CastleDoon
Book One - ShadowBorne Chronicals
Coming Fall 2026
“A centuries old curse. A haunted castle. And a love that refuses to die.”
Sebastian Mooreland knows all too well the dangers lurking behind the gates of CastleDoon. Bound by a two-hundred year old curse that imprisons him within its haunted walls, he keeps the outside world at bay - for good reason. But when private investigator Alyssa Morgan arrives on his doorstep, searching for her missing friend, resisting her fiery determination becomes nearly impossible. There’s something hauntingly familiar about her… and the flicker of remembered desire threatens to burn through the barriers he’s built. To protect her, Sebastian may have to confront not only the curse - but the past entwining them both.
Alyssa Morgan is determined to find her missing friend - and she won’t be deterred by Sebastian Mooreland’s chilling warnings or infuriating arrogance. The man is clearly hiding something, and she intends to uncover every shadowed secret CastleDoon conceals. But when his nearness awakens the nightmares she thought she left behind, Alyssa is forced to face a deeper more unsettling truth: that she and Sebastian are somehow connected - and that her friends disappearance is only the beginning of the secrets that lie behind the gates of CastleDoon.
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Chapter 5 Scene 2
Sebastian stood at the edge of the west turret, the wind biting through his shirt sleeves as twilight bled across the horizon. Below, the estate sprawled in fractured silence—stone paths winding through skeletal trees, shadows stretching long and thin.
He lowered his forehead into his hand and groaned, the sound swallowed by the darkness.
He should be downstairs, tending to Alyssa Morgan. But the mention of Jamieson’s name had suffocated all attempts at rational thought. That old fury surfaced, stealing through him before he could stop it, dragging him up here; away from her, away from the heat of her defiance and the echo of that kiss.
He closed his eyes briefly and drew a labored breath. It was for the best.
Alyssa was a temptation he could not ignore. One Sareena wanted him to give in to. And while he had not yet figured out why, he was certain nothing good would come of it. Sarenna was a master at playing twisted games, at using desire to feed his obedience.
“Not this time,” he whispered into the raging wind that swept around him. He refused to allow Alyssa to become Sareena’s latest weapon. With that in mind, he’d asked Nathanial to deal with her. Just until he could breathe again. Just until the fury receded and the ghosts quieted. It had seemed sound, practical, even. A way to keep her safe from him, and him safe from himself.
And yet…
He turned, pacing the length of the turret. The stone walls offered no distraction, no reprieve. Despite every effort to dismiss her, Alyssa’s name echoed in his mind, unbidden. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Hadn’t meant to feel anything. But the moment kept replaying—the sound of her breath hitching, the tremble beneath his touch, the way her lips parted not in surprise, but something closer to surrender.
The kiss had been brief. Reckless. But it lingered.
And that unsettled him. Not just because she was beautiful, or clever, or maddeningly brave—but because she made him want things he’d buried long ago. And that would make it difficult to hold her at arms length.
He stopped at the turret’s edge and leaned his palms on the stone surface staring out into the dark misty sky. The wind had shifted now, settling a sudden and unnatural stillness over the grounds. The kind of silence that didn’t soothe… but warned, like breath held before a scream.
He glanced toward the east wing. Where the hell was Nathan? He should have come with an update by now. What the hell could be keeping him?
Then he heard it.
A sound that belonged to neither wind, nor stone, nor sky. It was soft and broken, like a breathless cry, as if something was trying to tell him something that couldn’t be spoken.
The sound came again, threading through the air like a whisper, then just as suddenly as it begun, it stopped.
A chill crept down Sebastian’s spine, slow and deliberate.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it in the marrow of his bones. A shift. A disturbance. Like the castle itself had exhaled then drawn in something it shouldn’t have.
He spun from the turret, boots striking the stone floor with clipped urgency. “Nathanial!” he bellowed, voice echoing down the corridor.
No answer.
He strode faster, descending the spiral stairs two at a time. The castle’s stillness felt wrong now—too deep, too controlled. Like a held breath.
“Alyssa!” He called for her as he rounded the corner toward the solar. The door loomed ahead, closed.
Just as he’d left it. He quickened his pace, reached the door, and paused, listening. His hand hovered over the latch.
No movement. No voice.
He shoved the door open and stiffened as he stepped into the room. The windows stood wide, curtains twisted and knotted as if wrenched upward by invisible hands. China figurines lay scattered across the floor, their delicate forms cracked and broken. The velvet chair sat askew, one leg splintered as though it had been slammed against the floor.
His breath caught as he scanned the room for Alyssa.
But she was gone, the echo of her name ringing through the silence.
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COMING SOON
Destined
Book One - london vampire’s trilogy
Coming winter 2027
“His eternity was built on vengeance—until she stepped into his world and changed everything.”
Nicholas Philips will do anything to undo the wrong thrust on him more than 200 years ago. Life as the undead has left him weary of body and heart. So, when a dangerous piece of magic presents itself as a solution, he can’t pass up the opportunity to use it. Afterall it will allow him to right the course of his life and exact long sought revenge on the evil soul that cursed him for eternity. But his carefully laid plans fall into disarray when a stubborn and fiery mortal drops into his world. At every turn, Katherine Simmons tests his strength, his patience, and his will to let go of the present. But as he fights to keep her and the feelings she stirs in him at bay, he can’t deny the sense that they are somehow destined.
Katherine Simmons wants nothing more than to escape the pain of her father’s death—burying herself in her work as a regency historian. But when an evening out in Piccadilly places her in the path of Nicholas Philips her plans veer wildly off course. From their first meeting Katherine recognizes the dark power emanating from him, but it is the deep, sensual attraction she feels in his presence that worries her more. And when she finds herself lost in his world, after being thrust back 200 years in time, she must find a way to trust him. But can she put her faith in this enigmatic vampire and keep her heart intact. Or will she succumb to the dark pleasure of his touch and lose herself and her own world forever.
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Prologue
The smell of blood.
Nothing could be more seductive. Or more dangerous.
Nicholas Phillips lifted his head and stared into the inky blackness of the alley that backed off Piccadilly; his usual hunting ground. A tingle rushed to his gut as a heady fragrance infiltrated his senses. He stiffened. He knew, all too well, the charms the thick, ruby liquid possessed. But he'd stumble down a bleak path if he allowed its sensuous nature to drive him.
Memories, long past, flashed across his mind. He cringed. Even eighty years hadn’t driven away the images of losing his best friend to the dark craving. As much as Nicholas had tried to protect him, Aristeed’s weakness for the nectar’s more sybaritic qualities had thrust him into a world where chaos, not choice, ruled. Where all traces of humanity vanished.
It was a world Nicholas wanted no part of.
He alone dictated his life. He alone decided when he'd draw his precious nutrition -- choosing his victims with detached, careful, discernment. No one he knew. No one for whom he felt the slightest attachment. After all, he'd seen first-hand what happened if the connection became more than physical. Knew delirium came with the hunger when souls intertwined.
He had to be stronger.
But the taunting aroma of blood wove in the air around him. Robust. Healthy. Strong. Like some magnetic blanket – it beaconed and smothered at the same time. A burning ache built deep inside him. A throbbing need only another of his kind could fathom. Mortals had little scent for blood; its perfume eluded their senses. But a vampire could smell it as clearly as blooming roses after a summer rain.
Nicholas drew back from the itinerant man at his feet. Rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth, he fought the desire to take more of the liquid that gave him life. His victim, lost in the depths of hypnotic sleep, moaned. Nicholas peered down the narrow alley to the bricked wall at the far end. He should run, lose himself in the darkness on the other side. But the hunger enticed him, immobilized him.
He swallowed. The blood trapped in his throat flowed deeper, driving his craving the way a talented lover stokes the flames of desire. Making him want more, lust for that final release when immortality and death met, danced briefly, then split apart in a bright flash of violent surrender.
His fingers tightened on the man's arm as he struggled against the need surging through him. He knew the last blood would be sweet . . . so sweet, but if he tasted it, he'd be lost. For that reason, he'd always struck only when the elements tipped in his favor. Then he'd drink, but just enough to satisfy his raging lust. Not once had he left a victim lifeless, because he knew he'd never be able to live with himself if he did. And live with himself he must.
His focus drifted to the blood now congealing on his victim's neck. His tongue darted forward, moistening his lips.
Just one more taste. One more rush of power.
He lowered his head and drove his teeth deep. His guttural moan permeated the alley, much like the need gripping him. With the wound fully open, the blood poured into his mouth, pooling under his tongue. The moist sensation made his body sing.
Voices, boisterous and sharp, rippled through the still night. Nicholas jumped, tearing free of his victim. Warm blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, dropping onto his white shirt before he could stop it. The voices rang out again.
He spun towards the street. The lamp at the edge of the alley cast iridescent rays into his line of vision. He winced. Then, like a cornered animal, he scrambled back. A low, visceral growl rumbled from deep in his chest; the sound of a hungry creature distracted from its meal.
"Come on, Mar, this time I'm sure we're going the right way." A confident voice drifted into the alley.
A woman.
A young, vital woman. He could sense her from where he crouched, feel her heat as if she stood right next to him. Reason crashed over him, choking his need. He had to move, or he'd be seen.
Pushing himself from the pavement, he let his victim slip from his fingers. The man's sharp intake of breath as he hit the stone sent a flood of relief through Nicholas.
"I think it's down this--"
Pivoting towards the woman, he wiped the blood from his mouth, and he stepped in front of his victim. As he raised his head, Nicholas swallowed, sure if he'd been mortal his heart would have stopped.
Silhouetted against the light of the streetlamp, appeared an angel. Her loose-fitting white dress billowed in the gentle breeze. Each sweep of the fabric teased him with fleeting impressions of her body’s curves. And her flowing veil of auburn hair cascaded around her shoulders, backlit like a glowing halo.
He stepped towards her, his gaze roaming her enticing form. Never in all his existence could he remember seeing anyone as captivating. She glanced up as he approached. Light beams danced over her neck, revealing the throbbing pulse point at the base of her slim throat. Her blood rushed there, faster now. Licking his lips, Nicholas focused on her face.
Creamy skin, smooth as a lily's petals, glowed in the lamp light. And her green eyes shone like polished emeralds, offering riches in their depths no mortal man could resist.
But then, Nicholas was no mortal.
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COMING SOON