FEATURED release

The only female alpha in existence. A former assassin who smells like gingerbread. One very inconvenient problem.

Winter

I am not your sweetheart.

My mother is dead. My father is dying slowly, poisoned by something none of us can stop. I live alone in a tree house in the woods because I can't bear to be inside the home she haunts. I don't like people, and people—wisely—don't push it.

I am the chief's daughter. People find that intimidating until they meet me, and then they find something else to be afraid of entirely.

So when a soldier ends up at the wrong end of my sword after a battle—calm, unbothered, the only man I've ever drawn on who doesn't flinch—and gestures to the rabbit snare he set behind me while we were fighting, I should send him away.

He smells like gingerbread. He cooks me dinner. He looks at me like he already has a word for it and is in no hurry to say it.

People say they look forward to seeing me in action. I tell them the truth: if they truly wanted to see it, they'd be dead before they knew what happened.

I don't trust men who see softness where there is none.

But I stay.

Basil

I am a sucker for punishment. It's an occupational hazard when your occupation used to be assassination.

It took decades of discipline and patience to earn my command—surviving my squad of unruly warriors was the easy part. But when the most lethal woman in the realm holds me at sword point and I find myself thinking about how to make her laugh instead of how to disarm her, my priorities have clearly shifted.

Winter is brilliant, necessary, and the only fighter who has ever matched me. I need her help to protect the women of my clan, and her father is the only one who can make it happen. So I go to him—without telling her.

She finds out. I lose every inch of ground I've earned. And she's already bound by her father's order to come.

I said the wrong thing, and now I have to win her back from the inside of her own territory, one impossible inch at a time.

She's worth it. She doesn't believe that yet.

Hunger is my existence now. I'll wait.

Set across a world of thirteen clans, wolves, warriors, and realms that bleed into each other at the edges, Court Her at Your Own Risk is a low-stakes cozy fantasy romance with explicit heat—and a love story built not on changing who she is, but on giving her a reason to stay.

Featuring a found family that earns every inch, battles and campfires and long road journeys, and a former assassin who falls so completely he never once considers getting up.

He falls first • Reverse grumpy/sunshine • "Touch her and die" energy • Forced proximity • Former assassin hero • Only female alpha • Found family • Explicitly spicy • HEA guaranteed

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Previously published as Not If He Looked At Me Like That

excerpt

Everything vibrated with spent adrenaline. A random group of orcs dropped into the mountain range. It was the fifth random crossover in a month, and they grew more frequent. I didn’t like it. 

The orcs destroyed a lot of land and natural resources, although thankfully, they hadn’t wandered into any villages. Hadn’t hurt any people. That’s why I ran head-first into them, and they didn’t see me coming until too many of them fell. 

One almost trampled me, and I haven’t been able to suppress the jacked-up feeling that made me shake for so long.

I trampled into the trees and paced, and I swore that the traces of gingerbread men lingered among them. Searching for the tell-tale trap, I found one fifteen yards away. A fat brown hare hung in its grasp. 

Basil was here somewhere. Why did that make me nervous?

I unlatched the game and circled the grounds. Fallen trees and pulverized rock made for a jagged loop, but I caught him bent over the second trap. His long limbs gracefully and efficiently freed his catch before he stood and turned to me. That smile threatened me in so many ways.

“You.” I held up the hare and shrugged. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I was hoping I’d see you again.” The way he looked at me tightened my ribs. 

It was exactly the same as I remembered it. Why did he look at me like that?

I shook my head and searched for the other traps.

Basil stood and closed the distance between us, his molasses and nutmeg scent growing stronger behind me. “No sword to my throat today?”

That southern drawl in my ear made me step to the side. But his happiness at my presence had me squirming. “Where are the others?”

“You’re really not a fan of intimacy, are you?” He was teasing me, the same humor glinting in his light blue eyes that Newt had when he teased me, but the jab tore deeper than he intended.

The bubble popped, and cold filtered back in. Adrenaline petered out, and I gestured him on. “No.”

His features scrunched, and he must have noticed the change.

I avoided the sympathy or pity or whatever soft emotion took him over and charged toward the likeliest path for his next trap.

Basil followed me until I found it. And when I bent to free it, he said, “I didn’t mean anything by it, sweetheart.”

My shoulders rolled and tightened. The squirrel came away easily in my grip, and I stood with a deep breath. “Nobody ever does.”

When I turned to him, that exuberant joy had deflated, and he nodded. Somehow, the look still made my insides warm in fractions. We harvested another four animals, and Basil followed me to my campsite.

I chopped the fallen wood from the destruction and built a fire as he butchered the game. Although half of the time, I was sure he watched me instead.

The weight of his gaze touched me more profoundly than the way others’ attention did. This mystery was enough of a distraction that I sat next to him on the log, much closer than we’d begun last time, and I helped him butcher the animals he’d caught.

I wished the monotony following a battle would settle the same kind of numbness inside me that it used to. Instead, the sucking cold made me survey the grounds and the other wolves gathering the fallen trees to utilize for their bonfires. I was glad they wanted to clean up the destruction as much as I did. Trying to minimize it by barreling in first didn’t work as well as I wished.

At least, we kept them from tromping into Lake Anakee and the Halsien clan.

A foil bundle sat beside Basil, and I knocked him in the knee with the pommel of my dagger. “What’s that?”

“A surprise. A treat for after dinner.” That sparkling joy rekindled in his bright blue gaze. “My sister made it for us.”​

A complete fourteen-part spicy paranormal romance serial.

Thirteen alphas. One deadly warrior. No room for love—unless it ruins her.

Winter Jarl must choose a mate to rule beside her.
Thirteen men want her. Only one gets to keep her—if she doesn’t destroy him first.

Thirteen clans. Thirteen alphas. One ruthless decision.
Winter is the fiercest warrior her people have ever known—deadly, untouchable, unchallenged, and next in line to lead. But with her father on his deathbed, he’s cashing in on the blood oath she made long ago.

Now, she’s trapped in a brutal year-long mating trial:
Thirteen moon cycles. Thirteen powerful males.
Each gets twenty-eight days alone with her.
By the end, she must choose one to rule beside her.
And to take the mantle of chief, she’ll have to do the one thing she swore she never would—fall in love.

Cycle One: Chasing Winter

Winter has no intention of surrendering her body, her leadership, or her freedom. But her heat is coming—and instinct doesn’t care about politics.

Thunder, the youngest alpha, is the first to face her.
He’s sweet. Inexperienced. And already dreaming about how to tame her.
Armed with charm and a list of filthy fantasies, he’s bold enough to try.

But Winter doesn’t submit—she dominates.
And the games have only just begun.

High heat. No fade to black. Power games, soft feelings, and a warrior who’s not ready to give in—but can’t stop being tempted.

series to binge

Autumn Lishky is a quiet, little woman with a big, loud imagination, and a dirty one at that.  Living in the Oklahoma City area, she has worked various jobs from pizza delivery girl to night host at a funeral home, but no matter the nature of her income, she is always lost in a world of fantastic sex.
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But be forewarned, these won’t be your normal erotic scenes. This may be more than mere BDSM. Dirty Little Love is for the wicked, for the fantasies, for sex that crosses that accepted societal norm.

About the author

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Want to sample some of Autumn's steamy scenes?
Click here to visit her blog, Dirty Little Love, where you can read the juicy stuff, get a slice of character, and be onto another in minutes.

Do remember this site is for ages 18+