Where The Shift Hits the Fan
About the Author
I knew dogs and wolves were For me it is a collision os things and a change phone call. Dogs and writing rand smack into each other. Each one, important for different and essential reasons stayed with me until the moment I had nearly nothing left. With them I rebuilt myself.
Early on in my life, I had a dream. In this dream I was saved by a Giant Schnauzer. It told me how to save myself. I did that in the dream a felt amazing. I never forgot that dream or dogs.
The other thing I really love is writing. I write all kinds of things. However, when I had the opportunity to become a romance writer I grabbed a hold of that with both hands. I don’t regret a minute of it.
I’m still learning and growing. I enjoy it so much and I can’t thank you enough for supporting me by reading my books and short stories. You make this possible.
Cheers, Raven
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So I healed a magic wolf in my ER, got kidnapped by the sorcerer who owns him, and discovered I'm the only thing standing between Chicago and literal darkness.
He materializes out of a blackout like he owns the dark — storm-grey eyes, zero warmth — and gives me thirty seconds to prove I'm not the reason his city is tearing itself apart.
Most infuriating man I've ever met.
Except then he stays up all night protecting me, steps between me and everything trying to kill us, and somewhere in a tunnel with shadow monsters scraping the walls, his hand steady on my arm, I stop pretending I don't feel it.
So we complete a bonding ritual beneath the city and seal the breach bleeding Chicago dry.
And the enemy we thought we'd stopped used our bond like a beacon to find us.
The thing powerful enough to save this city just painted a target on both of us.
If they break one of us, they break both.
So the wolf shifter who showed up looking for my married sister ends up sinking his teeth into my shoulder six weeks later.
He's forty-two, gruff, and fills a room just by standing in it.
I'm twenty-four, quiet, and very good at cataloging things that aren't mine—including, apparently, feelings.
He walks into my archive looking for my sister. His wolf takes one breath and decides I'm his instead.
I'm not her. He came for the wrong Walker and can't seem to leave.
We start "just" researching land deeds together. Boxes turn into hours.
Hours turn into him snarling at a rival shifter who dares touch me in my own vault.
He kisses me like he's been starving for years.
I fall for the way he treats two-hundred-year-old letters like they're sacred—and starts treating me the same way.
Then I learn the truth: he spent twelve years grieving her, not knowing I existed.
Now his clan calls our bond illegal, his enemies are circling, and one vote could erase me from his life for good.
