A shapeshifter hero. A woman he can’t resist. A world on the brink of war. The Charmer launches the Dark Lands series with high‑stakes adventure, slow‑burn romance, and a dangerous hero who will do anything to protect the woman fate throws into his path. Perfect for readers who love paranormal romance with action, found family, and richly built worlds.

When Jasmine's best friend vanishes without a trace, she'll do anything to find her, even follow mysterious strangers through a portal to another world.

But the Dark Lands are nothing like Earth. Here, powerful shifters called the Haunt rule with ancient magic and deadly politics. Worse, Jasmine's missing friend isn't who she thought: Wiley is actually Rihlia, a lost Haunt princess forced into an arranged marriage.

And Jasmine? She's a charmer—a human whose very presence drives Haunt males wild with desire. It's a power that makes her either the most valuable bargaining chip in the realm... or a target for assassination.

Keilor, the infamous Master of the Hunt, is assigned to guard her. He's arrogant. She's stubborn. He's bound by duty and ancient scars. She's determined to go home. But when political enemies target them both, and an undeniable attraction threatens to consume them, Jasmine faces an impossible choice:

Return to Earth and the lonely life she left behind... or risk everything for a love that could destroy them both.

Because in the Dark Lands, desire isn't just dangerous.

It's forever.

Sizzling chemistry, but not explicit.

 

Perfect For Fans Of…

• Enemies-to-lovers

• Portal to a dangerous fantasy world

• Heroine who refuses to be a damsel

• Found family that becomes everything

• Romance with permanent consequences

• Political intrigue and assassination plots

• Culture clash and witty banter

✨Read a Sample now:

 

CHAPTER 1

"Wait a minute, Lemming! Let me catch my breath." Jasmine clutched a slender poplar for balance, and a shower of bright leaves and water peppered her head and shoulders as the tree swayed. Her vision blurred and her legs trembled, but she locked her knees and waited out the asthma attack. The painful tightness in her chest wouldn't quit.

She grumbled and dug out her inhaler, taking a couple of puffs. She hated resorting to medicine. Every few days, the TV announced that people were getting cancer from some drug or another. Her favorite ads were the ones for male impotence that listed impotence as a side effect. Next they'd announce that inhalers caused black lung.

She shook her head and shoved the inhaler deep in her pocket. No sense being morbid.

Lemming trotted over, tail wagging, and sat gracefully at her feet. The black and white Border collie was used to such stops, but unlike her companion, she still had energy to burn.

Jasmine inspected a large rock that had washed free of the sticky clay, looking for ants. Satisfied, she shifted the holstered pistol on her hip and sat down gingerly. Cold seeped into her jeans from the lichen-covered stone, even with the extra layer of long johns underneath. She ignored it and took in the view.

Densely wooded Alaskan hills rolled away in the distance without a sign of civilization. Autumn had turned the birch and cottonwood trees gold as far as the eye could see, and the late evening sunlight showed them off perfectly. Even the dark spruce covering the gentle slopes were sprinkled with bright leaves.

She glanced at her watch, her breath frosting in the chill air. It was 7:44 PM, and it would start getting dark soon. This late in September, it could snow at any time. Too bad it wasn't June. Then she wouldn't have to worry about the darkness at all, since the sun never set during the height of summer.

She stood and hefted her pack, her lungs giving a tired protest. To cheer herself, she counted her blessings. She could have been born allergic to chocolate, or dogs. She glanced at Lemming affectionately.

Come to think of it, if she'd been allergic to dogs, she wouldn't have to be out here.

She pushed herself to her feet and started out again. Wiley better have something hot on the fire, or there would be war. The least her friend could do after coaxing her into the boonies was make camp.

Rapidly losing steam, she trudged up the trail—really little more than a brushy track—noting the moose droppings and cloven hoof prints in the soft turf without enthusiasm. She didn't fancy running into an irate cow with a calf. She didn't want to spend the evening stuck in a Mexican standoff while the cow tried to decide if she was worth trampling or better off ignored.

While she was looking down, she noticed the bounty of cranberry bushes. It really was a shame she didn't have the energy to stop and pick some. They were plentiful this year and she could use a good batch of cranberry bars.

Hey, while she was dreaming, how about a hot date, an end cut of the Turtle Club's prime rib, and a dry pair of socks?

Maybe she should be dreaming about a hot date for Wiley, she thought with disgust. If her friend and roommate paid more attention to her love life, maybe she wouldn't feel the need to run off to the woods at a moment's notice. It was all great if Wiley had the itch to commune with nature, as long as she didn't drag her friends into it.

The only itch Jasmine felt were the ones left by the hordes of gnats and mosquitoes. It was almost pointless using repellent. The mosquitoes mistook it for ketchup and came back for seconds.

Lemming barked from somewhere up ahead, signaling that she'd found Wiley's camp. Jasmine's head came up and she eagerly picked up her pace. In a minute she'd be sipping hot cocoa and roasting herself in front of a fire. Wiley would sweet talk her with chili and she'd forget she'd just spent the last hour stomping through the woods.

She entered the mossy clearing where Lemming waited and stopped, confused. It was empty.

***

Later, as Jasmine nursed a cup of cocoa by a fire she'd had to make herself, she tried to figure out what could have happened. At first she'd circled the area, calling Wiley's name and trying to find evidence of her recent occupation. It occurred to Jasmine that her friend had played a trick, maybe hid higher on the hill and grinned as she watched Jasmine wade through stickers and brush. It wasn't like her to make Jas worry, though.

As full dark descended, she knew Wiley wasn't playing a game. Something had happened to her friend, and it was too dark to make her way back to the Jeep to get help. If Wiley had tumbled down a hill, it would be no help to her if Jasmine got lost herself. Instead she tried to reason out what might have happened.

Wiley might take off at a moment's notice on her perverse games of hide and seek, but she always left a map, and she never strayed from it. If she said she was going to be forty-five minutes east of the Dalton Highway, that's where they'd find her. Or rather, Lemming would find her, and Lemming always found her quarry.

She glanced at the search and rescue dog Wiley had trained from a pup. Lemming rested quietly at Jasmine's side with her chin on her paws, content with a job well done. Jasmine had tried to get her to keep tracking, but she'd only sat down, looked at her in confusion, and thumped her tail once. As far as she was concerned, her job was done.

Jasmine sighed and scratched an itch under her stocking cap. She was worried, but tried not to dwell on it. It wouldn't help the situation. Besides, there might be a good explanation for this.

She noticed a sticker bush twig in Lemming's fur. Gently, she removed it and flicked it into the coals. So now what? She didn't plan to stay in grizzly and wolf-infested woods any longer than she had to. At first light she'd pack up and go for help. Maybe if she kept her eyes open, she'd see signs of her friend.

She coughed as smoke suddenly blew into her face and moved around the fire.

There was nothing more she could do right now, and she was tired of having the fire roast her front end while the cold air behind froze her rear. Time to crawl into her tent, shuck down to her long johns, and hope she wouldn't have to shiver too long before the down sleeping bag warmed up. Though come to think of it, the night almost seemed to be getting warmer.

She scoffed at her wishful thinking, stood, and kicked dirt over the fire. That's when she saw them.

Eyes.

Freaky, glowing golden eyes. Lots of them.

Lemming growled and pressed so tightly against her that she nearly tripped as the eyes evolved into wolves with eerie, alien faces.

Slowly she reached for the 357 Smith and Wesson revolver strapped to her hip. She'd brought the thing as a bear deterrent, but there was no reason it couldn't take down a wolf.

The fur on the creature directly in front of her hackled and it snarled a warning that made her own hair stand on end. Lemming responded with a vicious bark that made her jump.

"Touch it and they'll rip your throat out," a man's voice said mildly. It came from the dark, behind the wolves.

Jasmine let out a strangled yell. Her nerves were on the crawl as she thought of someone watching her. She searched the darkness, but couldn't see beyond the animals. "Who's there?"

As if in a nightmare, a man stepped away from the camouflage of dark trees. He stood less than ten feet from her and seemed to study her with faint distaste. Maybe she didn't measure up to his twisted fantasies. Maybe he liked tall girls, like Wiley. What were the odds he knew where she was?

Her jaw hardened. She itched to draw and cock the gun, but the slight movement of her hand brought the snarling beast before her a step closer.

"Call off your dogs," she demanded hoarsely. All the moisture that should have been in her mouth decided to run down her back instead. Who'd turned up the heat?

"Give up your weapon," the stranger ordered, and his words were brushed with an odd accent. "They don't trust you."

"The feeling is mutual, pal, but I'm not doing it. They'll eat me alive if I do." She'd watched TV. She knew what happened to the idiots who dropped the gun.

He glanced at the creatures. "Your choice."

Long moments passed while she held his gaze. Sweat plastered the hair under her hat to her scalp. For all she knew, this guy had kidnapped Wiley and was keeping her somewhere nearby…if she was still alive.

It was that thought more than anything that made her give in. She muttered a curse under her breath and gave a curt nod. Careful not to make any sudden moves that might set the wolves off, she unfastened the safety strap of the holster and eased the gun out. Surprisingly, she wasn't snarled at until she hesitated at the last moment.

"You'll never kill them all," the stranger said with a trace of impatience.

Reluctantly, she tossed down the gun.

While she'd been stalling, the heat had turned killer. That was one heck of a Chinook blowing, or he'd done something to cause it. There was a faint shimmer in the night behind him, an odd pressure in the air. She'd swear she smelled ozone.

Fearful she'd die of heatstroke at any moment, she yanked off her hat, then unzipped her heavy coat and shrugged it off. If she had to die, at least it wouldn't be from the sudden thaw.

She glanced at the wolves, but they were no longer snarling. In fact, the one she thought of as the leader had backed off. He kept his eyes on her while the others wove in and out of the huge trees.

Huge trees?

Jasmine paused in the act of stripping off her Norwegian sweater, all the fine hairs on her body standing on end. Huge trees? There were no trees like that in Alaska. But there they were, gleaming in the light of the triple moons.

For a bad moment Jasmine's world tilted, threatening the first faint of her life. Just in time, her innate good sense kicked in. Now was not the time for wilting.

As she stared, ferns sprang from the undergrowth and the trees moved closer, as the shimmer behind the stranger seemed to grow, marching forward as if swallowing her world whole. She hadn't moved, but that shimmer behind him, that otherworldly window, had grown to encompass them both. She was afraid to look behind her, afraid to see it consume all the earth.

First things first. The heat was humid and tropical, murderous to blood thickened by a cold climate, and she was overdressed. With a deep breath to calm her jangled nerves, she sent the man a defiant look and pulled off the bulky sweater, tugging the black T-shirt underneath to keep it from riding up. Then she just stood there in the redwood-scented air and tried to make sense of the moment. Sweat rolled down her back, and she wished she could ditch her wool socks and the long underwear. Her feet were sweltering in her heavy boots.

The man shifted restlessly. "Come." He melted into the trees before she had a chance to argue.