Welcome to Elle Writes Books

  (https://a.co/d/4Y846Jh) Amazon KDP

The date had already gone to hell before the appetizers arrived.

Ally sat across from a man who thought quoting motivational Instagram posts counted as personality. He was handsome in that bland, catalog-model way, and he had ordered his steak well done. That should have been her first red flag.

“So, I’m really into manifestation,” he said, grinning like he’d just invented the word. “If you visualize love, it’ll appear.”

She stabbed a crouton with her fork. If visualization worked, Channing Tatum would’ve been sitting here, shirtless, feeding me fries.

Her phone buzzed on the table. Kayla, Ally’s loyal best friend, was always there, offering support and reality checks. For a split second, she thought about pretending it was an emergency, faking an escape. But she was too tired to put on a show. Divorce papers still sat on her kitchen counter like a bad roommate, reminding her she was twenty-eight and back at square one. 

When she finally excused herself to the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the hall mirror. Mascara slightly smudged and lipstick fading. Her above average height and once athletic body slightly drooped as she felt the weariness of surviving on her own for years. Hot mess chic, she thought out loud as she muttered under her breath, “I am never doing this again.” Just as she approached the bathroom door, it suddenly swung open, smacking her in the shoulder.“Shit...sorry!” A tall man with dark, unruly hair and an apologetic grin froze in the doorway. He definitely was not supposed to be in the women’s room, but instead of looking embarrassed, he looked… amused.“You okay?” he asked, still holding the door like a guilty teenager. She narrowed her eyes. “Are you lost, or just creepy?”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Little of both, maybe.” His smile was trouble wrapped in charm.

And just like that, without permission, her night tilted in a new direction.

 She should have brushed past him, gone back to her table, and endured another twenty minutes of the ‘well done steak and self help guy.’ But instead, her gaze lingered.

He wasn’t polished. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hair. His jaw carried the faintest shadow of stubble, like he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, and his eyes, blue-gray, stormy and way too direct. She knew this look all too well. His eyes held hers like he’d been waiting for this moment all night.

Her pulse betrayed her, thumping hot against her collarbone.

Oh, no. Nope. Not happening. He’s probably some country thud bathroom creep, with great arms.

“Still staring,” he teased softly, one brow lifted, teasing.

Her mouth went dry. She recovered with sarcasm, her weapon of choice. “Relax. I was just deciding whether to call security or not.”

But even as she said it, her body told a different truth. Her skin prickled, heat curled low in her stomach, she could feel the hard door frame pressing into her back and she hated how aware she was of the way his lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile.

It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t safe. It was the kind of smile that whispered I could undo you if you let me.

And God help her, she wanted to let him.

“Fair warning,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice a husky murmur meant just for her. “If you call security, they’re going to ask why you’re blushing so hard.”

Her jaw dropped, but words refused to form. The audacity. The nerve. The sheer, reckless pull between them.

 Her pulse kept racing, refusing to slow down. He was still standing in the doorway, close enough that she could smell him. Clean soap, leather, and something dark that stirred every nerve ending awake.

“Blushing?” she scoffed, desperate to hide the fire crawling up her neck. “Please. This is just… bad lighting.”

“Mm.” His smile deepened, slow and knowing. “Bad lighting looks good on you.”

Her laugh came out sharper than she intended, part defense, part surrender. God, who even talks like that anymore? She should have rolled her eyes and shoved past him. Instead, she realized she hadn’t moved. She hadn’t wanted to move.

He took a half step closer, still careful not to touch her. His voice slid over her, low and dangerous, like smoke curling through the air.”

 “You don’t want me to leave, do you?”

The smart thing would’ve been to say yes, get the hell out of here. But the truth burned through her faster than wine.

“I don’t even know you,” she whispered, knowing her body was already betraying her.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured back, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

Her breath caught. For one dizzy second, she thought he was going to kiss her right there, pressed against the cold tile wall, strangers crossing a dangerous line. She wanted him to. She hated how badly she wanted him to.

His hand lifted, just barely, hovering near her cheek without touching. The ghost of a caress. The suggestion of what he could do if she said yes.

Her heart slammed so hard it almost hurt.

And then either mercifully or cruelly laughter spilled in from the hallway. A group of women pushed through the door, giggling and chattering, breaking the spell.

He stepped back instantly, jaw tightening, like he hated the interruption as much as she did.

“Guess this is my cue,” he said in a low, almost growling tone. His eyes locking onto hers one last time. “But… we’ll see each other again.”And with that, he slipped out, leaving her flushed, breathless, and staring at her own reflection, wondering how a stranger in the wrong bathroom had just unraveled her in less than three minutes.

TIMEBOUND - A Time Travel Romance    (https://a.co/d/hmcScWM) Amazon KDP

Prologue: Edenvale, 1324

The dragon's roar shook the ancient stones of the tower.

Maya pressed herself against Ethan's chest, her heart hammering as the sound of boots and steel echoed up the spiral staircase below. Torches. Voices shouting prayers to saints. The Consilium had found them.

"How many?" Ethan's voice was steady, but his hand trembled as he traced the final sigil onto the stone floor with dragon's blood, Drakaina's blood, given freely for this moment.

Too many, Drakaina answered in Maya's mind, her sapphire-scaled head appearing at the tower's open window. The young dragon's silver eyes reflected the moonlight, calm despite the danger. Twenty men. Maybe more.

Maya's hands flew across the ritual circle, placing the final components with practiced precision. Crushed moonstone. Elderwood ash. A vial of Ethan's blood mixed with her own. The celestial alignment had peaked an hour ago. They were cutting it dangerously close.

"We need five more minutes," Maya said, her voice cracking. "The portal won't stabilize without."

The tower door exploded inward.

Men in the Consilium's crimson cloaks poured through, crossbows raised. Maya saw the bolts, iron-tipped, blessed with dragon-killing poison, and her blood turned to ice.

"Drakaina, NO…"

But the dragon was already moving. Blue fire erupted from her jaws, a wall of flame that sent the first wave of men scrambling backward, screaming. The scent of charred flesh filled the air.

Finish the ritual! Drakaina's command rang in Maya's skull, fierce and absolute. I will hold them.

"Where's Theron?" Ethan shouted, his hands blazing with golden light as he activated the first layer of the spell. The sigils on the floor began to glow, ancient dragon-script pulsing with power.

Maya's throat tightened. Theron. Ethan's dragon, his bonded soul, had been killed three months ago when the Consilium had raided his family's estate. Murdered while trying to protect Ethan's younger sister. The loss had nearly destroyed Ethan, left him hollow-eyed and reckless.

It was why they were doing this. Why they had to escape.

The dragons were dying. One by one, the Consilium hunted them, burned them, carved them apart for their bones and blood. In another generation, they would be extinct. The bonded mages would have no one left to choose them. The old magic would die.

Unless they could reach the future. Unless they could find a time when dragons were free.

Another bolt whistled through the air. Drakaina twisted, impossibly fast for something her size, and caught it in her teeth. She bit down, shattering the iron shaft, and Maya felt the dragon's rage through their bond, hot and bright and terrible.

"The portal's opening!" Ethan's voice pulled her back. The air in the center of the ritual circle was tearing, folding in on itself like reality was a piece of fabric being ripped apart. Beyond the wound in the world, Maya glimpsed light. Possibility. Freedom.

"We go together," Maya said, reaching for Ethan's hand. His fingers locked with hers, solid, and warm and real. "On my mark."

The second wave of Consilium soldiers charged.

Drakaina met them with claws and fire, her serpentine body coiling between Maya and the attackers. Blood sprayed across ancient stone. A man screamed as dragon teeth found his throat. Another fell, his chest caved in by a swipe of Drakaina's tail.

But there were too many.

Maya saw the bolt strike a heartbeat before Drakaina did.

It punched through the dragon's wing, just below the shoulder joint, and Drakaina shrieked, a sound of pain that lanced through Maya's skull like lightning. The dragon stumbled, crashing against the tower wall, and the bond between them flared, agony radiating down Maya's left arm.

"Drakaina!"

Go, the dragon gasped into her mind. The portal won't hold much longer. GO.

"I'm not leaving you."

You must. Drakaina dragged herself upright, blood streaming from the wound. Her eyes, those beautiful silver eyes, locked onto Maya's. Take our dream to the future. Find a world where we are free. Both of you. Together.

"Maya, NOW!" Ethan's grip on her hand tightened. The portal was collapsing, its edges flickering like a dying star.

They ran.

Hand in hand, they leaped into the rift between worlds, between centuries, between everything they'd ever known and a future they could only imagine.

For one perfect moment, Maya felt it, the passage through time, Ethan's hand warm in hers, their hearts beating in sync, the dragon-bond singing one last clear note before.

CRACK.

Something hit the portal. A disruption. Maya felt it like a physical blow, the Consilium's counter-spell, crude and brutal, smashing into the delicate temporal magic like a hammer through glass.

The portal fractured.

"ETHAN!" Maya screamed, but her voice was lost in the roar of collapsing reality. His hand was ripped from hers. She saw him, just for an instant, tumbling through a different stream of light, his eyes wide with terror, his mouth forming her name.

And then he was gone.

Not back to 1324. Not forward to their destination.

Somewhere else.

Somewhere in between.

The portal shattered completely. Maya felt Drakaina's presence wink out like a candle flame, the bond severing with a violence that left her gasping, bleeding from her nose and ears. She was falling, alone, through a tunnel of fractured time, shards of possible futures spinning past her like broken mirrors.

She saw glimpses: Ethan as a child. Ethan as an old man. Ethan in clothes she didn't recognize, in cities that didn't exist yet, speaking languages that hadn't been invented.

Where is he?

When is he?

The question was still screaming through her mind when she hit the end of the fall and darkness swallowed her whole.