In her past life, after causing the death of a little boy, Nikki was so devastated that her soul mate promised to murder her in their next life, to make her pay for what she had done. With no knowledge of this, Nikki lives for years as an addict, down on her luck, until she is rescued by Ken, who helps her with all aspects of her recovery. With the help of a few new friends and a cat named Destiny, Nikki turns her life around. What she doesn’t know is that someone out there is destined to kill her, and he is watching, his passion for killing her growing stronger each day.
The question is: Can an agreement made between two souls be broken, and how far will one soul go to keep a promise made in a desperate attempt to save the other?
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About the Author
Amy Sampson-Cutler, author of “To Have and to Hold, to Love and to Kill: An Agreement of Souls” and “A Shadow of Love,” is a writer who earned her master’s degree in creative writing from Goddard College. Her work can be found in Slut Vomit: An Anthology of Sex Work, Tales to Terrify, WOW! Women on Writing, The Pitkin Review and more. She is the Executive Manager at Mount Peter Ski Area, where she grew up skiing in the winter and dreaming up stories in the summer. Her favorite days are spent knocking around story ideas with her husband. She lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, son, and a ridiculous amount of furry family members.
She can be contacted through AmysHippieHut.com. Also follow her on:
Vicky turned, in slow motion, to see the rescue crew attempting to pull Mrs. Viola from the wrecked car. Rage filled her entire being as she was torn between watching people unsuccessfully bring her child back to life and attacking the person who did this to him. She half walked, half crawled over to the paramedics who were struggling to free Julie’s body. She pushed right past them and, on her knees, grabbed the dead woman’s face and screamed. It was all of Julie that she could grab, her body still sandwiched between the steering wheel and the seat, upside down and sticky with blood. Vicky had to be pulled from Julie’s body, cutting herself on the broken glass and metal of the car, not caring about anything except rage, because rage is always better than sorrow.
Excerpt Two
Julie shook her head, the sadness rolling off her in waves of gray, and took his hand. “You know the difference between predestiny and an accident,” she reminded him. “I can’t just move on. Not until you promise me that I will pay for this. This must be set right. I cannot ask that boy’s soul to return, to waste a life just to punish me. Please.” Julie was quietly begging, and James knew what he would have to do, quickly, before the light was gone and they were lost. He held her hand up, putting his palm against hers. “I promise, in our next life together, we will be apart. You will know sadness. And when the time is right, I will bring your death.” Julie almost smiled. “And I will be scared? And I will suffer?” Right then, to Julie, punishment was the most important lesson of all. “It is my promise to you. You are my soul mate, and I will do anything to bring you peace, even if that means killing you.” Julie didn’t even have time to consider what James was giving up for her. Their hands glowed in 10 TO HAVE AND TO HOLD, TO LOVE AND TO KILL: AN AGREEMENT OF SOULS the light that came rushing into them, the promise sealed for eternity. No time to reconsider, Julie leaned into James, but he was instantly torn from her. Both of their souls tumbled toward the light, and both entered the world again. Together but completely alone.
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Blog Tour Calendar
— Blog Tour Calendar
October 6 @ The Muffin
Join us as we celebrate the launch of To Have and to Hold, to Love and to Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler. We interview the author and give you a chance to win a copy of the book.
Marc McKnight Time Travel Adventures by Kim Megahee is both a high-octane thriller and a profound meditation on fate, morality, and the unrelenting pull of time.
The series follows Captain Marc McKnight — soldier, leader, and unwilling hero — as he and his team navigate missions designed to observe history without altering it. But when emotion intervenes, everything changes. Time Limits begins with a single deviation that creates a ripple effect spanning generations. In The Time Twisters, McKnight uncovers a plot to hijack democracy using temporal technology. Time Revolution carries that war into the future, where rebellion and corruption blur into one. And Time Plague closes the circle — pitting McKnight against a future-born virus and an enemy who knows him better than he knows himself. With each mission, McKnight learns that the hardest part of changing time isn’t fixing the past — it’s living with what’s been lost.
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Kim Megahee’s writing reflects a rare blend of intellect and empathy. A University of Georgia graduate, he spent much of his career in technology, where logic ruled. But beneath that structure lived a storyteller fascinated by human behavior — how we react when the rules we rely on suddenly shift. Encouraged by a former student, Kim began to write, channeling decades of observation into stories that blend realism, emotion, and wonder. He lives in Gainesville, Georgia, with his wife, Martha, and their fiercely intelligent poodle, Leo. Visit his website, or follow him on Instagram and Facebook.
My sister Laura invited me to her church one Sunday. To my surprise, the program that day was more secular than religious.
The speaker challenged us — “What are you doing with the time of your life? Are you spending your time doing things that improve your heart or mind or soul?”
This pushed me onto a path of thought I had never gone down before. How was I using the time of my life?
“WORKING” was my first response. I worked 60+ hours a week for a computer consulting firm. It was fun, fulfilling work, and I enjoyed it. But it occurred to me I had no social life and no outlet for pent-up energy.
Then I remembered my TIME LIMITS book. I’d worked on it for two years but completed only a few chapters — and I wasn’t satisfied with them.
“I should finish my book,” I said to Laura.
We talked about it as we drove home, and Laura suggested we stop at a local Starbucks for coffee. She didn’t have to ask me twice. If coffee is involved, I’m there!
We ordered in so we could chat and spend time together. We continued to talk about the book. In the conversation, I mentioned that I rarely have time to work on it.
Someone touched me on the shoulder. I turned, and next to me sat a man with glasses and a cane.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m an author, and if you aren’t writing every day, then you’re kidding yourself.”
The stranger was Shane Etter, a successful horror-suspense writer.
That night, his words surfaced repeatedly in my mind. I knew they were true words, and I didn’t have the time to write.
Another piece of advice came to mind. “If you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.”
Okay, I thought … If I decided to find the time, how would I proceed?
I looked for time, and presto! — I found it. I could get up in the morning thirty minutes earlier. I could write on airplanes and at the airport. I could write in my hotel room, at the bar, or at a restaurant.
It worked! Eight weeks later, I had a final draft of TIME LIMITS, ready for editing.
The best writing advice I ever got — write at least a little every day.
Q&A
How did you research your book?
I read a bunch of time travel stories. The primary setting in the book (the NewT Communications Tower in Atlanta) is based on the former BellSouth Services building in the same block as the famous Fox Theater. I worked there for twenty years.
Who’s the hardest scene or character you wrote—and why?
Easy. It was the scene where McKnight encountered Merrie the first time in the past. I struggled because I knew McKnight’s thoughts would be all over the place with confusion, fear that he’d make a mistake, and coming face-to-face with a beautiful woman. I tried it several ways, then wrote the scene from Merrie’s point of view. It turned out to be easier, and added to her character.
Where do you get your ideas?
Mostly out of my head. I get an idea and write the movie I’d like to see. The TIME LIMITS characters have taken a life of their own, and I get ideas from their personalities.
What sets your book apart from others in its genre?
In my stories, time travel technology is in its infancy. With a reasonable amount of power, you can only visit the same date that is a multiple of 25 years from the present date, plus or minus a week. Outside of those parameters, the power requirement is too big to be practical. I wanted a sense of urgency for every travel event.
What helps you overcome writer’s block?
Writers — don’t hate me — but I’ve never had writer’s block. When I’m away from my desk, I may get a little edgy. But when I sit at my desk, I’ll just look for more trouble for the hero, and that gets the creative juices going.
What’s your favorite compliment you’ve received as a writer?
At the doctor’s office (of all places), Martha and I ran into her childhood friend, who said she had read all my books and loved them. My feet didn’t touch the ground for the rest of the day.
Do you write every day? What’s your schedule?
I write every day when I have a book project under way. During that time, I try to write for 2-3 hours in the morning and spend 2 hours in the afternoon on marketing.
Where do you write—home, coffee shop, train?
Before I retired, I wrote everywhere — Starbucks, hotel rooms or bars, airplanes, airports, etc. Since retirement, I mostly write at my desk at home, though I admit I have carried a laptop on vacation.
Any quirky writing rituals or must-have snacks?
I don’t outline the entire book, but I do document the events/words/ideas I want to cover in each chapter. So, I’m a pantser-plotter (LOL). Snacks? I want coffee. Real coffee, not half-caff or decaf.
Why did you choose this setting/topic?
For TIME LIMITS, I worked in the book’s office tower for twenty years. I knew the building well and got the idea about an executive being murdered in an office tower and using time travel to investigate the case 50 years later.
If your book became a movie, who would star in it?
Simple question. I drew from all the movies I have seen. For example, my daughter Megan demanded that McKnight be played by a 30-year-old Henry Cavill. When I envisioned Merrie, there was only one person who fit the character: Amy Adams in her twenties. I have an actor in mind for all characters, but I’ll save them for another time.
Which author(s) most inspired you?
Tom Clancy, H. G. Wells, Isaac Asimov, plus Frank Herbert and J.R.R. Tolkien (for their vivid world-building). When we first met, Martha and I discovered our favorite books were the same book: EXECUTIVE ORDERS by Tom Clancy.
What’s your go-to comfort food?
Atlas Pizza in Gainesville, GA. It’s been around a long time. If you ever find yourself in our town, check it out. It’s in the town square downtown. You can’t miss it.
What are you binge-watching right now?
Outlander. There are a few more on Martha’s list.
If you could time-travel, where would you go?
The University of Georgia campus, 1973. There’s a certain girl I’d advise myself to avoid at all costs. Also, I’d tell myself not to get involved with another girl who thought she was available but wasn’t. But all things considered, I am who I am because I went through those trying times and eventually found my soulmate. Okay, so never mind!
Which 3 books would you bring to a desert island?
Very hard choice. First, my Bible, then EXECUTIVE ORDERS by Tom Clancy, and the Foxfire book that tells you how to survive on a desert island.
What made you laugh this week?
Some funny cat and dog videos on TikTok. They are addictive, and they crack me up.
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EXCERPT
An Excerpt from Chapter 2 of TIME LIMITS
by Kim Megahee
A few minutes later, they were on a path in a pine forest. A light breeze eased the heat of the Georgia sun and the pines whispered to them as they walked further into the woods.
McKnight glanced back in the direction they had come, then at the trail ahead. There was no one in sight. He pulled a form and a pen from his pocket and handed them to Tyler.
“First, the paperwork, Lieutenant. What I’m about to tell you is top secret and cannot be shared with unauthorized personnel, regardless of whether you accept the assignment. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Sign the paper.”
Tyler signed and handed it back.
“Very good. Lieutenant, they’ve asked me to assemble a team to plan and execute missions using a new technology. The size of the team is fewer than ten, including two civilian scientists. I’d like you to be my exec for operations. I need a mission planner with leadership ability, and you’re it. The rest of the team’s still under construction, except for one scientist. We’ll be reporting to General Drake with oversight from Senator Lodge.”
“Working for the Dragon would be good. Oversight from Lodge? That’s not so good. He’s my Senator, but I didn’t vote for him. He’s a damned crocodile. I don’t trust him.”
“Lodge is the General’s problem. We’re the grunts. Our job is to execute.”
“So, what’ll we be doing?”
“The team is being called the HERO Project.”
Tyler rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I know. Stay with me, Lieutenant. HERO stands for Historical Event Research Organization. In a nutshell, we’re going to be researching and validating historical events. Here, let’s take a load off.”
They sat on a wood bench alongside the running trail. McKnight looked across the path at a dogwood in full bloom and a bank of azaleas in unrestrained spring glory. Bumblebees hummed in and around the flowers.
“If you’re trying to sell me on how exciting the project will be, you’re failing miserably. Sounds like we’d be spending the next few years in the library and on the net, writing papers. Doesn’t sound like fun to me. Is there something I’m missing here?”
A thin smile formed on McKnight’s face. “Well, Lieutenant, I daresay we’ll be doing paperwork. I didn’t mention libraries or the net.”
Tyler scrunched up his face. “Then how? No library, no net. Where’s that leave us? Interviewing elderly witnesses?”
McKnight shook his head, waiting for Tyler to make the leap. Tyler sat on the bench, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together and his head down. After a moment, he looked at McKnight.
“You can’t be suggesting what I’m thinking.”
He’s getting there. “And what is that, Lieutenant?”
“Nope. I’m not going to say it. I must be missing something.” He paused. “All right. How do we witness an event in the past? We don’t have the technology to…. Wait, you mentioned a new technology, didn’t you?”
“I did.” McKnight allowed himself a little smile. One last hint. “You took physics at the Point, right?”
“What? Of course.”
“Um-hmm.”
Tyler stared at him. His eyes narrowed and darted around. He resumed the position with his elbows on his knees and his eyes on the ground.
“Who’s the scientist?” he said without looking up.
“Robert Astalos. He does research at MIT–”
“I’m familiar with him. I read a white paper he and his family wrote last year about interstellar propulsion. Son and grandson, I believe, all with the same name. Let’s see… Einstein related speeds close to the speed of light with time slowing down. Nobody has proved that wrong. And gravity is not a force, but a distortion of time-space. Everitt validated that.” Tyler sat up straight and looked McKnight in the eye. “Astalos invented time travel?”
Bingo. “Well, I’ll let him share the specifics with you, but that’s the bottom line. Interested, Lieutenant?”
“Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t be? Anything else you want to tell me? Do we have aliens in Area 51?”
McKnight laughed. “Not that I know of. Want the rest of the details, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. You bet I do.”
“I thought you might. Here’s the short form. We’ll operate out of the DC area. Only a few people know about this. The charter for the HERO Team is strictly research. We’re forbidden to do anything that might affect history. There’s a mandatory risk/benefit analysis and research period required before traveling to make sure we cover the bases. No options, no exceptions, unless the President issues an Executive Order to bypass the process.
“The other civilian on the team will be another planner, your civilian counterpart. He or she hasn’t been picked yet. The General’s reserved the right to pick that person. You and I get no say,” McKnight said, holding up his hand to cut off any objection. “We need a shitload of testing before we can do any work. We don’t know enough about the technology yet. Questions?”
“Ha! Only a few hundred. This is supposed to be secret? Nobody outside the organization knows about it?”
“Well, for as long as that lasts. Congress is involved, right?”
“Yeah. I’m surprised the word isn’t out already.”
McKnight shrugged. “The day is young. But yes, until we hear otherwise from the General, the project doesn’t exist and we’re working on special projects for Colonel Stewart.”
“Okay. Why do we need the civilian planner?” Tyler asked.
“The official word is to balance the team. I suspect it’s because Congress doesn’t trust the military. I assume it’ll be an egghead guy with serious credentials and no government ties. Drake wants someone with no agenda.”
“Got it. Do you have anyone else in mind for the team?”
“I do,” McKnight said. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Tyler. “What do you think?”
“Lieutenant Mitch Wheeler. From North Georgia College, right? Good pick. Has a degree in physics if I remember correctly.”
“Yep. That one was easy. And his buddy Hatcher, too.”
“Yes, sir. Should be a good team.” Tyler handed the list back.
“Glad you approve.” McKnight checked the time on his phone. “I need to go catch a plane, Lieutenant. Transition your work ASAP and report to me in DC Monday week. Questions?”
“Yes, sir, but they can wait until next week.”
“Very good. I have two more instructions for you.” He stood and Tyler followed.
“What’s that, sir?”
McKnight smiled at his new executive officer. “Number one, don’t bring any preconceptions about time travel with you. Doctor Astalos says most of what the science fiction writers came up with was wrong.”
“And number two?”
“The other two Robert Astalos’s? The men that coauthored that paper?”
“Yes?”
“They aren’t his son and grandson. They’re all him. They call themselves Robert, Rob and Robby, but they’re all the same guy.”
James Siewert has a new MM sci-fantasy romance coming out on November 9th, Oarthecan Star Saga book 3: Captains of Oartheca – and we have the cover reveal.
Welcome to Oartheca—a world of shattered beauty and stolen futures.
Where noble Barons rule with ironclad grace, and loyal drones unquestionably obey. A wounded world, rich with history and pride, struggling to heal… while war still smoulders at its edges.
Hoping to change the fate of all Oarthecans, Captain Rowland Hale II and Toar Grithrawrscion embark on a mission as herculean as it is perilous: to bring Oartheca under the aegis of the Coalition of Allied Planets, and in doing so, usher in a new era of strength, stability, and peace.
But nothing on Oartheca is so easily won. Not peace. Not unity. And certainly not the truth.
In Captains of Oartheca, James Siewert sees our heroes challenge empires, defy impossible odds, and confront the terrible cost of hope. But when victory demands everything they are—and all they have—can they pay the price?
Warnings: Explicit sex scenes between consenting adult males
About the Series
An action-oriented, sci-fi extravaganza staring heroes who battle vicious foes, overcome galactic obstacles, find true love, all while just happening to be men-who-love-men. For adults only, the Oarthecan Star Saga will thrill readers with cinematic battles, daring romances and authentic, one-of-a-kind characters that rise to face challenges through bravery, courage and loyalty.
Get the hell off me!’ I shout angrily, futilely pushing at the rhino of a man smothering me. Goddamn he’s heavy but I’m giving it everything I’ve got, trying to wriggle free. I manage to get my head out from under the behemoth and turn to try and see what the hell is going on.
‘Stay down, Baron!’ the security guard overtop of me orders, his voice hard and urgent. There’s another bright green flash, and this time I see a plasma shot streak harmlessly into the skies, followed soon by more yelling and the sounds of intense struggle.
Annoyingly, cyan telemetry floods my cybernetic ocular display—suit’s integrity is down to ninety-two percent, but no injuries, and my shields are regenerating. That shot was a point-blank, direct hit. Thank God for top-tier CAPS engineering—anything less, and I’d be dead.
‘No!’ I hear a man yell. ‘No, he killed my brother!’
What?
‘Evacuate, evacuate!’ a stronger voice booms, and the man over top of me begins to ease up slightly; I immediately scoot out from under him and try to get a decent look around.
There’s a pile of security guards clustered together—it looks like there are three of them surrounding a fourth, having driven him to his knees. One is wrenching the kneeling man’s rifle from his hands, but the man is not letting go anytime soon. It takes the butt of another security guard’s rifle being driven into the side of his head before his grip finally weakens, and the gun is wrenched free.
The rhino then steps in front of me, blocking my view of the struggling men. I scowl and try to push him out of the way, but this guy’s a stormcoat, maybe a snowcoat, and I don’t even budge him a centimetre.
‘This way, Baron. Now,’ He pushes into me, using his superior bulk to knock me back. With one hand on my shoulder, he spins me around so that I’m facing away from the scene.
‘Where is Ton?’ I demand, trying to slip this guy’s grasp but his grip on my shoulder is firm—not painful, thanks to my exosuit’s kinetic absorption—but I’m not getting free unless I put up a serious struggle, which I don’t think is the wisest of things to do right now.
‘We’ll meet at the safe-point. Hurry, Baron, straight ahead,’ the rhino orders, and I follow as he steers me deeper into the docking bay. He sets a brisk pace—nearly a jog—we’re moving fast. A tug on my shoulder turns me left toward an open corridor, where two guards stand ready, rifles raised and scanning.
‘Inside, Baron.’ I’m not used to being manhandled like this, but I know if this dude wanted to, he could pick me up like an infant. He’s at least letting me move under my own power, so I do as I’m told, and head into the corridor.
We head down a gently sloping, well-lit cement tunnel—hopefully toward the safe-point rhino-guy mentioned. He’s stopped steering me, but with only one path ahead, we keep moving. After about thirty seconds, a circular portal sealed by sliding doors appears and opens as we approach.
‘Through the doors, Baron,’ my escort says. I step into the next tunnel, and he follows, tapping commands into a wall-mounted keypad. The doors slide shut behind us, leaving me to figure out what comes next.
The security guard then turns to face me, placing his hand over his heart, his fingers splayed, and gives me a deep bow. ‘We are secured now, Baron. The safe-point is just down this hall.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply genuinely. ‘I prefer Captain Hale, however. What’s your name, officer?’
‘Second Lieutenant Crahlstran Grithrawrclan, OSS Navy, Captain Hale,’ the man answers. ‘I’ve been assigned to you as your personal security representative. Are you injured?’
I immediately shake my head. ‘No, my suit took the damage. I’m fine. Where is m’Ton? Or the High Baron Grithrawr?’
‘At or en route to the safe-point. Please, if you will follow me, Captain,’ Crahl offers, extending his hand down the new corridor. With him leading the way, I follow as we descend further, until we reach another set of closed sliding doors. Crahl enters a command on the keypad, and they open. He stands aside to allow me to enter first.
Author Bio
James and his husband live in beautiful British Columbia, Canada. Part-time office drone, part-time storyteller, full-time sci-fi and fantasy enthusiast (and some spooky ghost tales), James couldn’t find enough stories involving guys like him and his hubby are: big men with big hearts, full of big ideas!
Taking matters into his own hand, James seeks to share high adventure, low-angst stories where the heroes are solid blokes who take centre stage. Come join the adventure and explore bold new worlds full of authentic characters, gripping scenes, lush imagination and a touch of mushy stuff – there’s a whole galaxy waiting for you to discover!
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A woman struggles with the actions that haunt her from a past life in author Amy S. Cutler’s “To Have and to Hold, To Love and to Kill: An Agreement of Souls.”
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The Synopsis
In her past life, after causing the death of a little boy, Nikki was so devastated that her soul mate promised to murder her in their next life, to make her pay for what she had done. With no knowledge of this, Nikki lives for years as an addict, down on her luck, until she is rescued by Ken, who helps her with all aspects of her recovery. With the help of a few new friends and a cat named Destiny, Nikki turns her life around. What she doesn’t know is that someone out there is destined to kill her, and he is watching, his passion for killing her growing stronger each day.
The question is: Can an agreement made between two souls be broken, and how far will one soul go to keep a promise made in a desperate attempt to save the other?
The Review
What a powerful and gripping paranormal and metaphysical fantasy read. The author did an incredible job of balancing the spiritual and karmic aspects of the narrative with the more grounded and emotional character arcs. The opening chapter was a gut punch for readers, revealing the devastating consequences of a single terrible decision. The struggles Nikki went through in this story, and the powerful imagery and atmosphere, were brilliantly illustrated through the author’s writing style and tone.
The heart of this book lies in its rich character arcs and mystery. The idea of karma and past lives was thoughtfully explored in this narrative, and the mystery of who from Nikki’s past life became part of her current life and what role they played was incredibly well developed. The tension and atmospheric nature of the plot, along with the dynamic between Nikki and several characters, were compelling, offering readers emotional depth and thought-provoking insights into the human soul and what it means to be human.
The Verdict
Fast-paced, emotionally investing, and memorable, author Amy S. Cutler’s “To Have and to Hold, To Love and to Kill: An Agreement of Souls” is a must-read metaphysical and paranormal fantasy novel. The twists and turns, the shocking revelations, and the heartfelt, heartbreaking final chapters will stay with readers long after the story ends. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Amy Sampson-Cutler, author of “To Have and to Hold, to Love and to Kill: An Agreement of Souls” and “A Shadow of Love,” is a writer who earned her master’s degree in creative writing from Goddard College. Her work can be found in Slut Vomit: An Anthology of Sex Work, Tales to Terrify, WOW! Women on Writing, The Pitkin Review and more. She is the Executive Manager at Mount Peter Ski Area, where she grew up skiing in the winter and dreaming up stories in the summer. Her favorite days are spent knocking around story ideas with her husband. She lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, son, and a ridiculous amount of furry family members.
She can be contacted through AmysHippieHut.com. Also follow her on:
Join us as we celebrate the launch of To Have and to Hold, to Love and to Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler. We interview the author and give you a chance to win a copy of the book.
Today on my blog I’m excited to feature Barry Maher’s darkly comic supernatural thriller, The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon. If you love stories that bend reality, dive into the occult, and keep you turning pages late into the night, you won’t want to miss this one.
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SYNOPSIS
In 1982, failed songwriter Steve Witowski is running from both the law and his past when a reckless act of heroism—saving a woman from a brutal assault—pulls him into a world far darker than he ever imagined. That woman, Victoria, has just purchased a decaying church steeped in sinister history, and with her comes a web of occult rituals, crypts, and grave-robbing secrets that refuse to stay buried. As Steve becomes entangled in her dangerous world, the presence of a desperate demon closes in, blurring the line between delusion and reality. Haunted by visions, hunted by forces he refuses to believe in, and marked by the face of the man he killed, Steve is dragged deeper into a nightmare of dark magic, betrayal, and blood-soaked revelations where survival may cost him his soul.
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EXCERPT
Back in the 60s . . .
On Wednesday October 13th, 1968, a faculty panel recommended the dismissal of Professor John Harris—in absentia, as no one at Harvard had seen or heard from him in weeks. Harris later bragged about delivering his final lecture on “one shitload and a half of LSD.” According to the recording made available to the faculty panel, this was the sum total of that lecture:
“Good afternoon. Wow. American Literature, hunh? Let’s see. Moby Dick today. Right?”
“Moby Dick?” asked a confused voice. “No. What happened to The Scarlet Letter?”
“Right. Moby Dick,” Harris continued. “Great book. None of you have read it. None of you are going to read it. Nobody ever does. What you need to understand is that as far as I’m concerned—and I’m the fucking professor—Moby Dick is the same story as The Great Gatsby, which some of you may read. I call it, ‘the half-assed struggle of the individual to put their world to rights in the face of a failure that threatens to define their life.’ I think that’s from my thesis. Though maybe it’s not pretentious enough.”
Harris laughed. “Hey! How about this? Great Gatsby/Moby Dick: same story, different era, right? So, if someone someday tries to write that story for this generation, they should call it The Great Dick. That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it? The Great Dick. Alright, that’s got to be almost fifty minutes. See you next . . . whenever. Wow.”
SUNDAY, MARCH 21, 1982 Two Women and One Corpse
“Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to lie well.” —Samuel Johnson
CHAPTER 1
Okay, let me start out by admitting that I was an asshole. I know that. The ludicrous amount of fame and acclaim and money I’ve had dumped on me since that time only makes it more glaring. The fact that we lived in a different world back in 1982 is no excuse. It was the same world. It just wasn’t the world we thought it was.
I remember it was a Sunday night. Sundays always feel different. Looking back now and Googling a 1982 calendar, I’d guess it was Sunday, March 21st. I remember waking up and within minutes making the decision to leave. Quickly, before I could change my mind, I eased myself out of the rickety hide-a-bed.
Immediately, Maria rolled over into the spot I’d just vacated, breathing loudly through her nose and mouth, not quite snoring. I hate to say it, but she looked every minute of her thirty years. Her thick dark hair clung damply to her face; her heavy arms stretched outward. The cast on her left wrist looked like a giant manacle.
The grandfather clock beside the cigar store Indian read 1:37, though a few minutes before, it had chimed four times. That made as much sense as anything else in my life. I was thirty-five years old, a Harvard grad who’d spent the previous two years faking his way through a $13,500 a year job as a territory rep for the Richmond Tobacco company. That $13,500 was the most money I’d ever made. You’re probably thinking that when you adjust for inflation and translate that $13,500 into today’s dollars, it’s a lot more impressive.
No, it’s not.
I slipped on my jersey and my jeans and gathered the rest of my things in my old gym bag. Fortunately, enough moonlight crept in around the edges of the tattered drapes to give the room a dim glow. I wondered if it would be safe to hitchhike out of there, or if Indiana had already notified the California Highway Patrol that I was wanted.
My situation was bad. But not bad enough to, say, crawl into a grave with a rotting corpse.
That would come later.
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GUEST BLOG POST
Where Do You Get Your Ideas from?
A while back, I was speaking on an Asian cruise when I realized I could no longer figure out what the hands of the clock meant. The next day, during a session, I introduced the ship’s captain. Twenty minutes later I picked him out of the audience and asked him what he did for a living. (The uniform did look a tad familiar.) That same day, I gave up trying to understand foreign currency. Even American money was getting tricky. In Viet Nam, I handed a vendor two hundreds and a five for a $7.00 baseball cap. It was a very nice cap.
Back home, the first thing my doctor did was have me draw a clock face at ten to three. The second thing he did was take away my driver’s license. Then he sent me for an immediate MRI. The nurse there wouldn’t comment on the results, but when I asked where the restroom was, she said, “I can’t let you go in there alone.”
I explained that bathroom visitation was a particular expertise of mine.
“Like telling time?” she asked. “You need to talk to your neurosurgeon.”
“I have a neurosurgeon?” Just what I always wanted.
I also had a brain tumor—the size of a basketball. Or maybe the neurosurgeon said “baseball.” I wasn’t tracking too well at that point. Still, I quickly grasped he was planning on carving open my skull with a power saw.
“I don’t really need to tell time,” I said. “Or I can just buy a digital watch.”
Everyone said my neurosurgeon—or, as I thought of him, “Chainsaw Charlie”—was brilliant. My problem was that I’ve spent my life around intelligent people, and I’ve always believed human intelligence was overrated. To me, on a scale of everything there is to know in the universe, the main difference between Einstein and Koko the Wonder Chimp was that Einstein couldn’t pick up bananas with his feet. (As far as I know.)
Still, I went under the knife—or in this case, the power saw. Maybe I had a seizure. The doctors weren’t sure. That might explain what happened. Because I came out of the surgery with Lady Gaga singing non-stop in my head and an unforgettably vivid story, like a memory of something that I’d just witnessed.
Reacting to the intrusion, I suppose my brain could have given me Citizen Kane or a nice rom/com or a few episodes of Seinfeld. Instead I got open crypts, bizarre spells, sudden death and the Ralph Lauren version of the Manson Family. “How did my operation go? Well, I’m doing well, but the people in my head—or wherever they were—they went through Hell.”
Lady Gaga went away after a day or so. But the story stayed with me. And when I was able, I spent a couple of years putting it all down, working it out, trying to get it just right. And that became The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barry Maher’s career has been anything but ordinary. He’s been an award-winning (if modestly so) poet, a magazine writer with bylines across the country, a speaker for some of the world’s largest corporations, and a man who once lived literally on the beach, seagulls and all. His syndicated column Slightly Off-Kilter and his darkly comic fiction reflect that same unpredictable spirit. Media appearances range from The Today Show to CNBC, with features in The Wall Street Journal and even Funeral Service Insider. Connect with him at BarryMaher.com or on Facebook.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Author Ekta R. Gary shares the unique moments that lead up to or occur between the iconic stories of fairy tales in the book “The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.”
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The Synopsis
Have you ever wondered why Jack and Jill needed that pail of water in the first place? Or how Sleeping Beauty managed to prick her finger despite a royal order to destroy every spindle in the kingdom?
Fairy tales and nursery rhymes have given us some of the most iconic characters and images in storytelling; think Cinderella’s glass slipper or Jack’s oversized beanstalk. But what about the in-between moments? The ones that never made it to the page?
In this enchanting micro-collection of short stories, award-winning author Ekta R. Garg explores the untold scenes between the lines of some of our most loved tales. Find out what the Wicked Witch of the East was doing in the road before Dorothy’s house fell on her. Learn where Goldilocks came from. Meet the conmen who convinced the emperor he had new clothes and more.
Rediscover the wit, heart, and magic of the classics, and see them as you’ve never seen them before in The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.
This was such a fantastic collection of fairy tale short stories. Although a short read, the collection does an incredible job of creating powerful characters that are both familiar and unique at the same time, such as the Princess found in The Beauty Before She Sleeps. The rich imagery in each story feels both bright and visceral, and each tale expertly weaves together substantial emotional depth for these characters, much like the Witch and her apprentice and their familial connection in The Witch’s Apprentice.
What made these stories so unique was how they were found in the moments people rarely think of when it comes to iconic stories. From exploring how the Wicked Witch of the East ended up under Dorothy’s house to why both Jack and Jill needed a pail of water to begin with, these stories are a love letter to both fan fiction and fairy tales overall. The satire and wit that the dialogue brought to life were an outstanding balance to the self-reflection and introspective themes that these stories wove into their fabric.
The Verdict
Thoughtful, compelling, and entertaining, author Ekta R. Garg’s “The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories” is a must-read collection of short stories. The twists and turns of each story, along with their unique takes, dynamic characters, and memorable themes, will keep readers enthralled and eager for more. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
A Reviewer, Editor, Author, and Dreamer of stories and books, Ekta has worked in niche publishing since 2005—she’s written and edited about everything from healthcare to home improvement to Hindi films! Ekta judges writing contests, hosts writing workshops, and podcasts about great books and how to write them. She’s currently the Content Coordinator of Neighbors of SW Champaign, a hyper-local magazine focusing on and lifting up the Champaign, Illinois, community. Ekta’s award-winning holiday novella, The Truth About Elves, and her award-winning fairy tale for grown-ups, In the Heart of the Linden Wood, are available from Atmosphere Press.
Join us as we celebrate the launch of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg. Read an interview with the author and enter for a chance to win a copy of the book.
Visit Julie’s blog again for a guest post by author Ekta Garg on how to choose the theme of your book…or let it choose you. You can also read her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.
Visit Katherine’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg. You can also check out her response to our tour-themed prompt on what she hasn’t seen in a fairy tale that we wish we saw more of.
I am thrilled to be able to present you with an excerpt from the upcoming novel “THE WITCH’S APPRENTICE AND OTHER STORIES” by author Ekta R. Garg, as part of the author’s book tour with Women on Writing Blog Tours. I hope you will enjoy.
Question
When the tornado took Dorothy’s house to Oz, it landed on the Wicked Witch of the East and killed the witch instantly.
What was the witch doing in the road in the first place?
The Witch’s Apprentice
Do you remember the story about the house that fell on the Wicked Witch of the East? The one where the girl who came out of the house took the witch’s lovely silver shoes and went on her adventures down the road of yellow bricks? Well, enough time has passed that I believe I can confess.
It’s my fault the house fell on the witch in the first place.
She was there, in the middle of the road, because we were arguing. And we were arguing because I was asking—no, that’s not right. I was demanding to be freed from the Spell of Inhibition so I could complete my apprenticeship. The witch was the ruler of Munchkinland and the head of the High Council of Witches. Before my apprenticeship started, I had chosen her to be my mentor.
She was also my cousin.
We had been arguing about the completion of my apprenticeship, which required an act of altruism assigned to me by the High Council. Once I completed the task and the Council deemed it pure, proving I would only use my magic for good, the High Witches would lift the Spell of Inhibition that prevented the free use of magic for everything. After three years of training, I still hadn’t gotten used to the physical sensation of the spell; it made my skin itch in a way that made me want to shed it so I could emerge as a full-fledged witch.
For weeks, however, the High Council had ignored my repeated requests for a task. Anyone I asked referred me to someone else, and after the fourth or fifth request they all told me to speak to Cousin. When I got my chance on that day, in the middle of the road, I told Cousin in a firm voice that the time had come. I had proven myself and knew I was ready to practice magic as she did.
She began laughing in that cruel, high voice she had, and I knew. Even though the sound crushed my heart, in that moment I knew she had no intention of helping me. I thrust out my wand, ready to show her what I’d learned, fighting against the fiery sensation burning across my hand and wrist as the Spell of Inhibition warned against doing magic. In that moment, I heard a rushing sound, looked up, and saw the house. I jumped out of the way just before it…well, you know.
I assumed Cousin had also escaped, but then I looked back and saw her feet sticking out from under the house. My heart started fluttering faster than I could breathe. I scrambled to stand then ran back toward the tavern at the edge of the village where we had met to talk. A few munchkins walking past the tavern stared at me with curious looks, but I bypassed them completely, dove behind the squat building, and cast a spell on myself to transport me back to my cottage.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. In order to understand my tale, I’ll have to go back to the beginning so you’ll know properly how I ended up where I am now. So you’ll understand why running left me wracked by guilt…but also cradled by relief.
Ekta Garg’s
WOW! WOMEN ON WRITING TOUR
OF
The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories
Tour Begins August 25
Book Summary
Have you ever wondered why Jack and Jill needed that pail of water in the first place? Or how Sleeping Beauty managed to prick her finger despite a royal order to destroy every spindle in the kingdom?
Fairy tales and nursery rhymes have given us some of the most iconic characters and images in storytelling; think Cinderella’s glass slipper or Jack’s oversized beanstalk. But what about the in-between moments? The ones that never made it to the page?
In this enchanting micro-collection of short stories, award-winning author Ekta R. Garg explores the untold scenes between the lines of some of our most loved tales. Find out what the Wicked Witch of the East was doing in the road before Dorothy’s house fell on her. Learn where Goldilocks came from. Meet the conmen who convinced the emperor he had new clothes and more.
Rediscover the wit, heart, and magic of the classics, and see them as you’ve never seen them before in The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.
A Reviewer, Editor, Author, and Dreamer of stories and books, Ekta has worked in niche publishing since 2005—she’s written and edited about everything from healthcare to home improvement to Hindi films! Ekta judges writing contests, hosts writing workshops, and podcasts about great books and how to write them. She’s currently the Content Coordinator of Neighbors of SW Champaign, a hyper-local magazine focusing on and lifting up the Champaign, Illinois, community. Ekta’s award-winning holiday novella, The Truth About Elves, and her award-winning fairy tale for grown-ups, In the Heart of the Linden Wood, are available from Atmosphere Press.
Join us as we celebrate the launch of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg. Read an interview with the author and enter for a chance to win a copy of the book.
Visit Julie’s blog again for a guest post by author Ekta Garg on how to choose the theme of your book…or let it choose you. You can also read her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.
Visit Katherine’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg. You can also check out her response to our tour-themed prompt on what she hasn’t seen in a fairy tale that we wish we saw more of.
For almost forever, writers have been advised to “write what you know.” At this tricky moment in our culture, that phrase has gathered momentum. Writing what you know is often a tidy and effective way not to appropriate someone else’s identity.
In my newly released book,Two Tales: Jamali Kamali and ZundelState, I have written two stories that did not grow from what I know but from what I don’t know. In these pages, I will talk about the first tale. Jamali and Kamali lived in sixteenth century India and are buried together in a small tomb in India. The poem is a fictional account of their love, separation, and death.
Here’s what happened. In 2004, I spent a month-long writing residency at the Sanskriti Foundation in Delhi. One morning, a week after I arrived – I hadn’t written a thing that first week and didn’t really care — the Sanskriti residents were told that later that day, we would have a chance to visit the newly restored Jamali Kamali Mosque and Tomb, which had been in the process of restoration for seven years.
Our bus arrived at the overgrown park entrance. We traipsed alongside a river full of plastic garbage, climbed through hills of brush, climbed over unrestored ruins, climbed through Balban’s Tomb, and finally arrived on top of a hill, a plateau, where the Jamali Kamali Mosque and Tomb stood. A brand-new sign at its entrance informed visitors that the Tomb held the remains of Jamali, a 16th century Sufi Court Poet and Saint and Kamali, whose identity, the sign said, was unknown.
When I entered the tomb, its beauty startled me. Looking at the two white marble graves, the conservator began to talk. He explained who Jamali was, then said, “It is believed, through Delhi’s oral tradition, that Kamali was his homosexual lover.” “What?” I blurted out, “But…. the new sign out front says his identity was unknown. I don’t understand. Why does the sign say that Kamali’s identity is unknown.” He explained that, in fact, no-one really knows for sure who Kamali was, and also the information that he may have been Jamali’s male lover would never be announced on a public sign, taking into account the beliefs of our large Muslim population.”
Deeply jarred by the disjuncture of that moment, when I returned to my Sanskriti desk, I began to write as if I were Jamali speaking to Kamali. I had nothing in mind. No direction. By the end of three weeks in Delhi, there was a draft of the first section of Jamali Kamali. Almost two years later, what began that moment in Delhi, had grown into a book-length poem.
Many people have asked me, “Why did YOU write this book? The answer is – I don’t really know.
I’m not a man. I’m not gay. I’m not Indian. I’m not Muslim. I’m not a Mughal scholar. I’m not an art historian. I’m a straight white American Jewish 21st century woman. I’ve crossed many lines here – gender, sexual orientation, time, hemisphere, religion, culture, etcetera. Without intention, I appropriated.
Since then, many people who have read Jamali Kamali, believe I was channeling the men. Others have mistaken it for a translation of Jamali’s poetry. And, strangely enough, in India, my poem has been cited numerous times as a historical record about the two men.
Opening oneself to the unknown paves the way for large-scale exploration rather than the up-close, confining details of “what I know.” The unknown is a wider plain—a vast place where options flourish. It expands the smallness of “what I know.”
Was I channeling these men? Is the poem an expression of my subconscious? Or is it the imagination at work? Are these three things separate, do they overlap, or are they the same thing? Who knows. What I do know is that when you open the mind’s flaps, leave behind what you know, and walk through a blank landscape, you may be taken aback by what you find.
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About the Author
Karen Chase is the author of two collections of poems, Kazimierz Square and BEAR, as well as Jamali-Kamali: A Tale of Passion in Mughal India, a book-length homoerotic poem, published in India in 2011. Her award-winning book, Land of Stone, tells the story of her work with a silent young man in a psychiatric hospital where she was the hospital poet.
In her memoir Polio Boulevard, Chase brings the reader back to the polio outbreak of the 1950s that crippled our country. In her lively sickbed she experiences puppy love, applies to the Barbizon School of Modeling, and dreams of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The Larooco Log: FDR on the Houseboat, a project that grew directly out of her memoir, follows Franklin Delano Roosevelt during a Florida winter when he lived on a houseboat, attempting to regain use of his paralyzed legs. History Is Embarrassing, her collection of essays, was published in 2024, and Two Tales: Jamali Kamali and ZundelState, in 2025.
Karen Chase’s poems, stories and essays have appeared in The New Yorker, The New Republic, The Gettysburg Review and Southwest Review, among others. Her poems have been anthologized in The Norton Introduction to Poetry, Andrei Codrescu’s An Exquisite Corpse Reader, and Billy Collins’ Poetry 180. Chase and her husband, the painter Paul Graubard, live in Western Massachusetts.
I always seen to get a question when people find out that I’m an author. “How did you start writing?”
You would think that is an easy question to answer. I don’t know about other authors, but I have a few different answers. Which one I give depends on what is meant by ‘start writing.’
I’ve always told myself stories. Some were about characters I saw on different characters on TV shows and books interacting. Sometimes they were about characters I made up. The earliest I vaguely remember had to do with me traveling to Narnia after I read C. S. Lewis when I would have been around ten years old. But I never actually wrote those stories down, so don’t have the details of my adventures with Aslan, Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter.
Oddly enough, I never channeled that into my English classes in school beyond the necessary creative writing assignments. Probably because at that time I had an interest in fantasy and science fiction, and I kept hearing from teachers that no woman who wanted to write seriously would write in those genres. So giving into a misogyny that I didn’t comprehend at the time, I kept those stories to myself as daydreams.
Then two things happened in the early nineties. I discovered the television show The X-Files, and I also got online. My sister mentioned that she had seen an X-Files forum on America Online (yes, I was one of those people). From there, discovered online fandom in general, and fan fiction specifically. I finally had a name to put to what I had been doing for years. So now my stories had a place to be shared.
Around the same time I also found an anthology titled originally enough Werewolves. It was the first time I had come across stories about werewolves outside of the horror genre. Mind you, the book did have short horror stories, but there was also humor and romance focused stories. And it got me thinking.
The focus of my fanfic stories shifted from trying to stay relatively close to the canon of the series to an original creation. A friend and I had both were complaining about being stuck on stories we were writing. So we decided that we’d both create a character, toss them together, and see what happened. What happened was a 200 chapter, meandering paranormal romance that pulled in aspects of some tv shows, but had mostly original characters. I learned about world-building, creating canon for your stories universe, sticking to that canon as you go forward in the story, and how to create the structure to hang your plot on. It still exists on our hard drives, and occasionally I go back to peek at it. While it was an incredible effort, it was ultimately unpublishable.
My friend and I are still writing, by the way, but we’ve shifted our focus. We are currently working on a paranormal romance series. The first book in it will be released later this year.
At this point, I had been going to conventions and met authors both in person and online. It was at one of these conventions I had the seed of the idea for what would become the Jordan Abbey series. Using all I had learned over the years of writing as a hobby, and learning a lot more, I completed Chaos Wolf. In the middle of writing what I thought would be a standalone book, I realized that there were a lot more stories in this universe that I could tell.
Chaos Kin is the most recent of these stories. I have a few more misadventures of Jordan Abbey that I hope to share, as well as a few more story seeds that I want to make bloom.
Sheryl R. Hayes has a new MMF paranormal book out (bi, poly), Jordan Abbey book 3: Chaos Kin.
In the town of Rancho Robles, can one werewolf protect the Children of the Wolf and the Bat? Chaos Wolf Jordan Abbey has made friends among the Black Oak Pack even though she refuses to join it. The same can’t be said of the vampires, but her life has taken a turn for the better.
That is until Enya Blevins, sister to the werewolf who turned Jordan, arrives in Rancho Robles. She wants to know who killed her baby brother and is less than impressed by the Chaos Wolf. Enya wants revenge, starting with Jordan and ending with the vampires infesting the area.
Jordan is prepared to flee, but a technicality makes her an Alpha Werewolf. Now she must stand her ground to protect her nascent Pack and those she loves.
The past has come back to bite her. Does she have the fangs to bite back?
About the Series:
In the Northern California town of Rancho Robles where the Children of the Wolf and the Bat share an uneasy coexistence. One werewolf woman threatens to upset that balance.
Jordan nodded. She and Montgomery had pulled over three blocks from the entrance to the Black Oak Pack’s compound for one last quick discussion. “Got the Uber request programmed in to meet me here. If things go wrong, we run.”
Montgomery shook his head, hand tightening on the steering wheel. “No, you run.”
Jordan’s expression tightened. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Jordan, you have to run without me.” Montgomery stared at her until she looked away. “I know you’re afraid of what will happen to me. But they won’t harm me. To do so is to risk open conflict with Elder Marcus.”
Jordan bit back her response. Alpha Shane may have a vested interest in living in peace with the Elder of the Conclave of Rancho Robles. That didn’t mean that these strangers who came from far away would have the same desires. Add to the fact things were personal between Montgomery and Enya, and the odds were that they wouldn’t be thinking about insulting the vampires in the area.
She sighed and recited the plans they had come up with the night before. “If things go south, I run back to the Cataluña and wait for you or Thorn. If after twenty-four hours, neither of you show up, I ask Elder Marcus for help getting someplace safe. You and Thorn will join me once you’re able to.”
Montgomery smiled and nodded. She noticed a tear in the corner of his eye. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
She didn’t bother to say that he didn’t sound like he believed it any more than she did.
Jordan closed her eyes but lifted her head as she and Montgomery drove up to the gate of the Black Oak Pack’s home territory. As if by mutual consent, neither of them spoke as Sentry Rodriguez waved them through. There was no point hashing out their plans further. In the next ten minutes, they would know if she would have to run and hide with her tail between her legs.
The silence continued as they walked to the front door. Angela opened the door before she had a chance to knock on it, focusing on Jordan instead of Montgomery. The blonde blond werewolf arched her eyebrows in a question.
Jordan shook her head ever so slightly.
Angela’s lips pressed together as she narrowed her eyes. Jordan could hear her thoughts. Why am I not surprised? Instead, she gestured them inside. “This way please.”
The entire pack was gathered, clumping together in little knots around the room. Pamela met her eyes and then turned her attention back to her conversation with Tran. Alpha Shane, Envoy Blevins, and Talespeakers stood by the cold, dark fireplace. Angela took her place with the rest of the younger people in the room. The tension in the room ramped up as the four highest-ranking werewolves focused on her and Montgomery. Alpha Shane dipped his head in greeting. “Chaos Wolf Abbey, Mr. Cooper.”
Enya was far less formal, not giving Montgomery and Jordan a chance to greet them. She assessed Jordan, head lifted so she stared down her nose. “Were you able to retrieve the fangs?”
Jordan drew herself up to stand straight and as tall as she could. “No.”
Everyone around her tensed, which she expected.
“This isn’t her fault,” Montgomery said. “She didn’t know—”
“Silence, vampire!” Enya snapped. Her focus was on Jordan as she paced forward. “It’s not completely your fault. I blame you as much as I blame him.” She nodded towards Alpha Shane. “And him.” Her gaze turned towards Montgomery.
Alpha Shane’s shoulders hunched. He shifted his weight but said nothing.
She felt her ears flatten, an impressive trick as she was in her human form. Jordan opened her mouth, trying to force her words through her snarl. To her surprise, Billy, Juan, Tran, and Maria surrounded her and Montgomery with Angela taking the point in front of Jordan. Jordan couldn’t see her expression, but the young woman stood stiffly, legs apart, and fists braced on her waist.
Confused, Jordan looked at Billy on her right, eyes wide. “What’s going on?” she whispered as Montgomery put a hand on her shoulder.
“We’re saving your skin,” he said. “Now, shush.”
Angela looked at Enya. “Jordan shouldn’t be treated as a chaos wolf. She is—”
“Angela!” Alpha Shane barked, glaring at her.
His daughter didn’t stop speaking. “—An alpha wolf in her own right.”
Author Bio
Sheryl R. Hayes can be found untangling plot threads or the yarn her three cats have been playing with. She is equally likely to be shooing one of them off the keyboard as she is working on her novels and short stories. In addition to writing, she is a cosplayer focusing on knit and crochet costumes.
