffeine to get through today.
Why the hell did she continue to put up with Chris’s horrible attitude? Oh, yeah, money and quite a bit of it; plus, her boss wasn’t always a raging monster. Bec shook her head before slipping her phone into the pocket of her wool coat. She met the woman’s gaze again. “It’s such a lie about the holiday season,” the woman began. Bec found the woman more striking the longer she stared at her. Little flecks of gold shimmered in her eyes as the sunlight filtered in through the windows of the moving bus, dark freckles scattered over her bronze cheeks and nose.
“What’s a lie?”
“People are nicer during the holidays. It’s the opposite. Have you been to the South Center mall this month? Absolute insanity. Even the little boutiques downtown are crawling with rude and inconsiderate people. I’m thankful in this day and age we can order stuff online and have it delivered to our doorsteps,” she said.
Bec laughed because the woman was right. “I can’t say I’ve ever willingly gone to the mall, but the last time I was there, it was still nuts and it was July. I’m sure last Friday was hell on Earth, though.” Bec paused before extending her hand. “I’m Bec.”
The woman laughed as she reached out a gloved hand. “Joy. You wouldn’t catch me dead anywhere near the mall on Black Friday.”
“Me either.” The bus halted abruptly, their handshake cut short as they both grabbed hold of the seats in front of them to stifle the jolt forward.
Joy looked out the window, frowning. “This is my stop. It was nice to meet you, Bec. I hope you have a better Tuesday.” Bec stood and stepped into the aisle to allow Joy to pass. She didn’t sit back in her seat until the woman exited the door, her eyes lingering on the woman’s lean figure and long legs. She admitted to herself that she wasn’t at all upset about missing her usual bus.
The line at the Starbucks beside her office building was long, much to her dismay, and the Christmas music made the wait that much worse. Bec tried to ignore the numerous text messages, no doubt from Chris, as she ordered her boss’s usual soy latte and a muffin. The elevator was cramped as she rode it to the eighteenth floor and when she exited, she nearly bumped into a coworker. “Hey, Becca! How are you?”
“Hey, Kenny. I’m good; kind of running late though.” I don’t have time for this, Bec thought as she smiled at him. Her fellow assistant was usually in good cheer and they traded stories about their equally crazy bosses with each other. However, Bec’s time was limited today.
“Nice. I see you’ve got your usual late-to-work placation treat for Chris,” he chuckled, eyeing the coffee and paper bag in Bec’s hand before meeting her gaze. “The guys and I are going out to grab some drinks later tonight. Do you want to come?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got a lot going on right now. Thanks anyway. I have to get to Chris or she may very well find a new assistant. Maybe I’ll see you in the lounge later?” she offered as she headed off in the direction of her office. She watched Kenny nod as she turned the corner. The sound of the telephone ringing welcomed Bec with open arms as she stepped into the front office adjoining that of Chris’s. “Christina Macre’s office. How may I direct your call?”
After assisting the caller with their needs, Bec took a deep breath before knocking on the office door to the right of her desk. Chris shouted for her to enter, and she opened the door with a faux-confident air.
“It’s about time, Bec. I’d be surprised if my latte is still warm. What took you so long?” Chris rose behind her desk, her black Louboutin pumps clicking across the granite-tiled flooring as she stalked closer to Bec. Although Bec held a mild disdain for her boss, she couldn’t deny Chris was beautiful even twenty years her senior: long legs showcased in a tight pencil skirt, matching blazer over a cream-colored blouse dipping low to expose her pronounced collarbones. Her blonde bob was cut sharply, natural highlights accentuating the health of her hair. She worked out daily—spin class in the morning, Pilates in the afternoon, swimming in the evening. Bec knew because she’d set up all those activities as well as many others in Chris’s calendar. Her body showed every bit of her vigorous exercise routine, from her well-toned muscles to her flexibility. This combined with her fierce sense of competition and determination gave Chris the ultimate sex appeal. Too bad she was such a bitch.
“I apologize, Chris. Here.” Bec handed her the coffee, paper bag, and a piece of paper. “Daniel Brent from photography called about the cover for the invitations. He’ll be sending over a variety for you to take a look at,” she said, referring to the call she took before entering her office.
Chris looked uninterested, rounding her desk and sipping the tepid coffee as she eased into the highbacked chair. Her blue eyes narrowed at Bec before she turned to the computer screen. “You check it out and narrow down some choices for me. Twenty-five is far too many to choose from. Also, there’s a list of contacts I need you to add to the invite list. I’ve got a conference call with BI later this afternoon, and I’ll need that report.” She held up a folder and finally looked at Bec, her eyes scanning her body. “And, please, for the love of God, if you come to the banquet, could you dress a little more feminine?”
Bec rolled her eyes at Chris, who in turn chuckled. “You know I don’t do Christmas parties, and I don’t recall anything in the dress code demanding I wear frilly little dresses and crap. I’m comfortable in this.” Bec gestured to her black jeans and button-up shirt. She didn’t look bad, and her clothes weren’t wrinkled, but she definitely wasn’t girly. The comment was made to Bec at least once a month, if not more often, and it always led to a humorous conversation between the two women, one that Bec had come to enjoy. At first, Bec had kept her mouth shut when Chris provoked her in regard to her wardrobe choice, then, after a few times, Bec voiced her reasoning, prompting their amicable banter.
Chris scoffed, shaking her head and finishing her latte before she retorted. “Two years and you still wear the same dreary apparel you did your first week here. Do you think your tomboyish looks will get you a date?”
“Yeah, with a woman.” Bec heard her phone ring from the other room. She sighed. There was a long list of people she needed to add to the banquet invite list. It was one of many things on her to-do list from Chris, and she knew it was going to be a long day. “Let me know if you need anything else, Chris. I hear my phone ringing.”
Just In Time Excerpt!
Just in Time, Jacqueline Rohrbach © 2018, All Rights Reserved
The stage was set for Evan to have a life-changing epiphany. Smoke drifted across the graveyard, tangling itself around the crumbling tombstones. Most of the markers had faded through the years. Evan could make out the occasional Smith, or maybe that was only his mind filling in the blanks by putting common names over eroded canvases.
He bent next to the nearest one and wiped his hand across the bumpy surface. A coat of fine, almost silky, white powder clung to his fingers afterward. He’d known he’d get that result with no clear answers to show for the mess. Still, he was annoyed when he stood and cleaned off the dust using the untucked side of his shirt. Life was mostly like that for him. He knew what was going to happen before it did, but it didn’t stop him from feeling disappointed.
“Okay, get on with it, Johnny Bones for Fingers,” he told the newest ghost to visit him that night. There’d been two before him: the Ghost of Christmas Past and the Ghost of Christmas Present. Fed up with their nagging criticisms, and going on very little sleep, he snapped, “Make your bloody point. I need to shit and this place fucking sucks.”
There was a long pause before the Ghost of Christmas Past said, “And this lonely grave is yours, Evan,” in his deepest, scariest voice. His bony fingers wiggled above the exposed plot.
“Smooth recovery,” Evan said and shrugged.
“You died alone. No one to mourn you.”
Evan shrugged again. “Sounds about right.”
“You were unloved.”
“It’s a cruel world.”
“Even your family scorned you.”
“Right back at them.” Except for his mom, Evan amended silently. At one point, he would have put his sister on that list, but she’d shown herself to be as materialistic and heartless as their other siblings after their mother died.
“This is your last warning!” Past’s ominous voice boomed. The echo of it reverberated in Evan’s stomach, morphing his bowels into an uncomfortable churning sludge. No matter how ridiculous, the future was always scary. But it didn’t change his mind or heart.
“Tell you what, I’ll get cremated,” Evan said. “Putting that in my living will as soon as you dump me back off at my bedroom.”
Puffs of black smoke coiled around the robed figure. The ghost vanished along with the archetypical cemetery. The familiar surroundings of his bedroom and the musky scent of himself greeted Evan when he blinked open his eyes.
Evan got up from the bed. Although he was only in his early twenties, he had old bones. He swore he felt his back creak in protest. A slit of sunlight peeked through the curtains, cutting a peephole into his life. Evan drew them tightly together until he and the rest of the world felt like two separate things.
He didn’t need anyone. Not in the past, not in the present, not in the future.
“That guy is an irredeemable wanker,” The Ghost of Christmas Present griped.
“I’ve met serial-killing clowns I’d like to spend more time with,” The Ghost of Christmas Past agreed.
“The world is a darker, desolate place with him dwelling in its recesses. He festers like a tooth with an abscess, rotted beneath the glossy enamel.”
“Cut the emo shit, Future. Just say he’s a damn wanker,” Past said.
Future sniffled at Past’s slight and drew a dark hood up around his face to sulk. Through it, he mumbled, “Philistines. No talent for drama.”
The Ghost of Imaginary Time listened to the other ghosts quibble about the human, some delightful sounding chap named Evan Ezear. They’d been tasked to cure him of his misanthropy. Imaginary had been on the bench since he could remember, waiting for his turn to charm someone into re-embracing humanity. It sounded like this fellow might be his ticket back into the big game.
“Guys, maybe I can give it a crack?”
Present scoffed. “What are you going to do, Imaginary? You don’t understand people and people don’t understand you. Perhaps you could confuse him until he reforms?”
The Ghost of Imaginary Time loved the absurdity of the statement and embraced it close to his chest, holding it dear. Grinning, he cocked his eyebrow and said, “Maybe.”
“Well, you’ve never worked,” Present said. “No one has ever understood your gimmick. What is it, anyway?”
Imaginary wanted to say, I teach them to live with you three assholes, but he wanted to get his way more, so he plastered a smile on his face. “Embrace who you are. Understand that you know nothing!”
“Don’t you remember what happened to the last poor chap?” Future asked.
Imaginary did remember. “The last guy had a meltdown. Which was sort of like an epiphany…” Imaginary stuck one finger up in the air as if to hold up his tenuous argument.
“He ended up in an asylum,” Past reminded him. Not meanly, only matter-of-fact.
“Where he had several more epiphanies,” Imaginary said.
“Because you blew his mind to shit,” Past retorted. “To utter fucking shit. Ka-blooey.”
Behind Past, the other two ghosts nodded in agreement. Always an asshole, Present went the additional step of giving Imaginary’s supposed stupidity a slow blink and a pointed lip smack.
“Well, he talks funny,” Imaginary said, jabbing his thumb toward Future. “Like the Ghost of Christmas Thesaurus, amiright? What human can even figure out what he’s getting at? He always ends up pointing at their sad-looking grave in some hackneyed cemetery he conjured from a Dicken’s novel. The world is more modern now, Future. There are automatic sprinklers. The guy with the overgrown weeds and open graves isn’t in business anymore.”
“Scurrilous!” Future bellowed and banged his bony hands on the table. The result was more of a clatter, but Imaginary reacted as though the gesture had its intended effect and recoiled. Future loved to grandstand and playing along could grease the wheels.
“Don’t be a wanker,” Past said. “We’re all the same here.”
“My bad. You’re right,” Imaginary said. To Future, he added, “Hey, I’m sorry, buddy. You run a good game.”
Future sniffled in his practiced dignified way. “I say there’s no harm in giving it a shot. We can at least let Imaginary endeavor to transform this cur’s heart into something unblemished.”
Imaginary beamed. “Thanks!” He turned to Present and said, “Come on, buddy, give me a shot.”
Present flipped a dismissive hand in the air and said, “Fine. Whatever. Tell you what, I’ll even give you until Christmas. Just don’t send him to the loony bin.”
Imaginary tried to conceal his excitement. After several moments of flapping his hands and screaming, “Oh my god, Oh my god, finally, oh my god,” he took a deep breath and said, “Okay, what’s his deal, Past?”
“He just hates people.”
“That’s it? He doesn’t have some tragic backstory?”
“Well, his mother died of cancer.”
“That’s something!” Imaginary said, making a mental note.
“Everyone’s mother dies,” Past said. “Most people don’t become bitter pricks about it.”
“True. Anything else?”
Past thought for a moment, then held up his index finger when something came to him. “He had a lot of crazy friends who always had strange issues that needed solving. For example, some guy once put three weasels into Evan’s bathtub.”
“You know, I couldn’t really figure it out. I think his friend just might have been an asshole.”
Sometimes the past wasn’t as complex as people wanted to make it, so Imaginary accepted the answer without pause.
In that space of time, Present asked, “What are you going to call yourself? Your name immediately invites a ‘what’ and a confused head tilt.”
“Well, I’m not going to use my work name. I’m going to call myself…” Imaginary thought really hard and came up with an answer. Cheerily, he said, “Phil.”
“Good luck!” Past said with a salute and tilted smile. Phil could always count on Past to be hopeful about the future. “Brush up on your acting skills and read the human manual. Last time, when you blew that guy’s mind to shit, you didn’t understand people. I doubt your skills have gotten better since you’ve been on the bench for, you know, centuries. Also, be mindful that the more human you act, the more human you’ll become, so don’t get too far off task. Okay?”
Imaginary didn’t plan on doing either of those things. “Sure.”
“Cheers, my good man,” Future said. No matter what had happened earlier, he always looked forward. “Make us overflow with the waters of your success!”
Present couldn’t let things go even though that was mostly his job, so he said, “See you real soon.”
Mine For Christmas Excerpt!
Mine for Christmas, AD Lawless © 2018, All Rights Reserved
The scent of burning sugar cookies greeted Matt as he walked into the apartment he shared with his brother. Wrinkling his nose, he shut the door behind himself and kicked off his boots. At least it was warm inside, even if it smelled like Jake had baked charcoal cookies. Again.
“This is bullshit!” Jake yelled from the kitchen, followed by a clatter Matt assumed was his brother throwing the cookie sheet.
He rolled his eyes, unzipped his jacket, and hung it up on the hook just inside the doorway. Then he headed into the kitchen.
“Burn the cookies again?” Matt asked with a smirk. Jake sent him a dirty look, his brown eyes narrowed with the kind of irritation only little brothers could bring about.
“I followed the recipe! I even set the timer two minutes early! Brent’s gonna kill me. I promised cookies for the bake sale at the elementary school, and I can’t get a single freakin’ batch to come out right,” he complained, rubbing a hand over his face and looking so painfully miserable that Matt took pity on him.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make a few dozen,” Matt offered. Being the resident family baker meant Jake’s eyes lit up in response. So Matt rushed to qualify his offer and temper Jake’s expectations. “You have to decorate them though. I gotta head over to Cody’s as soon as I’m done. Our final project is sucking the life out of me.”
Jake smirked. “Not the only thing you wish was sucking the life out of you.”
Matt rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “We’re just friends, man.”
“You say that like you haven’t been in love with him since you were twelve,” Jake retorted with a lopsided smile.
“Shut up, I have not. Want me to make these cookies or not?” Matt refused to acknowledge just how close to home that hit even if they both knew Jake was sort of right.
Jake’s eyes widened and his hands came up placatingly. “Shutting up.”
The ingredients for sugar cookies were something Matt knew by heart along with dozens of other favorites of theirs, and he grabbed the measuring cups, bowls and things he needed. In no time flat, he had the dough ready and stuck it in the refrigerator.
He wandered into the living room and found Jake sitting on the couch.
“Hey, I’m gonna leave the dough to chill while I jump in the shower and get my stuff ready to head out later,” he said, leaning on his palms against the back of the couch and stretching his back a little.
“Want me to cut them out?” Jake asked, tilting his head to glance back up at him.
“Yeah, no. Just stay out of the kitchen until I’m done. I don’t wanna have to start all over again,” Matt teased.
Clearly fuming a little, but unwilling to risk Matt’s wrath, Jake sneered briefly before turning back to the TV. “Fine.”
Upstairs Matt shot off a text to Cody and let him know he’d be a little late and then took his time getting ready. Usually he’d leave the dough to chill a lot longer, but however long it took him to get ready would have to do this time.
His thoughts were still hung up on what Jake had said. It was true he had history with Cody, but not like Jake teased. In grade school they’d been best friends, but by junior high they’d gone their separate ways. Cody had gone out for sports, baseball in particular, and he’d been popular, funny—pretty much everything Matt wasn’t.
In high school, Matt had been the kind of guy who was socially awkward in large groups, who preferred to spend time one-on-one or with just a few people, because the pressure of performing for a crowd got to him.
After a while he’d stopped paying attention to what Cody was doing, and they’d barely noticed each other around. Then they’d graduated and that was that. End of story.
Or it had been, until his second year of college when Matt had rushed into his first chemistry class of the fall semester late, sank into the only available seat at a lab desk and looked over into amused, familiar, hazel green eyes. Grown up and ruggedly handsome with dark hair and stubble that drew attention to the sharp cut of his perfect jawline, Cody had somehow ended up even better looking than he had in high school.
That was months ago now and they’d steadily spent more and more time together. Mostly studying and working on their assignments, or at least that was how it always started off. They usually ended up playing video games or watching movies before they parted ways.
So, Jake was wrong in some respects. He hadn’t been in love with Cody since he was twelve…but he was absolutely in love with him now. Pathetically in love with him, following him around like a sad puppy dog and happily soaking up his attention. It was the kind of love Matt used to think was just a myth, but unfortunately it turned out to be all too real. It was especially pathetic since it seemed like Cody wasn’t interested in him that way.
Matt knew Cody liked guys, had seen him leave parties to hook up with them sometimes, but it was like Cody just didn’t see him that way. Resigned to his fate as Cody’s friend, Matt figured it was better than nothing. He and Cody got along, they had fun, and if there was a piece of the puzzle missing for Matt, well, he could deal with that.
The buzz of his phone in his hand startled him out of his thoughts. It was a text from Cody saying no big deal. He tossed his phone on his bed; he’d better get showered and get the baking over with.
Once he’d finished getting ready, he headed back downstairs and cut the first batch of cookies, then put them in the oven he’d had preheating and set a timer.
After that, he wandered back into the living room and watched mindless TV with Jake in between baking until the last batch came out of the oven. Satisfied that Jake could handle it from there, he stopped and patted him on the shoulder as he was on his way to the door.
“Good luck with decorating them,” he called out as he stepped into his winter boots. “Just keep it simple, dude. Don’t try getting too fancy.”
“Thanks, Martha Stewart. I’m pretty sure I can handle some icing and sprinkles,” Jake replied.
“Wait until they cool off though, or they’ll melt the icing and make a giant mess,” Matt said, shrugging into his coat and zipping it.
He looked up to find Jake in the entryway, his face a weird combination of fondness and annoyance. Probably a look big brothers everywhere sported as frequently as he did. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the help. Kids and I appreciate it.”
Matt smirked. “Well, it’s for a good cause. I didn’t mind.”
Jake’s job as a teacher was something Matt had always been proud of him for. They’d lost their parents when Matt was still in high school and Jake had been in his first year of his bachelor of education. Somehow Jake had managed to juggle work, school, keeping a roof over their heads, and keeping them fed. Sometimes Matt thought there was no way he’d ever be able to pay him back. Not that Jake would ever ask him to.
“Well, either way, thanks.” Jake looked a little embarrassed and then cleared his throat. He messed up Matt’s already messy hair on purpose, lightening the mood. “Have a good time with Cody.”
A lopsided smile tugged up the corners of Matt’s lips as he scrubbed a hand through his hair to fix it. “Sure. I’ll see you later, ’kay?”
About Jodi, Jacqueline & A.D.!
Jodi Hutchins is a healthcare professional by day and fanatical writer by night. She is also an avid reader, coffee connoisseur, helpless romantic, amateur artist, enthusiastic maker-upper of things, wife, and mom. The frequent rain of western Washington doesn’t stop Jodi and her wife from galivanting through the next trailhead with their two children.
Jacqueline Rohrbach is a 36-year-old creative writer living in windy central Washington. When she isn’t writing strange books about bloodsucking magical werewolves, she’s baking sweets, or walking her two dogs, Nibbler and Mulder. She also loves cheesy ghost shows, especially when the hosts call out the ghost out like he wants to brawl with it in a bar. You know, “Come out here, you coward! You like to haunt little kids. Haunt me!” Jackee laughs at this EVERY time.
She’s also a hopeless World of Warcraft addict. In her heyday, she was a top parsing disc priest. She became a paladin to fight Deathwing, she went back to a priest to cuddle pandas, and then she went to a shaman because I guess she thought it would be fun to spend an entire expansion underpowered and frustrated. Boomchicken for Legion!
AD Lawless is a bisexual tattoo-junkie with bright red hair and a passion for telling stories. She’s a mid-thirties married mom, a photographer, and a fandom enthusiast. Her philosophy is that happy endings need to be earned, and she loves writing multiple different genres—she’s never been good at sticking to one sandbox.
Through her writing AD Lawless hopes to tell stories that connect with readers, that feature characters reflecting their identities, and to give her readers a temporary escape into worlds that are just a little better, and sometimes a little more fantastical, than ours.