The next I was saying

As I was saying before I rudely interrupted myself days ago...I'm working on a new thing. I've written about half of the first book - maybe a little less, we'll see after it comes back from a trusted source who will yay or nay it. It's a mishmash of urban fantasy and paranormal romance and whatever else I find to throw in there.

The three book series is tentatively titled (until I hate it so much I have to come up with something new) Codex Obscura in which a 'bibliophile changeling with sticky fingers unwittingly saves the day', and is set in the Pacific Northwest. How's that for a premise?

This is a stretch for me genre-wise and my writing muscle is feeling it. One of the things I have done is start a Pinterest board to help with visuals, not something I've used before but I'm having a lot of fun researching various ideas and am looking forward to sharing these new characters when I can! I'm still trying to figure out the purpose of Pinterest (as well as Tumblr) but maybe it will help me keep focus? What do you use Pinterest for? Tumblr? Any hints?

Also, you know, promo....if you have gotten this far...I am offering a chance to win a free copy of River Home, all you have to do is follow me on Amazon!  


River Home Ebook.jpg

See this #AmazonGiveaway for a chance to win: River Home (Accidental Roots Book 5) (Kindle Edition). NO PURCHASE NECESSARY. Ends the earlier of Mar 8, 2018 11:59 PM PST, or when all prizes are claimed. See Official Rules

If you don't know what you want - would you know if you found it?

River Home Preorder Available now AMAZON


Six days and Miguel and Nate will be in your hands and out of mine. Their trip has been a fabulous one for me to be a part of, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading River Home as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Spread the word far and wide, you, readers, are my best advertisement and I appreciate every effort you make on my, and other indie authors, behalf. Between us we have shown the big publishing houses that readers are starving for diversity in reading material -- yay! Now we need to keep the momentum going forward.

Have a great week, a happy valentines day (if you celebrate) and ....keep it real.


I almost, Accidently, gave the cover away! Oops!

Nine days until I get to show the beautiful cover for River Home. It is so pretty! I can hardly wait. Cate Ashwood designed it and did a wonderful job.

It is a truly miserable day here in the Pacific Northwest, I swear the sun hasn't even tried to show its face. Perfect for writing the quasi-urban fantasy I am working on. Why quasi? Well, there are urban fantasy rules and I am breaking one of them by setting it in a town I am making up. Yes, I am from Seattle and I could set it here but my characters have been priced out. They have to be poor elsewhere, with affordable real estate. This doesn't exist in or around Seattle. Sad but true.

So, this new book is set in a town I am currently calling Gray's Bluff but that may change. It is kind of a changeling story and kind of a lot of other things....I'll let you know as I figure it out.

Would you like to read the prologue? A little treat while patiently waiting for River Home? I still don't know if I will publish under Elle Keaton or come up with something else. Amazon is a weird place and while YOU guys might not mind, another reader who wants a mystery might be surprised when they click on an urban fantasy. We shall see.

Forgive please the lack of editing. I am a terrible comma user (too many, too little I run both ways) also sometimes I type my sentences inside out. 


Bran's new house ... buhwahahaha



Prologue: September 1939

London Weather - 1939 Rather Dull. A Dry Spring and Wet Late Autumn.

“Too soon.” The old man breathed past, dry chapped lips, the words barely pushing across them. His tongue felt overly large and desiccated in his mouth, maybe the words hadn’t made it after all. No one in the sick room heard him, it seemed. Or if they had no one stopped to listen, to reassure him that it wasn’t too soon. That everything was in place and taken care of.

He tried again, his ravaged body struggling with effort, his thin chest barely rising. It filled painfully and slowly before he had enough to force out the air for words, “She is too young, it’s too soon.” Again, nothing. The young nurse wearing her starched white apron and peaked cap – making her appear spectral in the dim light of the room the irony not lost as Arthur was the one losing his corporeal form– murmured something Arthur could not hear to someone he could not see. Yes, he knew his name was Arthur, he may be losing his body but his mind was sharp and by god, it was too soon.

Outside the window storm clouds gathered. Arthur didn’t have to see them to know they were there, they’d been gathering for days, pressing against him making it harder to breath. He’d felt them for months. Arthur had felt the clouds coming and still he wasn’t prepared, none of them were equipped and now, far to soon, the treacherous body he inhabited was failing him. He needed to see the girl.

Raindrops began falling, coming in from an angle to crash against the fragile shuttering window panes – demanding to be let in, to be answered. Were they crying for him, Arthur wondered? Or for the miasma of malevolence that was crawling out of the very earth that supported them all. Creeping, dragging, lurching determined to slowly suffocate everything in its path.

Arthur had done what he could. Recorded the only way he knew how – without giving himself away – what he knew. The tricks, the tales, the solutions. He’d tried to prepare the girl. Rather, he’d planned to prepare the girl child but human biology had snatched time from him, tossing it aside so it floated just out of his grasp. An errant playbill dancing and taunting on a breeze just out of reach, Arthur dashing along after but ever unable to grab it and rein it in.

The young nurse appeared in his vision. He wished she would stop fussing, he was dying not ensnared by otherworldly magic or, heavens, possessed by a malignant spirit. He chuckled, the sound was rasping and grotesque even to his own ears. He supposed that telling the young lady about spirits would cause her to fuss and twitch his covers even more frequently. Perhaps he’d even receive a patronizing lecture.

He sensed the bindings which had kept him tethered for so long to this earth loosen further. Each day, each passing hour and minute found him lighter and less connected to the land he had been appointed guardian of so many years ago.

“Bring me the girl.” He whispered against the night and the falling rain. “I need the girl.”

“Mr. Arthur? Did you ask for water? Are you too cold? This rain is fierce, I heard the man on the wireless say it rained 16mm just yesterday.”

No, goddammit, he wasn’t cold or thirsty, he doubted he ever would be again, but he needed to see the girl. She was the ill-formed key to his plans, formless clay. A future he had not had time to plan for, he needed to see her before he was swallowed by the ether. The rain continued, pounding and lashing against house. Trying to come inside, maybe beckoning Arthur outside.

Wet landed on his cheek, the droplet ticked as it carved a delicate path across his ravaged countenance and into his ear. Arthur tried to lift a hand to see what it was. To confirm his suspicion that the outside had in fact finally made its way inside. He couldn’t sense the young nurse, perhaps she’d gone to fetch him that bloody glass of water he did not want. Or need.

The trickle became a deluge. The end was now, Arthur recognized. There would be no time to see the girl child one last time. There was no time for anything anymore, he had failed, wasted too much time on trivial pursuits without understanding that his end would not be one he could see coming or plan for. He could see many things, had recorded them hidden in plain sight. But he had not seen this. Ah but the river beckoned now, it’s siren song too strong to ignore.

Arthur slipped away while the silly nurse was fetching him something for his parched throat. The river opened, accepting him back from where he’d come. Swallowing him whole, cradling him in its all-encompassing arms. He’d forgotten how it felt to be held like this, to be caressed and loved – to feel as one.

“I came for you, I said I would.”

“You did,” Arthur replied as he was swept away in the current, “you came.”


2018 – Gray’s Bluff, WA

The old house released a bone-deep sigh one it had seemingly held for eons. It listened closely to the ominous creak of warped hardwood flooring, to out-of-square doorways trying to fit themselves back into a puzzle vaguely remembering that once they had been true and strong, to the fragile windowpanes struggling to keep the wind and the rain at bay. It cataloged its losses, worried when it was unable to recall them all with clarity. There were too many to count, and now she was gone. Not even her spirit remained. She’d battled, fought to stay, but her spirit had already been old and weak when her body turned to ash.

The rain continued to fall, as it had for time immeasurable, pounding on the roof and sneaking in through weak spots further dampening the upper floors, hiding in attic crevices, lurking behind plaster walls. The downpour was cold and relentless. It was filled with grief, anger, loss and it hung over Gray’s Bluff refusing to budge.

The house tentatively reached out – again feeling nothing, a void where light once stood guard. No spark, no warmth, no strength. This wouldn’t do. Too close, it sensed the creep of the dark. Much longer and it would be too late, for it, for Gray’s Bluff, for all that had been fought and won with hard scrabbled deaths and harder lives. Using vestigial remains of energy it pushed further out, searching and seeking, needing and wanting, hungry and thirsty. Desperate.

Unwieldy etheric tendrils tumbled and twisted almost futilely, pushed outward from the house, searching. They had never pushed this far, or this hard before. Something warm brushed against its awareness, unexpected and unknown. Tendrils recoiled, changed directions focusing on this unexpected gift. It was gentle, it hesitated to touch. It didn’t know what it was but this warmth was the first it had felt in a very long time.


Chapter One: Early Spring 2018


Bran wrinkled his nose frowning suspiciously through his windshield at the ramshackle house. It stared back, equally suspicious of him, from across a grizzled lumpy almost colorless lawn. Bran’s home for the foreseeable future – all because of one damn book. He’d put off moving for too long, hoping a different solution might arise. Nothing had typical Vaughn luck. And the only place he could afford in Gray’s Bluff looked to be one rusty nail and a swift kick in the ass from falling down.

It wasn’t a castle but somehow the house managed to look slightly better than what his imagination had dreamt up. Offhand comments like ‘it’s been vacant for a while’ and ‘very elderly previous owner’ by the property manager had had Bran’s antennae twitching. So far at least the house wasn’t an homage to horror – more hoarder, less possessed dead people. Which was good, dead people made him uncomfortable. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The ancient house’s exterior paint had faded over the years to a dull uneven grey although Bran spotted places where the scalloped trim had once been a vibrant yellow. More importantly than esthetics, there was a six month discount on rent for the just-beginning remodel. The property manager or owner he didn’t remember which, who’d seemed a little bewildered by Bran’s call, had apologetically admitted it needed major work but yes, he had a room available. Bran could hardly complain. He squinted at it un-focusing his eyes allowing hidden forms and patterns to emerge, yeah, it’d been pretty once.

The porch was a glorious wrap-around, which would have been a plus had it not been stuffed to the gills with old furniture, broken down cardboard boxes, mangled appliances, what looked like bird cages or small animal carriers. He’d have to talk to the property manager about the debris. For one thing, it was a fire hazard, for another, well, Bran just didn’t like it.

He might as well get this over with. Grumbling Bran extracted himself from his car, locking it before he tromped up to the front door the last thing he needed was to have his worldly belongings disappear.

Several knocks on the front door brought no response. The door itself was gorgeous and original to the structure, dating back to the late 1800s Bran calculated. Two panels of delicate frosted glass extended from the top of the door to midway down allowing Bran to get a double dose himself in the reflection, regrettably. Drab dark hair, messy because he rarely remembered to look in a mirror, and no doubt too long. A body on the skinny side of sexy. Bran felt he looked a bit like Frodo Baggins after he and Sam had climbed Mt. Doom.

A glance at his cell phone screen confirmed he was on time. He knocked again, nothing. The house exuded an air of complete inner silence. Quieting his own inner turmoil Bran listened closely trying to identify a something or someone on the other side of the door. All he could feel was a deep sense of loneliness, disrepair and something faltering he couldn’t label. It twitched away before he could decipher its intent.

Not only this house, but the entire street had been hit with hard times. The surrounding houses were probably rentals given the state of the lawns and general air of abandonment. Along the block where Bran stood was there were several equally tattered Victorians and a couple Tudors nestled amongst an infestation of mid-century single level brick homes. The neighborhood had an identity issue. The homes were in various states of disrepair or abandonment and no neighbors seemed to care that a stranger was standing on the porch across the street or next door.

A trip through the side yard revealed nothing only a visual of several windows where a previous occupant had used sheets to keep out the light and a large backyard that looked like something out of an apocalyptic drama. Scrap metal, the remnants of old appliances or optimistically, sculpture, was littered across the space. Much of the backyard was a mystery, blackberries had begun a hostile takeover, engulfing everything in their path without regard, the mounds were anonymous perhaps hiding a multitude of discarded appliances. Perhaps not. Bran shivered.

Something wet hit his cheek he lifted a hand to his face, the way his life went it could very well be bird shit. His hand came away merely wet. The gloomy gray clouds had finally quit fooling around and a light rain began to fall. Bran fled back to the protection of the porch. It was a depressing but not unusual fact, that not getting shit on was often a highlight of his day.

Back at the front door, he pounded harder, even though he was certain no one was home to answer. Fuck his life. He turned to leave when a muffled cursing drifted to his ears from the other side of the house. Bran hadn’t tried that direction. The neighbor’s property line was so close that occupants of either home had probably chatted through open windows without raising their voices. He hadn’t wanted to attempt bushwhacking through the blackberries, which were heaviest along the side of the house.

Leaving the shelter of the porch Bran peeked around the corner of the house. A bulky figure materialized from an enormous, ancient by the looks of things, tangle of brambles. The figure swore while trying to release enormous lengthy blackberry talons snagged to his clothing, sharp grasping claws determined to imprison the man. He would loosen one and another would swoop in to impale him in a different spot. God damn blackberries.

The stranger wasn’t going to escape their trickery on his own, “Stand still let me help.”

Dark eyes snapped to Bran’s stopping him in his tracks, rain began to pelt down harder but Bran barely registered it thrumming against his scalp and shoulders. The man’s eyes were dark blue, almost violet. He had dark blonde hair Bran thought, although it was hard to tell because his head was mostly covered by the extremely damp hood of a dingy blue sweatshirt. The sweatshirt had a logo printed on it but it was so faded Bran couldn’t read it. And, heedless of the weather, the man was wearing khaki cargo shorts which had seen better days, and a worn pair of sneakers.

Shaking his head at himself Bran forced himself to move forward, this was not the time to lose focus. “Stand still, I’ll pull the brambles aside so you can escape.”

It took a bit but Bran managed to free the stranger from the grasp of the wicked brambles impaling his own fingers a few times in the process. He wiped a swell of blood from his thumb onto his pants. Bran hated those things, almost as much as crows – but you had to be patient or you’d end up tangled even worse. He wasn’t going to complain about helping the stranger, this was the longest (and closest) he had been next to another man in too many months. A sharp twinge sunk into Bran’s thigh much like when a cat is giving warning by digging its claws in only a little – a reminder that violence was always an option. Looking down he saw a wicked frond had begun its siege, he swatted it away and stepped back from temptation.

“Look, I’m sorry to free you from the offending shrubbery (the shrubbery would feel the hot burn of gasoline in its future if Bran had anything to say about it) and dash, but I was supposed to meet someone here about a room but now I have to meet a friend who is not understanding about being late.” The rain was now falling relentlessly, a deluge, soaking him to the skin through his thin cotton jacket and cheap leather loafers. “Can you pass along a message for me? Or better yet, my phone number – give me your cell. I don’t know why I didn’t do this before.” He muttered, holding his hand out for the guy’s phone.

With a bemused expression on his face and the quirk of an eyebrow, the guy fished in the side pocket of his cargos, pulled out an ancient flip phone and handed it to Bran. The phone wasn’t even password protected. Bran rolled his eyes at the man’s ignorance punched his cell phone number into the phone and hit send, when his phone began vibrating in his back pocket he ended the call.

“There. You have my number. If you see the property manager around would you pass it along? I really can’t wait any longer.” He waited for the guy to nod before dashing back to his car. Once out of the rain Bran looked up an address on his phone. He tried to ignore the rain which was hammering against the roof of his car demanding entrance. Fuck off, Bran thought to himself.

The ancient, battered Golf started like a champ. Bran glanced one last time out the passenger side window at the guy. He was standing where Bran had left him with a puzzled expression on his face. Bran hoped he was smart enough to get himself out of the rain, or at least shut his mouth.



River Home, upcoming dates and whatnot.

Twenty-Seven (27!) days and River Home leaves the nest. Sniffle.

Adobe Spark.jpg

I won't inundate all of you with a ton of updates but thought it would be nice to do a rundown of what's coming up, where to look for fun stuff and blog tours ... that kind of thing.

February 3rd I will be, uh, 'taking over' the QueerRomanceInk facebook page from 10-12 PST. Save me now. Yes, giveaway. Something for certain.

February 7th ....drum roll.... lovebytesreviews is hosting the River Home cover reveal! There will be a chance to win the book of your choice from my backlist <3. I'll be offering all formats including a hard copy. River Home will also be available for pre-order from Amazon on the 7th.

27 days! Official release day is February 16th -- my *late* valentine gift to readers. Friday the 16th I will be at the Novel Approach with an interview and a chance to win an e-copy of River Home. Somewhere along the way I will stop by JoyFully Jay and maybe a few others ....*wipes forehead*

Over the release weekend and the week beyond, a variety of blogs will be hosting RH -- A loud shout out to Signal Boost Productions for making this happen for River Home.

Bayou Book Junkie

Padme's Library

Sarandipity Book Reviews

The Geekery Book Review

Dog-Eared Daydreams

Hearts On Fire Reviews

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author


Diverse Reader

Drops of Ink

Making it Happen

Book love

Wicked Reads

Rules to live by: Keaton style

1. Don't Panic.

2. Don't walk with your hands in your pockets on ice.

3. Don't play cards with a guy named Vinnie.

Don't Panic: Update

Still trying to figure this out - but it may be solved by requesting a price match ..... will keep you updated

Storm Season is (maybe) coming off Amazon for a few days. It should be back on Monday (hopefully). The short story is that when an author publishes directly with the the big A they don't have as much control over the pricing as they might like. Publishing directly through them means using KDP.  Lesson learned.

Slowly, over the next few months, I will be moving my work to an aggregate that allows more freedom for me. Don't fret too much. No Pressure will be up on KU through the 25th. Spring Break and As Sure As the Sun will stay at least through the end of February 2018. 

The good news for readers is that Accidental Roots will now be available in ebook format on other sites like Barnes and Noble, Kobo and iBooks.

2&3 are really self-explanatory.


But wait, you gasp, what about book 5? The one you are supposed to be working on? 

Don't Panic.

I am working on it, I have the title and cover art I just need to write those last 15k words -- the end is in sight! I love these two characters and am going to miss them after they have gone out into the big bad world. Look for it mid-February.




As Sure As The Sun, up for Pre-order!

Firstly, I'm not sure how much I can express the love I have for this cover, designed by Cate Ashwood - It is perfect. 

Secondly, wow, these two, Sacha and Seth, they did not make it easy for me. I feel as if I sweated actual blood and tears over their story. I went back to their origins several times rewriting and reimagining. The novel ended up at about 70K words, but I think, not kidding, that I wrote and deleted another 50k -- easy. Some of it was just not needed other was just not right.

I had a lot of help and folks who think they may have overstepped -- were spot on. Thank you so much. 

I adore these two, they made me both laugh and cry -- sometimes at the same time, I hope they do you as well. 


Is the universe is trying to tell Sacha Bolic something? A fire escape collapses underneath him, he lands in crap, a killer barely misses his target... all in the same few seconds. That's on top of a long list of mishaps and job dissatisfaction. Not one to ignore signals when they're shoved in his face, Sacha retires and uses his savings to buy an old building in Skagit, Washington. With a little help from DIY videos, he’s going to bring it back to its former glory.  And, yeah, it’s a metaphor. If he makes one change, others will follow…

Seth Culver avoids entanglement, romantic or otherwise. Who needs it? He’s learned the hard way that people betray you or leave. Still, Seth finds people compelling. He sort of collects them, learning their secrets before letting them go their own way. His commitment to no commitments may have met its match in Sacha. Handsome and hot, Sacha seems to offer a permanence that scares Seth more than anything ever has. Seth will have to decide if he’s going to grab life by the balls or keep watching from the sidelines.

A box of inconsequential belongings hidden for decades in the old building hints at lives imagined but not lived, reminding them both there are no guarantees in love, or this thing called life.

A standalone in the Accidental Roots series, HEA, and hot, dirty, men. 18+ please.

As Sure As the Sun....cover reveal

Here it is! The beautiful cover of As Sure As the Sun -- created by the talented Cate Ashwood. 'As Sure As the Sun' features Sacha Bolic and Seth Culver, both of whom readers have met in earlier Accidental Roots books. This can be read as a stand-alone but familiar characters make appearances don't worry!

For a variety of reasons, this has been a particularly difficult addition to the series. Sacha and Seth are both complicated characters with convoluted personal histories which made them hard to pin down. Funnily enough, it has been Seth who has proved to be the most difficult. Never fear! They do *grudgingly* get to their HEA.  

This particular volume is dedicated to my own Great-Uncle Owen who tragically, died in a 'sanatorium' in the 1940's where he had been forced to live by his father due to his 'unnatural affinity for other men' and fondness for alcohol. Because he couldn't be with who he wanted he drank and was unable to stay employed, Owen died of alcoholism and, I imagine, loneliness. He died before I was born but he was my grandmother's favorite uncle and she grieved for him long after his death. I couldn't give my own great-uncle a happy ending, but I managed to give one to Seth and Sacha.

The story I provide Owen comes from my imagination, I have no idea who Owen wished he could be with, I am just glad that times have changed/are changing so that we can love as we like. My grandmother never talked about how she felt about same sex relationships, but I feel that since she and my grandfather moved from Mercer Island to Broadway -- even now the epicenter of gay culture in Seattle, but the only such place in the 1960's -- that is was a symbolic gesture of posthumous support.

I hope you enjoy ASATS, it certainly has been a true labor of love.


Socks: instruments of the devil...Yay or Nay? And other musings.

I admit it.

I hate socks. My favorite thing about the weather changing from winter to spring is NO MORE SOCKS. Seriously. Socks suck. They bunch at my toes, slide down uncomfortably, cause blisters, get holes where they shouldn't, make my feet sticky. If I am fond of a pair, they always get lost first. Socks arrive home in pairs but never stay that way, you'd think there would be a way to keep them together, some kind of gravitational attraction toward each other -- like a magnet. But no, one of the pair almost always disappears into the void leaving me with one favorite sock. 

There is a universe out there clogged with single socks and I want to know what they are doing with them. Or, I am inadvertently freeing House Elves every time I do laundry.

Yes, I am working in "As Sure as the Sun" which will be the fourth in the Accidental Roots series. As Sure As... features Sacha Bolic (grumpy US Marshal) and Seth Culver (Adam Klay's 1/2 brother). I am hoping to have it published early September. As soon as I have some cover art I will share it. Just started working on a stand alone possibly set in Skagit, not certain yet, but I think you will all like it.

Here is a reward for reading these silly words:


“Have you ever kissed a man before?” Seth asked quietly, brown eyes looking directly into Sacha’s own. Sacha nodded, mute. Not like this, he wanted to say.

“May I?”

Heat flared across his cheeks followed by a searing spark of emotion in his chest, something in his expression must have encouraged Seth though, he leaned forward gently touching his lips to Sacha’s.

Sacha barely restrained from jerking from Seth’s gentle hold. For the first time in his life the desire to know, overcame the terror which had festered since he was small. This would be an actual kiss, not one in a dark hallway or an anonymous bathroom.

Seth was gentle, nothing more than the press of his lips, infinitesimal. Sacha’s lips opened of their own volition wanting more but Seth didn’t take advantage, instead, he softly pressed their mouths together, barely there. A touch so strong it was close to sending Sacha into orbit. He breathed in, smelled the beer they’d had. Felt Seth’s warm breath mingling with his own. Felt.

Lightning didn’t strike, not anywhere except his heart which thundered its response to Seth’s touch. Sacha closed his eyes, opening them again, he found himself staring into a calm brown gaze. Seth’s smiled against Sacha’s mouth, pressed quickly again before leaning back.


It must be somebody's birthday! Accidental Roots 1&2 on sale thru 7/23.

I'm having a sale -- get those clicky fingers over to amazon, Storm Season and No Pressure are on sale this weekend for $0.99. Help spread the news! 

Kicking and Screaming toward their HEA - Spring Break by Elle Keaton

What a wild ride for Carroll Weir and Sterling Bailey, it's hard to know up from down when you don't know what your heart wants.....Don't miss Spring Break, the third in my 'Accidental Roots' series! Can be read as a stand alone. 

Sometimes a guy needs a break. Carroll Weir got one--but it wasn't what he expected. 

All he dreams of is escaping dreary, damp Skagit, WA, for a warmer climate. Instead, Federal Investigator Carroll Weir is assigned to a cross-agency case involving geoduck smugglers and a very dead Fish and Wildlife Detective.

Sterling Bailey, the regular bartender at the Loft, likes to think of his customers and employees as family since he doesn’t have one of his own. Exhausted and tense, Carroll Weir wanders in one night and one thing leads to another. All in a night’s work, right?

The spark burning between the two of them is hot enough to scald, unless they’re careful somebody’s going to get burned.

*HEA No cliffhanger
*Intended for a mature audience, 18+

Why wait? Spring Break, Accidental Roots 3, is here now...

I've never been one for delayed gratification...Spring Break debuted a week ago if you haven't downloaded a copy or checked it out through KU why wait? Get those clicky fingers moving!

Sometimes a guy needs a break. Carroll Weir got one--but it wasn't what he expected. 

All he dreams of is escaping dreary, damp Skagit, WA, for a warmer climate. Instead, Federal Investigator Carroll Weir is assigned to a cross-agency case involving geoduck smugglers and
a very dead Fish and Wildlife Detective.

Sterling Bailey, the regular bartender at the Loft, likes to think of his customers and employees as family since he doesn’t have one of his own. Exhausted and tense, Carroll Weir wanders in one night and one thing leads to another. All in a night’s work, right?

Who murdered Fish and Wildlife Detective Peter
Krystad? Does the killer have Weir in his sights? Things begin to heat up between them but Sterling and Weir will have to move past their personal history in order to change the course of their future.

The spark burning between them is hot enough to scald unless they’re careful somebody’s going to get burned.

*HEA No cliffhanger
*Intended for a mature audience, 18+


It's here early! Spring Break, Accidental Roots 3 is live!

It could take up to 72 hours to publish, apparently also means, it could take as few as three. Spring Break is officially live, click below to purchase, it is also available on KU. 

Carrol Weir and Sterling Bailey, what a pair. They fought me, and themselves, every step of the way. I hope you enjoy reading their journey as much as I did writing it. 

I'd love to know what you think about Spring Break, or, who you hope to read about soon (or both) contact me thru the website or 

Happy Reading

~ A three day weekend (or bank holiday) is for reading ~ reviews are up ~

My plans this weekend involve writing writing writing also going to read a few things I have saved on my patio chairs are the perfect place to sit and read for long hours (yes also to write). I may take the weekend off from social media, with any luck there will be new photos on the site next week. Have a wonderful weekend, for those of you who served or have families who served, thank you.

There is a series review for Accidental Roots going on. If you haven't had a chance to enter at Signal Boost click on the link at the bottom of this page. Reviews are up -- and I appreciate each and every one of them.  


*GIVEAWAY* ~ Review Tour ~ Accidental Roots

Enter to win a copy of Storm Season or No pressure! Click below for details, follow the review tour, say hi, follow/like me on facebook/twitter/instagram! There will be shenanigans coming soon!

Storm Season (Accidental Roots #1): Amazon US | Amazon UK

Length: 308 Pages


They say you can’t go home again, Adam Klay doesn’t intend to until the death of his father, a famous artist, forces his return to Skagit, Washington. Cleaning up his father’s chaotic life was never on Adam’s bucket list. Worse, Adam finds himself inexplicably drawn to the elusive, terminally-clumsy, gorgeous, Micah Ryan. No way is he getting involved with someone from his hometown, he’s always insisted the best view of Skagit was in his rearview mirror.

Micah Ryan has been coasting on auto-pilot since his family was killed in a car accident a decade earlier. He runs a web business and has an irritable cat. He hardly leaves his house, unless it is for his afternoon espresso. His world tips upside down when Adam Klay rolls into town. For the first time in years, he feels alive. Unfortunately, Micah’s return to the living has been noticed and is not appreciated.

Someone has a secret. Someone is exploiting the vulnerable youth population in Skagit. Teenagers are disappearing, young women turning up dead, the dirty secrets of Skagit are surfacing.

No Pressure (Accidental Roots #2): Amazon US | Amazon UK

Length: 224 Pages


Home is where the heart is, right? Except when it's not. Not when you're afraid for your life.

Joey James has given up on finding his 'Prince Charming'. There is no such thing, he needs to be realistic about his chances of a lasting relationship. A chance encounter with a former school mate at the local grocery store changes everything-maybe. Before Joey can decide what to do about it, he is swept into a terrifying scheme. Forced into helping a dangerous stranger in exchange for his family's safety, Joey begins a perilous journey into the criminal underbelly of Skagit. He will do whatever is needed to protect his family.

Buck Swanfeldt had a secret crush on Joey James in high school. Social anxiety and a two-year age difference made it impossible for him to approach Joey then. Life since high school has been challenging. And lonely. Eight years later, fate brings them together and Buck decides to act. He utterly fails. He would have left it at that, except fate seems to be intent on pushing Joey in his direction, and clearly Joey needs someone at his back.

Dark, sordid secrets hiding in Skagit are bubbling to the surface, danger lurks in unexpected places. Buck has never been anyone's hero but something about Joey has him throwing caution to the wind. Together the two men take on a dangerous force greater than themselves. But sometimes our worst enemy is ourselves.

May 23 - Dirty Books Obsession, Bike Book Reviews, Booklove
May 25 - The Geekery Book Review, Keysmash, MM Good Book Reviews
May 27 - Dog-Eared Daydreams, Jim's Reading Room, Padme's Library, Reading Is My Satisfaction
May 29 - Sarandipity, Wicked Faerie's Tales & Reviews
May 31 - Bayou Book Junkie, Urban Smoothie Read, Diverse Reader, BooksLaidBareBoys, Abbey's 1-Click Book Blog

Author Bio

Author, photographer, rare Pacific Northwest Native, Elle grew up in Seattle, WA., with the Cascade Mountain range to the east and Olympics to the west. Less than two hours northwest lie the majestic San Juan Islands. To the northeast is the Methow Valley and the scrub deserts of Eastern Washington. Geography ripe with material.

A graduate of Western Washington University, Elle has a BS in biology which taught her to be tenacious. The closest she has come to biology since then is having two kids. Like an experiment or something. She’s lived in four states (none of which were gaseous), London England, and Hong Kong; always knows what time it is, and has no problem finding parking even in the most difficult places. Cannot balance a checking account.

Elle's series Accidental Roots, mostly set in the Skagit Valley of Western Washington, will make its debut spring of 2017. Storm Season is tender, sometimes irreverent, full of nosy neighbors and help when the hero didn’t think he needed it. Writing has always been a passion but not something she was able to take seriously until recently. Now her head is full of ideas and not enough time in each day.

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So, this is happening: A Review Tour, or, Elle figures somethings out

Starting tomorrow through the 31st check out the review tour for Accidental Roots! Tomorrow's stops include: DirtyBooksObsession Bike Book Reviews and Booklove

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Birthday Sale! Today through Sunday May 21st... 0.99 cents for Accidental Roots

In celebration of the first birthday of the Keaton birthday marathon, I am having a 0.99 cent sale! Grab it while it's hot! 
Both titles are yes, for a limited time, a mere 0.99 cents each, such a bargain.
Twenty years ago today at 6:33 PST after 36 hours of labor I was handed a baby. It was at this exact moment that I realized I had never held a live baby before therefore, I had NO IDEA what I was doing. ZERO. I still don't know what I'm doing but having the time of my life.
Well, we survived, the two of us and today she turns 20. 
Help us celebrate by stampeding over and clicking 'buy'.