Hell Of An Unlife - Excerpt

The end. A scene, a story, or in this case, a series. Hell of an Unlife releases today, the fourth and final title in the Devil Made Me series!

Moira's as spicy as ever, even while she's dealing with a glitch in processing, ensuring Jared remains by her side, or facing her old enemy Douglas. Do you think she's ready to take over Hell?

You can purchase an ebook copy on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Kobo, or Google Play.

And a peek at the conclusion of Moira's story can be found below. Happy fiery reading!

❦

A buzz rattled my brain, indicating the beginning of my Welcomer shift. Time to escort unfortunate souls to the second floor of Hell. Joy.

I shimmied into my uniform – a skimpy, sexy devil number. Not my choice.

“Already?” Jared stretched out on my bed in all his naked glory. “We’re not done discussing our plan of attack, Moira.”

“You mean arguing about it.” I pointed my plastic pitchfork at him.

We disagreed on how to start our war with Pandora, the current devil. That wretched, amorphous cloud had tapped me to succeed her. And I was resolved to upend the status quo in Hell.

Each floor had its own aggravating and nonsensical rules. Like the innocents on the first, in limbo – trapped in an inky prison of darkness, alone, a sense of desolation filtered in to inspire terror and anguish. All because Pandora refused to babysit them. Oh, and because they had a greater potential to gain true emotions, like me.

Another matter that stuck in my craw was the whispering books in the libraries. Souls. People vanished into the pages when their existence became unbearable. A second death.

The rules, the nudging toward oblivion – it all stank. So I intended to transform this miserable unlife, and Jared insisted on riding shotgun.

I preferred to start the battle with a bang. Direct confrontation. Presenting my qualms to the devil, and declaring my intentions to subvert the damned policies. Screw calm and collected. I’d already drafted a script of accusations, peppered with plenty of curse words. Pandora pissed me off.

On the other hand, Jared thought we should act covertly. Slowly circumvent the rules, reshaping Hell floor by floor, right under the bitch’s nose. Then gauge her reaction.

My powers remained limited as a simple lackey, but I’d rescued a kid from limbo, delivering him to his psychic grandmother on the eighth. This had infuriated the typically amused devil, but she left Elliot with his Mami anyhow. Though she’d implied my actions would result in unforeseen consequences.

Yeah, yeah. A naive preschooler living among a bunch of scammers and swindlers made for an unpredictable situation. Elliot’s grandmother had a lot of pull on her floor, though.

But Pandora’s decision to leave the child alone had revealed her growing weakness. She likely declined to transport him back to the first because her abilities were waning. Her tenure was winding down, nearing its end.

Perfect timing for a direct attack. Of course Jared contended otherwise.

Thankfully our arguments lacked heat nowadays, unlike when we’d been alive. Death, gazing into mirrors that reflected our failings, and the constantly shifting lewd mural on the ceiling of the second-floor library had facilitated changes in both of us. A lengthy process, but his hands and lips no longer wandered, and I’d told my trust issues to take a hike.

The inexplicable surge of comfort I experienced often when near him helped. A lot. And he felt that same serenity, his first emotion when he’d awakened to his true senses.

See, most people in Hell had to wish to feel a specific way, albeit with a dulled edge, and they turned their emotions on and off like a light switch. Not us, though. We were unique. Just me initially.

And Pandora had no clue about his awakening. Well, as far as I knew.

Jared also got me going like no other. Our disagreements typically led to us tumbling into bed. Or when feeling spicy and daring, experimenting on the Harley in my office. And so we kept running in circles over the best way to approach the devil dilemma.

“Hey, I’d love to continue this conversation.” More like the pleasurable ending. “But I’m stuck with the stupid Welcomer shift.”

He slipped off the bed and dressed. “Your shift is only an excuse, and you know it.”

Well, shit, he’d just gotten serious. But he was right. I blamed the distraction of sex and my duties as a Welcomer. In truth, though, my stubbornness streak would have propelled me toward that head-on confrontation with Pandora, his discouragement be damned.

Yet I hesitated, unsure of my strategy. Working on a script, instead of simply voicing my indignation.

Maybe the devil would retire soon. And once promoted, I’d snap my fingers, creating a paradise.

If only it were that simple. No omniscience, omnipotence, or endless power. I also needed to learn the full scope of my future limitations from her before she disappeared.

“At least I’ve been visiting the floors and learning the different whacko rules.” Necessary, but another form of procrastination nonetheless.

Mastering teleporting from floor to floor had been a trial, but required since the elevator only traveled to and from the lobby. As far as I knew, I was the only person who’d mastered that trick, aside from Dick. I’d met with the Welcomers on all but the seventh.

That last I’d avoid as long as Pandora allowed. Another confrontation with Douglas, the psycho who’d accidentally been assigned to the second when I first arrived, was best left until never.

Jared stared at me, his eyebrows creeping toward his hairline. Better that than him rolling his eyes – I hated that habit of his.

Cornered. Time to stop sitting on my hands. I sighed. “Fine. We’ll try your way. After my shift, we can decide on what floor to target first.”

“Really?” His eyes widened, mouth parting. I rarely conceded, to anyone, even him. “Now you have me worried.”

“Enough.” I playfully whacked him in the arm with my pitchfork.

And then a yellow sticky note appeared on my nose. Huh.

“What the hell?” Jared had acquired my amusement for the fiery puns. We both snickered.

I plucked the note off my face and read it out loud. “Backup in processing. Escorting souls on hold until situation resolved. Remain on call for entire shift.”

“Weird.” He plopped on the edge of the bed. “Though you mentioned how slow it’s been lately.”

“Slow, yes. A complete stop, no.” I’d never met anyone in processing. What kind of people had the devil tasked to undertake that monumental assignment?

❦

Ready to inherit the devil’s throne? Hell, no.

In Hell, the flow of new souls from the lobby to their designated floors screeches to a grinding halt. And Pandora, the incorporeal cloud of a devil, tasks Moira to fix the glitch in processing.

Foraying into the bowels of blinking lights with her boyfriend Jared, the issue materializes into Adam, the lone person in charge of minding the servers. His sanity sliding into oblivion, he eyes Jared as his replacement. Turns out, Pandora has the same plan.

Now Moira faces a new problem -- freeing Jared from the confines of processing. Before she even attempts to break him out, though, the devil boots her to the seventh floor. The realm of psychopaths, including her creepy adversary Douglas, who eagerly awaits her arrival.

Hell's Bells - Excerpt

At long last, the third title in the Devil Made Me series is here. Hell's Bells continues Moira's story with a bit of holiday flare. And yeah, she's still balancing relationship issues as well as her imminent rise to the position of devil.

Peek into her unlife madness with the excerpt below. If you want to grab a copy, you can find the ebook for purchase at all major online retailers. Books2Read will show all retailer options, but here are a handful of direct links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple Books, and Google.

Oh, and next spring, be on the look out for the final installment of the Devil Made Me series, Hell Of An Unlife.

❦

I gripped the door handles, willing a different floor to manifest on the other side. Any but the second. Or the seventh. Best to avoid Douglas. Forever.

The millionth time was the charm?

Throwing the doors wide, a flurry of activity greeted me, more than typical for the floor of lust. Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact that this was indeed the second. “Crap.”

The huge common area was designed similar to a dorm. Large screen TV along one wall, the only allowed on our floor according to the inexplicable rules, and a kitchen on the opposite. Though the dead had no need to eat, many indulged in their favorite foods from life.

Anything to drive away the sense of emptiness, the lack of true emotions. A person only enjoyed items and activities they resolved to, and they turned it on and off like a light switch.

Except me. Ever since I’d arrived, I was an anomaly, longing stirring in my gut when my ex-boyfriend Jared was nearby. And occasionally contending with a comfort washing over me – a sensation I’d never experienced until my death.

Unique. That summed me up. Also the reason why Pandora had tapped me as her successor.

Actually, no longer a total aberration.

After I’d banished Dick, Jared and I admitted our love for each other. Emotions had overtaken him. A spark of life igniting in a realm where people sought to lose themselves when they could no longer bear to gaze at their reflections.

Now Jared was like me. No clue how or why, though. Not that I’d discussed it much with him.

And I refused to ask Pandora. Best she not know about it, anyhow. And if she already did, my lips were zipped unless she broached the subject. She kept too many secrets from me, so I’d keep a few of my own.

Screw her. And screw these crazy people on my floor.

An evergreen tree now towered in the corner near the bathroom – my hiding place of choice during my Welcomer shifts, since it was rarely used. Multicolored lights twinkled on the pine boughs, with half a dozen people adorning the branches with ornaments.

The sports freaks had been kicked off the TV, a shock in and of itself, and a holiday movie played on the screen. One of those romantic comedies, so trite that it proved nearly impossible to discern the difference between one or the other.

Sarah approached, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We decided to celebrate the holidays. Liven the mood a little.” She beamed, her excitement contagious. Almost.

I had a love-hate relationship with Christmas. Pretty much a noncommittal pagan, I never attended church, sticking to the secular side of the holiday.

No issues with a sparkling Yule tree, but I preferred spiked eggnog and mistletoe. Made life interesting.

On the other hand, I hated that nog because once I sobered up, I wallowed in the horrible decisions I’d made while under its influence. Including hooking up with Jared after we’d split – a mistake resulting in a ton of yelling and broken furniture the following day.

You see, on Christmas Eve the previous year, I’d caught him in bed with a friend. They’d both blamed the booze.

Jared and I had a horrible track record during the holidays. And we were now together again in this insane afterlife.

Hard to fault Sarah’s desire for a distraction, though. She’d died young, still a teenager. “Well, happy holidays.” I forced a smile, but it felt as fake as it was.

“Hey, Moira.” Naveah, our newest Welcomer, emerged from one of the doors leading to the endless hallways and rooms. And no, the irony of her name was not lost on me. “The buzz vibrated my brain, so I’m it. Has it been busy?”

“Nah. Even slower.” And with her appearance, my shift ended. “Have fun.”

Now to find my boyfriend. More teleporting attempts tomorrow. At the moment, getting laid sounded far more appealing.

No sign of Jared among the crowd of decorators, which had multiplied, spreading to bedecking the ceiling and counters. Man, it would look like Christmas threw up in here once they finished.

I slipped through one of the many doors, intent on changing. Then I’d check his room, which was connected to mine unless we were arguing.

Giggles led me around a corner.

And there stood Jared, his back to me, and a woman in a bright blue bustier leaning toward him, mistletoe in her outstretched hand. He laughed, and turned his head enough for me to spot a lustful grin on his face.

“Hell, no.” The pun failed to amuse me as usual, anger grabbing hold.

I wished my plastic pitchfork was metal, but it remained in its current tacky form. One of those stupid rules on our floor. Pity, because I yearned to skewer Jared to the wall.

❦

Happy holidays... In Hell? Not with a cheating boyfriend.

The inhabitants of Hell’s second floor deck the common area for the holidays. Moira thinks them all crazy, though she enjoys a good cup of eggnog. Unfortunately, instead of drinking to her heart’s content, she discovers her boyfriend Jared in a compromising position with another woman and a sprig of mistletoe.

Moira’s anger whisks her off to the eighth, where she learns what Kara wants in return for helping her and Jared escape an angry mob of shysters a while back. To retrieve the woman’s grandson from limbo. Limbo, the first floor of Hell, where all the innocent souls land. Also the tamest floor, according to Pandora, the sexy-voiced cloud of a devil. But Kara insists it’s the opposite.

As the devil-in-training, Moira’s bound to the deal she made, and promises to rescue the child if the dismal rumor proves true. So she scopes out limbo, her definitely cheating boyfriend tagging along. Will she uncover a paradise in Hell, or finally stumble upon the brimstone?

One thing’s for sure. Between Moira’s relationship drama and sneaking around under Pandora’s nonexistent nose, she’s sure to have a terribly unhappy holiday.

Intricate Agony - Excerpt

It's release day for my next Fortunes of Fate title! Intricate Agony is the 8th story in the series. And this one takes place on Earth, though you'll see a handful of familiar faces from previous titles.

You can purchase a copy of the ebook on all major online retailers. Books2Read will direct you to your retailer of choice, but if you want direct links to the bigger stores, here you go: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google, and Apple. So, how does this story fit into the tapestry of Fate? An excerpt is below, but read the whole tale to find out!

❦

The shadow in the corner quivered, and familiar prickles of pain cascaded across Lucas’s skin. A yelp snagged in his throat. Don’t react, or I’ll never escape.

Dr. Kimberly glanced over her left shoulder, the end of her pen pressed against her bottom lip. “Do you see a creature in the corner?”

This psychiatrist had good intentions, hoping to ease his affliction. But like many others before her, she was failing.

His sole means of relief hid in a desk on the third floor of his house, not here in the Fortune Psychiatric Center. “No. Just the light filtering through the blinds.” Steady and calm voice, disguising the agony building inside him.

Mocking his lie, the shadow detached from the corner and oozed across the floor. It wound its way toward Dr. Kimberly’s chair, threatening to consume her in a single gulp.

Or at least that was how it appeared to Lucas. An empty threat, though. The monsters preferred to remain hallucinations, which was what his visions had been diagnosed as. They aimed to keep themselves secret to all but him.

A throbbing pulsed behind his eyes, then dripped down the back of his neck, heightening his misery. The professionals labeled this psychogenic pain. Various medications they’d prescribed him did nothing to dull it, though. Nor had physical therapy, changing his diet, or intense psychotherapy.

Well, Dr. Kimberly assumed that last one had worked. “Still no pain over these last couple weeks?”

The meditation techniques she’d taught him granted him the ability to conceal his torment. “None.” And his lying skills had improved while trapped in this facility – a tortuously long three months.

Yet he yearned to twist and turn, voicing his misery. As well as take a needle to his skin, adding to the intricate design on his chest. Appear cured, and they’ll release me.

When his father Lester Kline V had been alive, he hired the best therapists to help his son, but never admitted him into an institution.

A year ago, though, his dad had suffered a fatal heart attack while working late at the law firm. His assistant had found him in the morning, dead.

The shadow jumped and jittered, as if laughing at Lucas’s reflections. Heart attack in a healthy, fit forty-year-old? Yeah, right.

Lucas suspected the true, more sinister cause of death swirled around Dr. Kimberly’s feet. It taunted him, lighting up his nerves.

He’d never told a soul about his hunch. It would have simply turned into another item added to the list that proved his madness.

His stepmother Nadia had admitted him. She perceived him as a nuisance and burden – a fourteen-year-old in the way of her inheriting his father’s wealth.

If he showed improvement, she’d be required to bring him home. Gone were the days of sending children off to an insane asylum for the rest of their lives without question.

So he masked his torment, bottling up his anxiety over the roiling darkness. A normal teenager. Nothing wrong with me.

Dr. Kimberly beamed. “You’ve made excellent progress. I think it’s time for outpatient treatment.”

The exact words he wanted to hear. Freedom.

“If the pain or hallucinations return, though, we’ll admit you again immediately. The pressures of the outside world might cause a relapse, but I have high hopes you’ll do well. Please contact me if you experience a recurrence, or if you develop new symptoms.”

Lucas deflated. Once released, he’d still need to hide his anguish, or Nadia would call the psychiatrist the second she noticed him slip. “Of course, Doctor.” Fooling his stepmother would prove difficult, since she obsessively scrutinized him. Any excuse to get him out of her way.

“Excellent. Pack your things. I’ll contact your mother and schedule your release for tomorrow.” She scribbled on her notepad.

Not my mother.

Mara Kline had died from medical complications the day after he was born. His dad had shared happy stories about his mom, along with albums full of pictures. She’d chosen his name, breaking the long running tradition in the Kline family of the firstborn son inheriting the name of his father.

For ten years, it had been him and his dad. And then Nadia wandered into their lives.

Wretched, gold-digging woman. Unfortunately, she’d fooled Lester Kline, whose heart still ached over the loss of his first wife. He’d yearned to love again, Lucas’s warnings of Nadia’s nefarious intentions falling on deaf ears.

The shadow looped around the legs of Dr. Kimberly’s chair, each twist delivering fresh pangs, like a rusty nail stabbing him repeatedly.

He clenched his teeth, refusing to succumb to the stinging sensation.

Finally, the monster yielded and slithered to its corner, soaking into the wall and disappearing.

His pain faded to an annoying vibration. A level he tolerated easily, as he’d contended with it his whole life. The shadows had initially emerged when he was eleven, so he’d only dealt with them for the past three years.

Lucas relaxed into the couch and smiled. Soon, he’d add to his tattoo and bask in the momentary relief it offered.

❦

No way to evade the shadows’ torment...

A constant undercurrent of pain has weighed down Lucas his entire life. When he turns eleven, shadows only he can see emerge from the darkness, heightening his affliction. Then two years later, his supportive father dies of a heart attack, leaving him with his greedy stepmother.

Nadia desires the fortune her husband left behind, and she’ll do anything to wrest it from Lucas’s hands. Including establishing that her stepson is completely crazy. She aims to declare him mentally unsound, and in turn take full control of his finances.

Fourteen, Lucas has four more years before he escapes from under his stepmother’s thumb. Can he survive that long without proving Nadia right, or will he lose everything his family built, along with his own mind?

Worldhop into the stories of Fate. Each fantastical tale takes place on Earth or Fate, where you’ll find magic, tarot cards, and the three cat sisters woven throughout. Though each adventure stands alone, webs connect these fantasies like an elaborate design. What card illuminates your destiny?

Leave No Dragon Stone Unturned - Excerpt

Finally, another new release! Leave No Dragon Stone Unturned (Magic Morsel, 1) was originally on Kindle Vella (a platform that's been buried six feet under) in episodic form. Now I've rewritten it into a novel!

The ebook is currently only available on Amazon, including Kindle Unlimited. It will be sold at other online retailers later this year. And the paperback version is at Amazon now, plus will be available on the Barnes & Noble website in a couple days.

I love all the crazy characters in this book, and I'm itching to dive into the next title in the series. Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! Here's an excerpt from the novel, dropping you right into the middle of Lila Mandrake's world.

❦

My apartment door opened, and Tyler slipped out. “Children, keep it down.”

“Marcus is holding my Aura Sniffer hostage.” I crossed my arms under my chest, realizing Ty’s insult fit the bill too well.

Tyler humphed. “Is this official M.E.A. business?”

“Yes.” Marcus peered over his shoulder. “I need to talk to your client, Ash.”

“Uh, that’s not going to happen. He passed out after we hauled him onto Lila’s couch. Kai’s keeping an eye on him for now. Once he’s able to speak, we’ll let you know.”

Though Ty had been at odds with me earlier, his current calm and nonchalant attitude reassured me. Then again, he scorned Marcus -- if faced with a different M.E.A. agent, his approach would have been more cautious.

My ex glared at me. “Then I guess we wait.” He tilted his head, pressed his palm to his temple, and staggered. “Woah. What the heck? What did you do to me?”

I skittered back. “Nothing. Honest!” Sure, I wanted to take credit for whatever was happening to him. I’d dreamed of payback so many times. Gammy’s voice in my head had always stopped me, though.

“Did he drink the ginger ale?” Tyler dodged Marcus, who wobbled and grasped at the air.

“Yeah.” Uh-oh.

Ty cringed. “Magic and mischief, help me. I’ve been experimenting with it.”

Marcus pressed his back to the wall and slid down it. “The room’s spinning.” His words slurred.

“You what?” Tyler loved concocting new potions and improving our drinks. Only a liquor license was required to sell any brews that qualified as alcohol, unlike our emergency potion stash. “And you left it behind the bar?” I always cautioned him about testing his experiments on our customers, though it occasionally fell on deaf ears.

“I told Kai not to use it, and Marcus is the only one who ever drinks the stuff. Didn’t expect him to show up tonight.”

That made both of us. “Well he did, and he drank it. What’s it doing to him, and how are you going to fix this?”

He sighed and extended his hand. “Even?”

Through the years, whenever we’d gotten into a tiff, we squared the odds and then shook on it. Hey, it had worked since grade school.

“I guess.” I accepted the handshake. Now he could no longer hassle me about taking on Ash as a client, but I also wasn’t allowed to give him a hard time about the potion.

“So I manipulated the molecules to equal about six shots of alcohol, while keeping the taste the same.” He rubbed his chin. “Quite a delayed reaction, and the impact of the booze hit him all at once.”

“You mean, he’s drunk?”

Ty nodded. “I call it Insta-Ale.”

I burst into laughter.

“Just had the idea to whip up a countermeasure in case he came calling again. You know, to avoid the situation of you making another mistake.”

The uncontrollable cackling prevented me from responding, only a few wheezes escaping. Maybe I actually owed Ty. Nope, we weren’t even. Best present ever.

Eventually I got a hold of myself. Kind of. “So now we have two drunk guys on our hands?” I giggled. “Once Marcus sobers up he’s going to be furious.”

Tyler glanced at Marcus. “Yeah.”

“What--?” My ex sucked in an unsteady, deep breath. “What iz diz? Tounge’z numb.”

“And that’s not a side effect I expected.” Ty shook his head. “Guess it needs more tweaking.”

I knelt next to Marcus, unable to stop another wave of laughter. “You’re drunk, you idiot. So much for you not drinking while on the job. You better stay here and sober up before you contact your boss, huh?”

He snaked an arm around my neck. “We could zpend da time togeder.” That oh so familiar lust filled his eyes.

I squeaked, snatched the Sniffer from his hand, then wiggled out of his embrace. “Pass.” Hastily backing away to the opposite wall, I wrestled with dialing down my hormones.

“You’re not going to leave him here with me, are you?” Ty planted his hands on his hips and frowned at Marcus. “He’ll be livid if you skip out while he’s in this state.”

I shrugged. “Need to take my opportunities when I can. I’ll deal with the repercussions later. Get him onto a couch in one of the meeting rooms, and make sure he doesn’t have any other adverse side effects.”

Not wanting to start another argument, I hustled down the stairs. I had an elf to track, in between snickering over my drunken ex.

❦

A half-elf walks into a bar...

Sounds like the start of a bad joke, right? Lila, owner of the Magic Morsel, agrees. As a tech mage who manages the only neutral ground in the Triopolis area, she’s skilled at brokering deals between humans, fae, elves, and a range of other magically inclined people.

Mourning the passing of her grandmother, she’s determined to maintain Gammy’s track record of no major incidents. Then Ash walks into the bar, a half-elf carrying a mysterious item that calls to her.

Agreeing to his request for her services, the deal slides sideways, and she feels obligated to hunt down the stolen object. Her decision leads her to the edge of the Ruins, a forbidden, fallen city shrouded in a cloud of wild magic.

Unfortunately, Lila risks losing her mind among the crumbling buildings and chaotic lightning.

Pull a stool up to the bar in the spellbinding world of Morthmagica, where you’ll discover magic, quirky characters, snarky humor, and slow burn romance. What’s your potion of choice?

Dead As Dreams - Excerpts

Though it's taken me far longer than I would have preferred... Dead As Dreams (Saga of Souls & Dreams) is finally out in the world! It only took over 18 years from when I penned the first word in the initial draft - lol.

So many feels right now, I don't know exactly what to say. OK, well this novel clocked in over 115k words, the paperback is about 400 pages long, and I seriously need a break from writing epic fantasy after this (plenty of urban fantasy projects begging for my attention, anyhow).

I'd also love to know that people are also reading this novel. So if you do read it, post a comment, send an email/message, leave a review - something, anything! This story is very close to my heart, and I want to share it with as many people as possible.

If you'd like to purchase an ebook copy of Dead As Dreams, you can do so via Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple Books, Google, and Smashwords. You can also use the Books2Read link for ease in choosing your preferred online retailer. The paperback version will be available later this week on Amazon.

Now that I've given you the links, here's not one, but two excerpts from the novel!

❦

First a snippet from Aysa, The Shepherd of Dreams:

Water dripped all around, the source of the droplets an enigma. A bulb of water appeared directly over an inky puddle, then fell, followed by another. Each drop hammered the Shepherd’s mind, almost as painful as the cries of the child.

The child that couldn’t be found. Not now, not ever.

She curled tightly into herself, large cold stones and gravel beneath her body, pressing hard against her side and cheek. Water soaked into her now tattered wraps, the feathers in her hair sticking to her face.

Again, the cries pierced the nightmare, echoing from every direction. An unvoiced sob caught in the Shepherd’s throat, and she covered her ears. No more. Please.

Her nightmare was always the same. Different settings, but always the child bawling, pain and loss infusing the cries. And the water that wasn’t water, the color of storm clouds and rust.

In the past, she’d searched for the babe. Only in the beginning, though.

Hard to believe there’d ever been a beginning. She strained to recall a time when the nightmare hadn’t existed.

Time. No sun or clock to keep track, she couldn’t tell how long she spent in dreams – time here was intangible, not following the rules of the waking world.

But there had been a beginning. She’d searched, filled with hope of finding the squalling child, only to ache more when she failed to discover the source of the cries. Always out of reach.

And oh, the misery, losing her child over and over again.

Unlike dreams, she had no power in nightmares. No ability to shift and adjust her surroundings or call the babe to her breast.

Even forcing herself to wake, to flee to reality, remained evasive. Though she never tried hard to do so, as that was a different kind of nightmare. And it would always come on its own before long, anyhow.

No longer wishing to fight against Muska’s will, she’d stopped searching after a while. Now, when thrown into a nightmare, she remained immobile and endured the wailing.

The Shepherd cringed at every cry, and the water numbed her skin. She pleaded to be released. Muska refused to acquiesce.

Her wrists and ankles throbbed, echoes of events long dead in her real life. Unless her present had changed. What was being done to her, where she was – she’d lost track.

She lived for the dreams and ran from the nightmares.

And so the babe cried, the water chilling the Shepherd to the bone, as expected. But this time, a new worry tugged at her mind.

The man haunted her. He shouldn’t have acknowledged her presence. She was a shadow in people’s dreams. No one noticed the outline on the floor.

Yet he had.

He couldn’t be like her, able to hop from dream to dream, manipulating the surroundings. He was an encroacher, not a Mahlani. Could it mean something was wrong in the dream world?

The decay she’d smelled in the Nexus – it had to be connected. A puzzle to piece together.

An emptiness hollowed out her insides, and she scrambled to find the first piece. The cries hammering her ears hindered her and derailed her thoughts.

❦

Now a section from the spirit seeker Lazarus:

Lazarus swiped his staff down, driving its tip into the dirt. A tremor shook the ground, shot up his staff, traveled along his arm, and then burrowed into his chest. He stumbled from the unexpected power. Too many spirits.

Not all souls lingered, but this town had its fair share sticking around. More than one night’s work. He hoped the chief would be generous. If not, perhaps he’d allow a spirit or two to linger.

Lazarus knelt and laid his staff in front of him. He pressed his palms against the dirt and leaned down, until the charm around his neck brushed the earth.

The purple light flared, and when he closed his eyes, violet spots danced behind his lids. The brilliant color reminded him of the glossy feathers of the dream-woman.

He muttered under his breath, angry for allowing his thoughts to drift. Never before had he allowed such a distraction to intrude upon his concentration.

The small whisper shook the nearest gravestone – the dead were listening.

Focusing on the dangling orb, he directed the purple light with his mind. It plunged into the dirt and spread out, like the rays of the sun, or the roads springing from the city of Tyrrnah. The light touched several corpses that still had spirits tarrying in the waking world.

Then the first drop of rain struck the back of Lazarus’s neck.

So entangled in his thoughts, he hadn’t smelled the storm rolling in. The drizzle built to a steady rain, and he was drenched in seconds, his cloak clinging to him.

His power was more volatile during a storm.

At least the crowd outside the graveyard remained silent. If they ran for shelter, the ground would quake. Thankfully their fear contained them.

Lazarus recentered, stabilizing the threads of power weaving through the ground of Hambrea. The number of souls took his breath away. Even if a spirit seeker hadn’t visited here for years, it shouldn’t have reached anywhere near this amount.

The deeper he traveled into the Outskirts, the higher the spirit count. But this time... the quantity had leapt considerably compared to the last town, more than was logical.

So many. How?

Another burying ground. He hadn’t seen signs of a second one. Spirits lingered at the edge of his senses, though, out of reach.

He’d pry the location from the chief tomorrow. Nothing he could do from here, so no use worrying about those souls now.

Lazarus wrapped the tendrils of power and light around as many bodies as he could – not even a third of the lost ones in this graveyard. Then he called to them.

“Come. Seek your bodies where they rest. Come.” Though his voice remained a mere whisper, the ground trembled. “Come. Join the bones you left behind. Come.”

And they came, all faded shadows only he could see. One by one, the restless spirits sank back into the earth and curled up in their rotting bodies. When all the ones he’d called rested in their empty husks, he twined the threads of energy around their necks, anchoring them.

Some struggled, attempting to escape. Their wails reverberated in his head, and shook him to his core. His repulsion over the required violence churned his stomach. Always.

No matter the hope for a peaceful send-off, only pain persisted. Once, he’d tried to be gentle, before he knew better. If his mentor hadn’t been there to fix his mistake, loose, angry souls would have rampaged the town.

Lazarus tightened the threads around the spirits’ necks, choking off their ambition. Lightning flashed overhead, paired with thunder, and the tombstones rattled.

❦

Souls chained to the earth scream for release, and nightmares devour dreams.

Aysa, the Shepherd of Dreams, hides in the dream world from a past she yearns to forget. But when the scent of rotting flowers wafts through the Nexus, and multiplying nightmares nip at her heels, she realizes it’s her responsibility as the goddess Muska’s chosen to protect her realm. And then a dreamer notices her for the first time...

Lazarus hates the power the god Lokahn cursed him with – as a spirit seeker, he’s tasked to wander Bodhira, sending off lingering souls to the unknown. In one town, he stumbles across a mass grave and fails to free the spirits, as they’re bound to the earth by another spirit seeker’s magic. Determined to liberate the souls, he seeks help from an unlikely source. A woman from his dream, with blue eyes and feathers in her hair...

Aysa and Lazarus reluctantly make a pact to restore the balance between dreams and nightmares, as well as life and death.

Do Not Go Gentle - Excerpt

It's release day for Do Not Go Gentle! A dark fantasy with spirits and necromancy, perfect for this time of year.

This short story is a prequel to my upcoming novel, Dead As Dreams, which is slated to release in 2023. Lazarus, our main character in this story, is one of the two main characters in the novel. And the series title at present is Saga of Souls & Dreams.

Currently, you can buy a copy of Do Not Go Gentle from Amazon only. It's available with a Kindle Unlimited subscription, though, too!

I hope you enjoy the excerpt below, and may it tickle your curiosity for my forthcoming novel, Dead As Dreams. Happy reading!

❦

Lazarus hated the cold creeping in, taking over his body, his life. He hated the endless graveyards, each tombstone etched with the symbol of the god Lokahn, bull’s horns attached to a human skull and a flame underneath. And he hated the curse he’d been born with — the power of a spirit seeker.

But most of all, he hated watching his mentor, Borko, send off the lingering spirits, choking their wills before flinging them into an unknown plane. So painful and cruel.

All of it reminded him of his appalling mishap. Over a year ago, he’d accidentally resurrected his dead sister, Sara.

Lazarus’s mother had cast him out after what he’d done to his sister, and he’d been traveling with Borko ever since. Her rejection still ached beyond words, but he understood, especially after observing Borko’s magic at work on a near nightly basis.

Spirit seekers were monsters, hunting down the souls of the dead who still clung to Bodhira, then banishing them to... Well, no one knew where exactly. According to Borko, it didn’t matter where they ended up, as long as they lost the ability to torment the living.

And even though Lazarus hadn’t sent off any spirits on his own yet, he was the worst of the monsters. Poor, Sara. Borko had never committed such an atrocity as raising the dead.

Lazarus had questioned his mentor about the incident once, and the man had growled and poked him in the chest. “Never. Never try that again.”

Not that anyone needed to admonish him. Sara’s shambling form still haunted his dreams, and he feared it always would.

“Come. Join the bones you left behind. Come.” Borko’s intonation beckoned to the spirits as he knelt in the middle of the burying ground, the brilliant purple orb around his neck brushing the earth. The chief of this town, the silent onlookers, and Lazarus all waited outside the gate.

His mentor’s words conjured the memory of his worst nightmare, one that had preyed upon him on his thirteenth birthday. Their thirteenth birthday, as he and Sara had been twins.

In his dream, his sister had clawed her way out of the grave, true to reality, but instead of heading toward their house as she had a year ago, she turned on him. Curses spewed from her unhinged jaw, and she staggered toward him, head tilted at a sharp angle due to her broken neck.

Lazarus had stood rooted, heart thudding in his breast as she approached. A sliver of fear wormed its way to the surface, but guilt quickly gobbled it up. He’d done this to her, and he deserved all the harsh words she flung at him. Along with whatever punishment she deemed fit.

The nightmare had ended with Sara descending on him, pulling him to the ground, then dragging him back into her grave where she slowly devoured him, stretching out the pain and agony. Her prolonged torture mangled his soul.

❦

To send souls off requires a spirit seeker to choke the ambition out of them...

Lazarus curses the power he was born with. The power of a spirit seeker. And he curses the memories that haunt him – his sister rising from her grave due to his magic.

Now, his mentor tasks him with sending off souls on his own for the first time. But his memories cause him to question why the spirits linger... And why his mentor deals with them so violently.

There has to be a better way, and Lazarus intends to find it.

Nymphs Need Love Too (Fractured Fairies, 5) - Excerpt

My first new release of 2022 - yay! And it happens to be the fifth installment in my Fractured Fairies series.

Nymphs Need Love Too incorporates Grinka's love life woes, her drama llama teen nymph sister, and a smart speaker that might be too smart for its own good. As always, the fairy brats are mixed up in all of it!

After you enjoy the excerpt below, please consider purchasing yourself an ebook copy at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo Books, Apple Books, Google Play, or Smashwords. Or if you want to look at all the retailer options with one easy click, please go to Books2Read!

And please remember, reviews are much appreciated at any of the retailers and on Goodreads.

Happy reading!

❦

I stomp out of the bedroom to find the fairy siblings flitting over a pyramid-shaped speaker, which is sitting on one of the living room end tables. "What is that?"

Tamor turns around and rolls his eyes. "Hey, Boo. Why is Grinka such a bitch?"

A red light flashes at the top of the pyramid. Then a female voice with sultry tones emanates from the speaker. "I’m sorry, I don’t understand."

"Yeah, me neither." The fairy smirks and scratches his balls.

"Seriously?" I plant my hands on my hips. "You know I hate it when you call me that, and all I did was ask a simple question, so it’s completely unwarranted." Yes, I can always count on these two to piss me off enough to encourage the fireworks.

"Why don’t you ask Boo what she is?" Tamara gestures at the speaker.

Her suggestion puts the breaks on my desire to splatter Tamor into tiny fairy bits... For the moment. Talk to an electronic pyramid? Okay, why not. "Um, hey, Boo. What are you?"

This time the light flashes green. "I am Yam-Boom’s newest, top-of-the-line smart speaker. Over time, I adapt to the household’s specific needs, even adjusting my personality to those I speak with. Please, ask me anything. Just don’t expect me to know everything."

Man, Boo has attitude. Kind of creepy, though.

Tamara claps her tiny hands together. "Isn’t she cool?"

I’m not a huge fan of Yam-Boom. They employ fairies, who prevented me from publishing my novel. Speaking of fairies... "How exactly did you two buy something like this?" Neither have a job, and I no longer keep any spare cash lying around. Last time I did, the fairies stole my hidden stash and bought a tablet, which is now mine. My money, my tablet.

"Uh..." Tamor is never at a loss for words. What gives, now?

Tamara titters and flits up to me. "Remember, Herby? Our cousin who loves wine porn and works for Yam-Boom. Well, he hooked us up. Right, Tamor?"

Her brother’s head bobs, almost as rapidly as his wings.

Eh, I’m not so sure about that explanation. They’re acting shifty. Maybe I can explode the truth out of them.

Before I gear myself up to do just that, Syndago bursts through the front door. "Grinka! I got a job!"

❦

What do you prescribe a depressed sea nymph? A handsome tree nymph, of course.

Grinka can’t stop dreaming of Bello, the hunky tree nymph she met a couple years ago. Unfortunately, sharing her bed with her drama llama teen nymph sister has put a damper on her love life.

Who’s she kidding? Her love life was nonexistent even before she took in her runaway sister. Well, aside from the incident with her goblin ex-boyfriend and his dwarven girlfriend – an event that continues to haunt her in the form of the stalker dwarf.

But Grinka’s not-so-giant giant best friend brings her the gift of Bello’s phone number. Can she summon the courage to call him for a date? And if so, what will her sister and the fairy brats do to ruin it for her this time?

Bytes Bite, And So Do Fairies (Fractured Fairies, 4) - Excerpt

Yes, another release! I've been looking forward to this one. It's almost too fun sometimes to play around with Grinka's life.

Bytes Bite, And So Do Fairies is the fourth published title in my Fractured Fairies series, though you can of course jump in with any story.

Please enjoy the excerpt below. And if you'd like to grab a copy, Bytes Bite is only $0.99 at all major online retailers: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple Books, Google Play, Smashwords, and Books2Read (the last will give you retailer options to choose from).

And if you read the entire story, please consider leaving a review at one of the retailers or on Goodreads. Reviews are awesome and helpful and it's one of the best ways to support an author you like. OK, I'll shut up now. Promise.

Happy reading!

❦

Now, I know how hard it is to succeed as a writer. Most indie authors need to crank out titles on a regular basis to earn any kind of money. So I tucked away a good portion of my tips for advertising over the last few months. I want this to work – no, I need this to work.

The thing is, when I started writing this first novel, it also turned into an outlet for some of my anger. And oh man, do I have a lot of anger. Just ask Syndago. My not-so-giant giant friend is rather sick of replacing light bulbs. Hey, I can’t control my destructive powers well, and the fairies piss me off at least every other second.

Speaking of the fairies... it’s far too quiet in the apartment.

And no, they don’t know what I’ve been up to on the computer. At least I hope not.

Unfortunately, they’ve gotten rather tech savvy lately, somehow getting their grubby hands on a tablet. I’m amazed they haven’t broken it yet. Perpetually drunk, naked fairies are rather clumsy.

I check under my desk, then under my bed, and look out the window for good measure again. Nothing. Maybe Syndago took them to the park. They love to harass the real birds in their pigeon illusions.

The circle continues to spin and spin. What’s a sea nymph got to do to get her noir urban fantasy published? I smash the Enter button a few times, to no avail. Actually, the circle appears to spin slower.

Damned computer. It’s been so twitchy lately. I even checked it several times to make sure the fairies hadn’t poured wine in the vents, though they’d be reluctant to waste their precious booze for such a prank.

Maybe I didn’t kill enough fairies in my novel. Yes, I killed a lot of fairies. So cathartic, especially since I can’t kill them in real life. Trust me, I’ve tried a million times by exploding them into honey-colored bits. They’re as immortal as Syndago and me, sadly.

In my novel, though... burn fairies, burn.

I snicker, and the circle freezes. Then the screen turns black for a second, followed by flashing rainbow colors. “What the–?”

Fairy giggles flitter from my closet.

❦

I wonder if this is what a gnome tripping on unicorn hairs feels like.

As usual, Grinka the sea nymph can’t catch a break. She simply wants to publish her novel. Unfortunately, Tamor and Tamara, the two fairy thorns in her side, mess with her computer. Too bad they’re immortal and can’t meet the same demise as the innumerable fairies in her book.

If that isn’t enough of a plague, Grinka’s sister Raina pops in from the Immortal World, bringing the first immortal virus with her. And now, Grinka is quarantined in her room with the two fairy nitwits.

Will she survive to hit publish, or will the rainbows and fairies win?

In Your Write Mind 2017 - Highlights

In Your Write Mind (which going forward will be referred to as IYWM) 2017 was a blast! It had been four years since I'd been able to attend - far too long.

Now, I know I should be going to things like this with the sole intent of propelling my writing career forward, but I have to be honest, I mainly attend IYWM to reconnect with a great group of writer friends. Many of us consider fellow Writing Popular Fiction students and alumni our tribe. Though most of us are introverts and uncomfortable in social situations in general, when we're at IYWM we feel like we belong. Seton Hill is our home away from home.

And of course it's sad when the few days we have to spend together fly by too fast! We can still reminisce and remember the fun times, though - the social aspect as well as anything learned and taken away regarding our writing careers. So, here goes. Shoving many memories into one blog post!

I took the train out, and though it was mostly overnight, I did manage to get a few words down (and even some on the way back... but we won't talk about the last few days after I got home - heh). Thursday was the official start of IYWM, and I took advantage of the Write In. Progress on Hell On Wheels (Devil made Me, 2)!

As a matter of fact, even a couple of the classes I attended helped me with the novelette. Friday, the true classes started, and the first I went to was Back-Cover Copy. And we had a chance to draft a blurb and get some feedback! Yup, the Hell On Wheels blurb is at least now partially done. Plus I attended the Food and Writing class, which was awesome (not only because we got some tasty food), but because I wrote about how Moira missed food. And then I realized I was right at the point in the first draft that if adjusted, the snippet would fit perfectly! Got to love when things work out like that.

Of course the highlight of Friday was the book signing. Unfortunately, with flooding and tornado warnings in the area, the signing didn't attract as many people as it could have. I was also insanely nervous, but I calmed down a bit as the night wore on - I actually couldn't believe how quickly the time flew! I sold a handful of copies of both Mind Behind the Mind and Dreams in Shadow (and did a couple swaps as well with some of my fellow authors). Lots of compliments on the Mind cover, too. Think I'll be less nervous the next time I attend a signing? Probably not - lol. The pic below is of me at my table.

Onto Saturday, I attended the guest author's class as well as the author luncheon. Diana Rowland was the guest author this year, and she was great. Though I am a self-proclaimed zombie disliker, I ordered a copy of the first novel in the White Trash zombie series once I got home. OK, maybe I only hate the "Braaaiiinnns," kind of zombies. Ones who think and have personality are more up my alley. I mean, I do enjoy watching iZombie. Oh, and she showed us a few gruesome morgue pictures - I'm always up to learn about and see new things!

The costume ball was on Saturday as well. This year's theme was International Persons of Mystery. Spies! I didn't plan a costume to fit the theme, but I did get myself a new dress with little skulls all over it. And alicorn hair clips. I went with the whole the hair clips are mini daggers thing as an explanation. ;) Do you want a picture? I can do that. Here's a great one of me with a few of my fellow crazy writers.

Finally, Sunday was a bit of a blur (probably because I had like three hours of sleep), and far too short. We celebrated the new graduates of the Writing Popular Fiction program at a luncheon to cap the day off.

Here's hoping I can make it again next year. It will all depend on money and if the hubbie has any conferences for work around that time. I'd also love to drag the family along, especially since the costume ball theme will be Storybookland! I'll be thinking about my costume for that one over the next few months. Any suggestions are welcome!

Chains of Nect - Blurb and Cover Reveal

It's time for an update! Aren't you all so lucky. Don't care about what's going on with me and my progress? Feel free to skip the post. But I can't promise you won't miss something super crazy awesome if you do.

The Plan is unfolding nicely, so far at least. I've been posting parts of "Dude in Distress" to Wattpad twice per week now. The last section is due to be posted on July 10. So, if you're curious if the unicorns manage to save Dom from Big Bad Girl, please pop over to Wattpad to read the story.

Chains of Nect will roll out on Wattpad starting July 17, and there will be a new scene posted every Friday. I already have two scenes good to go, and this month I'll be participating in Camp NaNoWriMo which should net me several more scenes--it's nice to be ahead of the game, just in case something happens! (Like last week when I got sick and my writing schedule went to hell.)

Interested in reading the prologue of Chains of Nect 8 days before it releases on Wattpad? Then you should sign up for my newsletter (form is to the left) because the first issue will go out on July 9 and include a sneak peak of the prologue. The main goal of the newsletter is to announce my upcoming publications, but I'll also have some bonuses in them now and then. If you're worried about your inbox filling up, I'll send no more than one per month, sometimes less frequently.

Oh, but you want to know what Chains of Nect is about? Of course, of course. Here's the blurb:

Obsidian successfully plays the game expected of her, passes the tests, and is accepted as a Guardian. Though she jumps through the hoops, she doesn't want to follow the precepts at all, to guard the portals but never open them. She believes its a waste to not explore the worlds within, like her ancestors had. How can they protect themselves if something comes through the portals if they don't know what's in them?

Obsidian's appointed mentor, Damian, is a straight-laced young Guardian, who can't contain the young dedicant. He's always believed the laws are in place to protect all of Nect, but Obsidian starts to make him question his own principles. She doesn't allow him any time to examine the possibilities, though, and he has to decide between reporting her or standing by her side to protect her from whatever horrors she stirs up.

Will the Guardians end Obsidian's life, or will something from another world get to her first?

Not enough for you? Fine you've talked me into it. Here's the cover!

I've also been playing the Short Story Submissions Game. The intention of this game is to gather as many rejections as I can. Yes, I know, the point should be to get as many acceptances as I can, but if I aim for that, I'll just depress myself. Here are my tallies for 2015 through June:

Submissions - 28
Rejections - 25
Acceptances - 1

I may not hit 100 rejections this year, however I hope to hit at least 50! And yes, you noticed, there's one acceptance. I had that story listed at the top of The Plan. "Bloodstains" will appear in a limited time fall anthology through Dingbat Publishing (anthology title and publication date still to be determined). That should be a fun set of stories.

I'm also still running Writing Quest every month--feel free to join us if you have some writing goals.

I think that's all as far as writing goes. Probably leaving the state of my house out of this post is the best idea (scary pretty much sums it up). I get writing done and everything else gets neglected. Go figure. Though the evil kitchen is due to be remodeled this month, barring more delays.

I feel like I'm forgetting to cover something, though. What do you think? Is there something else I should have touched on?

NEXT UP: Crazy Necro Antics - Wedding Bells Part 2