The Nightingale Trilogy

Nala's sister is dead. Vincent's fiancee is dead. The man who had them killed? It's time to take him down.

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Released: March 9th, 2016
Publisher: Barachou Press
Price: $4.99
Buy: Amazon


Nala's sister is dead. The man who had her killed hides within a sinful, hedonistic refuge that she can't penetrate on her own.

Up and coming billionaire Vincent Lane offers her an in: become his sub and join pharmaceutical giant Xavier Crow's dangerous world of sin, scheming, and a secret circle known only as "The Aviary."

Nala must don the codename Nightingale. Small. Sweet. Beyond determined. Her sister's memory demands nothing less.

But she can't get distracted by Vincent's powerful façade. Not until she discovers what dark and terrible secret he's hiding as well.

This book was originally serialized and still available in serial format. (Aside from Book 1: The Nightingale Submits, installments are only available on Amazon. Click the image below to be taken to the series page on Amazon.


“I saw you in there,” he said, gesturing to the door Nala snuck through. “You were making sure the coast was clear before coming in. You’re not supposed to be here.”
No matter how many times he reiterated that, it didn’t sink into Nala’s brain. She could be stubborn that way. “Please don’t tell on me,” she hissed, her fight or flight senses taking over. She couldn’t be caught and thrown out. Not like this. Not before she saw a glimpse of Xavier Crow resting on his laurels stained in blood. “I had to see him for myself.”
The man cocked his head in curiosity, his hands disappearing into his trouser pockets. “See who? You’ve got me intrigued now.”
Nala looked down the stairs. “Xavier Crow. I heard he’s in there.”
They were silent. Music from both doors filtered into the hall. One was classical. The other was jazzy. Together they were noise. “What business do you have with Crow?” the man asked.
Nala looked back to him and the impeccable hair on his head. “My business is none of your business.”
Her voice, unlike his, was laced in anger. She didn’t mean to do it. She didn’t mean to betray her own cool exterior. How could it be avoided when images of her sister lying still and dead in her casket flooded her mind? I can remember that day. Standing there. Staring at Tasha’s lifeless face, surrounded by fresh daisies, her favorite flower. Tasha was dead. The flowers were dying. They died to be buried with her, long before their time was due to be over. The world – and nature – was cruel that way.
Any sense of feeling, especially negative, was the wrong thing to use in this situation. Nala needed to be as lifeless as her dead sister. If she were going to be emotional, then fuck it, she needed to be giddy and stupid. “Oh, haha, I’m so stupid, L O L.” Yet she couldn’t fake that if she tried. Nala couldn’t act. She was a creature who only knew how to act on instinct, and right now her instincts weren’t giving her good advice at all.
“Hm.” The man pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Perhaps it is my business. I’m going down to see Mr. Crow myself. Except I have an appointment. I doubt you do.”
Nala was taken aback. She expected this type of attitude from this man, but nevertheless, she didn’t like being on the brunt end of it. “Well…”
The man looked her up and down. Scoped her out. Checked her out. Nala crossed her arms over her modest chest and summoned the best death glare she had. If the man noticed, he didn’t let on, or at least wasn’t fazed.
“I could get you in to see him.”
Those words danced in Nala’s brain, but barely registered. It was like she heard them, but they were so preposterous, so improbable that she wouldn’t allow herself to hear them. See… him? “How so? You his friend or something?”
“Like I said, I have an appointment.” The man looked at the door they came through. “Or I could go tell that nice, flirty bartender that I caught you back here where you don’t belong. I doubt you’d be able to see Mr. Crow at all after that.”
“Blackmail, huh?”
“Hardly. I’m giving you a fair choice.”
“What do you want in return, Mister…”
The man snorted. “Lane. Vincent Lane. Doubt you’ve ever heard of me.”
“Should I have?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. Because I haven’t heard of you before.”
“You’re caustic.”
“And you’re creeping me out.” Nala shrugged. “I appreciate you saving my neck, quite literally, but I’m not sure if I’m interested.”
“How badly do you want to see Xavier Crow? I don’t care what your business is with him. I’ll get you in. You only have to pretend you know me.”
Pretend? This was sounding less than ideal. “I’m not a good actress.”
“Then don’t tell him we met because you were sneaking down to see him. Don’t think of it as acting. Think of it as lying. Anyone can lie.”
What a strange thing to say.
“Hey, this might be your only chance to see Xavier Crow up close and personal. All I ask is that you don’t go in there as my guest and embarrass me.”
Nala looked around the hall, as if a trap were about to be sprung and catch her in its grip. “I see,” she muttered. What was more important to her? Walking out of there unscathed, or accomplishing part of what she set out to do – namely, see the man who killed her sister?
She didn’t know who this Vincent was, other than he wore expensive suits and cologne, but right now he was her only chance to not make the last few months in Portland a total wash.
“All right,” she tried to say with conviction. “I’ll go with you. As your guest. In exchange for you doing this and not telling on me – and I guess for saving my bones – I’ll try not to humiliate you since that’s what you’re most worried about.”
The corner of Vincent’s mouth twitched. “Should I be worried about something else?”
Nala faced the staircase that tried to kill her. “Let’s do this before I lose my gumption.”
She didn’t wait for Vincent to ask what she meant by that. Having to answer such a question wouldn’t put her in the best corner – and Nala was already in a shitty corner.