Born on the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous,I am the illegitimate love child of Han Solo and Daenerys Targaryen. Rescued by Gandalf shortly before my home planet was destroyed in the last days of the Clone Wars, I was raised in relative obscurity by my foster parents, Severus Snape and Pippi Longstocking. At the tender age of 113, I inherited the best little whorehouse in Texas and it’s been rumored that I am bringing Sexy Back. A self- confessed chocoholic, I’ve been engaged to Willy Wonka for several years despite gossip surrounding millionaire Bruce Wayne and myself.
And clearly, I practice delusion on a daily basis.
Fact is nowhere near as fun as fiction!
Growing up, I could be found nearby falling down rabbit holes, catching second stars to the right, and stepping through wardrobes into mysterious lands and countless adventures. When those stories ended, I made up my own and kept going. This later on translated into a strong passion for writing that has helped keep my feet on the ground while my head stayed firmly in the clouds.
My first brush with romance novels came at the tender age of 8 when I filched a Barbara Cartland dog eared paperback from my unassuming aunt and fell into a world of magic, wonder and entirely innocent G rated writing. (Seriously, the farthest Dame Cartland ever took any romantic scene was a chaste kiss and that generally didn’t occur until the very end.) I went on to greedily consume Johanna Lindsey, Jude Devereaux and Anne Rice when older.
Now, I’m a middle aged woman with moxie, no shame and a vivid imagination who loves to write and share her crazy with the world. Her future plans include, hopefully, buying a lovely Scottish castle and convincing Queen Elizabeth I that I’d make a fab addition to the Royal Family.
I live in Southern California, a stone’s throw from Disneyland, with my family and the most ridiculously spoiled pets anyone could imagine. My goals are simple: Keep reading, keep writing and never lose the determination to make life as random, quirky and beautiful as it can be.
Stalk Torie James online…
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History branded him a coward. Prophecy labeled her his destruction. Some legends are born of lies. Others begin when the lies end. And not everything remains myth…
“If you could live forever, what would you choose to live for? I chose power…”
Born of darkness and raised on revenge, Mordred Lothian spent an eternity fighting for the honor of a woman who had none. Free of her hatred, his only goal is to pick up the pieces of betrayal and attempt to forge a new life in a world that never wanted him.
Raised by one of Hollywood’s most scandalous actresses, Jenalyn Rhodes knows true illusion begins when the end credits roll. Damaged by the one person who should have protected her most, she is determined to have no master and only one mistress: Herself.
Thrown together to stop an ancient evil hell bent on vengeance, can the sacrifice of one be the salvation of the other?
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“What are you doing?”
He heard the uncertain tremor in Jennie’s voice and spoke before he could think better of his answer. “Do you trust me?”
Grabbing the body by the arm, he drug it between the manacles, careful not to disturb the sword. Not yet.
“I do trust you,” Jenalyn admitted reluctantly. ‘Probably more than I should.”
Mordred closed his eyes, letting the words rush over him.
“But it’s a whole lot easier to do when you tell me what you’re doing!”
“You need to wait.”
“Yeah. And we all know how good I am at waiting.” She snorted.
He looked at the wall clock. If this went the way it should, he would have a few scant minutes.
The red numbers clicked over the minute.
He braced one hand on the body’s chest and pulled the sword free from the flesh. The blood-soaked metal hit the floor with a wet clang, but he’d already moved. He stripped the jacket from the body, then the long black over-shirt, leaving the tight black T-shirt behind.
Next, he removed the knife sheath on the left arm, then the watch and the rings and the bracelet, tossing them all on the blanket by the trunk.
Another minute ticked by.
The locks on the manacles were well oiled and tumbled open effortlessly under the key. He rolled the body onto its back and had a manacle around the left wrist before Jennie’s affronted sputtering penetrated his consciousness.
“Have you completely lost your mind? What is she?”
The manacle locked around the right wrist with a satisfying click. He let the tension leave his body as he relaxed back onto his heels. “I haven’t lost my mind,” he murmured.
Jenalyn knelt by his side. “So why the S&M cuffs?”
He gave her a questioning look. “You spend a lot of time in the S&M scene? Huh, and here I thought your stint at the Glass Dragon was your first.”
She elbowed his healing ribs. “You know what I mean.” She pointed at the body. “Is she a vampire? Some kind of demon? Is she really dead?”
“See for yourself.”
Hesitating a moment, she shuffled forward. Careful to avoid the path of blood where he’d dragged the body, she laid her fingers against the corpse’s throat.
“There’s no pulse, no breath, nothing,” She reported as she knelt back. “So why did you lock up a harmless corpse?”
“She’s not harmless. Trust me. The chains are to keep her from leaving until she answers a few questions.”
“Yeah, you could, I dunno, ask her, instead?”
He ignored her.
The third minute ticked by.
Life returned violently to the body, gasping breath and the pounding of blood to a heart magically healed from the sword. The woman on the floor convulsed, arms straining against the manacles as she fought to sit up. “Iron, you asshole? Really? “Her voice rang sweet but low, a lilting South African accent flavoring her speech.
“No other way to keep you from using your mojo. I have some questions.”
“How about asking a girl instead of this kinky shit?”
“That’s what I said!” Jenalyn barked. She’d stumbled back, utter confusion on her face as she gaped at the thief’s resurrection.
He let a satisfied smile cross his lips. “Jenalyn, I’d like you to meet Jo. Technically, she’s my cousin.” The blonde Immortal twisted in his “Jo, this is Jennie.”
“Mordred,” Jo growled. “Let me go.”
His smile grew wider as he crawled towards Jo. “You honestly expect me to let you go after you broke into my home? And how the hell did you manage it?
Jo jerked against the chains. “No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition, do they?” she offered jokingly. “I got hired by a client to break in and get something you have. To be fair, Mordred, I didn’t know you lived here. My employer simply gave me an address.”
“It doesn’t explain how you got past my shields.”
“It’s the only answer I’ve got.”
“You broke into my house. Again.”
“I figured it worked so well last time–”