Midlife Olympians Series

When I quit my gig as a fake fortuneteller to become the Oracle, of course the job had strings attached. Olympic-sized strings.  A modern epic of Homeric proportions with action, adventure, and ibuprofen chasers. After my mother died when I was the tender age of four, I moved in with my yiayia and papus. My Greek grandparents filled my head with ancient myths of heroic deeds, tragedies, and poems. They spoke to me in Greek and taught me to read and write in the language. It felt like they were preparing me for something. When I was a teenager, they died. I got pregnant, married my sweetheart and lived a pretty miserable life. With the exception of raising my son Luke, of course. I made a living telling fortunes. It paid the bills that Carlo couldn't cover with his wise guy money. My dreams of being a hero were long forgotten. Then, on the same day, I received a Dear John from my husband, a call from my son to come stay with him in Seattle, and a visit from a mysterious woman. Turns out, I'm the real deal. I have the power to read the future. Now, I'm racing against unknown enemies to get to the west coast and claim my position. I do have a helper. The guardian angel who saved me from the same fire that ostensibly killed my mother. Except, he's no angel. Hermes is a literal god. Will I make it to Washington to claim my inheritance, or will I meet the same fate that's befallen the last Oracle?

When a fake fortune teller receives the gift of the oracle, of course the job has strings attached, Olympic-sized strings.   Hi, my name is Lydia. I used to be a grifter, reading fortunes for money. Now, I'm Oracle to the Gods, and my life has never been more exciting, or dangerous. A couple of years ago, this witchy fae princess and her supernatural clique decided to expose themselves on live television. No, not that way, you perv. They showed the mundane world that all legends about gods and monsters were true. At the time, I'd been one of those mundane schlepps, munching on chocolate drizzled popcorn, as I watched a viral video of humans turning into fae, werewolves, and bears--oh my! That was before a Titan named Dione came through the door of my fake divination shop to tell me I was the real deal, a descendant of the Oracles of Delphi. Now I'm eyeballs deep in gods, monsters, and the supernatural community breathing down my neck to predict the fate of our kind. I haven't let anyone, except Hermes, know that I can't control my visions. I know the secret formula of bringing on a prediction, remembering it and how to see specific things is another story. I've got to figure out how to use my powers, or I might get fired from this job. Gods don't pay severance. They throw you into the abyss.  

When I quit my job as a fake fortuneteller to become the Oracle, of course the job had strings attached. Olympic-sized strings. A modern epic of Homeric proportions with romance, belly laughs, and ibuprofen chasers Just when I thought I had it all, something foul is afoot in Milagro Bay. On our morning run, Cerberus retrieved the unlikeliest of gifts—a foot with a limited-edition sneaker that could belong to none other than Lucky Joey, one of Carlo's crew.  Worse than the murder of my ex's erstwhile friend, Luke is missing. My enemies wanted me out of the picture, and they're about to get it with two more murders that point to me as the culprit. The witches of Milagro Bay, my newfound family, Hermes, and my friends on the Supernatural Council all have my back, but what if we can't prove that I didn't do it? As we're trying to prove my innocence, evidence has piled up that I had accomplices—namely harpies and shifters. The council itself and their involvement came into question. Conspiracies about a supernatural crime ring arise. More important than our pending arrests, what will happen without me or the council to protect this world? We know we're being set up, but will we be able to prove it before the entire world is in jeopardy?

When I quit my gig as a fortune teller to become Oracle, I should've known there'd be strings attached. Olympic-sized strings. After Apollo freed the Titans from Tartarus, we waited for his next move. And waited. And waited. The days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years. However, we didn't sit around twiddling our thumbs. We trained. The Supernatural Council of the Americas met. We coordinated with ISEA to prepare without alarming the mundanes. Bringing mundane attention, therefore, belief and the power that yields to Apollo was the last thing we wanted to do. Finally, the Moirai, aka the Fates, summoned me and showed me the possible future if I didn't act before Apollo did. I'm going to be honest. It didn't look good for anyone except him. I had to challenge him. After much deliberation, I came up with a plan. It was simple, really. Olympians loved games. The ultimate competition, set up in the former prison known simply as the Vault. There's no way to cheat. The place was sentient. The prize was so sweet that no one can resist it, not even Apollo. The prize? Dominion over Earth.