Fall is my Favorite Season


Fall is my Favorite Season

For so many reasons including pumpkin pie spice flavors.

It's finally cooling off. Here at 8K feet, the transition between seasons tends to be abrupt, and this summer to fall is no exception. Yesterday, it was in the mid 80s. Today, the mid 60s, and the nights from here on in are in the low 30s. I'm starting to hope we made it through one more fire season unscathed. I'll breathe easier when the end of October heaves into view.

My heart goes out to others who haven't been as fortunate. There are few things worse than losing all the memories associated with a long, rich life.

We finally took the Winnebago on the road. We didn't go anywhere in 2020 or 2021, so the van sat for quite some time. Ran into a few mechanical issues. Nothing that got in the way of us getting home, luckily.

I say luckily because I called Ford dealers in Pocatello, Butte, and Missoula. They all sang the same song. No appointments for a couple of months, and no guarantee they'd be able to find the parts we needed. I asked about after market parts; they laughed.

The local Goodyear dealer isn't nearly as picky. Winnie goes in tomorrow to fix the broken power window and the sticky ignition. While she's there, she'll get an oil change, front end alignment, and he'll take a look at the insulation between the engine and passenger compartment. I'm so grateful for local businesses, places who know us and who find the time to work us in.

Assuming all goes well, we'll start out again around 10/3. Dru did really good. He's a way better traveler than I expected. He goes into sleep mode when the van is moving, and he charmed everyone he met at the RV parks. Speaking of which, I actually made reservations for the first time ever. Worked out well since we always had a place to call home.

Meanwhile, I'm hard at work on Tiana, last of the Wayward Mage books. Of course, I said that about Salvaged too. That it was the last one. We'll see how things shake out as I get closer to finishing this one. I passed the halfway point, so it's coming along nicely.

Hope all is well with you and you're looking forward to the cooler months.

Salvaged is LIVE! Grab yours today.
I'd originally thought to post a couple chapters.

For those of you who've yet to begin the Wayward Mage boold, I'm including a link for Hands of Fate, the #free prequel, and a couple of chapters from Jinxed.

Chapter One, Abria

The shadows of a moonless night shielded me as I crept down a slimy cobblestone alleyway in Inverness. A small camera with a shit ton of pixels was slung around my neck. Addresses were hit or miss in the alley, but I’d already scoped out the part of the building that faced the street.
Like all back streets in big cities, this one stank of piss and vomit with overtones of shit. My night vision is excellent, or I’d have stepped in one of many rancid pools.
Tonight’s objective was simple enough, even if it had been hodge-podged together at the last minute. A man had shown up at my teensy office in Nairn a couple of hours before. He’d seemed distraught, and I hadn’t bothered to test his words with magic. No reason to. His request was commonplace for private sleuths like me: come up with proof his wife was cheating on him. He’d given me all the goods. Name. Address. Next assignation.
My footsteps faltered; I ground to a halt. If he knew all those things, why in the hell did he need me? He could have crashed their little tete-a-tete and demanded justice for his wounded ego. Drawing the night around myself, I took a shot at invisibility. I hated to return his thousand-pound retainer, but I liked walking into a setup even less.
I bit my lower lip, but not hard enough to draw blood. Suddenly, I had a surfeit of problems. The scent of blood—particularly blood tainted with enchantment—would be enough to draw things I had no interest in dealing with. Vampires. Ghouls. Dark Fae.
My magic isn’t particularly strong, so my don’t-see-me illusion had holes in it. Nothing a mortal could drill through, but even the weakest mage would have noticed me. Was my brand-new client on the up and up? Or was this one more shot to sabotage me? As in, I’d get to the appointed spot and run smack-dab into an ugly surprise.
I unclenched my jaw once I realized I’d been grinding my teeth. Paranoid isn’t exactly my middle name, but it might as well be. Mortals have no idea magic exists, but those of us who wield it all pretty much know one another. Despite a few petty squabbles, most of the arcane get along and view one another as part of a brotherhood.
Somehow, that banner wasn’t extended to me. I’m a one-of-a-kind sorceress, and the others don’t trust me. Animals are my superpower. Insects too. And birds. Fish and sea creatures adore me. Not that it would do me any good in the alley. Sinking into a crouch, I put out a call to the rats. All urban sites have rodents to spare. Inverness was no exception.
A fat, gray fellow who must have weighed a good half a stone sashayed close with half a dozen more behind him. Whiskers twitching, he fastened his beady reddish eyes onto mine. I didn’t waste time with words. Instead, I sent a series of images into his head. He squeaked and chittered, passing my request amongst his troops.
As a unit, they spun and raced in the direction I’d been headed. Their task was straightforward. Find out what was waiting for me and report back. A pair of nighthawks circled; one landed on each shoulder, squawking their hearts out. Guess they’d sensed my unrest.
What was my problem? Usually, I was braver than this, but I still sported scrapes and bruises from my last go-round with a herd of Dark Fae who’d lured me out to celebrate Beltane. Bygones will be bygones, they’d promised.
Yeah. Right.
I hadn’t fallen for their invite right away, hadn’t even given them a firm yea or nay, but I’m a sucker for Beltane. It’s my favorite of all the Wiccan festivals. Litha and Samhain run a close second. Of course, back in the day, those celebrations weren’t linked to witches, but to the Celts.
One of the nighthawks shifted from foot to foot digging small holes in my shoulder. “What is it?” I asked him.
He didn’t answer, but his shiny dark beak opened and closed as he scented the air.
I cast a seeking spell hunting for my forward guard: the rats. When I didn’t find them, my stomach tightened into a knot. Animals follow my lead because they love me. All of them. Had I inadvertently sent a rat patrol to their deaths? The thought made me vaguely ill.
Rats are ubiquitous. No one should have paid them any heed. None at all. A sharply drawn intake of breath felt like I’d inhaled glass shards. It told me how dry my throat was.
The air thickened with an odd combination of power. Subtle, yet a distinct alteration from the way it had been a few moments before. I should leave, but I couldn’t abandon the rats who’d willingly done my bidding. Adding to the symphony of my indecision, rain splattered down. What a surprise. Rain in Scotland. It’s tough to cobble an entire day together without at least a few sprinkles, but gathering clouds suggested I was in for a deluge.
Only one choice left, and it wasn’t anything I routinely did anywhere—especially not in the middle of a big city. Mortals would take note, and I’d have to be well and truly skilled to skate out from under their scrutiny. Opening my mind to my special magical frequency, I put out a call to any and all animals nearby.
Insects responded first, scurrying out of hidey holes in nearby buildings. Birds were next. More nighthawks and other raptors almost blocked out the dark sky as they hurried to my aid. It was starting to feel like major overkill, and the wolves and raccoons and squirrels and deer hadn’t yet arrived.
Much as I’d done with the rats, I sent imagery and surged forward. The nighthawks on my shoulders took to the skies, joining their kin. Pounding of clawed feet on stone announced a local wolf pack. Their alpha, a large snow-white male named Obo kept pace with me.
“What do we face?” he asked.
“Not sure,” I ground out feeling like an idiot. Just because animals always respond to me doesn’t mean I ever take their loyalty and devotion for granted. Gah. Maybe I should have gone after the rats by myself and summoned backup later.
My original objective had been about a kilometer down the alley. The stones grew progressively more uneven and slimed with water, moss, and human waste. Clearly, no one with means trod this path—or at least not often. True to my prediction, the skies opened drenching me to the skin in minutes.
As if the rotten weather had been some kind of cue—or maybe whoever was orchestrating my latest torment was a weather worker—stones shot up all around us, hitting buildings before splatting back to earth. A snarl and a yelp suggested one of the wolves had sustained a direct hit.
I stopped cold, staring into the murk. What in the hell was happening?
The answer to my question swatted me in the guts as a wraith oozed from one of the holes the stones had left. Black on black on black, it had no form, but its breath was poison, as was its touch. If it got close enough, it could steal your soul through your mouth, not unlike Harpies.
“Do not touch them.” My tone was sharp.
“How can we kill them?” Obo growled.
“You can’t,” I replied. Unfortunately, neither could I. Stronger power than mine was required to do away with most anything magical. Aw geez, those poor rats.
More wraiths emerged. They carry a stench ten times more potent than the worst rot you can imagine. I gagged. If I’d have had food in my stomach, it would have spattered on the stones.
I opened my mind voice intent on sending all the animals who’d come on foot back, but wraiths surrounded us. Wispy, insubstantial, and lethal, they formed an unbroken ring that had to augment their power.
“What?” I growled. Predictably, no one answered. I’m not even sure they have voices.
I didn’t understand. I’d been the butt of many practical jokes, but this time someone wanted me dead. Breath steamed from my open mouth. Fear twisted my belly into a sour knot. If I didn’t watch it, paralysis would set in. I’m not okay with dying, but I’m even less okay with anyone harming the animals who adore me, who’ve made me their queen.
The circle of wraiths was tightening. Soon, there’d be no choice but to touch them. I could not allow that to happen. A strangled yelp followed by a burned smell told me one of my honor guard had fallen. Snarls and outraged growls rose around me. They lit a fire under my indecision.
I dug deep, dredging power from the bottom of my more-or-less immortal soul. If anyone suffered lasting damage from this shit show, it should be me. Buildings lined both sides of the alley. Centuries old, they sported even older rusting locks slotted through hasps on timbers that had seen better days. Apparently, no one worried about thieves entering their premises from this side.
Knowing Scots, they weren’t worried about thieves at all.
I picked the rattiest looking door and sent power jetting toward its padlock. It was so covered with rust, if it hadn’t had phalanges poking through a hasp, I’d never have identified it as a lock. With a creak and a clatter, it gave way, tumbling to the cobblestones below.
Almost as if the wraiths sensed I had a plan to elude them, they moaned and howled. Ha. Guess they had voices after all. The temperature, already chilly, dropped a good ten degrees, and the steadily falling ran turned first to sleet and then to snow. The weather here is pure crap, but it doesn’t usually snow in the summer.
I judged the distance to the door I’d just unlocked. Not far, but wraiths were bunching up between us and my safety hatch.
It left openings in the circle.
Nothing magical about the door I’d just freed up. The wraiths were stupider than I’d thought. But then, I’d never truly understood where they came from. They hovered on the edge between the living and the dead. Rejected by both heaven and hell, they roamed Earth on the hunt for anything warm-blooded they could glom onto.
I’d always suspected they were Harpy agents, but I lacked evidence to back it up. The animals around me were attuned to my every move. No need for words as I broke and bolted through a hole in the wraith line. Everyone followed me and flowed through another door where I blew the lock as I pelted toward it. For a moment, the door, swollen from centuries of Scottish rain, refused to budge. I hit it with magic, and it shattered inward.
We swarmed through.
Nothing to slam in the wraiths’ faces, but, for some unknown reason, they melted back into the cobblestones. I’d been ready for a pitched battle in the doorway. It was far simpler than being beset from every side.
I blinked a few times to convince myself the wraiths were gone. All the raptors who’d been circling overhead fluttered to land on the cobblestones squawking their curiosity. Every species leads with a particular emotion. For birds, it’s curiosity.
For wolves, it’s outrage. Next to me, Obo growled in frustration.
One thing for certain, my bogus client had set a trap for me. I’d bet my last pound note his name wasn’t Jerome MacLaren. I really did need to start matching up ID with what people told me.
The scurry of claws on cobblestones was accompanied with squeaks and squeals of indignation as the rats I’d sent on a mission returned en masse. Their leader bounded into the building I’d broken into and sat back on his haunches. “Nothing there,” he chittered.
“We checked all around where you said,” another rat chimed in.
“And then when we tried to return, we ran into a barrier. We couldn’t crawl over it or tunnel under it,” the leader said.
“All of a sudden, it vanished,” the other rat added.
“You did well,” I told them and crouched to scratch furry heads and shoulders. “Now go while you can.” I stood and made shooing motions toward everyone. We’d been given a gift, goddess only knew why, but I’d be a fool not to take full advantage of it.
“We will accompany you,” Obo said.
“No need.” I buried my fingers in his thick, white pelt. Water hadn’t penetrated, and he was dry near his skin.
Since no one would go anywhere until I did, I pushed out of the shelter and set a quick pace back the way I’d come. My car was at the end of the alley, and, by the time I got there, the only ones still with me were Obo and two of his wolves.
“It really will be all right,” I reassured them. “I’m going to dry off and drive home.”
The wolves leaned into me. “Call us if you need us,” Obo said.
I shook my head. After tonight, his loyalty touched me. I’d have thought he’d be more invested in saving his own hide than protecting me. His fur held singed spots from wraith breath, and one of his wolves had fallen prey to them. I’d be a damn sight more careful before I summoned anyone to my aid after this, but no reason to tell him that.
After dredging keys from my pocket, I unlocked the door of my ratty old black Range Rover and found towels in the back, so I didn’t completely drench the upholstery. The wolves retreated to shadows but stood watching me drive away, tails pluming.
I started to shiver and turned up the heat, but the cold coursing through me had nothing to do with being soaked to the skin. I’ve had close calls, but tonight was the first time I’d felt certain I was sitting squarely in someone’s gunsights. It felt downright creepy.
As I drove, I turned over and over in my mind who had it in for me. It couldn’t be mortals. I helped them. Which left the arcane community. Like I said, they’ve always hated me, but it’s a quantum leap between not liking someone and wanting them dead.
“Throw yourself a pity party, Abria MacLeone,” I muttered and toyed with the idea of leaving Scotland altogether. Didn’t take long for me to decide it was stupid. Mages are everywhere, and word travels fast in the magical world. If someone put a price on my head, a geographic wouldn’t change a damned thing.
No closer to a solution than I’d been, I pulled into my usual parking spot next to the building that houses both me and my detective agency. Normally, I’d have jumped out of the car. Not tonight.
With all my doors still locked, I sent seeking magic in a 360-degree arc hunting for something, anything, that shouldn’t be there. When I came back empty-handed, I didn’t trust it and scanned again.
It was only after the fourth scan I reluctantly left the safety of my car and scurried inside. The door had no sooner slammed behind me than I felt it, a presence that shouldn’t be here. Fuck. Double Fuck. Triple fuck. Misfortune had found me, and I was more than done with it.


Chapter Two, Blake

“Back here again?” a strident female voice grated against the island of peace I was doing my damnedest to cultivate in a distant corner of the Dreaming.
“Aye. What’s it to you?” I snarled in a very old form of our Sidhe tongue. If the goddess was smiling—which rarely happened—Sybil wouldn’t understand the dialect and would get out of my way.
No such luck.
“You haven’t darkened these parts in centuries, Elwyn Cardassier. I demand to know—”
“Demand?” I shouted. “I outrank you by many tiers. You forget yourself, Sybil. Do not speak my true name aloud. You know better. Or you should.” I surged to my feet, loathe to relinquish the comfy spot where I’d been keeping an eye on the world beyond. A crack in the veil separating Earth from the Dreaming provided the perfect vantage point.
Sybil rolled silver eyes rimmed with bronze streaks. Tangled white hair floated around her head in full defiance of gravity. Like all my race, she was impossibly beautiful. Flawless face, long shapely legs, generous figure.
“Fine, Blake,” she gritted through very straight white teeth. “No one is about to eavesdrop on your actual name. Or do you know something I don’t?”
Progress. We’d moved from demands to wheedling innuendo. I made shooing motions with one hand. “Whatever you were about before you found me, I suggest you return to it.”
She glided nearer and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I’m bored. How about a spot of…play?” Pheromones redolent of ivy, bayberry, and vanilla thickened the air around us.
My cock rose, thickening in automatic response. I told it to stand down, but of course it didn’t listen. Before Sybil reacted to the musk that had to be radiating from me, I ducked from beneath her fingers. “Go. I’m engaged in critical matters. The best way you can help me is by leaving.”
Her mouth formed a moue; her forehead wrinkled in dismay. Too late, I understood no one had ever turned her down before. Sex is meaningless to the faery folk. A pleasant way to pass the time. She’d laugh in my face if I told her I’d fallen in love with a mage outside our ranks. Thank Danu she wasn’t peering into my mind.
“You may be occupied right this minute,” she amended brightly. “I could easily return when ’tis more convenient for you.”
Of course, she could. I switched things up. “Do you wish to leave the Dreaming?”
Her multihued eyes widened. “Why would I?”
I gave a slight shrug. “You’ve been here for a long while, and—”
She batted me to silence, said, “I like it here,” and stomped off.
I exhaled long, slow, and noisily before retreating to the cushion I’d shoved into a corner. Sybil was gone for now, but not forever. Once she set her sights on a prize, she was as intransigent as a dragon squatting in the midst of her hoard. She’d return, probably buck naked and with a pheromone enhancer on board.
I wasn’t under any illusions. She didn’t care about me or anyone else, but the Dreaming lacked ready sources of entertainment. I’d bet my last pound note she’d run through every willing male in residence, and a few of the less-than-willing too.
Immortality drags on many of us. It’s why we retire to this spot, a floating island between worlds, when we weary of everything our other life has to offer. Sybil assumed I was here for the same reason. It made sense. Why would I be any different? Fae blood was Fae blood, and many of the Daoine resided here.
I’ve always viewed retreat as the worst kind of cop-out. Tired of being immortal? Buck up and deal with it. Big words. The whole reason I ended up as the head of the Daoine Sidhe was because I refused to give up or back down. Life wore on me too, but I’d never let anyone know.
Close to a year ago, I had a bit of a problem with one of our gateways. I could have managed it myself—at least, I told myself as much. But an unusual form of magic hovered not all that far from the gateway. I tried not paying it any heed, but it tantalized me. In the end, it drew me like a bloody lodestone and turned into all I could think about.
One day when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I set spells to guard my broken gateway and ventured into Nairn, following the track of the magic I couldn’t figure out. I’d already determined the owner had to be female, but I’d expected something truly obscure like an ogre or a troll. Instead, the trail led to an innocuous building that must have been standing for centuries judging from its architecture. Naturally, it had been remodeled several times, but its roots ran deep into the Highlands, mingled with the same arcane power I still couldn’t identify.
On the door sat a sign announcing Abria MacLeone, Detective for Hire.
After that, it was simple enough to manage an accidental meeting. She was riding a unicorn in a madcap dash through nearby farmlands. Mortals saw a horse between her exquisite thighs, but I can drill through virtually any magical disguise.
Abria and the unicorn saw through mine quick enough, too. Not such a bad thing. Good to level the playing field.
Once we’d gotten the meet and greet out of the way, with me keeping mum about the unicorn, I hired her to help with the gateway. Turned out she was extremely useful. Her and her entourage.
Who would have thought she was an animal mage? In the dim recesses of my memory, I’d heard of one long ago, but never taken the reports seriously. We all have some affinity for animals, but her power ran far deeper than that. They adored her, revered her, and made it their personal mission to protect her.
And me? I was a lost soul before I even laid eyes on her. The long red hair, greener-than-green eyes, and lithe, athletic build sealed the deal. She was a knockout in a far more “real” way than the Sidhe, whose beauty carries an ephemeral aspect.
We became lovers, and I was having a fine old time. Until she kicked me out. I figured she was teasing when she said it was past time for me to leave, but no. She was serious. Confused and heartbroken—something I’d never reveal to anyone—I left.
But I didn’t go far. After lurking around Nairn behind carefully constructed wards, I located a wing of the Dreaming that allowed me to keep a close eye on Abria. I had to operate on the QT. She has a lot of pride, that woman, and she’d have been horrified to know I hadn’t truly reverted to one of my many lives as the Earl of Galloway. I’d never shared my true name with her, but tit for tat. In retrospect, she’d kept a few secrets of her own.
Like the extent of her power, for one. She frequently bemoaned how weak her magic was, but I caught flashes of incredible power when she was convinced I wasn’t paying attention. I’d been closing on offering her a trip to our primary library to research her lineage—an unheard of honor for a non-Sidhe—when she sent me packing.
Maybe I should have spoken up sooner, but I refused to grovel once I understood she meant every word about me leaving. Fool that I am, I needed her to want me for myself, not for the side benefits I could offer.
Months have passed. In the first few weeks, I kept expecting her to call me, say she’d made a mistake.
Never happened.
If another man had popped up, I’d have struck him dead on the spot. Even if he’d been magical, my power overshadows nearly everyone’s. That never happened either. Nay. Abria went her merry way, solving meaningless human problems and communing with one animal or another. She loved them all, and they adored her in return.
Maybe that was it. Her heart was already so full, there hadn’t been room for me. Except I didn’t believe it. How could I have been so taken with her, so smitten, only to have her throw me over?
What had passed between us was significant, earth-shattering. I’d never opened myself like I did with her, never shared as much of who I truly am. To reveal so much and be spurned stung. A lot.
I’d been gritting my teeth, so I relaxed my jaws. And my fists.
Maybe it was time for me to pop back into her life. Nothing heavy or demanding. I’d make a point of staying out of her bed—if I could summon the willpower.
Perhaps if we could share a meal or two, laugh together, it might rekindle the special spark I was certain we’d shared. Raking through my memories once more, I tacked down the event when the tide had turned. She’d said she had to get back to work, and I’d told her I’d take care of her.
Words that should have soothed had turned sour fast. Within the next couple of days, she withdrew more and more until I found myself walking out her door for the last time.
Could it be that simple? I’d infringed on her unfettered nature? Hard to believe she’d have walked away from the inferno blazing between us for such a tiny thing.
Except it wasn’t tiny to her. To Abria, her independence meant everything. Back on my feet, excitement raced through me. I’d knock on her door and reassure her I’d never threaten her spirit, her autonomy. I wouldn’t beg, not exactly, but neither would I take no for an answer.
It might be hubris on my part, but I couldn’t believe she didn’t care about me. Not with how deeply I’d fallen in love with her. My nostrils twitched. Doubling up a fist, I punched the air. Sybil was on her way back for round two. I cast a hasty journey spell, taking care to mask my destination. The Dreaming, ancient bastion for burned out Sidhe, dissolved around me. I doubted Sybil would try to follow, but I didn’t want to take that chance.
Nothing like knocking on Abria’s door only to have Sybil teleport into the cottage and wreck everything. It was late evening on Earth. The Dreaming lacks day-night cycles. It’s always the same there. My kinsmen find it soothing, but I understood Sybil’s boredom all too well.
Late evening was a plus since no mortals milled about. I’d keyed my spell to come out in copse of trees not far from Abria’s home. The only ones I startled were a couple of drunks snoring under the thick canopy of leaves and branches. After spelling them back into a drunken stupor, I walked to Abria’s cottage.
I knew right away she wasn’t there, but I’m the best of trackers. I started after her but reined myself—and my enthusiasm and errant erection—in. She was probably off doing detective work. What would I say when I popped into the middle of an investigation?
“Hey there, darling. Could you use a spot of help?”
I made a face. It sounded sappy and contrived. Far better to—
Every sense I had hit Mach 10 from a full stop. Abria was in trouble. I could feel her fear and angst even across however much distance separated us. So much for looking like an ass. She needed aid. I’d provide mine whether she wished it or no.
After dragging a cape of invisibility around myself, I set a tracking spell in motion. Rather than teleporting, which would remove me from Earth, I chose to skim along keeping a careful eye on everything. I’d reached the intersection leading to Inverness when I felt her drawing nearer.
The terror and anguish that had alerted me were receding. Damn it. I wanted to be the one to rescue her. Or maybe she’d managed to get herself out of a jam with help from her animals. She welcomed them into her circle. Why not me?
Another scan reinforced that she was definitely on her way back. Only one thing to do. I wasn’t about to risk her slamming the door in my face. Nay. I’d teleport inside, and she and I would have a talk. A good one. We’d hash everything out. At the end of it, I’d lift her in my arms, crush my mouth on hers, and carry her to bed.
My cock throbbed where it curved against my belly. The old chap’s way of letting me know my plan had earned his total endorsement. And then, I rebuked myself soundly. This wasn’t about me. It had to be about her. Whatever had happened tonight had shaken her badly. Otherwise, I’d never have sensed her anguish across the distance separating us.
I slipped inside and hid in the washing alcove on the main floor. She’d be angry I was here without her leave, but maybe whatever had transpired would take precedence and she’d welcome a loving ear.
I crouched in the dark, masking my presence. The crunch of tires on gravel told me I didn’t have long to wait. The feel of her so close was intoxicating, but I had to downplay my intense need. If she had a problem with the magical realm, I’d solve it.
And then we’d see if we had a future.
As settled as I was likely to get, I waited for the door to open.
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Fright Court by Mindy Klasky

Bitten by a vampire, first night on the job!

 Harsh Line by Ann Gimpel

My very existence is under attack. I’ve kept a low profile, told myself the craziness sweeping the world would pass me by. Yeah, it was wishful thinking, actually an outright lie, but it’s kept me sane.

 Marked by Kate Rudolph

One vampire. One huntress. One way to solve this problem…

 Till the Break of Dawn by Tracey H. Kitts

So what if he’s immortal. It could work, right?

 Vampire Seduction by Celia kyle and Marina Maddix

He’s accused of a crime he didn’t commit and she’s determined to get him off… in more ways than one.

 Masterson by Ellis Leigh

Masterson holds himself to the highest of standards, but a chance encounter with a human woman in the most mundane of places turns his world on end. What’s a vampire to do when temptation for more than blood consumes him?

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 Drucilla Holloway is desperate to finish writing her novel, desperate enough to take a job as a night clerk at a haunted hotel on the top of a snow-covered mountain, just to get some peace and quiet.

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It’s the twenty-first century and Aria is not a Knight. She’s refused to take her oath, and instead is barely making ends meet as a part-time barista in Baltimore.

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A new heart, a new life and two new loves…

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Titania flees her controlling bridegroom, Oberon Blackthorne, without a plan. Arriving at Empire General Hospital, she resolves to work one escape-sustaining con—stealing Dr. Jonathan Weaver’s wallet. Oberon, hot in pursuit, immediately ups the ante, kidnapping Jonathan’s estranged daughter to force Titania to capitulate.

Shadow Bound by Erin Kellison

Adam Thorne has dedicated his life to finding a way to destroy the wraiths, possessed humans who feed on human souls, and when he meets the mysterious, half-Fae Talia O’Brien, he believes that she is the key to achieving his goal.

Into the Light by Tami Lund

Shifters dominate the human world, while Lightbearers stay hidden away in their magically-protected coterie. That is, until Olivia Bennett, princess of the Lightbearers, is captured by the most powerful shifter of them all—Quentin Lyons, who believes that to kill a Lightbearer is to inherit her magic.

Dark Hunter’s Touch by Elsa Jade

Once upon a time, iron kept the fae from wandering the world. But over the millennia, iron gave way to steel, and now the fae are unbound… Welcome to the Court of the Steel-Born Fae

Fates Altered by Jules Barnard

California farmer Alex Rosales stays out of the trouble his older brother gets into—someone has to hang onto the farm. But when Alex finds Theodora hiding on his property, caution is nowhere in sight. She has the beauty of an angel, with deep secrets he can’t penetrate.

Prince of Cats by Tasha Black

His love for her will rock both their realms. Their child will inherit two Fae kingdoms if they can survive long enough to make it back to the Autumn Court.

Court of Rogues by Ann Gimpel

Reluctant recruit to the nines, I became Faery’s regent by default. Sure, I was next in line for the throne, but I never believed Oberon and Titania were gone for good until first a decade rolled by, and then two, and then ten.

Fae Lord Avenged by Marina Maddox

For generations, the four branches of the Oberon family have lived under a dark cloud of scandal. As outcasts in the fae world, they’ve suffered indignities and humiliations galore, and Dain Oberon is sick of the status quo. 

One of my stories, Blindsided, was recently selected for an anthology, After the Fall. The only instructions we received were that the world had fallen. How it happened was up to us.
Old gods. Aliens. Dragons. Dark fey. Something.
The only restriction was that the agent of the fall had to be external. It could not be something humans did to themselves, so no bio-plagues or singularity stories.
What emerged was a wild spread of fun. About half was horror, while the other half had hope.
Those of you who’ve followed me for a while know that I cut my teeth writing short fiction for webzines, magazines, and anthologies back around 2009. It’s an endeavor that’s near and dear to my heart. I was pleased to be included in After the Fall. The competition was tough.
No buy links yet, but hopefully by the next newsletter I’ll have a place for you to click. I guarantee a rollicking good time with fiction from some incredible authors.
Every picnic table needs an ornamental wolf.
That's all for this newsletter! See all of you very soon.


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