Böcker utgivna av Ann Giimpel Books, LLC

Faith fled her compound one wintry night with four other genetically modified women. Glory, Honor, Charity, and Hope have all found men who adore them. Faith is happy for her sisters, but it's lonely on her own. A man piqued her interest, but she ran the probabilities, and the odds of him ever being interested in her are thin. Tough and forbidding, Reginald was a field surgeon in the Middle East. He eats and breathes medicine. Besides, he's married to the CIA. No wives in his past. Faith hacked into the personnel database to check.Reginald Thomas agreed to run the CIA's infirmary after a bullet nailed him in Afghanistan. He's one of a handful of scientists who produced the original batches of genetically modified humans, and he's laid low since their rebellion. The catastrophe rankles, but he hasn't given up finding a fix for their genome problems.A permanent bachelor for a host of feeble reasons, he's substituted immersion in medicine and science for a personal life. Easier that way. And a whole lot cleaner. The status quo might be sterile, but at least it's trouble free. When Faith catches his eye, he fights his attraction to her, but it's a losing battle. Loving her fulfills him, and he can't walk away. What will happen if she discovers he helped create those like her? In a radical departure from his normal forthright manner, he buries that fact deep. If she never finds out, it can't ever come back to bite him.

Gone. Everything. In one fell swoop. Maybe it didn't happen quite that fast, but it sure seemed like it.I remember everything like it was yesterday. Or, more accurately, I couldn't forget even if I tried. And I have, tried that is. With every fiber of my being. But the damned tape reel has an automatic replay button, and it blasts through my brain over and over again.I was just nineteen then. One very long year ago. I'd finished my first year at university and was on vacation between semesters. We were in Mexico at a sorcery retreat when our phones beeped and screamed warning of impending doom. Details didn't emerge for a long while, but our relative isolation in the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains saved us from immediate annihilation.We should have remained there, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty.In an ill-conceived attempt to escape, we finally gave up navigating clogged roads, left our bus, and teleported back to the States. I'm not sure if that was the beginning because it felt like the end of everything I've ever known.Survival has reduced me to someone I barely recognize. Some days, I wonder why I bother, but then I pick up the banner and face another day. Better not to think too hard or pick reality apart. If I did, I'd loose my power and burn down the world.

Cancer is a bitch of a disease. Every single person who's lived through being diagnosed and treated is a hero. There are a lot of cancer books out there. What's different about this one?Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot. I'm a psychologist by trade. About fifteen years back, I started writing novels. Unfortunately, there's not a scrap of fiction in Alive. There are also no dragons, unicorns, or magical worlds. This book was tough to write. In places, it will be equally tough to read. In addition to my personal saga, it includes stories from other brave souls who volunteered to be part of this project. There are also chapters about the etiology of cancer, cancer as big business in America (and elsewhere), avoiding scams, and integrative oncology.Like most, I started my cancer journey believing the MDs had my best interests at heart. A few did, but to so many others I was nothing but a number, a statistic, many steps removed from a human being.My hope for Alive is it will empower others to stand up for themselves, to ask questions, to do their own research. Ultimately, everyone's life is precious and worth the effort of self-advocacy.

Magic runs strong in me, but power isn't enough.Actually, these days nothing is enough. I've done a fine job alienating everyone who ever cared about me, from the witches in my Coven to the man I love to my wolfie familiar. Mother's familiar left, winging a path to Faery. My wolf made it abundantly clear he'd have gone with her except the familiar bond doesn't allow that level of latitude.He howled up a storm about being stuck with me, and then quit talking.Meanwhile, the babe growing within me is equally silent. He misses Damien's soothing voice, mandolin, and Fae love. I'm under a geas to return my son to Faery the second he's born. Ha! They'll have to find me first. No power words in the universe will make me relinquish my boy.Hecate still rattles around in my mind. I'm done with her. If I hadn't allowed her in, I'd still be in Faery with Damien's arms around me.Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda. Talk is cheap.Pregnant. Nowhere to call home. No money. Nothing but my magic. Somehow, it will have to carry us through.

Magic runs strong in me, but power isn't enough.I've traveled a long road since the Coven kicked me out. It's only been a matter of weeks, but it may as well be years. I've learned a lot, and nothing at all. One thing's for certain: my life up until now has been a sham.My wolf, beloved familiar, knew far more than he disclosed. Hard to fault him since he was trying to keep me safe. Mother, the one witch who could have shed light on my origins, is dead.Try as I might, I couldn't save her.Along the way, a Fae took me under his wing, but it's confusing. Damien says he loves me. I have no idea what I feel beyond sorrow and anger. All I want is to torch the Coven guild house, avenge Mother's death, and locate Hecate, goddess of witches.Secrets of my origins lie within her. Secrets forged centuries ago. At one time, I was important to her, critical enough to bend rules.She's abandoned me too, except she doesn't get to walk away.I will find her and demand answers.Answers to shape the rest of my existence.

I like things neat, so shoot me. Or poison me. Or run me through with a broadsword. Doesn't matter how you try to end me, werewolves are immortal.Back to liking things neat... I've been killing forever, both as a wolf and as a man. The assassin trade has always been lucrative, and, a few hundred years back, a much simpler affair. No DNA tests. No sophisticated crime labs. I didn't have to plan the way I do today to avoid detection.Not that it would matter if I were apprehended. I'd just vanish to a borderworld for a while and resurface once the heat died down. Mostly, I deal with supernatural enemies these days. Keeps things cleaner.But this book isn't about today. It's about long ago. I've done my damnedest to instill pride and standards into the assassin trade. And bond animals. Their principles definitely add class to the mix.Building the Circle was an uphill battle. I almost gave up more times than I can count, but nothing worthwhile comes easy. The Circle of Assassins became my life's work. Didn't plan it that way, but life happens. Life, bloodthirsty mages, and the bond animals who adore them.Author note: This book can be read as a standalone, but for the best experience, you might want to read the first four books in this series.

My superpower is animals, magical and otherwise. They adore me. Birds and insects too. Back when the Celts still roamed the Highlands, I begged them to shed light on how I came to be since my power is unique.

I'm one of the old ones. I've lived many lives, done many things. I've been called sorceress, witch, and far worse. Mortals have hung me, burned me, staked me out, and left me to die. What a pack of fools. I'm immortal, and their petty attempts were laughable.So were they when I stopped their puny, pathetic hearts. The thrill of ending someone never gets old, no matter how unbalanced the contest.When I want a break from everything, Dorcha-my bondmate-and I bide with the Circle of Assassins. I never mean to stay long, but the years have a way of slipping by.While I find peace within the Circle, Dorcha becomes restive. She never used to mind being the only unicorn, but she's grown silent, withdrawn. The place within me where I feel her energy is often empty.We need a nice juicy assignment to get things back on track, a mission worthy of our skill. Excited by the prospect of free-flowing blood and the crusty stench of battle, I searched for her, but she was gone.Worse than gone, my link with her was buried beneath layers of unicorn enchantment. Could I find her? Sure, but she didn't wish to be found.

The only constant in my long life is murder. Assassin for hire, to put a finer point on it.I''m an earth wizard. Usually, we''re on the peaceful side. Not sure what happened to me, but I never fit in with my kinsmen. They''d have chased me out of the fold-for obvious reasons-but I saved them the trouble. I left on my own. The same way I left the Circle of Assassins because it was too tame for my taste. Or maybe too structured.Along with my bondmate, an oversized eagle, I''ve been playing fast and loose with the rules forever. Of course, the rules have changed, but I''ve rolled with the punches. Never found a policy I couldn''t manipulate to my advantage.There''s an old saying about life coming full circle. It''s about to snatch me up and spit me out. I can run, but there''s nowhere far enough to hide from what I am or the Circle of Assassins.My first home.My first nemesis.Grigori said I''d be back. How in the hell could he have known?

If they had one of those anonymous rehabilitation programs for folks like me, my introduction would be, "Hi, I'm Shira, and I kill people." Except rehab suggests killing people bothers me. It doesn't.