Bridge & Sword Series #1


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From USA TODAY and WALL STREET JOURNAL bestselling author, a psychic warfare adventure set in a gritty alternate version of Earth. Contains strong romantic elements. Apocalyptic. Psychic Romance.


“You are the Bridge…”

Allie Taylor lives in a world populated by seers, a second race discovered on Earth at the beginning of the 20th Century. Psychic, hyper-sexual and enslaved by governments, corporations and wealthy humans, seers are an exotic fascination to Allie, but one she knows she’ll likely never encounter, given how rich you have to be to get near one.


Then a strange man shows up at her work –– then another –– and pretty soon Allie finds herself on the run from the law, labeled a terrorist and in the middle of a race war she didn’t even know existed. Yanked out of her life by the mysterious and uncommunicative Revik, Allie discovers her blood may not be as “human” as she always thought, and the world of seers might not be quite as distant as she always imagined.


When Revik tells her she’s the Bridge, a mystical being meant to usher in the evolution of humanity––or possibly its extinction––Allie must choose between the race that raised her and the one where she might truly belong.


NOTE: An alternate version of this book was previously published as book 1 in the “ALLIE’S WAR” series (this version has been heavily revised/edited prior to re-release).

Standalone novel. No cliffhanger.

*Warning: this book contains graphic language, sex, and violence. Mature readers only. Not intended for young readers.*


ROOK is book 1 in the Bridge & Sword series. It is also related to the Quentin Black World, and takes place in the wider history/world of the seers.

Praise for ROOK

“Be forewarned, once you get started, you will be hooked on the series!” ~ Alchemy of Scrawl


“The sexual tension is scorching...” ~ The Muses Circle


“[S]uch strong chemistry between Allie and her guide, Revik, that it takes your breath away.” ~ Literary R&R


“[F]illed with more backstabbing betrayal, twist and turns than I even thought possible…” ~ I (Heart) Reading


"[A] fascinating world and an action-packed story; a version of the battle of good versus evil.” ~ Dreamstime Books


“[I]t sucked me in and sent me scampering off to get the second book the moment I was done reading.” ~ New Myths


“...I think I was as exhausted as the hero/heroine from being so emotionally invested.” ~ A.B. Shepherd, Book Blogger


“If you are a fan of fantasy or paranormal romance, you must read this!” ~ The Indie Bookshelf


“What an interesting unique read!!” ~ Keeping Up With the Rheinlanders


“I started reading this book and soon found that I could not put it down.” ~ ML Sawyer, Book Blogger




HE CLEARED HIS throat again. I heard impatience that time. Annoyance.

“May I speak with you?” he said. “It’s important.”


I blinked.


Nope. He was still there.


He was also definitely talking to me.


I glanced at Cass, who was staring up at him, too, her red-lipsticked mouth ajar where she still leaned over the lunch counter, her short-skirted butt in the air. When I glanced back at Mr. Monochrome, though, he hadn’t followed the direction of my gaze.


Those clear eyes remained locked on me.


His narrow lips curled in a frown. The impression of impatience strengthened.


“Now, Alyson,” he said. “It can’t wait.”


He spoke like someone used to having his words obeyed.


I wasn’t really someone used to having to listen to people who spoke to me like that, though, maybe because I’d never had jobs high-paying enough that I had to care. Even our boss at the diner, Tom, didn’t go there with me.


With this guy, I hesitated.


Maybe part of it was the sheer fact of his physical presence.


I’d never stood this close to him before, not while he was standing, too, so I’d never really realized how tall he was, or how broad-shouldered. I definitely hadn’t realized that my head only came up to about the middle of his chest. He had one of those frames that made him look more lean than big, more of a runner type than a weight lifter, but now that he stood directly in front of me, I realized that impression might be deceptive, too.


Up close, he looked more like one of Jon’s martial arts buddies, or even Jon himself. The muscles this guy wore definitely looked functional, not purely decorative.


Until now, he’d never looked me in the face before, either.


When he ordered from me, he never looked up from the table, or away from the window. He didn’t so much as glance in my direction when he walked into the diner, or when he left.


He was looking at me now, though.


His light-colored eyes stunned me in some way I couldn’t quite articulate to myself, maybe in part because they weren’t what I expected. I’d known his eyes were on the light side, but I hadn’t realized how light. Looking at them now, they appeared to have almost no color at all, apart from a vague tint. I supposed technically they must be blue or gray, but they reminded me more of crystals I’d seen in New Age rock shops. Their lightness was made stranger by his eyes’ almond slant and the pitch black hair, but I didn’t see how they could be contact lenses.


Maybe he’d gotten some kind of cosmetic surgery?


Either way, it wasn’t my finest moment, me gaping up at him like a drunk teenager.


Mr. Monochrome stared back at me, exuding impatience.


Then, without warning, he moved.


Before I could jerk back, or get out a single word, he caught hold of my upper arm. His fingers felt like flesh-wrapped steel, not bone; they closed around my bicep like a vice. He gripped me tightly enough that I let out a surprised sound, but I didn’t fight him.

I was still staring at his face, when something slammed into my chest, a flood of warmth.

I didn’t see anything, but it felt nearly physical in intensity. It confused me, calmed me, wiped out my ability to think. It was thorough, too, whatever it was. I relaxed totally under his fingers. It didn’t even cross my mind to fight the sensation.


When my vision cleared, he was watching me, his eyes sharp, filled with scrutiny, as if he was trying to read something in the details of my face.


“All right?” he said.


Thinking about his question, I nodded. 


“Okay.” I nodded a second time. The motion felt odd, almost mechanical. “Yes.”


I saw his shoulders relax, but something about the way he moved, even the nod he gave me in return, struck me as strange. Not in an alarming way; rather, it fascinated me. He moved oddly. It reminded me of something, that small gesture, those little adjustments of his body and face. The way he stood there. His angular face.


I tried to remember what it reminded me of.


He didn’t wait for me to finish that line of thought.


“Come on,” he said, gruff.


Before I’d made sense of the words, he’d already dragged me through the opening in the linoleum-topped lunch counter.


I followed him, without a care in my mind.




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