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Several
months after Kevin’s death, Amanda wrote an autobiography of her
life with Kevin called Stolen andshe asked me if I would help edit the book.  Once we put the
finishing touches on Stolen, we decided we would cowrite a fictional
series called The Charly Stevens series.

Once
we had an idea for the above projects, we needed a Social Engineer to
handle publishing, website development, cover art, and social media
for our company.  We were lucky enough to convince Kris Spoon tojoin our team.  Kris has a wide range of experience in the world
of publishing and social media and has used those unique skills to
create a platform for not only the works we have created to date, but
for those to come.  We hope in the future to be able to help
other authors bring their works to life through our company.

Acceptance:
Tank walked with me to Riley’s door and she squeezed my shoulder, then went down the hall to the nurse’s station. I stood at
that door taking deep breaths trying to pull myself together until, with a shaking hand, I pushed the door open. When I saw the
big strong man that had become such a big part of my life lately lying in that bed with tubes hanging out of him and the
machines making noise all around him, I sucked in a ragged breath and the tears started falling again.
I saw movement and then Riley lifted his head and turned toward me and as soon as he saw me, that brilliant smile lit up his
face. I slowly made my way to his side and when I got there and looked down into his eyes, I started sobbing. His eyes were
puffy and his face was pale with multiple small lacerations. Riley lifted his arm, the one without the splint on it and took my hand
and pulled it to his lips. His lips were dry and the kiss was weak.
He smiled again and said, “It’s ok Charly, I’m going to be ok, alright?” looking up at me to make sure I believed him.
I just bent down and laid my head on his shoulder as he brought his arm around me holding me to his chest, letting me cry it all
out. When I finished, not sure how long it took but I finally was able to pull myself together, I pulled my head up and looked him
in the eye.
“You promised not to break my heart, getting yourself killed certainly qualifies as breaking my heart,” I said, but there was no
hostility there, something else entirely.
I didn’t realize until right this moment just how much Riley has taken over my heart. I am in love with this man and the realization
of that slammed into me like a truck going 100 miles an hour. How have I gone from where I was, to this place so quickly. Then I
thought how long it has been and realized it has taken quite a bit of time to get to where I was at that moment, to allow me to
feel something for someone again. I am just going to have to accept that to love someone is to live with the chance that you can
lose them. If my past taught me anything, it was to show those who you love how much they mean to you each and every day.
To take chances when they arrive and never second guess your feelings. Life is short.
I brought my lips down to his and I made sure he understood what he means to me. And then to torture him for almost giving me
a heart attack I leaned into his ear.
“It’s too bad you got hurt, I just put clean sheets on my bed, but I guess you have your own clean sheets here,” then I gently bit
his earlobe and a moan escaped his lips and when I pulled my head back I saw goosebumps on his arm. I finally let myself
smile at him as he returned the smile.
“Sure, hit a guy while he’s down. Trust me, I will get my revenge,” he said as he took my hand to his lips and placed a gentle
kiss on it. Now I had goosebumps.

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In
the far off land of Manji, two tribes live in a strained peace- the
magic wielding Manjians and the supernatural

Vampires.
A delicate balance is kept between the two races who depend on one
another for survival. This peace is broken however when the fireweed,or Io as it’s called, a mythical plant, grows once again within the
cursed land called the Barron. Named in a

prophecy
that speaks doom for both races, the beautiful plant causes panic
within the Vampire community. But the bigger mystery comes when a
prisoner, thought dead, is found to be alive and has escaped into the
forbidden lands beyond the Vampire’s border.

Prince
Jarek is sent to retrieve her, only to find his life set on a new
course when the true Io reveals herself as both a worthy adversary
and lover. Will the species survive her wrath? How much will the fire
cleanse?

In
between writing, MJ enjoys reading, collecting music and attending
concerts. Lux is the first installment in the Veritas series which is
MJ’s first published work.

The field had once been full of life. Vegetation filled the base with leafy greens and was adorned by soft heathers
and vibrant yellows. Trees reached for the sky, their tops nearly playing with the clouds that drifted in the
atmosphere above. Animals moved in and out of the worn game trails drinking from the nearby stream or feasting
on the nutrients the earth gave up. The area was at peace.
That was before the war. Before the Cleanse.
Before the Royals, the Zheng clashed with the People, the Koa. After the battle, the bodies were left strewn about
the field carelessly. The sun rose and they burst into flames. The Vampires’ corpses were consumed by fire, erasing
all memory of who they were and who they would be. They burned for days before their ashes were consumed by
the ground. No one knew how many spirits lay within the field. But it was no secret the spirits of the warriors who
were slain there haunted the ground and contaminated the air. It was said the leader of the Dragons laid a curse on
the land, allowing those violent and restless spirits to attack any who dared cross the barren land. Superstitions ran
rampant across and kept the Vampires away.
Superstitions aside, this was truth: where life once sprang, death now reigned. All that was left of the plants were
gnarled, charred roots of the towering trees which now stuck out from the ground like skeletal hands seeking refuge
in the light of day.
A prophecy lay amongst the memories of the few who managed to live beyond the day the field burned. It is said
that nothing would grow on the scarred land until a chosen warrior of the People came forth from the ashes. This
time would be signaled by the growth of the Io, a flowering plant that represented fire and rebirth. It was rare and
called Fireweed in the common tongue. The Io signaled the cleansing of the psyche, a changing of the times when
the head blind Vampires would reclaim their magic and make amends for their genocide. Any unworthy who
touched it would be burned and those who came with pure spirits would be healed.

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Former
military, John Vellum is a Protector. He protects the elite. The
elite can be difficult but John knows a firm hand will keep his
clients safe but Mel is not what he expects.

The
danger to her life is real and imminent. While trying to keep her
safe, he learns she is spunky, vulnerable, and sexy. Amidst
kidnapping attempts and other threats, John’s desire leads to
something deeper if he can only get her to trust him.

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“Mel Breuer. I got a notice to report to Security Chief Albert Johannson,” she said to the
corporal behind the counter of the security offices on Space Station Joplin.
“One moment,” Corporal Ottmeyer said. He tapped out something on his comp. “You’re to
go right back. It’s the second door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Mel said. She frowned still concerned why security called her out of her work
as a supply officer.
Standing before the door, she knocked and heard a grumbled come in. Taking a deep breath,
she stepped through the door. Behind a large desk, Albert Johannson looked at his comp and
then
at her. “Hi,” she said as he and the other man stood. “Mel Breuer. You called me out of work.”
She let the door close behind her, felt suddenly trapped.
Mel looked between the older man and the tall man who also rose from one of the chairs. The
two men were polar opposites. Albert Johannson was a bureaucrat, more used to shuffling
papers
than working on the station. If rumors were to be believed, Johannson used to be a bad ass but
he
didn’t look it. The other man was all muscle, tense, dark, and mysterious. His purple eyes
assessed every detail, tracked all her movements. She recognized his type immediately. He
was a
protector, a warrior, a man who knew how to fight.
“Mel Breuer,” Albert said. “Ah. I see. You have permission to work under this name.”
“It’s my name legally,” Mel said gritting her teeth.
“You are in fact Princess Margarita Eleanor Leona Zaveri of the Finnian Alliance,” Albert
said.
“I’m not actually,” Mel said. When both men stared at her, she rolled her eyes. “All right,
technically I was. However, I renounced my title.”
“Princess,” Albert said. “We’ve received a request from the Finnian Alliance to provide you
with protection.”
“No, you haven’t,” Mel said. She stepped back towards the door. “There’s no way anyone
there is going to order protection for me.”
“You may have difficult family relations,” Albert said. “But this is a diplomatic request.”
“Lose it,” Mel said. “I don’t need protection and I don’t want it.”
“Not going to happen,” Albert said. “I suggest you sit while I explain what will be
happening.”
“No,” Mel said. “Look. Certain members of my family have a ridiculous sense of humor.
This is their idea of a joke in order to annoy me. There’s no way the queen approved protection
for me.”
“The queen,” Albert looked through the paperwork. “No. It was Consort Robert Breuer.”
“Dad,” Mel frowned. She pushed back her long strawberry blond hair. “Daddy ordered it?”
“If your father is Robert Breuer,” Albert said.
“Can I… Is there somewhere I can make a call in private,” Mel asked worry clouding her
gray eyes.
“We’ll give you the room for five minutes,” Albert said. “I have a number of meetings. We
need to get you to a secure location.”
The protector purple eyes met hers, assessed her. Mel raised her eyebrow, refusing to be
intimidated by him.
“Thank you,” Mel said. As they stepped out of the room, she pulled out her com, frowned.
She made the connection.

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Flash
forward three years, Charity is studying at Yale and still in love
with her Princeton Man.

Quinn
(Q) Everett is on scholarship at Yale, and finds himself inexplicably
in Charity’s path. He tries to stay away, but his mouthy best
friend thinks he knows better. Suddenly it’s lunches and crashing
private plans for the duo just to see her.

But
their flirtations do not go unseen, and Logan’s love turns and goes
from jealousy to murderous intent.

Can
these unproven lovers stay the course and avoid the devious plot of a
scorn man or will everything crash and burn?

*Trigger
warning: Violence

**Strong
Sexual Situations

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to Goodreads

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Butmany of the villagers worried about the curse of the white elephant
with the red birthmark across her face.

Raised
in the mountains of northern Siam, Kanita’s idyllic life is
shattered when she is ordered to marry a much older man and leave her
beloved yet cursed elephant behind. But Kanita’s stubborn nature
refuses to bow to her parents’ wishes.

Kanita
and Safi flee their village with the goal of redeeming Safi from her
cursed reputation and cementing their bond, vowing to never be
separated.

But
the jungle is more dangerous than Kanita or Safi could have
imagined.

From
new author Zoey Gong, follow Kanita and Safi through the jungles of
ancient Siam in a story of friendship, hope, and redemption.

A
Girl and her Elephant is the first book in the Animal Companion
series, but each book is a stand-alone novel with new characters and
adventures.

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The cries of the elephant could be heard throughout the jungle.
Kanita could no longer ignore the elephant’s suffering. Even though her father—the king’s mahout—had
warned her to stay away, she had to see what was happening for herself. She snuck out of her bedroom
window and ran through the village to the royal stables where the white elephant was in heavy labor.
Even though it was late at night, the stables and yard were lit with torches, and mahouts were running
here and there, trying to calm the rest of the elephant herd. But they seemed incapable of being consoled,
and each one trumpeted in distress.
“Bring more hot water!” Kanita heard her father call to one of his men. “And my kris. I will have to cut
the baby loose.”
Her father had asked for his dagger! The poor elephant, Kanita thought. If the elephant—one of the
sacred white elephants—died, the king would be displeased. She moved a bale of hay to a stable window
and climbed on top of it to get a better view.
On the floor of the stables was the large white elephant. She was straining to birth her calf into the world
and tears seeped from her eyes.
She looked at Kanita, and Kanita’s heart froze in her chest. It was as though she could hear the elephant
begging her for help.
The elephant’s wet eyes found Kanita’s, and she raised her trunk toward her.
Kanita jumped down from the hay bale and ran into the stables. She had to do something to help. As she
entered the building, she saw her father walk behind the elephant with his kris.
“Por! No!” Kanita cried as she ran to him, pulling on his arm. “You’ll kill her.”
“Kanita!” he said sternly. “I told you to stay in the house with your mother. Get out of here.”
“No, I can help,” she said. She went to the elephant and looked at where the baby was supposed to come
out. The area was red and swollen, but she thought she could see a trunk trying to wiggle out.
She had never helped birth a baby elephant before. As a girl, she was forbidden from becoming a mahout.
But she had helped her mother bring a woman’s baby into the world just a few days before. It didn’t look
so different to her. She just needed to reach inside and pull the baby out. And with her small hands and
arms, she thought she was just the right size to do it.
She slid her hands inside the mother elephant.
“Be careful,” her father cautioned. “Can you feel the calf’s legs?”
She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. It was like nothing in the world she had touched before. She closed
her eyes and let her hands do the seeing for her.
She felt it. The trunk. She could feel the length of it and the ridges up to the baby elephant’s face. She felt
the trunk wrap around her arm.
“I feel its face!” Kanita cried.
“Keep going,” her father said.
She pushed further into the elephant, all the way to her shoulders. She slid her hands down the side of the
baby elephant and gripped it under its front leg.
“I have it!” she said. “I have the leg!” She tried to pull it out, but she was not strong enough. “Help me!”
she cried.
Her father wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled. “Don’t let go!” he ordered.
She could feel her hands start to slip, but she refused to release her grip. The baby elephant’s trunk
wrapped even more tightly around her arm. She started to feel the baby elephant’s mass give way.
“It’s coming!” she yelled, and the mother elephant trumpeted again, forcing the baby out.
Kanita and her father fell backward as the baby elephant plopped out of her mother on top of them
covered in birthing goo. The baby struggled, still partially trapped in her amniotic sack. Kanita’s father
used his kris to cut the sack away.
The baby elephant took her first full gasp of air, and Kanita wrapped her arms around the baby, a baby
that was probably ten times the weight of eight-year-old Kanita. A baby girl elephant.
“You did it,” her father said, patting her on the back.
Kanita breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have saved the baby elephant and her mother.
But then the mother elephant trumpeted again and let out a horrifying moan. Blood and other fluids
poured out of the mother elephant, soaking the stable floor.
“Oh no!” Kanita cried as she stood, her chong kraben drenched with blood. Her feet slipped on the floor
as she made her way to the mother elephant’s face.
The mother elephant groaned as Kanita stroked her face.
“I’m so sorry,” Kanita said. “I’ll take care of her. I promise.”The mother elephant sighed one last time, her eyes focusing softly on Kanita as though she understood
before closing them forever.
Kanita stood back and then kneeled, kowtowing to the white elephant, thanking her for her service to the
king and honoring her as his representative. All of the mahouts in the stables—including Kanita’s father
—did the same, as was proper. The rest of the elephants in the king’s stables—white and gray—let out a
mournful trumpet, as though they all suffered from the loss of one of their own.
Kanita was the first to raise her head, as her thoughts were now with the baby elephant left behind. The
baby elephant was sitting up, its eyes wide, apparently confused about what was going on. Kanita raised
the baby’s trunk and coaxed her to follow. She led her to her mother so she could nurse. Even though the
mother was dead, the milk she made in preparation for her baby should still be good for the baby’s first
drink.
As the men discussed what to do next with the deceased royal elephant—they would have to inform the
king and then hold a royal procession for her.
Kanita grabbed a bucket of water and started washing the baby. As she did so, she was greeted with an
incredible sight.
“Por!” she called to her father. “Look!”
Her father and some of the other mahouts came to see what she was excited about.
“Well, I’ll be…” her father trailed off as he sunk to his knees.
The baby—like her mother—was a white elephant.
Once again, everyone in the stables—including Kanita—prostrated themselves before an auspicious
elephant.
“Is this the first time a white elephant has been born in captivity?” Kanita asked after they all were
standing again.
“King Sakda is truly a blessed monarch,” her father said.
“Hey, boss,” one of the mahouts said, calling her father to him. He went to him, and the two talked
quietly for a moment, frowning at the baby elephant.
“What is it?” Kanita asked. She went to her father’s side and realized what they were looking at.
The baby elephant had a long red birthmark down one side of her face. On her pale pink skin—white
elephants were not really white, but only a pale gray or pink in color—the mark showed dramatically.
“It’s nothing,” Kanita said, remembering that her friend Boonsri had a red birthmark on her back. “She’s
still a white elephant. We will still honor her.”
“It’s a bad omen elephant, boss,” the other mahout mumbled.
“Don’t say that!” Kanita yelled.
“Enough,” her father said firmly. “I will send an urgent message to the king, telling him what happened
and about the new white elephant. In all his wisdom, he will know what to do.”
“We should take good care of her,” Kanita said. “The king will want to know his auspicious elephant is
well cared for.”
Kanita went over to the little elephant, who had now finished drinking her mother’s milk, and led her to a
clean area of the stables. She finished washing and drying the elephant and laid her on a fresh bed of
straw.
“Don’t worry,” Kanita said as she laid down with the elephant, wrapping her arms around her. “I won’t
let anything happen to you, Safi, my sweet little friend.”
But in her heart, she worried about the mahout calling the baby elephant a “bad omen.”

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