It’s Alive! The Botanist is out now.

The next release in The Sin Bin is available now.

Wyatt “Earp” Hardy is a US Navy SEAL. His life begins and ends with those two words. He readily risks himself for the men under his command. Trouble is—he can’t live for them during a time when military policy weighs heavily on who he is.

Researching for his master’s thesis, botanist Aled Demers’s life is about to unravel. One torturous nightmare run-in with drug runners leaves him permanently scarred. He knows he’s lucky to be alive after being rescued by a group of SEALs, but suffering from PTSD takes its toll.

The SEAL and the botanist come from different worlds, but one rescue links them together. Can Aled recover enough strength to risk his heart? Will Wyatt’s leaving the navy force him to reassess more than just his career choices?

The Botanist is a short story introducing two key members to The Sin Bin series.

Also, Book 4 is available for pre-order:


Blog Tour: True North by Kate Austin



Navy SEAL Jake Erickson is dead tired after two years without a break, so he’s taking his 1967 Mustang convertible and heading north. Shelle, who has only a few months left before she can sell her dead twin’s B&B and go back to her real life, has spent the past few years avoiding men, but when Jake’s sexy voice asks if she has a room, she can’t say no. They’ve got thirty days together, and it won’t be long before they agree that ending up together is way more than luck, it’s fate.


Short excerpt:

She hesitated for a minute, then braced her shoulders and held out her hand to him. “I’m Shelle,” she said. “And you’re…”

“Jake Erickson. We spoke on the phone?”

His voice, as he said only those few words, tickled every part of her, from her toes up to the top of her head, and everything in between. She folded her arms over her breasts, partly to hide her nipples that had perked up the minute she’d seen him, and partly, though she hated to admit it, to increase their tingling with her touch.

Her pussy ached.

Even though she wanted, desperately, to prolong the sensation, she forced herself not to wiggle against the fabric of her panties. God, he was fucking gorgeous. And the way he looked at her?

Every part of her body sang hallelujah.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her as if he wanted to eat her up, his body built like—

A god, she thought finally, after a few moments of silent contemplation. Thor, or Adonis, or maybe Javier Bardem.

He had to be almost a foot taller than her five foot six inches and every inch of him—from his comfortably worn biker boots, to his faded jeans that were rubbed almost white around his cock, to the black T-shirt hugging his huge shoulders—was exactly what she’d dreamed about having.

On a moonlit beach.

In the shower.

On the tiny porch outside her turret bedroom.

In her king-size bed that was far too big for just her.

Anywhere he wanted.

Shelle attempted to shake the erotic images from her head, and her ploy worked until he came up the stairs and halted a single step below her with his pale blue eyes—so pale they appeared translucent in the moonlight—level with hers, his lips just a tiny lean away.

He smelled like the ocean and laundry just off the line. His nostrils flared, and she couldn’t help but wonder what she smelled like to him.

She didn’t have to wonder long.

“You smell like summer and good California pinot,” he said, “but most of all—” He leaned in a little closer and took a deep breath. “Mostly you smell like sex. Hot, steamy, over-the-top-crazy sex.”

“So do you,” she muttered, stepping back a little as he smiled at her, obviously enjoying her skittishness. “You might as well come on in,” she said as she continued backing away.

He prowled toward her like a Bengal tiger after its prey, each step silent, his heavy boots quiet even as he passed the squeaky floorboard that woke her every morning except Sunday, the only day the paper boy didn’t step on it at the ungodly hour of five a.m.

Book Links:

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Cobblestone Press:

Author Links:




Cobblestone Press:

Strength and Wisdom.


How do you feel about strong women in fiction?  I like strong men and women in my stories, that I read and write.  And I don’t mean physical strength.  I also like them to know their own weaknesses though.  I hate it when a character in a book is so stubborn that they refuse help when it’s needed.

It’s something that I worked very hard to balance in Ivy.  When you have a character who isn’t military trained with bad guys after her, I’ve never understand books that have the heroine acting rashly instead of listening to the advice of the trained individuals around her.  It’s one of my pet peeves in military romances.

Ivy, in her own words, isn’t a delicate flower that is going to swoon at anyone’s feet.  She’s also not a fool.  She’s smart enough to rely on the special ops men in her life when danger comes her way.  And strong enough to keep them from trying to coddle her when it isn’t necessary.

It’s a delicate balance in writing, and in life. =)

What’s your preference when it comes to strength in book characters?