Character Journals + Hidden Thoughts
Step inside the minds of guardians, protectors, and those walking too close to the dark—through private reflections, untold moments, and pieces of their story that never make it onto the page.
The Legend Weaver
Magic Wakes · Darkness Hunts · Love Decides
The Protectors & Guardianship Trilogies Newsletter
Where myth bleeds into modern life, and love is the only magic strong enough to stand against the dark. Stay close to Sam and Andrew in the Smoky Mountains and to Memphis and Laif on Austin’s midnight streets—where ancient curses awaken, legends are reborn, and every story leaves you breathless long after “The End.”
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From Legend of the Protectors
AIR CAUGHT IN ANDREW’S LUNGS, as his heart seized. Samantha Sanders was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever known. Even as a three-year-old child, she’d been beautiful. He’d adored her. At nine, it had been flattering to have her follow him and Michael around.
Every summer, they’d come to Tahlequah and spend two months. It was the best time of Andrew’s life.
Until Michael died.
As Sam climbed into the swing and gently pushed off, the branch he held onto kept his knees from giving out. So beautiful. Andrew smiled, thinking back on the day she’d taken a tumble off the tire swing—the way Sam had rolled down the hill, tangled in the tire, and walked out of the woods, injured but defiant. He’d scolded her back then, trying to hide how much he’d cared.
When her parents died, he’d done what he thought was right—he’d distanced himself. It was supposed to protect her. But every time their paths crossed, the weight of that decision gnawed at him, an ache that never eased.
As he came further into the clearing, Sam stopped abruptly and sat stiff inside the tire. When she climbed out, his heart nearly broke with longing. “Sam?” His voice betrayed the reverence he felt being near her. When she turned with such loneliness in her eyes, it took everything he had to stay put. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her, telling her he loved her.
But that couldn’t happen, at least not yet.
The loneliness in her eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a look that could cut through steel. Her chin lifted slightly, a silent declaration that she was done being hurt by him, done with the excuses. It wasn’t just a glance—it was a rejection, a wall being built between them, daring him to try to break through.
Swallowing back the pain her look caused, Andrew said, “Don said you’ve got a connection to the man who killed your parents. We need to talk.”
A quick nod was the only acknowledgment she gave before walking forward, and then right on past him, back down the hill toward her home.
From In the Dark
By the time he made his way through the door, she’d already passed the fountain and was stalking down the driveway, hips swinging to the beat of a seductive drum only the enchanted could hear. He shook his head, attempting to dispel her allure.
“Wait up,” he called out.
If she heard him, she didn’t let on, just continued on her way as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He sprinted after her, thinking only to stop her from leaving. As he reached for her arm, she pivoted to the left and punched him in the kidney as he passed.
Staggered by pain and annoyance, he straightened and hollered. “What was that for?”
Green eyes hinted at the humor beneath, but she kept the smile from breaking free. “Reflex. Sorry.”
He squinted at her, weighing her reaction, and decided against calling her a liar. Instead, he asked, “Why were you in that alley?”
The humor in her eyes disappeared. “Why were you?”
“Do you always answer questions with questions?”
“Do you?”
Laif growled. “Just answer the question. Why were you in the alley?”
Memphis shrugged. “Heading home from work.”
Was she insane? “Who in his or her right mind takes that kind of shortcut at two in the morning? And what’s with the medieval weaponry?”
With a gasp, her hand went to her dagger. Whispering, she asked, “You can see them?”
She had to be some kind of nut. A beautiful one, but a nut nonetheless. “They’re not invisible. Of course, I can see them.”
A wave of her hand drew his attention back to her face. She no longer seemed concerned about her dagger and short sword.
“Look, Slick.” She studied him from head to toe, and Laif’s heart beat faster. It irked him that he couldn’t tell whether she liked what she saw. “I appreciate the white knight routine and all,”—her tone made it clear she didn’t—“but next time, mind your own business. Not everyone who walks alone needs fixing.” She spun on her heel, the long rope of red hair nearly slapping him in the face.
He was stunned and at a total loss for words. Never had a woman dismissed him that way, nor with the haughty look she tried to hide under that beautiful smile.
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