I recently explored the concept of my characters sprouting from alien spoors, seeding my mind with featureless golems that come to life through my fingers and spring over the keyboard. Yes, I live with pods in my head. I really like it in there, and they depend on me.
What I don’t like is having to leave them behind when I come out to do all the mind-bending, endless labor it takes to publish and sell books. Too much time getting headaches when all I want to do is add dimension to my pod family! …And maybe find some time to relax with the hubby. That seems to be a hard-won bonus these days. I mostly get to see him when he comes to visit my pod people. He’s very amenable that way.
But I’m being honest here… I mostly want to run screaming back to the confines of my imagination. There are scenes needing to be written! More characters that lay dormant, waiting for the words to make them whole. Why must I go down a million internet vortexes that lead to galaxies, that lead to universes where it seems I might never find my way back out, just to get them out into the world?
Do they really need to go into print? Maybe my pod people are happier where they are.
The bottom line is, I tell their stories for readers to enjoy.
So, grow pod people, take shape, and fly off the page and into cozy reading nooks everywhere.
Updated Blog, January 2026 – This year is the fifth anniversary of my series launch! Enjoy The Starlight Chronicles... On SALE January 26 – 30!
Artwork above and below by:
Vic DeLeon Art Director, Ark II, Studio Wildcard – ArtStation.com
This is the epic annual chat where I get to reflect on the year with my great writing friend, Nicolas Lemieux. Yay! Welcome back to our dual platform, Nicolas. How about we start with introductions and a brief summary of our year in writing, then dive deeper into the highlights?
Read in French – Nicolas has kindly translated our discussion. Thanks so much Nicolas!
First! Let’s Meet the Authors
Nicolas Lemieux
Nicolas lives in Montréal with his wife, Marie-Claude, in a third-floor apartment overlooking a charming green alley. Although French is his first language, he prefers to write in English.
His chosen genre is Science Fiction, where he gets his kicks dreaming up astonishing worlds filled with a sharp palette of badass, quirky characters who get tangled up in all kinds of meaningful trouble. Often funny, sometimes disquieting, always exciting.
Nicolas believes that each time you dive into a good book, you come out better off at the other end because you’ve gained a new, bright spark that will stick with you until the end of time, helping you fend off the pits and falls that might have consumed you otherwise.
As Nicolas works on his novel, Seven Drifts, which features a drifting city spaceship, a wannabe sleuth, murders, a brewing rebellion, and an antique wooden treasure chest, he enjoys blogging about books and his writing life while sharing glimpses into the world of Seven Drifts, including through his free story, DRIFT & CRADLE.
D. L. Lewellyn
D.L.’s unexpected passion for writing ignited in 2020 after a summer of avid, lockdown-induced reading in her favorite genre, paranormal romance.
In addition to self-publishing her series, The Starlight Chronicles, her stories have appeared in anthologies. More novels are on the way. No surprise there. Anyone who knows her will tell you she’s a dedicated multi-crafter. Take a peek inside her colorful, cluttered studio, and you’ll see it for yourself.
She also enjoys blogging about writing and interviewing fellow authors. Her downtime includes lots of reading and sharing popcorn while watching movies or Formula 1 racing with her husband. When they aren’t being couch potatoes, they’re walking the northern Nevada high desert with their rescued fur babies.
Let’s Get Started
Okay, Nicolas, how about you go first? What was your 2025 like?
NL: All year round, I’ve been deep inside the world of my novel, Seven Drifts, and what a wild ride it’s turning out to be! The story is set on a former starship that was damaged, stranded, and, for better or for worse, turned into a long stack of gigantic O’Neill cylinders. It is a politically complex place of varying gravity conditions, led by a benevolent-looking villain, Mayor Larocque, who compels his people into a way of life he calls Driftism. I’m having a ton of fun with the characters, from the failed botanist but passionate amateur sleuth Anita to the trumpeter Blake, who is slated to write the true story of their rebel crew, to Leona, the great-granddaughter of an infamous architect.
Honestly, the writing process itself is one great source of happiness (and growth), and I know you feel the same way about yours. I love how it forces me to dwell in my solution-seeking mode, as we discussed in our emails. It’s a compelling challenge; always worth it!
To make things interesting, let me throw out a few topics a reader of our conversation might want to playfully toss somewhere at the back of their mind as they read on…
What are the three distinct gravity conditions mentioned in Seven Drifts, and what are they associated with?
Could there be characters in the story who aren’t really called “folk” at all?
An antique treasure chest is bequeathed to someone in the story. In your opinion, who could it have belonged to?
Who is Baba?
Do people in Seven use such things as GPUs and VR?
What kind of propulsion drive might Seven have used before it was damaged?
What was the name of Leona’s late great-grandfather?
What specific goal does the narrator, Blake, pursue in the novel Seven Drifts?
It’s an exciting time for me, as the manuscript is finally mostly in place. I’ve gained confidence in my structural choices, realizing that an introductory set of chapters can work just fine if they are beautiful and fascinating enough to hook the reader. I can’t wait to share these characters, this world I’ve created, and that crazy, quirky, action-packed story. Now, let’s dive into the specifics!
DLL: I have totally felt your joy in what you’ve accomplished this year in Seven Drifts. It’s a huge project, and making those structural tweaks and feeling those “aha” moments must have been awesome. I can’t wait to dive into it as a reader.
It always amazes me how each year ends with events that surpass the previous one, even though I often think a year can’t possibly have more going on or more to learn–and yes, I’m still learning tons in my 6th decade. This year, while I wouldn’t necessarily lump all the happenings into highlights, learning definitely played a role. My biggest takeaway is never to take anything for granted.
After retiring early in 2023 to focus on writing full-time, I was given nearly two years of that privilege. But early this year, cancer struck twice in my family: first me, then my sister. We started chemotherapy a day apart and lost our hair together. I realized how much I had taken my health and family for granted.
Her situation is much more serious; her treatments focus on giving her as much time as possible, and we’re hoping for at least a year. My treatments are meant to keep the cancer at bay, and while I’m grateful for that, I would give anything if the same could be said for my sister.
While this was all going on, I had to face that I’d also taken democracy for granted–a truth more bitter to swallow each day. Watching the hatred promoted by our bumbling leaders in a reality TV-style government only makes personal challenges even harder.
So, what does someone do when life presents what feels like impossible obstacles that are mostly beyond their control? My answer is to write every day and make time to talk to my sister.
The second thing I learned is that having a passion to lose yourself in—one of those joys that makes you want to wake up in the morning—even to face a chemo treatment or another loss to democracy—restores the good things in life. I came to this realization by making this year about having fun with my characters and scenes in three new novels—yes, three—that darn multitasking gene—and that’s in addition to the six I already have going. While I haven’t finished a single one, I’ve written probably as many words this year as my 320,000-word series.
That simply means I found the joy of writing again while also spending a great deal of time promoting my already published novels. That effort has paid off, and I’ll discuss why later. I also returned to voracious reading, which is what launched me into this writing journey five years ago. I’ve decided that reading is equally part of the joy and the best way to become a better writer. I’ll share my favorite authors from this year’s reading list. I’ve reached 74 books in a 50-book goal, and the year’s not finished!
Other highlights include launching my new BookBub website, attending a super fun writing retreat, adding my books to Audible via Amazon’s Virtual Voice Studio, and splurging on Grammarly Pro for editing support. More on this later.
Let’s get into the Writing Process
Nicolas and I really enjoy looking back on our emails after a year of correspondence and finding that we had tons of insightful things to say about our writing process that we forgot about as the year progressed.
Here’s us airing out a little about writing ourselves into a corner while we face life’s challenges.
DLL: Writing is my solace. And as I escape each day into my current novel, I’m encouraged with my progress… except that I’m still working on the mechanics of my plot. Dang those plots. That’s the most challenging part for me–thousands of words of great scenes, and everything is moving forward, but once again, I’m writing myself into a corner, LOL. At least coming up with solutions occupies my dreams so I can sleep.
NL: First off, let me tell you how much I admire your courage and resiliency in your approach to your current predicament (and I apologize for the clichés). The truth is, I have no idea how I’d fare myself, faced with the same reality. But from where I stand, I can only say “I’m here, offering my good vibes.” I’m so happy that you’re doing better now and that you’re on the recovery track.
Congratulations on making such good progress! This many words is a body of work to contend with. Isn’t it the best? You write yourself into a corner, and then your creative brain takes over – in its own time – to find solutions you wouldn’t have dreamt of in your waking time. Often, these solutions turn out to be precisely what makes your story unique, personal, human, and truly you; exactly what makes it irresistible and relatable. I find solace in writing as well. I’ve been all over the place in my novel Seven Drifts, moving scenes around and generally making parts of it a lot better. I enjoy how it forces me to dwell in my solution-seeking mode, even though I am often overwhelmed by how long this challenging process takes. Sometimes it helps me sleep, other times not.
During a creative dry spell this summer, I reread my first story (Tides of Cath), and it was nice to go back to the first spark that ignited the rest of the project. It’s the story I wrote first but haven’t finished yet. It takes place centuries after the one I’m finishing now, though, so it seemed only logical to work on the prequel story first. But going back to ToC really got my creative juices bubbling up again. I found it super encouraging, actually. I had no notion of scene structure and whatnot back then, but geez, I think the story works just as well. Maybe even better, I don’t know; as if I was relying on my instincts more when I wrote these pages, and I don’t know why, but I really like how they flow. So it gives me even more incentive to work hard and finish Seven Drifts so I can go on and work on Tides of Cath again.
DLL: Wow! This is so inspiring, Nicolas. I can also relate to relooking at earlier work and often wonder if I’ve given up some of my spontaneity in my writing. For my part, I seem to be constantly in editing mode and worry about overdoing it. That could have something to do with Grammarly Pro. I couldn’t resist a half-off offer on Black Friday last year, and it truly is like having a professional editor on my payroll. However, that editor is also constantly riding my shoulder, slowing my writing every time I stop to see if I can write what’s being flagged better. I mention this AI writing tool briefly as both a pro and a con. But the pro outweighs the con for me, as it has helped me become a better writer.
Back to spontaneity, I didn’t go at my first novels with any kind of coherence, just pure gut instinct, which left holes while somehow also managing to get a story out. Always shocks me when I look back at how much fun I had writing that way. I think this is why I’m having a hard time finishing another novel. I’m not using pure instinct to tell a story. Instead, I’m swamped with too many techniques learned since then that are stifling me. I’ve sort of lost my voice. I miss the old days. I laugh at myself because this is always how I learn to do new things, just throw something out in the world based on pure creative juices, with holes, imperfections, and all. Then, I reverse engineer. Part of that process lately has been reading authors I love and figuring out why I love their storytelling. Still, it’s all part of the passion, right?
NL: Pure instinct: I like these words. That’s how I operated at first, when I wrote a large chunk of the first draft of Tides of Cath, and I can feel it when I read it again. I hope some of it is still there in 7D – I’ll have to trust in the process for that. Funny thing, I experienced the same with singing. At first, it felt natural and easy, even gratifying, until I took voice lessons with various teachers and coaches. Then, for a while (I mean, years), singing became complicated and hard, nerve-racking, almost an impossible dream. But eventually, it became more natural again, in a different way, and more satisfying – but still kind of nerve-racking, but for larger reasons (I mean audiences) and sometimes, downright terrorizing. But it’s the middle part I want to go for, the “more natural and more satisfying”. It’s like once we start learning the ropes, it becomes harder to reconnect all the techniques and knowledge with our first, primordial impulse to create. To reconnect our busy head with our soaring heart takes time and patience, but we get there eventually. Some days, I feel like I need to act like a “bad student” to find that connection again. I need to ignore what I know and deliberately seek the flow without thinking, and to Hell with the technique and everything I’ve been told. Sometimes I find it helps uncover that nugget of truth, or touch that magical feeling of “something appearing out of nothingness” I enjoy so much. Reconnecting with other art forms, such as music, or with other authors, is also a great way to find that connection again. (More on this later.)
Writing Quests
DLL: So, Nicolas, while I was busy writing and undergoing cancer treatments this year, I added a few quests along the way (why not, right?), which I got to share with you in real time. One was switching virtual audio book platforms from Google to Audible. Producing even virtual audiobooks is a cumbersome task, but it felt like an accomplishment to finish all five books! Both have awesome features, both are free to authors (my only reason for doing them instead of hiring actors), but only one reaches the audience (as usual): Amazon. Still, I haven’t sold any audiobooks since my initial launch, and I’ve received no feedback from the few who purchased them. I suspect AI audiobooks are not readers’ preferred format. We talked about the pros and cons of AI voices vs. real actors. I think most are obvious. There’s nothing like real emotion and inflection to tell a story. Obviously, actors are on my bucket list for the future of my series. Your thoughts?
NL: Thanks for the audiobook of Priss’s story! I listened to the first one and enjoyed it very much! That virtual voice is just out of this world, I almost forget it’s not a real human reading to me – so much so that it’s a bit uncanny when I think about it. Now, if I had a choice between a human-read book and an AI-read one, I’d go with the real human voice for sure, as I’d know I’m supporting the work of a real artist, and it would be easier to identify and connect emotionally when listening to a human being. But for ease and affordability, I can understand people settling for the next best thing once in a while.
DLL: I really appreciate you listening to Priss Starwillow and sharing your thoughts, Nicolas. It’s so helpful. And yes, connecting emotionally is definitely the piece that is missing, even with the uncanny voices. Sigh… One day, if I can win a contest with a cash prize, I’ll splurge. I would love readers to enjoy my series on audio.
Another quest this year was attending my first writing retreat with local authors in the wonderful historic town of Virginia City, at a fabulous, haunted Victorian hospital-turned-art center. A local Reno writer, Kim Harnes, hosts these each year, doing all the labor for the cost of the retreat. We had some great classes with fellow attendees, including an agent we practiced pitching our stories to. Check out the fun highlights in my blog. I highly recommend attending workshops and retreats.
NL: I haven’t attended a writing retreat myself so far, but I have no trouble seeing how that learning and pitching process, though intimidating, would be an exciting time for me as it was for you, and I’m sure it would benefit me in all kinds of ways! Back at the end of 2024, I enrolled in QWF (Quebec Writers Federation), but along with my day job and my writing project, I guess it turned out to be one too many things to do, so I ended up attending only one of their multiple online events. I have no doubt I would enjoy and benefit from attempting something similar again in the future, or, better yet, something more punctual, in-person, and intensive, like the retreat you attended.
DLL: QWF sounds like a valuable organization, and it’s great to connect with local groups to explore unique outreach opportunities within our communities, i.e., book fairs and conventions, which I really want to do. But becoming a writer during Covid sort of set me off on the recluse path, promoting from afar (i.e., social media). After meeting many local writers at the retreat, I decided to dedicate this summer to interviewing them. As a result, I had some fascinating guests on my Spotlight, and through them, discovered local organizations and resources.
Like you, I sign up for events, including online classes, but I never seem to have enough time to participate fully. However, the little I manage to fit in always adds at least one helpful nugget to my repertoire, making it worth navigating the overwhelming amount of networking and training available to indie authors—often offered for free–so long as I don’t let it eat up my writing time. That is a challenge, I must say.
I follow Reedsy, AutoCrit, BookBaby, BookBub, and BookFunnel, to name a few, which regularly offer classes or helpful blogs. A few other useful newsletters come from Gotham Writers (which has great classes and blogs) and Writers Write. This last one is ad-heavy, but it contains lots of great content. Check out my latest favorite blog as an example: “What Can Jane Austen Teach Us Today?” They always provide a brief yet interesting post, followed by helpful bullet points and a list of related articles.
This might also be the place to mention my cross-promotion group on Facebook: #RomanceBookBlast. I participated in every quarterly Book Blast promotion over the last two years, as well as the Black Friday sale, which has significantly impacted my book sales and visibility. So, I can highly recommend it as a valid marketing tool for an indie author on a tight budget.
Our group host and admin, Jessica Anderson, has done a fantastic job helping us grow. Participation is free as long as you agree to promote the quarterly events through your newsletter and social media. I average around 3,000 downloads per free offer. In my genre, it’s advantageous to sell exclusively on Amazon by enrolling in Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) to reach Kindle Unlimited (KU) users. My KU pages read have increased significantly this year as a result of the promotions (76,000 pages read!). I also discount my other books in the series, and each event leads to sales of all my books. The group and its followers have steadily expanded, and our events are promoted not only by each other but also on BookBub, Apple Books, and by influencers on TikTok. Thank you, Jessica! She’s been wonderful in driving this promotion to new levels.
If you receive author newsletters offering free books, they’re likely part of a cross-promotion group. I prefer this as my main marketing platform, but it’s also helpful to coordinate with other promotions, such as Written Word Media, BookFunnel, BookBub, and others, to maximize impact. I tried Written Word Media for the first time this fall. I’m fairly certain that my #RomanceBookBlast results improved with the paid promotions, but not enough to use them regularly, except maybe for special events and when I can catch sales. They claim that their emails go out to 50,000+ readers (at least for romance audiences). Sales have continued to trickle in, and I’m thinking the paid promotion helped reach more romance readers.
Also, while it’s not a significant number, my book ratings on Amazon go up a little each promotion, and every bit of that helps as well.
I also took advantage of an offer from BookBub this year to create a website with their new Author Websites by BookBub. I was intrigued because, as a BookBub author with my books featured on my profile, they automatically appear on a catchy page on the site. The free templates are simple, clean, and easy to use. I designed an attractive, author-focused website very quickly. I feel great about using BookBub because they truly understand the readers and market.
NL: That’s amazing, Darci! I’m thrilled and impressed with what you were able to achieve with cross-promotions and groups! It makes me even more eager to finish my book so I can have as much fun finding out what can be done to share my sci-fi story. Written Word Media, BookFunnel, BookBub; I’ve seen some of them, but I haven’t learned to know them – so far. I didn’t know you could create a website with BookBub! I enjoy that kind of stuff, so I can’t wait to dive into it!
DLL: Glad I could share some useful tips, Nicolas! One last highlight to share is about writing contests. You and I have both participated in Writing Battle, which hosts many contests throughout the year. I’ve interviewed the amazing couple from beautiful Nova Scotia who created the platform, which has since exploded in popularity. I entered the Autumn 2025 Short Story contest this year after a long break from contests. It was a bit daunting since it was also my last week of chemo, and I wrote in a chemo fog! But I loved my story, and it did well, reaching the final showdown after passing through the peer judging duels. Writing Battle provides four really unique genres (often more like tropes) for each contest, along with prompts. I got “Vampirical Romance,” with “ice rink” and an “influencer.”
While it is super hard making it to a win for the fabulous cash prizes, at least you end up with a story that, while challenging to write in the abbreviated timeframe with the required prompts, ends up surprising you and being a blast to write. But then you need to find a home for it. I’ve published these stories in my “Priss Starwillow” collection, and you can find them here for free, except for this last Writing Battle story, which became part of an anthology called “Dreams.”
I belong to a wonderful group of indie authors on Instagram who support author Chantal Agapiti’s The Dreamer’s Bookshop, which she created to support indie authors! The physical shop resides in Belgium. The paperback is available in her shop and on Amazon, and you can get the ebook here. Follow the shop for future anthologies and to support indie authors. I’m proud to be part of this ongoing project.
NL: Thanks for the links, and congrats on making it to the final showdown! That’s an amazing feat. I very much enjoyed my two participations in Writing Battle, though I didn’t enroll this year, figuring that I would rather put my limited time on my novel in progress. But I look forward to participating again in the future, for sure!
Works in Progress
DLL: I’ve been overwhelming you this year, Nicolas, with my work-in-progress in our email chats, and I feel terribly guilty, but you’ve been great about offering encouragement and sharing your own experiences. I was also glad to get a sneak peek at Seven Drifts. Then, I managed to talk you into letting me beta-read a scene.
So good! I can’t wait to read the finished novel or possibly get more scenes to dive into… hint, hint.
And wow, Nicolas! You read my series! Thank you so much.
I feel like sharing some of our discussion and our WIPs here. How about you?
NL: Absolutely, share away! And please… No guilt! It was fascinating to read several versions of this part of your work and to witness their progression. I feel privileged to have been part of it, and I hope for that opportunity again.
About The Starlight Chronicles, I really enjoy how you manage so many different characters and their lives and backgrounds, and how you get us to know them better and better, to the point where I feel like I’m part of the family myself. It’s a breeze to get into, despite so many people to track. So well done!
I also love a mix of genres. This is an intense romance with a lot of action. Shifters, vampires, a slew of other supernaturals, even alien princes! I deeply enjoyed each and every reference to history, and how the story makes a fascinating use of the Sumerian language and culture. Gilgamesh rules! Apart from that… Well, TSC had so many compelling characters, each with a fabulous destiny. Also, so many fascinating, eye-widening settings (even the library of my dreams!), and such a complex, riveting plot… Not to forget, what an epic, spectacular ending! So well done.
Another thing I wanted to mention is that I like the way you weave in many short chapters, moving the story forward in a smooth, gradual progression, giving so much information without it ever feeling too charged or complex. My scenes tend to grow each time I look at them, and I always seem to find new details that are missing, so I add them.
DLL: I’m so glad you enjoyed my books (in a few iterations ☺️), and thanks for saying so, not to mention your lovely comments. I can’t wait to return the favor, especially after getting to sample your scene.
Many readers who don’t read fantasy romance (romantasy) are a bit overwhelmed by the large cast, and I for sure got carried away on my first go around. 😁 In a sense, after absorbing stories from so many fantasy romance writers over that crazy summer of 2020, I let my paints spill all over the canvas, even aliens for Pete’s sake. :) But it was a lot of fun and a huge relief that I made some kind of plot out of it. Mostly, I think it’s a fun ride to go on with Selena, sort of like Dorothy through Oz. She finally runs into some serious challenges in Tigris. It’s so hard to make my characters suffer, but finally, I got some readers shedding tears. I’m hoping to do better with that in my spinoff stories.
Here is where I dove into my novel-in-progress with Nicolas, but months later, everything has changed. Surprising, huh? I will offer a fresh take on my projects, then Nicolas will give us a sneak peek at Seven Drifts.WARNING! EXCLUSIVE COVER REVEAL. 😊
My focus has shifted to finishing Gemma’s story first (Selena’s best friend in The Starlight Chronicles (TSC)).
Gemma is set in Quincy, running parallel to the TSC. The Sinclair twins (black panther shifters) return to Quincy during Drago Incendium (Book Two) to run the science and communications hub remotely, while Andras and Selena head to her brother’s lodge in Alaska with Michael Elliott to complete the quest with the Anurashin.
As the series reveals, Gemma likely has a stalker she’s evading. How will the twins help her handle her problem while convincing her she’s their mate? Will it take them into the Sierra Nevada backcountry, where Gemma’s skills are tested, to face a compelling, morally grey (or worse–his character is still developing) antagonist, a rogue bear shifter named Dietrich Braun? Hmmm. While we meet a few new characters, this story will be a streamlined, standalone romantic mountain adventure.
My next goal is to finish a TSC two-book spinoff (already well in the works) for my two favorite secondary male characters. One is for Michael Elliott, who will team up with Halil Enair (who once tortured Michael on the behest of her evil father) and a new character, a powerful skin mage named Spero Vic, in a story that will explore the dragon lore Elliott promises to share with Selena. We get to travel to a new realm, learn about Onyx (Michael’s dragon) and his kingdom, discover Rune magic through tattoos and song, and meet exciting new characters. It’s all coming together in Halil’s Midnight Sun.
Running parallel to this story and set to join it during the climax is Ember’s Dark Flame. This will be a standalone story with its own ending, then moving to a final climax in Halil’s Midnight Sun. It features vampire emissary and spy Mortas, and Ember, the woman he once loved (also Andras Johns’s best childhood friend and favorite witch who appears briefly in Books Two and Three in TSC). What happens when these estranged lovers reunite to rescue a young witch and stop an evil coven’s plot? I can’t wait to let you know! Both novels will introduce new characters and bring back old ones from TSC.
I’ve also started an epic historical fantasy set in 1776 Alta California, The Spanish Maiden Who Dreamt of a Bear. We’ll embark on a true historical expedition with fictional characters, Elara Sofia de Luna Estrada and her father, Alejandro, who join Juan Bautista de Anza’s ‘traveling city’ from future Tucson, Arizona, to future Monterey, California, as de Anza (the first governor of New Mexico) claims territory for the Spanish Crown.
Elara is Andras Johns’s grandmother, a marked maiden of her time who finds bear shifter Broderick Johns when she arrives with the expedition at the presidio in Monterey. When a competing Russian colonist and bear shifter arrives on the scene, he sets his sights on Elara and pretty much everything else that belongs to Broderick, including his status as the most powerful shifter on the North American continent. Elara and Broderick are mentioned throughout TSC.
Of all the non-TSC novels in the works (three sci-fi and one YA urban fantasy), the one I most want to finish is The Fourth Planet of Cinnamon Jones. It’s a sci-fi fantasy set in Eastern Oregon, in the town of Halfway near Hells Canyon, then moves to Portland, which is a hub for displaced fae. It turns out the fae are not just creatures from human mythology, but aliens from a planetary system deep in the Milky Way called Helixia.
We’ll see what happens when a handsome but hardened bounty hunter comes for Cinnamon Jones, a changeling at birth (left with human parents who believe they adopted her legitimately), who doesn’t realize she isn’t human until a car accident throws her and her parents into the Snake River, and she sprouts gills and webbing on her hands and feet. That’s fine because Cinnamon already knows that water is her element. What’s not fine is that her birth parents want her back on Sempria as their weapon in a political power struggle.
Take it away, Nicolas!
NL: Wow, Darci! So many new stories, I can’t wait to dive into! On my end, I’ve been wondering for a while whether to reveal more of my project and risk spoiling parts of it… But the more I think about it, the more I think I’m ready to reveal more about the story, especially now that it’s mostly congealed. (BTW, I like that term.)
So here’s a first, quick-and-dirty – potentially confusing – jumble-teaser intro…
Seven Drifts is not only about chasing after treasure chests, drooling over a cool house, or watching from a rooftop as weird things happen. There are dead bodies. Thieves. NoFolk. Illegal children – lithe kids, an army of them. Places with different gravity conditions, like the heavy, hypergeeUnderlevels, the nogee levels high up in the Eights, and of course, the more familiar legitgee, citizenry levels. It has urban and rural zones, even ski resorts. It has interns, rebels… A big festival, and a jazz band with competitive lead singers. You’ll hear of climate change inside a space city with messed-up weather systems – and that’s just one more clue. It has a bunch of funky, quirky acronyms, like VR (it’s not only a drug), GPUs (General Preservation Units), MAHAL (a type of propulsion drive). At karaoke, Anita’s best friend will meet her tall, dark stranger with a baby face, older than he looks. Leona is the great-granddaughter of a well-known, infamous architect named Felipe Crasotte, who lived a hundred years ago.
Seven is a former starship, damaged and stranded, that was turned into a long stack of O’Neill cylinder-type habitats – or districts. It’s going nowhere. It is led by a benevolent-looking villainous villain who happens to be the mayor of the city and savior of the people…
As a compelling zen master, Mayor Larocque proposes a philosophy and way of life he calls Driftism – capital D – and de facto, he is the city’s drift master – in more meanings than one. Every morning, all citizens must partake in the daily drift virtual session – seven drifts per week – to train their minds to drift along with the Master’s. Mayor Larocque, aka Baba, is very much into sharing his expansive mind with his valued mentees. He intends his beloved people to get his drift just as he gets theirs – in the fullest of ways.
The story takes place over the course of the most important week of a very important year. That year is the second centennial of Seven’s Awakening, which took place after a centuries-long journey. As the saying goes, “only seven more drifts to go before the big festival night…”
(Geez, I’m still having fun after years of working on this!)
I’m planning to use excerpts from Felipe Crasotte’s journals to expand on aspects of the world and its history in a fun way and to reduce exposition in places. Also, I’d like to use the narrator’s POV in the first person here and there, to show other ideas that are useful to the story. The writer is Blake, a character in the story. He is also the trumpeter in Leona’s new band, and he becomes Anita’s lover pretty early on. In the end, he pledges to write the true story of Anita; what really happened with her and her crew, and most importantly, why, so that down the line, after they get to the end of their long journey, the people of Seven may stop hating her for what she did – effectively putting an abrupt end to their beloved, comfortable way of living, while in fact, saving them and giving their ship a true destination and purpose.
Book Recs & Cultural Influences
DLL: As I mentioned, I read a lot this year—the most I’ve done in years towards my Goodreads goal. I’m at 76 out of my 50-book goal. I raised the goal to 60 in November and surpassed it again. This is mainly thanks to a new favorite author, Lindsay Buroker, and her many series. She is a prolific urban sci-fi/fantasy writer who creates stories I dream of writing, with witty banter, fantastic world-building, and relatable characters. Her writing is phenomenal, and even my husband is enjoying her sci-fi series, “The Fallen Empire.” It reminds me of the best parts of “Star Wars,” “Star Trek,” and the sadly short-lived “Firefly.”
Two other outstanding books this year were Andy Weir’s “Project Hail Mary.” Can’t wait for the movie! My whole family got into this one and discussed it. I listened to the audiobook and highly recommend it. The second audiobook I couldn’t stop listening to was the first book in Callie Hart’s “Fae & Alchemy” dark romantasy series, “Quicksilver.” The next in the series, “Brimstone,” has just been released, and I can’t wait to listen to it!
I read both of these early in the year, ahead of the social media hype, which I love doing. They just feel more special that way.
Another author I got into was Elise Kova—wonderful fantasy romance with great characters and worlds.
Your turn, Nicolas!
NL: Seventy-six books, that’s an impressive achievement. I have read The Martian, by Andy Weir; even studied it over a course I did back in 2018, but not Project Hail Mary yet. Now it will be on my reading list! I’ll keep a note to check out Callie Hart’s and Elise Kova’s books.
Reading is one of my favourite ways to calm down and reconnect. I don’t do it as much as I’d like, but reading usually brings me a kind of peace and a lot of inspiration. I don’t set goals, but I try to read a little every day if I can. I keep a list so I won’t buy the same book twice, as I’ve been known to do. Here’s a sample from the last couple of years, so you’ll see the kinds of books I like to read.
The Language of Acorns, V.R. Friesen
Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone – Outlander #9, Diana Gabaldon
Revenger, Alastair Reynolds (Book #1 of a trilogy)
Children of Gravity Beta version 1, V.R. Friesen
Aestus Books 1-2, S.Z. Attwell
Shadowlake, Olivia Rytwinsky
Gravity Shattered Extra Scenes, V.R. Friesen
Stone of Fire, JF Penn
Day of the Viking, JF Penn
Pilgrimage, JF Penn
Manifesting Your Greatest Self, Nick Ortner & Creating Lasting Change, Jessica Ortner (The Tapping Solution)
Pale Face, W.D. Killpack III
Crown Prince, W.D. Killpack III (Next books in series on my reading list!)
The Shithead, Tim Grahl
Out of Tune, D.C. Greschner
Regenerative Business, Samantha Garcia
Ursus Borealis, D.L. Lewellyn
Drago Incendium, D.L. Lewellyn
Tigris Vetus, D.L. Lewellyn
Shadow Captain & Bone Silence, Alastair Reynolds (books 2-3 of the Revenger trilogy)
Inside a Dark Space, M.J. James
The Trials of Imogen Sol, C.L. Walters
Oh, and before I forget… Thanks for peppering your stories with so many awesome musical propositions! I look them up and listen to them. As a result, I often listen to Neko Case nonstop while writing. I love her voice and music. I have other notes I’ll explore further. Keep suggesting!
DLL: A fantastic list, and so fun to see my titles in there. Thanks again for taking the time to read them.
You’re the second person to mention enjoying the songs and other art references. If you haven’t listened to First Aid Kit, you’ll dig the Swedish sisters, too! Here’s the song referenced in Ursus Borealis.
I added a credits page for my cultural references in Tigris, along with a detailed Appendix for the series. It was fun to put that together, recalling all my side and minor characters and being amazed by the sheer number of them. I also love hearing when a reader takes the time to check out those end materials, which has happened more often than you might think.
NL: It’s wonderful! In addition to great music, I see any art form as a potential nourishment for my creativity. Marie-Claude and I sometimes go out and visit big and small art exhibits. Every little gallery, every museum, every piece of art can be a source of inspiration and energy. Check out these exhibitions we saw recently: Alan Glass, Joyce Wieland, Atelier circulaire, Espace Bougie, BIECTR. I love pottery as well.
DLL: That is a wonderful body of exploration, but not surprising from such a fantastic city where beauty is around every corner, as your walks attest (follow Nicolas on Instagram for some amazing photos, a few of which have been sprinkled throughout our conversation). One day, I will visit Montréal and say hi!
NL: It’ll be my great pleasure to say hi too! Thanks, Darci! Once again, it was wonderful talking to you and getting to know you a little more. I had a great time chatting and collaborating with you on this compilation. I look forward to more fascinating conversations to come!
DLL: Same here, Nicolas. I can’t wait to see what new things we chat about in 2026. Happy New Year to you and Marie-Claude.
Follow D. L. Lewellyn at bydllewellyn.com and sign up for her newsletter and a free story. You can also stay posted on Instagram and Facebook.
Follow Nicolas Lemieux at nicolaslemieux.com. Sign up for his newsletter and get your copy of DRIFT & CRADLE. You can also stay up to date on Instagram and LinkedIn.
This story is a single journal entry in Book One, Ursus Borealis, in The Starlight Chronicles series. I found it rather fun to write a story within a story within a story. It nestles in a chapter featuring Kuliana Hada, a character that appears throughout the series, who is an Anurashin Captain of the Guard. Cynthia is her ancestress.
Cynthia’s story is incorporated into an actual historical account about the White Ship that sailed in 1120 as described. Its sinking changed history.
This sounds impossible, I know. You will just have to take my word for it. That is, if you’re from a realm apart from this hidden place beneath a volcano, and if this message manages to reach you, as I hope.
My life began on a farm in the County of Anjou. It was forever changed when I met a bear from Normandy.
After immersing myself in the astonishing world of my mate and the kingdoms of the shifters, learning there was life beyond this Earth before reaching the heavens took only a few extra pints to swallow down. That, and meeting Zigan. It turns out that Zigan and I are old souls who have danced through this journey before in many previous lifetimes.
How my soul was chosen for this repeated Earth-bound destiny remains a mystery, but my magus spent many hours over wine in our chateau, sharing what he knew of our history, or rather, the history of the prophecy of the marked maidens.
As for Zigan, up until we met—in this time—he had spent his life training with the Order, which included studying the records in the extensive archives and all forms of alchemy. He had also been honed into a fierce warrior. Even more astonishing, he could transform into a stunning feline, which I learned was called a tiger.
For eight years, I experienced what it was to be part of the Pack, to be soulmates with its alpha, to be one part of a wondrous whole. We were successful in our purpose, keeping the princes’ machinations from the human population and mitigating the damage.
This is the part at the end of our story. Writing it down is agony because it chronicles the event that halted our purpose violently, tore me from those I loved, and marked the beginning of my slow and lonely death. Still, it must be told.
It takes place starting mid-morning on the 25th day of November in the year 1120. We arrived at Barfleur near the coast of Normandy after confirming the location of the current plot of Aviel Enair, the oldest and most formidable of the three sibling princes.
We lacked the details, but we knew his scheme would involve the sailing vessel known as the White Ship, renowned for its speed and beauty, now carrying the only legitimate heir to King Henry I across the English Channel.
###
Frustration gripped me as I wrapped my arm around myself, trying to catch my breath after running the length of the docks. I called out to my mate, who was approaching behind me.
“It is just as we feared, Aldric. The ship has almost reached the Quilleboeuf!”
As I spoke, three hundred souls sailed away, including other nobles and the heir, and the loss would be catastrophic to the burgeoning English monarchy.
When we learned that the king’s seventeen-year-old son, William Adelin, desired to sail on this elegant vessel while his father sailed ahead of him, and that Aviel had set his sights on it, we considered the hazards the Anurashin prince might exploit. The ship had a good reputation and so did its captain, Thomas FitzStephen, whose father had taken the prince’s grandfather, William the Conqueror, across the same sea.
The only evident risk was sailing past Gatteville, where hidden rocks such as the Quilleboeuf lay waiting for careless sailors. But FitzStephen was surely used to navigating such hazards.
I breathed in the salty air to sharpen my mind while I considered our options. The raucous calls of seagulls ebbed overhead as they congregated, fought, and flew off with morsels of fish as their prize. Despite the size and piercing eyes of the warrior next to me, we stood unnoticed among the throng of bodies rushing toward their duties on the bustling docks.
“You must call Zigan, my love,” Aldric said, drawing me to his side and offering his warmth as I shivered from the urgency of our task and the breeze cooling the sweat of my exertion.
Although we were French, our purpose as part of this prophetic trio was to maintain the balance of power fated for this world in our time. According to Zigan’s archives, when the princes interfered, it fared badly for the human populations.
That meant we were trained to take risks, and we discovered this scheme by becoming captives of the princes at their temporary encampment while each enjoyed inflicting painful retribution on us for our past successes. But Aviel allowed his brothers’ torment to go only so far, which we’d learned to count on, though we didn’t understand it.
Our plan included an escape.
It went perfectly until we ran into a trap and had to leave our pack behind to fight, which also delayed our arrival. A worry was taking hold in me that the last eight years of joy and strife might culminate on these docks. Still, I pushed on.
After placing the insides of my wrists together, my tiger appeared, first as an image on my skin, then as a man stepping out of a gray mist, calmly taking us in with fathomless dark eyes. His markings glowed bright gold against his bronze arms, and his silky black hair waved in the breeze.
“We need to get aboard that ship, Zigan.” I pointed to the sails disappearing north along the coast to Gatteville. “Can you haze us there?”
“Yes, precious one. But I may not have the ability to get you back.”
“Let me go with him,” Aldric said. “If the ship were to sink, and Zigan cannot return us both…” He let that thought trail off as he looked at me in that fierce way that melted my heart.
The powerful love I had for this man, this larger-than-life Norman-born warrior who shared the spirit of a mighty brown bear, still overwhelmed me after all these years. We had not taken one moment of our time for granted, knowing the dangers inherent in my destiny.
“But I must be the one on that ship, Aldric,” I said as I clutched his hand. “We have no idea what is planned, and we need my instincts as a marked maiden.”
“Vous serez remarquée, ma bien-aimée. I can blend in and discern the situation. We must go now, as they quickly approach the rocks.”
I stood on my toes and brought his face close to mine, gazing into his brown eyes to see his bear gleaming at me, a magnificent creature he could transform into at will. Our lips met for an exquisite moment before I stepped back.
“I will bring him back safely,” Zigan said, taking hold of my mate.
They disappeared. I took shelter and waited. They returned in Zigan’s mist in less than thirty minutes.
Aldric and I moved together without thinking, as we did after every parting. Satisfied with the reunion, he gave his report. “Nearly everyone on board was drunk on wine and betting on a race to beat the king to England. The ship sailed fast, pushing its limits. Not more than ten minutes after we arrived, it hit the rocks and foundered.” I gasped in dismay, but he assured me the king’s son had made it to a lifeboat.
Without warning, warriors in the garb of another time appeared in a heavy mist that seemed to roll in from the sea. We assumed battle stances as they surrounded us, Zigan and Aldric drawing their swords. I shouted the cry of the Pack and raised my own blade. The clash of steel rang out across the harbor as bystanders rushed to get out of the way.
We held our own against a dozen until my sword was knocked from my hand. Vice-like arms grabbed me from behind, and Aldric’s roar shook the planks beneath our feet. But the Anurashin warrior kept me from my mate’s reach, letting the others leap in between us, forcing Aldric to slice his way to me.
“The prince has his sights on you, maiden,” the warrior said in my ear. “Did you not think he would succeed?”
“No matter that he tries, I will never be his!”
Springing my knife from my sleeve, I lunged back, shoved it between the ribs of my tormentor, and twisted. The warrior grunted in pain, but his grip did not loosen. Aldric dodged blades, slammed his fists into faces, and rammed bodies while I struggled to pull free.
Zigan moved so fast that arcs of blood hovered in the air where he last appeared. But when he got close enough to reach for me, the warrior jerked us back, and two others lunged for him.
To my utter horror, dual strikes took Zigan’s head.
My knees buckled from the agony tearing through my heart and then through my whole being, as Zigan’s soul was ripped from mine with brutal force. I never imagined our bond could be so viciously severed or that the warrior magus was anything but invincible.
A sickening realization sank like a stone in my belly. This had been Aviel’s plan all along—why he let us escape. He had engineered the entire scheme to kill my magus, seize me, and destroy the Pack de Normande.
What was left of my heart was shattered when Aldric stepped into the path of a blade to reach for me, ignoring the pain, desperate to save me as he felt the agony of my loss and our loss to come.
The mist I dreaded grew thick, and I felt as if I were breaking into tiny pieces. None of this could be happening!
The devastated face of my mate told me he had come to the same incomprehensible conclusion while he watched me fade into bits, so close to him our fingers nearly touched.
I poured my heart and soul into my words. “I will love you forever!”
The sound that followed was the fierce roar of a wounded bear.
Snow might visit us next week. I wanted to share our own splash of fall color, which we look forward to each year. We so enjoy our pistachio tree, which has taken years to reach this fullness. It stands out beautifully against the scrubby olive and locust trees. Don’t get me wrong. I treasure every inch of our two acres—scrubby brush and all—with our view of Mt. Rose, even before the snow caps its majestic peaks.
October is extra special. I have one treatment left to go and then maybe I can grow back my hair.
Enjoy this lively chat packed full of great writing tips and resources on writing short stories with fellow northern Nevada writer, writing coach, and public speaker, Linda K. Hardie.
I leaned forward again and repeated my question. “Halil Enair, do you admit shooting Ozzy Pruitt with illegal dark magic, locking him in his owl form, and causing him to slip into a coma?”
Recalling my helplessness and nearly losing Ozzy had me clenching my jaw. But we both survived, and two of the offenders below me risked their lives to help. One was the woman eyeing me steadily. She straightened her shoulders, letting out a dramatic sigh.
“Yes. I shot your owl spy, Michael Elliott.” She drew out my name, snark in tact. It still sounded amazing in her husky voice. “I knew the weapon could have killed him. As I explained the first three times, anyone with you was to be treated as collateral damage.” I raised an eyebrow. No less damning, but I had to give the woman credit for sticking to her brazen honesty.
If I learned anything about Halil Enair, it was that although she might speak impulsively, every word had a purpose or was meant to provoke a specific reaction, and the little bee loved to sting. Was I giving her what she wanted? I doubted it. I hadn’t been an alpha this long without mastering my reactions to goading, yet I sensed my fellow alphas’ eyes on me. I upped the sternness of my glower.
“I admitted my actions five times,” Halil continued. “Heizan and I explained to the investigators no less than seven times the workings of my father’s dark magic weapon and his orders to bring you to him. I admitted three times to participating in your torture, describing in lurid detail every act I inflicted on you. Would you like me to repeat those details a fourth…” she cleared her throat, “and fifth time?”
If her hands were free, one would rest on her cocked hip, although the gesture might reveal her slight tremor. I also had another quirk to add to what I was learning about Halil Enair. She quantified things to make her point and didn’t like landing on even numbers. Interesting.
“We can skip…” I started to drawl. She interrupted.
“You blushed each time I illustrated my… creativity in handling certain of your parts. You’re doing it again.” And there was that deliciously throaty voice from that nightmare cavern. “You must feel those cheeks flaming hot like your swoony eyes tend to do when your dragon is riled. You aren’t used to getting red in the face, are you, Alpha?” How did she do that? Turn that sting into allure, her exaggerations into truth.
Her inscrutable amethyst gems, framed by thick blonde lashes, beckoned me like a siren with an irresistible song, and everyone but us might have vanished from this chiseled-out crater. Being alone with Halil Enair in the desert didn’t seem like such a terrible idea…
I gritted my teeth, and the insanity passed. She continued in her smug, honeyed tones. “I promised on that godsforsaken island to submit to an accounting of my crimes. I kept my promise. Now, let’s get on with the sentencing. I’m tired of standing here, getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”
Halil Enair
I swiped at the irritating copper cuff with my toes. Flush against my skin and feeling more like silk than metal, I hardly noticed it was there except for the incessant hum. I scoffed. The Council thought their magic band would hamper my abilities. I had different ideas that I hadn’t tested because a small part of me wanted to atone. Another part wanted to know how long I could stick it out without cheating, and part of me couldn’t stand disappointing a certain alpha, even if I did think he was arrogant.
I bit back another huff and glanced across the table. The lovebirds were busy canoodling, so I dished out our casserole. Next, I uncorked the wine and poured it into etched crystal glasses—a ritual I’d come to enjoy as much as our post-dinner cribbage games.
That surprising new pastime got me thinking of the more profound reflections I’d engaged in since moving to Ketchikan. Yeah, go figure. I, live-on-the-edge Halil, was having insights. While my frustrations often overwhelmed me, I admitted that my probation, or exile of shame, was serving its purpose, helping me realign my life and embrace the concept of having choices.
I could even acknowledge that the alpha, who suffered the worst from my actions, seemed fine with letting me denounce him as my jailer, as if he understood my need for a bullseye with broad shoulders. Gods, get your mind off that mouthwatering physique, Halil. Still, the analogy illustrated the soul of an alpha—the willingness to shoulder responsibility for so many. But then he did something that made me wonder if there was more to it.
Michael Elliott had attached the monitor to my ankle himself, sealing it with his dragon’s magic while my Aunt Magdalene took care of my brothers.
His face was fascinating to watch as I fidgeted and jerked, jumping up to complain, sitting back down, and fidgeting again just to see that fine, darkly stubbled jaw clench in… well, I’d hoped it would be irritation. Instead, the alpha looked amused. I can still see that glimpse of his tantalizing smile and the glint in his deep midnight-blue eyes. Eventually, I sat still long enough to let him finish, mostly to enjoy gazing at his luxuriant blue-black hair as he knelt at my feet.
Challenging him seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m sure I came off as a sullen adolescent. I couldn’t stand to make our probationary arrangement easy or give him that oddly intimate power over me: an untenable outcome and the hardest to swallow. Yet, I had the same question every time I went down this path: how could he smile at all after what I had done?
Spero Vic
After sitting half the bloody day in a hazy corner of the Juniper’s Hollow, broiling next to the fire and nursing too many beers while I waited for my mark to show his hairy dwarf face, I was itching to toss a chaos spell into the middle of the crowd to break the monotony. It didn’t help that my butt ached like a mother. Why did pubs never have cushioned seats when the entire goal was to keep their patrons engaged in prolonged alcohol consumption?
As if the hard oak wasn’t bad enough, I was forced to cram my long legs into awkward angles to fit them beneath the shrunken booth.
A shrill laugh pinged off my frayed nerves, and I closed my eyes. The Woody Woodpecker impersonator at the bar was going to be my first victim. Shit.Cartoons?What would pop into my head next? Disrupting the cheer careening around the low-ceilinged oak-beamed tavern was gaining traction as a workable idea.
The hours enduring pipe smoke, beer fumes, burning candles, and dwarf sweat had triggered a throbbing in my left temple. I needed relief, but drawing attention was out of the question. So, I distracted myself with thoughts of the luscious redheaded hellion I’d left snoring in my bed at dawn after borrowing her portal key to hop into this realm… illegally. It wasn’t often that my schemes lined up with a night of acrobatic sex. Unfortunately, I was so over this vigil that my most lurid moments with Ursula weren’t even doing it for me.
My empty stomach clenched, reminding me I hadn’t consumed anything but the dwarves’ superior version of German beer since yesterday. Shit! F##* hunger, f*#% nerves, f%*# Ursula. Meeting the dwarf and talking him out of the thing I’d come for was the only way to satisfy the hollow pit in my stomach, the gnawing ache I’d lived with for too many rune-cursed months.
I was about to run a hand through my hair but remembered just in time to keep both hands wrapped around my tankard, pretending to enjoy my tepid beer. My glamour kicked ass, easily concealing a tall human dressed in a duster loaded with rune magic in a room full of stout patrons who barely topped five feet. However, after so many hours fighting hunger and boredom, it was becoming harder to maintain. I needed to hold it together until Larin Birch sauntered through that oak plank door.
Was it too much to expect a regimented dwarf to stick to his schedule? Had someone gotten to him? I just need to get what I came for, return home, and slip the key around Ursula’s lovely neck before she wakes. Then, I’ll rouse the dryad and send her back to her forest, her memories as hazy as her missing hours.
This plan had been weeks in the making, and this was only the first step, one of many in a series of progressively crazier moves still ahead, which was nothing new for the “batshit-crazy rogue mage intent on his purpose,” as another surprisingly astute lover had said, stumbling out of my apartment, laugh-crying and shaking her head. A night with me between silk sheets often resulted in blissful disorientation and colorful slurs against my character, even from the powerful supernaturals I typically went for.
All but one. A shapeshifter with man-killer instincts: Halil Enair, an especially memorable dalliance, who won’t be pleased to see me on her doorstep. Unfortunately for her, she had a crucial role to play in my scheme.
I unclenched my jaw and took a few deep breaths. No one needed to hear my teeth grinding. Still… “Just a little chaos,” I mumbled, running my hand down my coat sleeve to soothe the marks pulsing hot on my skin. “They won’t know it came from me.”
Hundreds of amazing romance titles are free April 22 at RomanceBookLovers.com. Enjoy the day filling your e-readers, then find that cozy niche and let romance take you over. ☕💟☕
Week Long Sale!
While I am offering Tigris Vetus for FREE (scroll down for its latest review), I never participate in an exciting #RomanceBookBlast event without offering my other books at special prices. Enjoy shopping Amazon for all five books this week, four of them on sale.
Past drafts gone in a puff! Or, with the magic delete button. If I were an angsty writer of a past century, the pages would have been burned. I know an author who actually did burn his first draft, but that’s his story to tell, and it’s a good one.
I’ve been doing a lot of purging this month, getting ready for a big disruption in my life, so why not purge my drafts and give you my latest…
Enjoy meeting Onyx, who has the honor of opening my story… his story.
March 27, 2025
The Dragon
Onyx – Deep Inside Ben Shiel, Western Scottish Highlands, UK – Late June
In the mountain’s dim recesses, a dragon lay coiled in slumber on a granite shelf, snorting smoke rings at invisible foes. His fiery exhales turned to steam in the damp air, sending ashy tendrils writhing around his fearsome spikes before dissipating like miniature storm clouds.
His eyelids fluttered, one popping open to reveal a midnight blue iris flashing off a bank of dazzling quartz crystals before shutting again. His nostrils flared as if scenting danger.
It wasn’t just his face in motion. The dragon’s great wing jerked before his hind leg pumped the air. The vigorous movements sent scree tumbling off the edge and clattering into icy pools far below, inciting twittering protests from the deeper, more secretive inhabitants.
These disturbances did not trouble Ben Shiel. Upheavals were a constant in the mountain’s life, caused by forces more relentless than his winged friend. On the contrary, the dragon’s visits were comforting and far too rare. It was unusual for Michael Elliott, the mountain’s steward, to shift into dragon form and withdraw, allowing the beast an independent physical existence.
And so Onyx, the mighty dragon, as black as his name implied, slept in the cradle of the mountain and dreamed…
###
Michael, watch out!
“Onyx?” Michael inquired mildly through our bond as he straightened from his inspection.
My human should have been alarmed by my voice and ready when the silent missile, whizzing out of the trees, burrowed into his neck. The charge tore agonizingly through every nerve in his body. I knew this—remembered it. But I didn’t feel it. Why?
The rift. We were in Alaska during the Anurashin conflict. Another dream?
Panic gripped my heart, but the vision would not release me. I was inside Michael, watching as he went from stooping over the dead caribou he was examining to planting face-first in the bloody snow without the slightest awareness to stop his fall. Not a single muscle on the powerful shifter even had time to twitch.
The carcass must have distracted me, the blood and exposed flesh stirring my hunger—a foolish mistake when Michael’s physical body was in control.
A Great Horned Owl toppled out of a spruce tree, landing beside us—shot by another bolt before he could take flight. Michael would be frantic if he knew his friend had fallen, worrying more for Ozzy than himself.
My voice sounded feeble even to me as I called out to my human host. My frustration turned to icy horror when a barely perceptible pop signaled the worst thing imaginable, and the tether binding our souls began to unravel. This time, the pain felt real as I shattered into a thousand pieces and began swirling inside a vortex, like a barrow full of leaves picked up and carried by the wind. Once again, death by separation threatened us both.
I reassembled in a place devoid of substance. Yet, I hadn’t vanished completely, and my senses remained intact, as evidenced by the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.
“What do we do with the owl?” said a woman, her voice tight with apprehension. “I acted on orders without thinking.”
A man replied in a tone no less grim. “We’ll claim we killed the spy. Hopefully, the owl will recover from the human dose and find his way back to the pack.”
“If Airzoih…”
“Welcome to the deadly game I’ve been playing, little sister.”
The siblings lifted my human, propping him between them as a cool misty force coalesced around us. A single step into the charged haze transported us from the Alaskan wilderness to a damp, echoing space that smelled of the sea. After stripping Michael of his clothes and securing him to a rough-hewn bench, the pair retreated into their mist. A day passed in silent darkness, Michael unconscious for most of it.
Before he came to, the brother returned, but not in human form. I recognized his scent and something more. Snorting breaths, shuffling wings, and a massive, spiny tail scraping against stone. The scent picture was complete. This was the dragon who’d been spying on us for weeks, the reason we were investigating the caribou. His shallow breathing sounded from the recesses as he settled in to wait.
Michael came awake, heart pounding, his agony raging as his body fought to heal. Without our bond, he wasn’t repairing as he should. But he was an alpha. It would take more than debilitating pain to keep him from assessing his situation. Just as he spotted the ruby-red dragon in the shadows, the beast transformed in a shower of crackling energy, the bolts illuminating the cavern in strobe-like flashes before the shadows fell back into place.
A man stepped into the thin light provided by a small crevice, struck a flint against the wall by the cell doors, and lit a torch. The shadows receded, and we got our first look at the enemy. Dark blonde hair swept back from a face like that in a Greek fresco. His lavender eyes were shadowed with weary conflict. A man forced too long to act against his nature.
Your dragon was stolen, Michael Elliott, by Prince Airzoih’s illegal magic. I can only imagine the pain you’re in. He means to kill you after toying with you. You need to convince me to stop him.”
“And who are you?” Michael rasped between parched lips.
“There’s water above you.” The man said, gesturing to a dripping straw-sized bamboo shoot jutting from a larger bamboo pipe near Michael’s head. Michael drank—and drank some more—until his stomach heaved, and he spewed half of the water back out.
“It’s mostly desalinated. You’ll be fine. To answer your question. I’m the only reasonable offspring Airzoih spawned.”
“Where are we?”
“Far from your pack, Alpha.”
“You’re the dragon spy.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the owl?”
“I’m afraid he got zapped too. I don’t think he fared well.”
Michael swallowed down the news, tucking it away for later.
“How does the prince benefit from targeting me?”
“Airzoih wants us to eliminate dragon shifters so that his hybrid army reigns supreme,” the man replied, glibly divulging his sire’s plans. “You’re our initiation.” Derision entered his relaxed tone. “Degrading a powerful alpha will prove we’re a success—one he can glorify while he weakens the opposition.”
“How does he have children who can summon a dragon?”
“Our mother is Fiona McIver.” Michael jolted at the news.
“We lost Fiona in the Fae War,” he ground out. “I saw her go down.” He referred to a war long over but never forgotten.
“All part of my father’s plan, and one reason he aligned himself with the opposing coven. It’s the witches’ dark potion that incapacitates you and suppresses your dragon. Fiona’s, too.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want your help to save my mother…”
A purple mist came to life in the center of the cavern, interrupting him. When it cleared, four dragons loomed large. The beasts snapped and snarled at each other for space until, one by one, they changed into three men and a woman. They bore a striking resemblance to the one who’d been bargaining with Michael, and they glared their greetings to each other with the same astonishing, lavender eyes. I recognized the woman’s scent from the forest.
When she caught sight of Michael, her expression turned feral, and she sauntered toward his crudely assembled cage. “You don’t look so legendary, Alpha of the Fire Star Pack,” she said, eyes gleaming a deeper violet. She gazed at Michael’s form like a predator, passing her tongue over her lips. Michael’s body reacted, his skin prickling with heat despite his pain receptors still firing like rockets.
“Fiona told us stories about you and Onyx when we were children,” she purred. “Do you miss him? Is it painful? Fiona still cries for Nangelica. It’s hard to imagine such a deep wound in my soul since my dragon is just a façade. Heizan says the separation is tearing our mother apart.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “Fiona can still kick my father’s ass if he fails to take the proper precautions. I wonder how strong you are without your dragon’s spirit
“That’s enough, Halil,” Heizan said under his breath. He didn’t seem interested in drawing the other siblings’ attention, leaving them to their mumbled discussion in a dark corner.
Despite the woman’s practiced posturing, I sensed a battle waging in her. It surprised her. But it was Michael who astonished me when she failed to offend him, not because he was indifferent. He saw beyond her contempt, recognized something in those amethyst windows to her soul that touched a place few had reached. It only made him look closer.
This month marks one year since Tigris Vetus was released into the world, concluding The Starlight Chronicles’ epic paranormal romance.
When I set out to write my first novel, I had no idea Selena’s story would expand into three volumes. Finishing Book Three was a huge accomplishment for me as it took twice as long to write as the previous two books put together. I wanted it to be… well, epic… and romantic, and different from other paranormal romances that I’ve read and loved. I hope you find awesome things to love about this series, too.
To celebrate, I’m giving away a signed copy of Tigris Vetus on Instagram.
Scroll for details on the giveaway and the series, including a character sketch of Aviel Enair, the anti-hero you will hate to love in The Starlight Chronicles.
Tigris Vetus
When destiny gives you three paths, choose the fourth.
I doodle this in my art journal because it seems like the answer to my riddle. Some say having choices is a good thing, but I’ve learned that three possible roads to the future lead to confusion and heartache.
It all started when I shot an alien prince on a highway near Lake Tahoe. Well, to be honest, it began when I met a towering man with chestnut eyes who captured my heart despite his best efforts to keep me out of his dangerous world.
Andras is my mate, but he’s compelled by fate to team up with a rival alpha to support my prophetic mission. Elliott and his pack are family now, and Elliott looks at me the same way Andras does. Both men tug on my heartstrings—and that’s not my biggest problem.
After a battle with said alien prince, we regroup at my brother’s fishing lodge in Ketchikan. I haven’t seen Dylan in years. There’s a reason for that, which makes me sadder than even our separation. Then, my vampire friend enlists my help on a mission. When Andras finds out, I discover what happens when you poke an angry bear.
I’m about to make it worse when my instincts urge me to leave my bear and my dragon to follow the ancient tiger, aka the alien prince, to his lair—my third path in a destiny of choices marked by the moon goddesses of Anurash. ~ Selena Aires
Ursus Borealis, Book One
Why not get started at the beginning with Ursus Borealis? Available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited, or grab a beautiful paperback.
Ursus Borealis
Bears are supposed to live in the woods, just not the kind who send you to the moon.
Selena Aires
I promised my friend in his final days that I would find the place I was destined for. Neither of us had a clue what that meant, but searching for it after he’s gone helps me cope with my grief, and I pack up my art supplies and hit the highway. When I stop for gas in Quincy, Thomas is waiting for me—in spirit. So, I stay—and find my dream cottage with a studio and hiking trails out the back door and a quaint old tavern called the Starlight with a cozy booth in the corner. I set out my sketchbook and pencils and get busy drawing faces—my way of getting to know people while I enjoy a beer.
It works. I’m making friends and filling my journal with the kind of diverse characters typical of a crossroads pub. But diversity doesn’t explain why the people coming to life on my pages are the stuff of fairytales. The most fascinating is Andras Johns, and I’m wondering more often whether the towering man who sets me on fire with one look is the prince in the story or the beast lurking in the woods.
Andras Johns
I’ve been the alpha of the North Star Pack long enough to know better. My policy? Never mix it up with a human and risk exposing a vulnerable species to the hazards of my world. But there’s a new face in town. A beautiful, human face. What do I do the first time Selena Aires gives me her smile? I smile back. It’s a mistake—and I know I’m done for, which is a problem because an alpha can’t break his own rules.
And those hazards I mentioned? They just ramped up. The tempting Ms. Aires couldn’t be more off-limits. If only she didn’t have her own ideas about that.
By D. L. Lewellyn 