Series: Omaera Playfair Chronicles #1
Publication date: July 27th, 2024
Synopsis:
"All hail Omaera Playfair, Queen of the Realm."
Words that changed my life, and not for the better.
It couldn't be real. Me, a queen? Laughable.
I was just your average twenty-two-year-old college dropout scamming idiots in underground card games.
Then, lightning struck--literally. And everything changed.
Now, I have three gorgeous weirdos: a vampire, a bear shifter and a fire mage claiming they're my fated mates.
I'm also the heir apparent to some magical realm because my demon father--who I never knew existed--has died. My psycho uncle is after me, wanting the throne for himself, and my mates are determined to claim me and help me rule a kingdom I still can't believe is even real.
And I want none of it.
But going back to my old life isn't an option.
*Book 1 of a why choose/RH paranormal romance with dark themes, explicit content, violence, morally gray characters and one woman with three love interests. This book will have a happily for NOW and possibly a cliffhanger.
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Excerpt
I opened my bedroom door to hear the three men arguing.
Ugh! I rolled my eyes and went to the coffeemaker to brew a new batch, since the stuff in the carafe was cold.
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, Drak stopped what he was doing--which was arguing like a pretentious ass with Zandren--and stood up. "What is going on?"
"I'm making coffee? Would you like some, Bat Boy?"
"No."
"No, thank you. For a snooty aristocrat, your manners are trash."
He walked toward me, a feral look in his eyes I'd never seen before. His fangs descended. I backed up until my ass hit the fridge. He crowded me.
Fear ran icy through me and I glanced around his broad frame to see Zandren and Maxar already up off the couch, approaching.
"Wh-what's going on?" I stammered.
"He's like possessed or something," Maxar said.
"You're bleeding," Drak said, closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale just inches from my face.
"No, I'm not." I lifted my hands and placed them on his chest--he was cool to the touch--and pushed him away. He didn't budge. "Drak. Move."
He moved all right, but he didn't back up. He dropped to a crouch and pressed his nose to the "V" of my shorts. "You're bleeding here."
Well, that earned him a knee in the face and a kick to the chest. He landed on his ass in the kitchen and I rushed to get away. "You're fucking sick. What the hell is wrong with you?"
He was quick to get back up on his feet, blinking. "I... I don't know."
Was he out of the trance now? What the hell was going on?
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