It’s almost here! Get excited for the release of the much-anticipated romantasy: The Jaded Knight. If you haven’t caught Chapter 1 yet, you can check it out here.

Description: (Scroll down for Chapter 2).

What if the fate of the supernatural world rested in the hands of a twenty-one-year-old witch with angel blood, a snark problem, and a habit of breaking the rules?

Welcome to The Jaded Knight, the first book in the Lux Bellator series—a sharp, emotionally charged urban fantasy packed with magical warfare, forbidden romance, and found family.

This series is for readers who:

• Love heroines who are clever, fierce, and just a little chaotic
• Can’t get enough of brooding Nephilim love interests (with swords and secrets)
• Crave high-stakes supernatural missions set against the gritty pulse of modern New York
• Live for enemies-to-lovers slow burns with crackling chemistry
• Want their fantasy with just the right amount of wit, heart, and heat

The Jaded Knight is not just a story about magic—it’s about power, purpose, and the messy beauty of becoming who you’re meant to be when the world expects you to be someone else. It is available for pre-order and will be free on Kindle Unlimited starting July 1st. You can grab your copy here.

Chapter 2

I stand in front of my mirror, my mind a cocktail of
thoughts and emotions, shaken but not stirred. Today
is the beginning of a new chapter in my life—like when
you finally decide to switch from box wine to the good stuff. I
take a moment to scrutinize my reflection, noting every detail
with the precision of a detective in a noir film. At 5’8”, I’ve
always been tall and slender, but confidence in my appearance?
About as elusive as a low-calorie chocolate cake. Yet today, I
find myself appreciating the unique quirks that make me, well,
me. My hazel eyes, sometimes flecked with green or brown,
are like a kaleidoscope of confusion that never fails to captivate
me. They’re my favorite feature, giving me a sense of depth and
mystery—like the mysterious allure of a locked minibar in a
hotel room.

My skin, tanned from long days spent under the warm
summer sun, has a golden glow to it that makes me feel alive.
And then there’s my hair—we have a love-hate relationship
akin to that of a rom-com couple. Its medium brown hue seems
to change with the lighting, sometimes casting hints of red throughout its waves that fall gracefully down my back. Despite
our tumultuous affair, I can’t help but admire its natural beauty.
Well – okay so, it isn’t exactly natural, per se. It’s more uh—
alright, here’s the story. I was messing around with an old
witch’s grimoire that I “found” when I came across this spell
entitled alluring locks. Naturally, I was intrigued because my
brown locks were about as alluring as a wet mop. Flat and
boring.

I went online, the Magic Google if you will, to dig up
information on this spell before doing something I’d regret. The
consensus was mixed about whether these spells should be used.
Apparently, a couple of decades ago, some witches tribunal
decided that “glam” spells were as unethical as pineapple on
pizza.

I pondered it deeply, weighing the implications, and examining my ethics before I ruled that it was, in fact, not against my
personal code of conduct. So, I did the spell. I have not been
disappointed with the results—nor with my decision.
Needing a distraction from my disarray of thoughts, I glance
around the room looking for something to do.
My eyes land on my spell book. No time like the present to
get some practice in.

As I flicked my wrist, a cascade of books levitated off the shelf,
dancing in mid-air like leaves caught in an autumn breeze. “I’m
starting to think you’re just making me do your bidding for
entertainment,” I mused aloud, watching as Orion, that sneaky
furball of mine, perched atop my floating pillow, his green eyes
following every move with feline amusement.
“Meow,” he replied, which I took to mean, “Obviously.”
“Lazy cat,” I chided, but the grin on my face betrayed my
mock annoyance. Books orbited around us in a literary solar system; I was the sun, and they were my planets. Sometimes
I imagined myself a conductor, each flick and flourish of my
fingers summoning a symphony of objects. It was a quirky way
to practice telekinesis, sure, but if you can’t have fun with magic,
what’s the point?

“Alright, Orion, time for your grand entrance.” With a gentle
push of my power, the pillow began to rise higher, elevating
His Majesty to new heights. “Don’t get airsick now.”
Orion retorts with a sneeze, clinging to his makeshift magic
carpet. I took it as his stoic acceptance of the challenge.
“Such bravery,” I teased. “You know, some cats chase mice,
climb trees, maybe cough up the occasional hairball. But you?
You fly on pillows and judge my book-sorting skills.”
A soft purr came the dry response, which I interpreted as,
“Keep the compliments coming.”
“Ah, the life of a witch’s familiar,” I sighed dramatically,
twirling in place as the books lined themselves back onto the
shelf in perfect alphabetical order. “You could be out there,
living wild, but instead, you choose domestic flight.”
Giving him a conspiratorial wink. “Who needs the great
outdoors when you’ve got a room that defies gravity?”
He agreed with another soft purr, or at least that’s what I
decided he meant. It was either that or a request for more
treats.

“Your wish is my command,” I said, snapping my fingers. A
small bag of gourmet cat treats sailed through the air, landing
neatly beside him on the pillow. “But don’t think for a second
that this means you’re getting a raise in your allowance.”
Orion nudged the bag open with his paw and looked at me
with those eyes that said, “We’ll negotiate terms later.”
“Fine, fine,” I laughed, plucking a treat from the bag and tossing it into the air where he skillfully caught it between
his teeth. “For a nonchalant kitty, you sure do drive a hard
bargain.”

He purred contentedly, settling down to enjoy his spoils.
“Alright, back to work,” I said, rolling up my sleeves before
remembering they were already rolled—habit, I guess. “These
spells aren’t going to cast themselves, and we both know potion-
making is off the table after last week’s… incident.”
With a hiss he reminds me, and I groan.
“Never let a witch live down her potion blunders, huh? You’re
lucky you’re cute.”

Orion stretched out on the levitating pillow as I reached for
my grimoire, ready to tackle the next enchantment with my
trusty sidekick by my side—or rather, above me.
As I work through my spell, my mind drifts back to the one
and only time I met Nathaniel Blackwood. I was sixteen at
the time, he was nineteen. We were at a Lux Bellator training
retreat for future agents. Everyone wanted to meet him, he was
already making a name for himself as a badass. I couldn’t show
off my witchy skills, Michael to this day wants me to conceal
just how powerful I am, afraid that the wrong person will use
that to their advantage.

Anyway, since I didn’t stand out much, I wasn’t good enough
to talk to Nathan. I think our eyes met a few times, disdain
dripping from his cold glare.
Suddenly the memory solidifies. My first meeting with
Nathan, if you could call it that.

Five Years Earlier

The training retreat unfolded in a secluded mountain lodge, nestled amidst towering, ancient trees, their leaves a vibrant
tapestry of green, and embraced by the crisp, invigorating
mountain air that seemed to purify the soul with every breath.
I remember feeling like an outsider among the other young Lux
Bellator trainees, many of whom effortlessly displayed awe-
inspiring supernatural abilities, their talents shimmering like
stars in the night sky. I had to restrain myself; Micheal, with
his penchant for the dramatic, believed my power was a volatile
force, one errant spell away from obliterating a generation of
Lux recruits.

Out on a creaky wooden bench that felt like it belonged in a
haunted pension, I sat alone, fingertips grazing the weathered
planks while I practiced tiny, innocuous charms. Nothing
fancy—just enough sparkles and puffs of smoke to keep my
secret intact. A cluster of trainees swaggered past, their laughter
ricocheting off the lodge walls like drunken elves in a tavern.
At their center stood Nathan Blackwood—nineteen, impossibly
photogenic, and radiating power like a neon billboard in Times
Square. His chiseled jaw could’ve sliced cheese, and his gaze
apparently had its own gravitational pull. The girls practically
tripped over each other trying to catch his eye; a few of the guys
even sniffed the air for his cologne.

I was so smitten I nearly choked on a gust of pine-scented
wind. Here I was, a reluctant “little witch,” desperately trying
not to hyperventilate in full view of Mount Olympus in jeans.
Of course he didn’t know I existed—why would the top-tier
hottie care about someone who practiced stealth spells like they
were minor party tricks?

Then, like a spotlight striking at dusk, I felt it: his gaze drilling
into me. I looked up to find those piercing blue eyes fixed on
my bench-session. Hope flared. Maybe he’d finally noticed my stellar

magical résumé? Instead, he arched a brow, lips
curling into a smug smirk. “Careful with those parlor tricks,
little witch,” he drawled, voice thick with condescension—and
maybe a hint of amusement. “Wouldn’t wanna strain yourself.”
I had this glorious urge to unleash my full power: turn his
hair into a flock of angry sparrows, or at least singe off that
too-perfect mane. But Michael’s voice echoed in my head:
“Restraint, dear fledgling. Don’t nuke the newbies.”

So, I settled for shooting him my most venomous glare—and a very
classy middle finger—before returning to my modest spellwork,
trying to pretend he was yesterday’s stale doughnut.
His laugh bounced around the clearing, low and reckless, like
a man who knew exactly what effect he had on people. My
cheeks turned a sexy shade of beetroot reed. It was the kind of
laugh you’d expect when the universe is in on a joke—just not
one I was invited to.

That was our one and only exchange. Yet from that moment
on, Nathan Blackwood’s shadow draped itself over every lofty
goal I dared to set. And I knew, with a deliciously wicked
certainty, that our paths would cross again.

As the memory fades, I find myself back in my room, sur-
rounded by floating books and a slightly concerned-looking
Orion. I realize I’ve been gripping my grimoire so tightly my
knuckles have turned white.

Orion watches me closely, his tail twitching with curiosity,
clearly, he wants to know where my head went.
“Just remembering why I can’t stand Nathan Blackwood,” I
mutter, setting the grimoire down with a sigh. “And now we
have to work with him. Great.”

I flop onto my bed, causing a few nearby objects to wobble
in the air. Orion gracefully leaps from his pillow perch to land beside me, nuzzling my hand in a rare show of comfort.
“Thanks, buddy,” I scratch behind his ears. “At least I’ll have
you and Kat with me in New York.”

I spent the rest of the evening bouncing a ball of light between
my hands, the luminescent sphere casting shadows that danced
around my room like spirits at a séance. Orion, sprawled on
the windowsill, watched with an air of feline indifference.
“Come on, whiskered wonder,” I teased, flicking the ball of
light in his direction. “No cat-like reflexes to show off?” The
ball bounced off his nose, and he responded with a lazy swat,
nearly toppling a vase in the process.

“Careful!” I scolded, catching the vase mid-fall with a flick of
my wrist. “That’s a genuine fake antique.”
Orion yawned, clearly unimpressed by my telekinesis or my
taste in décor.

As I continued to practice, my phone buzzed with a text from
Kat. “Hey witch bitch, you ready to paint the town red tonight?
Or should I say, paint it with magic?”
I chuckled, typing back, “As long as you promise not to
literally paint anything. Remember the mural incident?”
“That was ONE time,” came the swift reply. “Besides, I’m sure
they’ve almost finished scrubbing the lion paw prints off City
Hall by now.”

Rolling my eyes, I sent back, “Meet you at Moonbeam’s in an
hour. Try not to maul anyone on the way.”
Orion gives a pained meow, along with a look that clearly
said, “You’re really leaving me for her?”
“Oh, don’t be jealous,” I cooed, scratching behind his ears.
“You know you’re my number one familiar.”

The bitterness of that encounter with Nathan still lingers in
my mind, mingling with the anxiety of our impending move to New York.
Orion interrupts my brooding with a swipe of his paw to my
cheek. Such a doll.

“You’re right,” I sigh, interpreting his aggression as a reminder
to focus on the present. “No use dwelling on the past. We’ve
got packing to do.”

I wave my hand, and the books settle back onto their shelves.
Orion stretches lazily on his side, then fixes me with his
knowing green eyes.

“Don’t give me that look,” I tell him, hands on my hips. “I
know what you’re thinking. ‘Sadie, you’re not that awkward
sixteen-year-old anymore. You’re a powerful witch now.’ And
you’re right, as usual.”

I start pacing the room, my thoughts racing. “But it’s not just
about Nathan. It’s everything. Leaving home, starting a new
life in New York City, working with a team we barely know.
It’s a lot to take in.”

Orion watches me with his usual air of feline superiority,
occasionally flicking his tail as if to punctuate my rambling.
“And what if I mess up? What if I can’t control my powers
and blow our cover? What if-”

My spiral of anxiety is interrupted by a loud knock at the
door, followed by mom’s voice. “Sadie! Are you talking to your
cat again? Come on, we’re going to be late for your going away
dinner!”

I take a deep breath, centering myself. “Coming!” I call back
effectively putting an end to Orion’s and my conversation.