How Do Supernatural Romance Authors Create Believable Characters?

Everything North Campbell believes about her life is a lie. She doesn't discover that until the night her father dies, and she learns he wasn't her father. He kidnapped her as a baby from her birth parents, Jim and Carol Allis. They seem ecstatic to find her, but she quickly learns they, along with their powerful dragon-shifter ally Pytor Douglas, have nefarious plans for her. She runs straight into the arms of another mysterious group, and they tell her she's a Trueblood—descended from all the mythic races and capable of great power. She's at risk, but the Council assigns her six bodyguards, and the Oracle has seen her future husband is among the six. North is dragged from realm to realm to learn how to use her powers. That task seems impossible—almost as impossible as choosing just one man from among the six mythics entrusted with her protection. How can she choose between a vampire, an angel, a demon, a witch, a dark elf, and a wolf-shifter when each of the men is perfect for her in different ways? Dare she risk everything and choose them all? Will she have a chance to make the decision, or will Pytor's group get her first?

“Why does everyone assume I need a tragic backstory to justify what I am?” Adrian said, strolling slowly toward me like he had all the time in the world. His eyes locked on mine as he continued, “Oh no, honey. It isn't because mummy dearest died giving birth to me. Or because dear old dad was too busy to tuck me in at night" He stopped when he was directly in front of me. So close that his tall frame was towering intimidatingly over me. I lifted my chin stubbornly to look him in the eye, refusing to cower. He smirked at that, his hand going to swipe a stray strand of hair from my face. “Some of us,” he murmured, “are not broken.” His eyes darkened. “Some of us are just simply… evil.” ~ I was dragged to the execution block in chains, accused of being a monster the world had erased. Then the Alpha's wolf claimed me as mate and forced him to halt the execution. In a world where hybrids were hunted to extinction, I was the last mistake left alive. The last thing Lucien Dreadmoor wanted was his mate being the single weapon that could completely wipe out wolves from existence. The bond tied us together anyway, trapping me in his keep, his rules, his control. He called it protection. I called it a cage. As war stirs at the borders and a vampire prince begins circling, whispers spread that my blood could start another war… or end it. The Alpha wants to break the bond. The Vampire wants to claim me. And somewhere between fate and freedom, I must decide which monster I am willing to stand beside… and which one I am willing to become.

The only way I can save the werewolf race is by mating with a man...but he's not the man I'm in love with...

One simple boyfriend spell. One ancient book of magic. What could go wrong? At eighteen, I'm thrown from my normal life into the supernatural world. One moment I'm planning prom and the next, I'm on a one-way bus ride to Hollowheaven's Supernatural Academy where I won't be allowed to see my friends or interact with the rest of the world until I control my power.Whatever.This place is weird and I can't help feeling this is a mistake.But a dare at an initiation goes too far, I get in over my head.Who knew that I could conjure ghosts?I can't fall in love with guys who aren't even real— or alive. I've got to figure out a way to get them back into the afterlife before I can't walk away from them. Before I can't stand not to have them in my life.One thing I'm learning is that magic is never simple.**Sex scenes/explicit content, violence and gore. Suggested age range - 18+**Supernatural Academy Series is created by Autumn Gray, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

What do a charming vampire professor and an intimidating alpha werewolf have in common? Nothing. Except a forbidden desire for a forbidden girl. *** When Layla Dele is invited to Nox-Luminis Academy, a prestigious school for supernaturals, she thinks she could finally have an escape from her terrible life. But all of her hopes are dashed when her powers, which she had no idea existed, are unleashed and her real evil nature emerges. Now she has two options: learn to harness her untamed powers to fight in a war she knows nothing about, or die. Dejected but not willing to give up her life, she chooses to study but is determined to prove she isn't a beacon of evil. But how can she focus when distraction comes in the form of a strange, magnetising connection with two extremely handsome men? The elegant vampire professor, the reason for her current predicament, whose innocent yet sensual touch and genuine assurance that he would protect her make her knees weak. And the gruff alpha, who rejected her as his mate in front of the whole student body but is extremely protective and shows his tender side only to her. Her heart feels like it knows them. Why does she feel so strongly for men she knows she can't have? And is she really the malevolent, evil creature everyone keeps calling her? Is there more than meets the eye? If there is, what is her role in the scheme of things?    

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.