Leah Ryan writes fantasy romance for people who enjoy watching two emotionally unstable people ruin each other’s lives before falling in love.
Her books are filled with obsessive men, stubborn women, terrible coping mechanisms, and at least one character making a catastrophic decision with complete confidence. She spends an unreasonable amount of time inventing fictional men with authority issues and then making them emotionally dependent on women who absolutely should not trust them.
Nobody communicates properly. Everyone has issues. It’s a great time.
When she’s not writing, Leah is usually arguing with fictional characters in her head, destroying her sleep schedule, and promising herself she’ll stop after one more chapter. She never does.
Leah Ryan writes fantasy romance for people who enjoy watching two emotionally unstable people ruin each other’s lives before falling in love.
Her books are filled with obsessive men, stubborn women, terrible coping mechanisms, and at least one character making a catastrophic decision with complete confidence. She spends an unreasonable amount of time inventing fictional men with authority issues and then making them emotionally dependent on women who absolutely should not trust them.
Nobody communicates properly. Everyone has issues. It’s a great time.
When she’s not writing, Leah is usually arguing with fictional characters in her head, destroying her sleep schedule, and promising herself she’ll stop after one more chapter. She never does.
Wolves show up at Melori’s door bleeding, growling, occasionally trying to bite the woman stitching them back together. She fixes them. They leave. She doesn’t ask why they keep coming back.
She probably should have asked.
When her cottage is attacked, her best friend turns out to be a werewolf, and every wolf Melori...
“You have the sort of face that should come with a warning label.”
He rules the city’s underworld. She just painted his face for all to see.
Olivia has always been the odd one out—too talkative, too curious, too strange for a city where shadows swallow the unwise. Her art is the only thing she trusts, and when she paints the face of a man she’s...
“They punished her for being inconvenient. I’m going to make her the most inconvenient thing in my life and never let her leave.” —Koshin, God of Discord
I learned that honesty gets you hit.
I told the truth anyway.
My family calls me inconvenient. The gods call it disrespect. The House of Coin calls it a debt—and they want to collect by locking...
