My Book
There's Nothing More Powerful Than A Story That Makes You Feel Seen!
Book One – The Chosen
Book One introduces a world where ancient mythology breathes beneath modern reality, and monsters are not born—but made. When Odette, an ordinary human with an unshakable sense of compassion, is pulled into the orbit of Talon—a Lycan hybrid whose power awakened too late and too violently—she becomes entangled in a legacy of divine creation, brutal transformations, and forgotten laws.
As Talon struggles to control instincts forged for destruction, Odette becomes his anchor, forcing both of them to confront what it means to choose humanity over fate. Alongside pack politics, supernatural hierarchies, and the ever-present threat of losing control, their bond deepens into something dangerous: love that demands restraint, trust, and sacrifice.
Dark, visceral, and rooted in myth, Book One is a story of becoming—where monsters remember being human, and love carries claws and fangs.
This is NOT a YA book.
Camden, Maine
Concept artwork inspired by the atmosphere of Camden, Maine. Not a photograph.
Curtis Island, Camden, Maine
Concept artwork inspired by Curtis Island, Camden, Maine. Not a photograph.
Author’s Note
I wrote this book out of exhaustion—and out of love.
Exhaustion with watching my favorite lore and monsters be treated as if they were conniving caricatures rather than cultural inheritances. As if they were convenient costumes to be reshaped, softened, or sensationalized until nothing of their original meaning remained. As if they could be rewritten into something easier, then dismissed just as quickly—much like history once dismissed them.
And love, because I cared too much to let that continue.
Folklore is not a loose aesthetic. It is not a trend cycle or a set of interchangeable traits. It is history filtered through fear, belief, survival, and memory. Monsters were never meant to be safe, simple, or universally agreeable. They were warnings. Mirrors. Records of how people once understood the world, danger, the body, and the soul. When those stories are flattened or stripped of their context, something essential is lost—not just accuracy, but intention.
Modern storytellers are not exempt from the same failures as the past. We can be just as careless, just as dismissive, when we reshape what we don’t take the time to understand. When convenience replaces research. When market comfort replaces consequence. When the monster becomes palatable at the cost of its truth.
This book was written as a refusal.
A refusal to treat transformation as a spectacle without pain.
A refusal to treat monsters as metaphors without biology, trauma, or history.
A refusal to romanticize violence while ignoring its cost—or to sanitize it until it means nothing at all.
I did not set out to reinvent these legends. I set out to remember them correctly.
That meant research. It meant restraint. It meant allowing the story to be uncomfortable where it needed to be, and slow where shortcuts would have been easier. It meant letting love be dangerous, not decorative. Letting power come with consequence. Letting the monster remember being human—and letting the human be forced to reckon with the monster.
This book will not hold your hand. It trusts you to notice the details, to sit with discomfort, and to recognize that reverence and brutality can coexist. If it feels deliberate, it is. If it feels demanding, it is meant to be. Loving these stories means holding them to a higher standard—not a softer one.
I wrote this book because I loved the genre too much to let it be handled carelessly.
If you’re here for something easy, this may not be it.
If you’re here for something honest—welcome.