Almost finished with the final draft of Curse of the Coven, and working on the second book in the series, Blood of the Coven from time to time.

Here’s a snippet of Curse of the Coven to give you a glimpse at how the heroine sees herself at the beginning of the book. She has no idea the person she’s going to grow into, and I think her journey is a little poetic. We rarely grow unless faced with problems. It’s learning how to overcome problems and conflict that teaches us just what we’re made of–and how to be courageous.

Curse of the Coven – Small Excerpt

“You’re not going to remove the curse unless I force the issue, are you?”

She stepped over him and sat on her sleeping bag, but she likely wasn’t as relaxed as he seemed to be. Upper hand and all that.

And how exactly would he force the issue? She’d watched him kill with a ferocity and ruthlessness she’d only ever seen in horror flicks. When he killed he seemed to do so with little to no empathy. As though everything in this immortal world was black and white.

“No.” Be strong. The second you remove that curse you can’t remove he’s going to throw you to the Alliance anyway. Surely he can’t expect your cooperation here.

“Why? For the short amount of time I’ve known you, you seem well-adjusted enough for a witch. Do you think I deserve this because I engaged in an approved battle with a fae and won?”

She didn’t know the specifics of why her ancestor cursed him, but when he put it like that, she felt like a horrible human being—witch—because she refused. But she couldn’t tell him she had no idea how to remove the curse. “I wasn’t there. I didn’t place the curse so I refuse to remove it.”

She was about to do a whole chin-tilt to show her determination in this decision when she caught sight of the dagger in his hand. He was twirling that big-ass thing through his scarred fingers, and she was starkly reminded once again that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. She was in a world where life and death was a daily battle, and only the strongest survived.

She was obviously not the strongest.

“You’re glowing again. Scared?”

“Well fuck yeah I’m scared.”

His hand shot out before she could move away, and she was suddenly looking up at the ceiling of the cave from the vantage point of his lap. She couldn’t see it, but she felt the cold, sharp blade against her neck. His face replaced her view of the ceiling when he leaned down. “Then take the damn curse off me.”

Not wanting to move her throat, she said nothing. Tears gathered. Her hands held onto the thick forearm that held the dagger to her skin. No amount of tugging or begging would change anything. This was a scare tactic and it was working.

Goddamn it was working.

She wasn’t a hero. She wasn’t courageous. Throughout her life she’d been the girl who stood on the edge of the dance floor, too embarrassed to dance with friends and too nerdy for any guy to approach her. She was the student who built the props for the play and didn’t try out for the roles. She’d never colored outside of the lines—because why? Lines were there for a reason. She’d never gone after the bad boy. Always maintained good grades.

She wanted to go home. She wanted her mother back. She wanted to not be afraid for more than a five-minute stretch.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the hatred in his. The scars. There was no living in this world. No thriving. Only survival. Even Levi was proof of that, and he’d been born into this world. And if he could barely get through his immortal existence without conflict, how the hell did someone like her stand a chance? That little bit of comfort and security he had provided her since their first meeting faded to nothing.

He wasn’t a good man. He was an assassin in the Alliance.