Showing posts from 2017


He depends on the kindness of strangers.
Fremont:  As mining geologist, I scouted out uranium on the rez.  My boss was an unstable tyrant who would tolerate no deviance from his sociopathic plan.  I found uranium, all right—making the Navajo hogans glow, their corn shine green from space, their cattle keel over, twisted and deranged.
It was a game-changer when I realized what decades of this poison was doing to the people.  And a chance meeting with the white priest who had chosen his own deviance in the desert, well, my destiny was changed forever.  I’ve been down, but I haven’t been out.  And Father Moloney is the premier guide to assist me on this coming out journey. 
Father Noel:  A cancer invaded our land.  My parishioners were dying at a high rate, their limbs gnarled, fingers fused together, useless.  But I never expected my crisis of faith to come in the form of a built, ripped geologist.
I dreamt of Fremont’s arrival, his backpack bristling with scientific instruments.  He holds…


THE BARE BONES MC.This series follows the adventures (mortal, death-defying, angst-filled and sometimes hilarious) of the motorcycle club in Arizona, near the present-day town of Sedona.  Ford Illuminati doesn't realize he's founded a club that will go down in infamy, whether it's on the right side of the law or the wrong.
THE BENT ZEALOTS MC. Ride along with the gay Arizona MC as they battle the Bad Guy.  It might be in the form of cartels, the government, or even other brothers.  Founder Turk Blackburn celebrates that they are bent and loving it, even if they go down fighting.

THE ASSASSINS OF YOUTH MC.Our breakout boys go up against some pretty orthodox polygynists in southern Utah.  Saving the women who don't want to be there is only part of their job.  Taking the town back from the righteous is the rest.

MY STANDALONE BOOKS. Check out the sagas of one hot, conflicted priest in THE EMERALD TRIANGLE.  And to round things…


What a long, strange trip it's been.  I've been publishing novels for over fifteen years now.  First I wrote historical fiction under my real name, Karen Mercury.  Then Karen branched out into erotic romance with Siren Publishing.

Layla Wolfe was born out of an insane desire to describe the lives of some of the people I grew up with—the gritty, unwanted, unloved, resourceful, independent folks I associated with, men as well as women.  It was a rough and tumble life for some of us, living hand to mouth.  I used to sleep in people's cars, waking and running when they opened the door to go to work.  After smoking their cigarettes, of course.

So I figured, why not flesh out these larger-than-life characters?  I've been blessed with amazing readers who "get" my unusual combo of angst, tragedy, and comedy.


It all came boiling up at me from a dark pit of despair I hadn’t known since I was a kid. My mind was a black hole, yet a vortex swirling full of writing. I had to calm my head so I could see the words at the edges of my vision. If I shook my head, all the letters jumbled like in a word puzzle. “Get out,” some letters seemed to be saying. “Connect the leads to John Doe’s chest,” said some more letters. They got scrambled into a sort of pick-up sticks jumble. John Doe was having a massive heart attack, yet he was ripping the ECG leads from his chest every time I tried to stick them on. “I’ll do it, Maddy,” said Winston, a fellow nurse. “You get the IV.” John Doe wailed louder. “I was just having a good time! I was celebrating with my band! I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” Meanwhile he thrashed like a shark, kicking every doctor or NP who tried to help. His heart rate was an arrhythmic 120, sweat poured down his brow, and his look was about as frantic and wide-eyed as a…

Read Chapter One of THE EMERALD TRIANGLE--Free!

The phone call came while I was in the duck blind waiting for the sun to rise. I suppose that made sense. Brian Ride had died sometime last night, and everyone in Cinnabar knew I turned in early. They would know, as a newly born “wild man of the woods,” I’d be getting up before the eastern glow in the sky was bright enough to see your hand by. They were right. I’d shouldered my shotgun and set out from my cabin with Orson, my brown Newfoundland, a sunny, grinning dog with not a care in the world, unlike me. Orson padded soundlessly through the unseen underbrush, a marauding bear on the prowl, while I followed not so quietly, although I’d gone the extra mile toward becoming a mountain man and had buckskin pants on under my waders. I knew approximately where the lake was and Orson guided me the rest of the way. It had snowed once or twice since I’d been there, and in November it stuck to the ground when I emerged from the alpine cover. Now my feet crunched in that baki…

Live on the 'zon and Goodreads!

IT TAKES A THIEF has arrived!  It's Live on Goodreads and Live on Amazon!  You already know the cover so here are a few teasers:


And a Cover Reveal Alert!

Great outlaws lost their lives to Ford.
Ford Illuminati, Prez of the famed Bare Bones MC, is in the crosshairs of Noodlum, a whacked thug recently joined with the Cutlasses.  When Ford’s company steals some highway workers of theirs, Noodlum lashes out with subterfuge, placing fake news stories about the club and stealing their identities to charge Cialis and penis weights.
But the clincher is when Noodlum targets Ford's old lady, Madison.  His twisted obsession with Madison puts Ford on the alert, and Santiago Slayer on his trail.  But things haven't been going well between Ford and Maddy lately.  His two jobs—Prez of the MC and his construction company—have got him working more than double time.  Neglected and feeling unloved, Maddy has a meltdown when a patient of hers dies.  She needs to do something different--something fulfilling.
When she works at a clinic on the Indian Rez, a heartthrob doctor catches her eye.  But he's not the real menace.  N…