Category: Author’s Alley
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Chapter x. A Future Unwritten
x.i. The Things That Remain Cassian had watched Nesta die once. Not properly. Not in the way that mattered to anyone who had not been there. He had watched her throw herself over his body on a battlefield, watched her give up the power of the Cauldron to save him, watched her bargain away something…
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The Ordinary Genius
He was very good at one specific thing that had nothing to do with his career, his talents, or anything he’d ever sought credit for. He was good at noticing when she needed to leave a thing. A party that had gone on too long. A dinner where the conversation had taken a turn that…
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The Map
On their tenth anniversary, she’d made him a map. Not of a real place — of their relationship. She’d drawn it by hand, in the obsessive, particular way she had with projects she cared about: every significant place marked, the coffee shop where they’d had the conversation that changed things, the street corner where he’d…
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Last-Minute Samhain: A Quiet Ritual You Can Do in Bed
A five-minute way to remember, reflect, and welcome the next season, even when your grandest plan involves finding the comfortable side of the pillow. You had plans for Samhain. There would be candles, an altar, perhaps something homemade involving apples. Then life happened, and now you’re in bed, wondering whether eating a biscuit under an…
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The Night Shift
Their son had been a terrible sleeper. This was known in the way family legends are known — not as a complaint anymore, but as mythology, the founding story of their early years of parenting. For eighteen months he’d woken two or three times a night, and they’d divided the nights with the grim practicality…
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The Widow’s Curse: The Halloween Romance I Wrote After Losing My Husband
Why I gave grief a house full of secrets.. and a heroine whose story could still end in love. I don’t know if you know… but a few years ago, I lost my husband. I was left all alone with a baby in my arms, and no one else around. So, I’ll do something I…
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The Difference
He cried at things she didn’t expect. Not at the obvious things — the sad films, the difficult moments, the occasions where tears were culturally called for. At those he was steady in the way she’d come to rely on. But occasionally, privately, he cried at things she would never have predicted. She’d found out…
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Slow Burn or Slow Nothing? I Need More Than Three Hundred Pages of Eye Contact
How to find romantic tension that develops, pays off, and gives those almost-kisses a reason to exist. I love a slow burn. Give me the reluctant alliance, the conversation that becomes unexpectedly personal, and the moment someone notices far too much about the other person’s mouth. I am happy to wait for a kiss when…
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Chapter ix. Silver Flame, Silver Forge
One oath was taken. One promise was chosen. Only one can open the way. The words burned across the stone. Nesta could still feel the place where the chain had touched her palm. A cold, bright mark pulsed beneath her skin, answering the red thread that ran from Cassian’s wrist into the dark. The Archive…
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The Sunday Rule
The Sunday rule had been her idea, and she’d enforced it more loosely than she’d intended, which was fine because the spirit of it had held even when the letter hadn’t. The rule was: no planning on Sundays. No lists, no logistics, no decisions about the week ahead. Just — existing. Whatever that looked like.…
