When you’re a witch named Trouble, chaos follows.
Arden Lesstymine (known to everyone as Trouble) likes attention as much as the next girl, but this is getting ridiculous. When an insane stranger is murdered in the inn where she works, Trouble becomes the next Soulbearer for the disembodied god of chaos, Loku. Yes, it comes with the ability to channel the god’s limitless power, but at the cost of her sanity -- literally. Now she has a sexy but cynical knight claiming to be her protector, a prince trying to seduce to his cause (and his bed), and a snarky chaos god who offers a play-by-play commentary on it all, whether she wants to hear it or not. To make matters worse, a necromancer wants to capture the soul of Loku for his own dark purposes, and the only way he can get it is by killing her first.
A SOUL FOR TROUBLE is a 100,000 word is a fantasy romance targeted for Ace, Tor, Lovespell, and other fantasy lines with a large female audience and would appeal to fans of Lisa Shearin and Dawn Cook.
I’m an active member of the RWA (PRO), the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, Romance Divas, and AbsoluteWrite. I currently have several shorter works contracted to be published later this year by Phaze Books and by Liquid Silver Books.
I look forward to hearing from you, and I appreciate your time and consideration of my novel.
“Hey, Trouble, it looks like your usual clientele just sat down at one of your tables,” Hal said as soon as he entered the kitchen.
Arden Lesstymine, known to everyone in the village as Trouble, wrapped up her meager meal of bread and cheese in a cloth. “Please don’t let it be Conn again; my ass is still sore from his pinching.” She peered out of the cracked door, praying the lecherous blacksmith wasn’t sitting in the main room.
“No, this one’s a stranger, and a real kook at that.” The beefy inn-keeper leaned against the door frame and pointed him out. “You must be some kind of magnet for the crazies.”
“Why do you think I ended up here?” she replied with a smirk. She smoothed her apron and shoved the swinging door open.
Arden approached the table and studied the new customer. His frail body trembled like the last leaves on the branches outside, and his snow-white hair stuck out in every direction. What troubled her the most, though, was his constant muttering. She waited for a lull in his private conversation with no one, but when it never came, she cleared her throat. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
His body jerked at the sound of her voice, and he lifted his head. Feverish bright blue eyes ringed by a yellow-green halo stared back at her so intensely, she took a step back. Yep, definitely crazy. And definitely a foreigner with his coloring.