Uncaged Book Reviews

ISSUE 62 | November/December 2021

note from t h e editor

N

ovember/December 2021 - Can you believe it’s already near the end of the year? Not that I’m personally going to miss 2021, but it sure went quickly.

The Life in Motion column will not run this issue, as I announce the winners of the Raven Awards. Unfortunately, due to my physical limitations (my back and my hand), I am not having a live party for the award announcements. All authors will be contacted after the issue is released to send them their awards.

I am planning on having Uncaged host a Facebook Live Party around the holidays and inviting many authors to join the fun. Once this issue is released, I will begin the process of getting that together.

Uncaged will also be giving away fun prizes to authors and readers.

We will be continuing with the “Buy 2, Get 1” promotion we’ve been running, with some changes for 2022. The promotion will only be for Full Page Ads, so if you buy 2, you will get one free. No other advertising will be eligible. With the issues selling out advertising more frequently, this gives more opportunities for all in advertising in the magazine. It really does help from a marketing standpoint, to have an advertisment run three months in a row - to repeat in the readers mind. You don’t just see a commercial on TV one time and remember it, right? So we will continue to try and provide the best bang for your buck and get the most eyes we can on your work.

the Reviews/Feature Info Page to request a Feature in 2021. Put in your top 3 choices and this is normally first come/first serve, but I do move around months to keep a good selection of genres in each issue.

Soon I will also put up forms for Catch Up Features - these are for past feature authors that have a new book releasing, and we can do a shorter feature, and also a Short Story Submission form. Any author submitting an approved short story receives a full page ad in the same issue. The new form for Short Story Submissions has been added, and a Catch Up form will come next.

Enjoy the November/December issue of Uncaged Book Reviews.

Please have a safe and happy holiday season.

If you’d like to be a Feature Author, you can also fill out a form on

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X cyrene

contents feature authors CiCi Cordelia 24 historical romance 36 54 90 102

Maeve Greyson time travel historical romance

Ruth A. Casie historical romance

Lila Fox

contemporary romance

DK Marie

contemporary romance

114

Mark Leslie

132

Bruce Lewis

paranormal suspense

crime/suspense

144

Nicole Fanning

156

Tom McCaffrey

romantic suspense

fangfreakintastic Stacey Rourke 164 dark fantasy/horror

short story

78

Tess, Part 1 fantasy - Michael Giltner

guest columns

14 72

128

Sex in a Cemetery

Jennifer Ann Gordon

On the Road to Publication Marie Powell

Mending of a Broken Time Mary E. Jackson

2021 Raven Awards

10

All the winners of the 2021 Raven Awards.

cover image @raineelc via Twenty20

4 7 170 174 180

Note from the Editor Contributors|Partnerships Uncaged Reviews FangFreakinTastic Reviews Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews

suspense

authors and their pets

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Issue 62 | November/December 2021

Uncaged on Instagram

Uncaged’s Feature Authors introduce you to their devoted writing buddies, and the devotion goes both ways.

Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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Contributors | Partnerships

Follow Uncaged on Facebook

Paranormal lover’s rejoice. Uncaged review contributors.

A blog for horror fans. Uncaged review contributors.

A little bit of everything. Uncaged review contributors.

If you’d like your banner here, please email me at UncagedBooks@gmail.com Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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upcomingconventions Uncaged will watch for any cancelations or modifications for the 2021 season. Please watch their websites for information as the dates get closer.

KallypsoCon November 4–7, 2021; Orlando, FL https://kallypsomasters.com/kallypsocon-2021/ Book Lovers Con Dec 16–19, 2021; Orlando, FL https://www.bookloverscon.com/

Indie Romance Convention (IRC) November 10–13, 2021; Lebanon, TN http://www.indieromanceconvention.com/

Coastal Magic Convention February 24–27, 2022; Daytona Beach, FL http://coastalmagicconvention.com/

Shameless Book Con November 12–14, 2021; Orlando, FL https://shamelessbookcon.com/

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Favorite Cover

Winner: By the Unholy Hand Kathryn Le Veque

Runner-Up Fire Maidens: Portugal Anna Lowe

Contemporary Winner: Woke

Peggy Jaeger

Books reviewed - june 2021 and r 4 Star review we entered in the voted on b

Runner-Up Mission Impossible to forget Jacki Delecki

Urban Fantasy

Winner: Dragon’s Ground Shannon Mayer

Runner-Up Undercover Magic Linsey Hall

Paranormal

Winner: License to Bite Carrie Pulkinen

Runner-Up Hidden Gypsy Magic Tena Stetler

SciFi-Dysto

Winner Shadow C

Anna Moci

RunnerSlayer

Cyndi Fribe

between July 2020 received at least a ere automatically voting and were by the public.

opian

r: City

ikat

-Up r

erg

Fantasy

Winner: Fire Maidens: Portugal

Anna Lowe

Runner-Up Destiny of a Warrior Mary Morgan

Novella

Winner: Fall of the Lyon Chasity Bowlin

Runner-Up Magnolia Mystic Lisa Kessler

Historical - Non Regnecy Winner: Magnar

Mary Morgan

Runner-Up By the Unholy Hand Kathryn Le Veque

Historical Regency

Winner: Wagered in Winter Scarlett Scott

Runner-Up Into the Lyon’s Den Jade Lee

Winners will receive a custom badge and a gift certificate for advertising in Uncaged Book Reviews.

The Authors to Blame if You Find Yourself Having Sex in a Cemetery Guest column by Jennifer Ann Gordon

| GUEST COLUMN |

The Authors to Blame if You Find Yourself Having Sex in a Cemetery

by Jennifer Anne Gordon

Now, I think it’s safe to say that there are many types of people in the world, today I am going to be writing about one very specific type of person. The “Taphophile”, a word that stems from the Greek, meaning “to love graves”. PLEASE do not get this confused with “Necrophile” (being attracted to dead things) …these are two different types of fetishes.

Now, I guess my love affair with cemeteries started when I was young, you see, if I snuck out my back yard and walked just a few hundred blocks though my neighbor’s yard and past her very boisterous and barking Golden Retriever, Sandy, I was transported into another land. A land of quiet, rolling green hills and paths, a land of beautiful white stones all lined up like soldiers.

This cemetery became the meeting place for all the neighborhood misfit toys. The goth girls, the skate punks, the senior speed-walkers, jogging soccer moms, and the specific “cemetery picnicker”. Now you see, I alternated between the goth girl and the picnicker. The goth girl in me smoked her first cigarette in that cemetery, the goth girl would go to the cemetery with my friends during snowstorms and clear the graves and light the candles…we thought we were edgy, and spiritual, when truthfully we were probably just bored.

My love of the cemetery picnic stemmed from my general love of picnicking. Proper Picnicking, and by that I mean cucumber sandwiches, no crusts, pales cheeses and crackers, thin slices of pale lemon cakes, lemon snap cookies (No ginger snaps here, I’m no heathen), white sparkling wine, proper silverware and glasses, and of course…poetry books.

A proper cemetery picnic needs people to be lounging on their blanket, under their parasols, while reading Tennyson.

In fact, I am describing a very specific picnic that happened several years ago, in a Victorian Era Cemetery, somewhere in the wilds of Ohio. It was August, the heat, the wine, and the sun perhaps were getting to us (my partner and I) and somewhere after 14 | UncagedBooks.com

reading Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shalott” and before “The May Queen” … well, we of course had sex in the cemetery, in the middle of the day.

So that brings me to author #1 in my list of authors I blame for having sex in a cemetery.

1-Alfred Lord Tennyson – maybe it was the dusty antique copy of his complete works that I had, or the ephemeral feel of the paper turning to dust under my fingers as I turned the pages.

Perhaps it was all the “beautiful and doomed women” in his poetry that made me throw caution to the wind… but yes, Tennyson is to blame for cemetery sex.

2-Edgar Allen Poe – Annabelle Lee is basically pornography for Taphophilia! Tell me you don’t want to rip off your clothes or someone else’s when you read the last part of that poem!

Honestly if there was a study done of all the people who have had sex in cemeteries, I think at least 47% of them are directly tied to this. I’m not good at math, or studies, so this is really just an educated guess.

“And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling-my darling-my life And my bride, In her sepulchre there by the seaIn her tomb by the sounding sea” 3-Audrey Niffenegger – Now, most people will know her from her outstanding novel The Time Traveler’s Wife, but the reason why Audrey makes this list is because of Her Fearful Symmetry. A book so tender and beautiful, and her use of the location of Victorian Highgate Cemetery should almost be considered one of the main characters of that novel. Read that book for the cemetery but love that book for the strange

and haunting love story that is at its center. It’s possible to fall in love with a ghost, it’s possible to be a ghost who feels passion, rage, regret, and longing.

4-Tracy Chevalier – Again, she is probably most well known for “The Girl With The Pearl Earring”, but instead my brain always goes to “Falling Angels” a book that explores the Victorian fascination with Death, and the burgeoning sexuality and changing social mores of the early Edwardian Era. The story focuses on the relationship of the two young daughters of families that have adjacent cemetery plots. This book is part exploration of the class system of the Victorian Era, and part silent song of prepressed sexuality. Honestly, just writing this makes me want to take off my pants!!

5-Anne Rice - really, I can’t specifically tell you which of her books made me think that she needed to be on this list but, she needed to be on the list.

Perhaps it is because I read the Lestat books when I was 17 and 18, and then all of the Sleeping Beauty reimagining’s, but I find Anne Rice’s language to be lurid, and enveloping, like the scent of a decaying orchid. Reading her work, you feel the energy of a night in New Orleans, you can almost feel the cemeteries calling out to you to make bad decisions. The graves call to you to leave offerings, light candles, leave memories. I love it.

6-Mary Shelley – this is for her!!

Heck, I could have started the list with Shelley, or just had her name for each number on this list, but I saved her for the last. Yes, the godmother of female written horror deserves to be here for the slow creeping dread of Frankenstein. She also deserves to be here for the rumors of ghost sto-

| JENNIFER ANN GORDON | ries and orgies with Percy Shelley and Lord Byron (I do love poetry!!). But she is here on this list because of the fact that Miss Shelley lost her virginity to her future husband after she had sex with him on her mother’s grave. Some may call that morbid, but to me it makes Mary Shelley the queen of the gothic taphophile!!

Hit me up on my author page on facebook @JenniferAnneGordonAuthor or visit my website at www.

JenniferAnneGordon.com and let me know what books or authors have made you want to have sex in a cemetery!! I will be interested in reading them.

I will leave you with a short list of the things that are inspiring me today.

1-Sculptures that capture the softness of fabric even when it is carved out of stone 2-The way the wind sometimes sounds like water running.

3-The way a bird’s back feels when you run your finger down it.

4-Echoes down empty hallways.

5-The milky color of the sky in the early morning. ©Copyright 2021 Jennifer Anne Gordon for Uncaged Book Reviews www.uncagedbooks.com Jennifer Anne Gordon is a gothic horror/literary fiction novelist. Her work includes Beautiful, Frightening and Silent which won the Kindle Award for Best Horror/Suspense for 2020, Won Best Horror 2020 from Authors on the Air, was a Finalist for American Book Fest’s Best Book Award- Horror, 2020. It also received the Platinum 5 Star Review from Reader’s Choice as Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| GUEST COLUMN | well as the Gold Seal from Book View.

Her novel, From Daylight to Madness (The Hotel book 1) received the Gold Seal from Book View, as well as The Platinum Seal from Reader’s Favorite, and When the Sleeping Dead Still Talk (The Hotel book 2) was released to critical acclaim and was recently announced as a semifinalist for Best Horror/Suspense for the Kindle Awards for 2021.

Her latest novel Pretty/Ugly received the platinum Seal from Readers Favorite, as well as the Gold Medal from Literary Titan. The novel has been called “An exquisitely written horror tale”

by Wendy Webb (NYT Bestselling author of The Haunting of Brynn Wilder) Jennifer also had a collection of her artwork published Victoriana: The Mixed Media Art of Jennifer Gordon.

Jennifer is one of the hosts as well as the creator of Vox Vomitus, the top-rated video podcast on the Global Authors on the Air Network, as well as the host of “Let’s Scare Jennifer to Death” As a podcast host Jennifer has interviewed authors such as V.C Andrews, James Rollins, Paul Tremblay, Sarah Langan, Mary Burton, Josh Malerman, Joe Lansdale, Shawn Cosby, Carol Goodman, Paula Munier, Wendy Webb, and Matt Ruff. She had been a contributor to Ladies of Horror Fiction, Horror Tree, Writers After Dark, Reader’s Entertainment Magazine, Nerd Daily, and Ginger Nuts of Horror. She is also a featured writer for Top Shelf Magazine, and Uncaged Magazine.

She is a member of the Horror Writers Association where she sits on one of the juries for the Bram Stoker Awards. She is also a member of New England Horror Writers and sits on the committee for the New England Crime Bake festival.

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Jennifer is a pale curly haired ginger, obsessed with horror, ghosts, abandoned buildings, and her dog “Lord Tubby”.

She graduated from the New Hampshire Institute of Art, where she studied Acting. She also studied at the University of New Hampshire with a concentration in Art History and English.

She has made her living as an actress, a magician’s assistant, a “gallerina”, a comic book dealer, a painter, and burlesque performer and for the past 10 years as an award-winning professional ballroom dancer, performer, instructor, and choreographer.

When not scribbling away (ok, typing frantically) she enjoys traveling with her husband and dance partner, teaching her dog ridiculous tricks (like ‘give me a kiss’ and ‘what hand is the treat in?’ ok these are not great tricks.) as well as taking photos of abandoned buildings and haunted locations.

She is a leo, so at the end of the day she just thinks about her hair.

For more information and benevolent stalking, please visit her website at http://www.JenniferAnneGordon. com For media and interview requests please contact Mickey Mikkelson at Creative Edge Publicity – mickey. creativeedge@gmail.com Literary Rep – Paula Munier at Talcott Notch - pmunier@talcottnotch.net Facebook Author Page - https://www.facebook.com/ JenniferAnneGordonAuthor/ Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/jennifergenevievegordon/ Twitter - https://twitter.com/JenniferAnneGo5

showcase George Curletto

The Oblique Nonsense Of It All The Oblique Nonsense Of It All

originated from the Italian word “fascismo” which simply means “unity”.

Only when people truly understand the meaning of fascism will they be able to see the significance of how high-ranking politicians have demonized this word without realizing that their encouragement on “uniting together” is actually what fascism is all about, in its literal sense.

George Curletto Non-fiction/Opinion

seemingly profound word.

Breaking down “Fascism” to the core, author probes the literal meaning of fascism to provide readers a clear, better understanding of this

In his book, “The Oblique Nonsense of It All: A Probing Look at the Literal Meaning of Fascism”, musician and author George Curletto strips the word “Fascism” into its core to let readers see how society has somehow misunderstood or misused this vilified term. Using simplified and very specific examples, readers will have a clearer and a more open perception of what fascism is.

With explicit descriptions and examples, comparative references, and allegories to explain the word fascism, the author intends for this book to be an easy read and an understandable reference. Many have distorted the idea of fascism, that’s why this book aims to describe and explain how the word fascism is not a political ideology or a codified system of government; but rather, it 18 | UncagedBooks.com

George Curletto has been a full-time professional musician of Local 802 of New York City and of Local 161-710 of Washington, D.C. As a music composer published internationally, he is a member of A.S.C.A.P and also of S.I.A.E and as a member of the American Poets Association, he is a lyricist.

He likes to write, read, paint and do so many other creative undertakings. Also, he is a designer and an inventor with several U.S. patents, and nominated as a Who’s Who of U.S. Patents’ Inventory. His main focus is always on music.

Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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feature authors

CiCi Cordelia

Maeve Greyson

historical romance

Ruth A. Casie

C ici cordelia

A

ward-Winning author, CiCi Cordelia, is the pen name for the writing team of BFFs Char Chaffin and Cheryl Yeko. Their books have won or finaled in many writing contests, including Heart of Excellence Readers Choice Award, Heart of the West Great Beginnings Contest, The Beverley, InD’Tale Magazine’s RONE Award, the International Digital Awards (IDA) Contest, the NEST, and more.

Published authors in their own right, they share a love for well-written stories in| UncagedBooks.com fused24 with their favorite romantic genres:

paranormal, suspense, western, and erotica. Both are fans of Alpha Men and the women they’d lay down their lives for.

Stay Connected

As a writing duo, what is the most difficult scene for you to write? What is the easiest?

Char: For me, the easiest is scene-setting. I do an enormous amount of research in order to get everything right and I’m very visual and detail-crazy.

Probably the hardest for me is keeping action active.

Cheryl: I like action, and it’s sometimes hard for me to slow down with my characters to just take a breath and enjoy the day.

CHERYL

CHAR ccromance.com

Uncaged welcomes CiCi Cordelia Welcome back to Uncaged! Your newest book in the Brides of Little Creede series, “The High Society Wife” will release by the time we go to print on October 20th. Could you tell readers more about the series and this addition?

Char & Cheryl: Sure thing!

A FAMILY. A LEGACY. During the height of Colorado Silver mining, fortunes could be found and lost in the blink of an eye. And those who sought to better themselves came from all over the country, looking to strike it big.

Many settled in and around Little Creede, Colorado, eking out a meager living along with mines that might never yield their silver bounties before all hope of discovery was lost. Some went home, empty-handed and broken. Others succeeded beyond their wildest dreams ...

Spanning the years, from 1878 to approximately 1890, the six-book series celebrated its fifth release, The High Society Wife, in October 2021. The overall series has been in the Top 100 American Historical and Historical Western sales rank internationally. The first four books representing the initial Little Creede Series have all been award winners.

Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

Char: In the Brides of Little Creede series, I have loved creating and then writing Knight Gleason, our brash Georgia gambler. His thick Southern dialect and his over-the-top personality has been so much fun. I can’t say that any of the characters have been hard to write. I just love them all.

Cheryl: I love Frank Carter from The Dance Hall Wife. A bit rough around the edges, he tends to speak before his brain has a chance to tell him it’s maybe not such a good idea. But he has a big heart and will do anything to protect and care for those he loves, or anyone in need, actually. Kind of like the men I grew up with.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

Char & Cheryl: We think about our heroine first and the best way to describe her.

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

Char: I do my best thinking when I’m ironing clothes.

Cheryl: The first book in The Brides of Little Creede Series is based off a true story as told to me by my mother from our family history. Harrison and Retta Osborn are the actual names of this couple, Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | and the unusual way they met.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

Char & Cheryl: It’s a bit of both. We have a general idea of the plot since we like to introduce our characters in a prior book, so we have at least a basic idea of their background and personality.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

Char: Reading. I read myself to sleep every night, wake myself up in the morning with reading, and throughout the day I rarely do anything without a book in hand at the same time, including watching TV, even cooking meals. I read very fast, so I go through a lot of books.

Cheryl: Working out on my Oculus VR headset or relaxing with a glass of wine and a good book.

what’s going on in my personal life. Some years are better than others.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

Are you reading anything now?

Char: I am on my Kindle app constantly, but I do love a print book in my hand.

Cheryl: I prefer Kindle, although I enjoy a good audible here and there. All CiCi’s books are also on audible, and we have a fantastic narrator.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Char & Cheryl: First, a huge THANK YOU! For giving Little Creede a try, for loving each book, for cheering on our heroes and heroines. For appreciating what it takes to bring the late 19th century alive, too.

Best places to follow CiCi?

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

For our latest books, our Amazon author page: https:// www.amazon.com/Cici-Cordelia/e/B01AJ5EM90

Char: Winter in Texas, summer in Alaska. We live in both places.

To follow us, CiCi’s Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/HeartfeltRomance

Cheryl: Summer so I can swim in our pool. Love pool season.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

Char: I write slowly and am easily distracted.

A solo novel will take me years. When I write with Cheryl, she cracks the whip. ::grin:: If I am facing a deadline, I can speed up.

Cheryl: I probably write 5-6 hours a day. A novel takes anywhere from 4-8 months, depending on 28 | UncagedBooks.com

Enjoy an excerpt from The High Society Wife The High Society Wife CiCi Cordelia Historical Romance RICHARD . . .

After his grandfather passes away, Richard Blackwood travels East to collect his stubborn Granny Zinnia and bring the grieving widow back home.

When a passionate encounter with a childhood acquaintance ends in a refused marriage proposal, he returns to Little Creede with a wounded heart.

| CICI CORDELIA | EVELYN . . .

Educated and groomed to make an advantageous marriage, Evelyn Calhoun faces parental censure when a secret, romantic tryst results in scandal. Desperate to escape her father’s wrath, she flees Baltimore, seeking Richard’s protection.

LOVE AND FAMILY . . .

Can Richard and Evelyn work past their differences, and a sinister threat from the past, to make a life with each other in Little Creede?

Excerpt “Five more miles to Little Creede,” the driver called out, causing Evelyn’s dread to increase.

Should I have come?

What if Richard turned her away? She could not travel back to Baltimore on her own. That fear had stayed with her the entire trip to this unfamiliar territory. She was out of funds, not to mention too weak to manage such a trip.

Not again . . .

Her traveling companion smiled gently. “It’ll be all right, honey. I’m sure your man will be waiting for you when you arrive.”

He offered her his water canteen, and she took another small sip, even though she hated feeling like she was accepting charity. She was in no position to refuse his generous offer.

“Thank you, Mister Prescott.” She returned his canteen. “You have been so very kind.”

“Now, you just call me Tommy. We don’t stand on ceremony in Little Creede, and I expect we’ll bump into each other now and then.”

The elder gentleman had been most attentive to her since they’d left the stagecoach station in George-

town. Seemingly concerned over her weak state of health, he’d taken it upon himself to be sure she had food and water during the journey to Little Creede. Sharing with her what little he had on him had afforded her the energy to remain somewhat alert.

“I wish I could repay you somehow, but I’m afraid I used the last of my coin in Georgetown for my final coach ticket,” she said.

He patted her hand. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Why, you’re about the same age as my granddaughter. I hope if she ever found herself in the same situation someone would help her.” He studied her critically. “You should try to rest. I’m sure your husband will be there to meet you upon arrival.”

Not bothering to correct his assumption, Evelyn closed her eyes, pretending to sleep as the stagecoach ate up the last few miles to Little Creede.

Yet her mind continued to whirl. Her stomach roiling with both nerves and hunger pangs, she prepared herself to come face to face with the man she’d spurned back home, but whose help she needed more than anything on God’s green earth. *** Relaxing on the front porch of the jailhouse, Richard tipped his chair back against the rough-hewn log exterior. Townsfolk scurried about, tidying up the street and hanging welcome banners for the Menagerie Museum which was expected to travel through town, sometime soon.

Since returning to Little Creede, he’d spent more time here than at his deputy post in Rocky Gulch.

He’d also traveled to Silver Cache for his nephew Duncan’s birth, staying a couple extra weeks to lend a helping hand to the new family.

Tucker Phelps, hired on as replacement deputy once Richard took over as the Gulch’s new sheriff, was perfectly capable of handling things over there, easing some of his guilt. Helping Granny settle in had been a higher priority, even if she still held a chip on her shoulder the size of the Rio Grande.

Maybe she’d find it in her heart soon to forgive her family for neglecting her all these years.

As much as Richard regretted it, what was done Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | was done. Now he’d do all he could to ensure her remaining years were happy, surrounded by her loved ones.

If she’d let them.

Joshua Lang ambled through the open door and plopped down on the other chair, a single encompassing glance taking in the bustling activities of his town. A satisfied smile curved the sheriff’s lips as he propped his dusty boots on the railing. “Nice to see everyone having fun in anticipation of the menagerie coming through. It’s been a while since Little Creede had a large event.”

“I have to admit, I’m looking forward to it too.”

Joshua squinted into the sun, thumbing his Stetson off his perspiring forehead. “Gonna be hot the entire time they’re set up here. I’m right glad I’ll be getting out of town for a bit.”

“You still planning on fishing over at Upper Bonney? There’s some good trouting in that creek.”

“Yep, taking Davey with me. That fool man works too damned hard.”

Davey Bentley had been the Gulch Mine foreman for years, barely taking off any time to spend with his family. If anyone deserved to relax on a creek bed and drop a pole in the water, Richard reckoned Bentley did.

“You’ll miss the first few days of the Menagerie,” he commented idly.

“True. I expect the family’ll forgive me.” Joshua shot him a sly look. “You escorting a special lady?

If not, I know Vivian has a few friends who’d be interested in stepping out with you. Take your pick.”

Richard snorted. This wasn’t the first time Joshua had tried to interest him in a woman. “I don’t know, Lang, seems like marriage is turning you into a matchmaker.”

30 | UncagedBooks.com

He shrugged, appearing unbothered at the accusation.

“I respect you, Blackwood, and consider you a friend.

I’d like to see you as happy as I am. And there’s nothing better than a good woman to bring sunshine into a man’s life.”

Richard started to form a snappy retort when an approaching stagecoach at the outskirts of town caught his attention. He watched as it slowed, taking the turn toward the station, wheels and hooves kicking up dust.

The coach came to an abrupt stop amidst neighs from the team, Purdy’s by the look of it. The grizzled driver ran travelers back and forth from Georgetown and Canon City in the warmer months when he needed extra gambling money.

Keeping a lawman’s eye on the stage gave Richard a reason to ignore Lang’s suggestion. Besides, his emotions had yet to recover from his last dalliance with a female, and it wasn’t something he was anxious to repeat.

Women were fickle.

Spoiled.

Leading a man on with softness and warmth.

Stomping his pride into the ground under a dainty foot.

Richard’s focus remained on the arriving travelers.

Purdy threw on the brake and hopped down, hurrying around the side to unlock the coach door.

His thoughts strayed to Evelyn Calhoun, the flawless beauty who’d spurned him in Baltimore. When the stagecoach door popped open, Purdy held out his hand to assist a lady who looked a hell of a lot like her.

Must be my imagination.

He blinked in confusion, because never would the woman he remembered stoop to travel West to a dirty mining town. She’d made that very clear last time he’d seen her.

His eyes narrowed, straining to make out her features.

Evelyn came from money and wore only the finest clothing, her appearance always immaculate. The way she carried herself spoke of a refined upbringing.

| CICI CORDELIA | This bedraggled woman wore a traveling gown that hung on a frame thinner than the deliciously feminine curves he recalled, curves he’d loved exploring in minute detail during their time together.

Joshua pushed back the brim of his Stetson. “You know her?”

Richard began to shake his head in denial, when she descended the rickety coach steps. Her hat slipped off, hanging around her neck by its ribbons, exposing a tangle of familiar sun-yellow curls.

Recognition hitting him like a kick to the gut, he leapt to his feet.

What the hell is she doing here?

“Looks like she’s sick,” Joshua commented, when Evelyn staggered.

Richard took off in a run as the woman he’d spent hours making love to in Baltimore, for a while believing they might have a future together, swayed forward. Tommy Prescott’s anxious face appeared in the doorway behind her.

Don’t miss these titles:

Only Purdy’s quick thinking saved her from hitting the ground when the driver caught her around the waist.

Richard reached them seconds later. A knot of unease tightened his shoulders. Joshua was correct, she looked sickly.

“I’ll take her.” Richard held out his arms.

“She yours?” Purdy asked suspiciously, handing her over. “She puked a lot on the trip.”

Richard’s gaze fell to Evelyn’s belly, protruding from her otherwise gaunt frame.

With child. The swell he spotted beneath her travelwrinkled gown changed everything. There was no doubt in his mind whose babe she carried.

He gulped, nodding as Joshua came to stand next to him. “Yes. Yes, she’s mine.”

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showcase Sandra Lee Reynolds Differently Abled Differently Abled

Sandra Lee Reynolds Children Everyone does things a little differently! But we’re all still human.

Differently Abled is about Sierra, a girl with Down’s Syndrome who is discouraged by her disability because she feels like she doesn’t fit in, and has no friends because of it. However, she refuses to let her disability discourage her from overcoming life’s challenges and is determined to be included.

When Sierra decided to voice her opinion, others realized that being different doesn’t mean you can’t do something. People listened, and everyone soon learned that extending kindness, patience, and acceptance are the keys to humanity..

U.S. Review of Books The US Review of Books Differently Abled Sandra Lee Reynolds Writers Republic Book Review by Jonah Meyer “The more Sierra speaks up, the more people will listen. Then, they can embrace her differences. Acceptance is the key.”

It was the first day of a brand new school year, but 32 | UncagedBooks.com

Sierra wasn’t too thrilled. This year would only be like every year. She thought to herself, “They always call me disabled, and never let me play.” As her Mom drove her to school, it was a beautiful sunny morning, but Sierra was dread-ing the day. When they arrived, she saw two girls her age playing hopscotch, and she really wanted to join them. Despite hearing mean words regarding her disability from one of the girls, Sierra was determined to show them she could play, too.

“Playing!” writes Reynolds. “Now that was something Sierra knew all about. She loved to play with Mom, Dad, and Curtis, her big brother.” Taking her first jump, she landed on her knees and cried as the second girl declared, “You’re disabled, you can’t play hopscotch.”

When young Sierra shouted that she was “not disabled, I’m just different than you. I’m differently abled. I like to play too,” the girls realized they had never looked at it that way. Her Mom explained that Sierra, having Down’s syndrome, absolutely could do things—it simply took a little longer and more effort for her to learn.

This led the girls to apologize to their classmate and offer to teach her how to play hopscotch during recess.

In fact, they enjoyed watching Sierra as she took “great pride in her gains.” Her first day back to school ended up being a great one. Fearful because she was afraid she would not fit in, she realized that people listened when she voiced her concerns.

Sierra is a real young lady and the author’s daughter. Important life lessons can be shared with young children by reading this book, such as not allowing a disability to hold one back in life. Determined to be included in the fun school recess activity of playing hopscotch, Sierra dis-plays bravery in voicing her feelings, using the very effective term “differently abled.” In fact, if one really thinks about it, all people—young and old alike—are quite literally abled in differ-ing ways.

Children who read Reynolds’ book, or have it read to them, will learn that just be-cause Sierra has Down’s syndrome, that in no way means she is incapable of doing the very same things all other boys and girls enjoy doing. Every child has inherent worth, the same basic needs and desires, and deserves to be treated with dignity. This book’s message of acceptance and embracing of differences is clearly communicated through a trueto-life story, accentuated with bright, appealing illustra-

tions. As the author herself writes regarding this story, “everyone learned that extending kindness, patience, and acceptance is the key to humanity.”

The book is dedicated to Reynolds’ daughter, Sierra, and son, Curtis. The cover (as well as an inside page) features a beautiful photograph of the two children smiling as they enjoy the scent of a flower as yellow as the floppy straw hat on top of Sierra’s head. The auAuthor Sandra Lee Reynolds brings forth a compelling story, with vibrant illustrations, to spread an important message to the world: embrace differences through acceptance.

Meet Sierra, a girl with Down’s Syndrome who is discouraged by her disability because she feels like she doesn’t fit in, and has no friends because of it.

However, Sierra refuses to let her disability discourage her from overcoming life’s challenges and is

thor writes that the two “taught me that continually moving through life’s challenges will create value, and embrac-ing one’s differences is the key to acceptance, which brings happiness.” With eighteen years of personal experience raising a child with Down’s syndrome, Reynolds mentors other children with disabilities in her free time. She specializes in “spreading acceptance,” encouraging people to embrace others’ differences. determined to be included. When Sierra voiced her opinion, others realized that being different doesn’t mean you can’t do something. Everyone learned that extending kindness, patience, and acceptance is the key to humanity.

Sandra Reynolds is an Immigration Services Officer with the Department of Homeland Security.

She has 18 years’ experience raising a child with Down’s Syndrome. She specializes in spreading acceptance. She is a powerful force in teaching people to embrace others’ differences. She uses her positive attitude, patience, and tireless energy to encourage others to be kind. She is inspired by her two children, Curtis and Sierra. In her free time, she mentors children with disabilities, spends time with her children, and loves to play with her grandchildren.

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maeve greyson

“No one has the power to shatter your dreams unless you give it to them.”

T

hat’s Maeve Greyson’s mantra. She and her husband of over forty years traveled around the world while in the U.S. Air Force before returning home to rural Kentucky.

When she’s not plotting stories about her 36 | UncagedBooks.com wonderfully alpha males (Highlanders are

her favorites) and the fearless women who tame them, she can be found herding cats, grandchildren, and her husband—not necessarily in that order, but all at the same level of difficulty.

Stay Connected

maevegreyson.com Uncaged welcomes Maeve Greyson Welcome to Uncaged! You are releasing two books in the series, Time to Love a Highlander. Can you tell readers more about this series and how they are connected?

It’s a pleasure to be here at Uncaged! Thank you for having me.

Many consider Scotland a magical place. I know I do.

When my husband and I visited there several years ago, history came alive. It wasn’t just names, dates, and places anymore. You could feel it as though it were a living breathing entity—as if the Ghost of Scotland’s past wanted to ensure you understood all the sacrifices, the tragedies, and most of all, the pride and love that is the lifeblood of that wonderful land. My Time to Love a Highlander series is about a few of Scotland’s natural geographical wonders that act as doorways to the past and transport unsuspecting souls back in time to unite them with their perfect match.

Each book portrays a different way back in time, how the modern-day heroine tackles traveling back to medieval Scotland, and whether she not only discovers a way to return to her time, but whether she chooses to return. Loving Her Highland Thief is book one, and the time passage is a cave. Taming Her Highland Legend is book two, and the time portal is behind a waterfall. I

guess you could say Scotland is the main character in all the books. A geographical matchmaker uniting all our heroes and heroines. I think the following tagline sums it up: It has long been said there’s a special someone for everyone. But what if that someone lives in a different time? Fear not, the Scottish Highlands have the answer.

You are also participating in two holiday anthologies, one geared toward Halloween and the other Christmas. Can you tell us about those anthologies?

Well, first of all, I’ve bought BOTH anthologies myself because I can’t wait to dive into all those tales from such a fantastic group of authors!

Upon a Midnight Dreary brings together many of your favorite Historical Romance authors for a collection of never-before published stories inspired by true, legendary hauntings of the British Isles. These tales will give you a chill, a thrill, and have you reading them over and over.

My contribution is Guardian of Midnight Manor. It’s a tale about a ghostly dog with glowing red eyes that not only keeps evil at bay but also leads the heirs of the Blackborn earldom to their true loves. It’s based loosely on the legend of Fair Ellen of Radcliffe Tower—a story my brother found while researching our family tree! It turns out poor Ellen was one of our ancestors.

So many authors enjoy writing Christmas tales that Dragonblade Publishing divided that anthology into two volumes. Star of Wonder and Star of Light.

My contribution to these fantastic collections is in Star of Light and entitled Love’s Charity. Evander Cameron from my Highland Heroes series returns to learn a very valuable lesson about love, sacrifice, and patience.

What is the most difficult scene for you to write?

What is the easiest?

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

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Most difficult? Definitely sex scenes because I want them to always be enticing, steamy, and most of all, emotional. Not an insert tab A into slot B type of scene or a biology lesson on reproduction.

Easiest? Any scene where an animal is interacting with the hero or heroine. Seems like I understand animals better than people most times. So, it’s easy to write their actions and reactions. People aren’t always so predictable.

Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

My characters are like my children. I love them all (well, the good guys/gals –not the bad guys/gals). I don’t think I could ever pick a favorite.

Sometimes it takes me two or three chapters to get to know a character’s true personality. Then I have to back up and fix everything once I know enough about them to do them justice. But I can’t recall any one character in particular being difficult. The easiest characters to write are the antagonists. Whenever you’re reading one of my villains, I promise you, you are reading about someone I have met and despised in real life. Of course, all names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

I try to come up with something catchy that fits the story and the genre. Then I google it and do Amazon searches to make sure it’s as original as possible. Sometimes, I come up blank. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. That’s when I tell my editor—I got nothing on this one. Then we’ll bounce ideas back and forth until we get one we both like. I would be SO lost without my editor.

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

Hmm…I’m not sure. Maybe the fact that I worked at a steel mill for 29 years? My hardhat and boots are still

| MAEVE GREYSON | around here somewhere. Or that while my husband was in the U.S. Air Force, I gave birth to my youngest daughter on Guam? She didn’t meet any of our family until we returned stateside when she was 18 months old. Or that I only knew my husband 3 months before we got married 42 years ago? What can I say? It was love at first sight.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

Plot first, then characters’ personalities. I outline, research, get it all planned out and then the feral little beasts run off and do whatever they want with the storyline, and it’s usually better because of it.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I don’t relax. Ever. That’s a problem I have, but I’m working on it. However, when I’m trying to get my mind off things, I walk through the woods. The wilderness often provides the best cure for whatever ails me.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

Fall. I love the cooler weather, boots, blue jeans, and oversized sweatshirts that camouflage the abundance of me that t-shirts and shorts can’t possibly hide. And in our area, we have all sorts of craft festivals in the fall. I love those festivals filled with pumpkins, baked goods, and all kinds of holiday decorations.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

I’m at my desk usually ten or so hours a day. I’d say six of those are actual writing while the remainder is marketing, planning future books, and social media. It takes me at least three months to write a full novel—full being 80k words minimum.

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The wilderness often provides the best cure for whatever ails me

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| MAEVE GREYSON | Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

Are you reading anything now?

I’m old school. I love physical books and think they should make a room freshener scented like a library or bookstore. I’m currently re-reading Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series because her next book comes out in November, and I want my memory refreshed.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

I appreciate them and have learned so much from their reviews, their posts, and their emails. And somehow, they always come through with a word of encouragement right when I need it. I love my readers. They’re my friends.

Enjoy an excerpt from Loving Her Highland Thief Loving Her Highland Thief Maeve Greyson Time Travel Historical Romance Stay? Lose all she’s ever known. Go? Lose the love of a lifetime.

As a struggling, 21st century farmer, Kenzie MacMartin knows if she doesn’t recover that registered ram that cost her a bundle, her dog won’t be the only one howling in the Highlands.

And to make matters worse, when she chases that fool sheep through a cave, she discovers a troupe of trespassing re-enactors mucking up her land with some kind of clan skirmish complete with realistic weapons, monstrous warhorses, and a restless herd of Highland cows. The only upside is their strikingly handsome leader—until he kidnaps her.

Mathias Stronach questions his sanity in laying claim to the strangely dressed woman and her vicious wee dog. Perhaps he should have let the MacPhersons take her prisoner. Then, she would’ve distracted them instead of him. Such daring and fire in this feisty lass. He’d bet his best dagger; her passions burn just as fiercely.

And that fine round backside of hers nestled between his thighs as they ride. Makes a man think twice about choices he’s made. Like promising to marry a woman he’s never loved so he can be the next chieftain of Clan Stronach.

When Kenzie realizes she’s barged into the thirteenth century, her priority is getting back to that cave and hoping if she retraces her steps, she’ll find her way back home. But vengeful clans, a medieval sociopath, and the mesmerizing warrior who draws her in like a bee to sweet clover thwarts that priority at every turn. Her head knows better. Her heart refuses to listen.

She misses her family, is worried about her farm, and would kill for coffee and a toothbrush. But those aren’t the worst things about traveling back several centuries. The worst thing is loving a man who, once she returns to her time, will have been dead for over eight hundred years.

Excerpt Highlands of Scotland An unknown cave near Loch Lochy Late April 2019 “Ramsay! Back here, ye devil!” Kenzie MacMartin leveraged her way past a jagged boulder, clambering over it with the aid of her shepherd’s crook.

“Brodie, hie to the right. Back to me now.”

Brodie, her devoted black and white border collie and best friend in all the world, skittered around, over, and through the stony obstacles of the ravine in hot pursuit of the most stubborn ram Kenzie had ever known. And the most expensive too.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | The prize blackface had cost her so much she’d be eating nothing but neeps and tatties for a while.

The wicked animal was also an escape artist. She had yet to find a fence or barn that could hold him when he decided to break free and go exploring.

The fugitive in question paused several yards ahead, looked back, and baa’d long and loud, like a bratty child chanting neener neener.

“If ye hadna cost me so much, ye’d be mutton stew this Sunday!” She scrambled over a downed tree uprooted by sizable chunks of stone that pushed up through its root system like the ruins of an ancient cathedral. She hopped downward and sank ankle deep in the sandy muck left behind by spring rains. Thank goodness for thick socks and her bright red wellies.

“Brodie! Hie to me! Quick now!” If the dog could head the ram off and turn him, it would be so much better. The farther the woolly escapee forged, the more cave like the area became. Up ahead, it looked as though earth and rock met and closed over the ravine, making the recovery of the pedigreed stud promised to sire more livestock next to impossible. If she returned to the farm for a lantern, who knew where the creature would get to by the time she got back?

An angry baa and a loud thunk told her the ram wasn’t in the mood to cooperate. The herd dog parried with the stubborn beast, all the while doing his best to turn him. The sheep ran at the canine, then came to an abrupt halt, lifted his head as though harkening to a call, then spun about and bolted deeper into the maze of stone. Brodie paused and looked back at her, waiting for the signal to either give chase or relinquish the animal to the cavern gods.

Kenzie waved him on. She couldn’t afford to give up now. When the sandy mud ebbed away to solid ground, she appreciated the end of slogging through mire, but didn’t care for the sight up ahead. The washed-out ravine had become the worrisome trial she had feared. Grand spires of squared off stone, crude black obelisks streaked with veins of sparkling quartz, connected at the top like hands folded in prayer. Narrow beams of 42 | UncagedBooks.com

sunlight filtered down through the cracks, lighting a cave like enclosure she had never realized was there.

The earth displaced by the great rocks clung over them, nurturing a lush layer of moss, ferns, and small trees that concealed the place from the glen above.

Both dog and ram had gone out of sight, but their sounds echoed back to her. She had to retrieve that stupid animal or Da and her brothers would never let her live it down. Staff in hand, she stomped the gloppy mud off her galoshes, then forged onward. She would get that infernal sheep returned to his pen if she had to herd him across all of Scotland.

Even though walking became easier, she tapped out the path with the crook to make certain she didn’t fall through any fissures hidden by the shadows. She prayed no clouds blew in and blocked the shafts of sunshine lighting the way, or she’d be trapped in darkness until light returned.

“Brodie!”

His answering yip eased her mind a bit. But sounds seemed distorted now. The tap of her staff. The thunk of her steps. Nothing sounded like it should. She worked her jaws and swallowed, trying to pop her ears. An odd buzzing filled the air. She couldn’t tell if it came from somewhere in the cave or from up above in the overgrowth covering the strange place. A glance back at the opening caused her head to spin.

She blinked hard to clear her sight, then frowned. The sun-dappled ravine rippled and shimmered with what looked like heat waves rising from blistering hot pavement. That made no sense. While it was a fine spring day, by no means was it warm enough for that. She had even worn her thermals and sturdy farm jacket because of a lingering nip in the wind.

After rubbing her eyes, she pressed her temples and tried to pop her ears again. At this rate, she’d soon be losing her lunch. The sudden nausea reminded her of the time she had gotten airsick. The queasiness felt the same.

“Brodie! Back to me! Come, lad!” They would wait in the ravine for the fool ram to decide he was ready to come home. They had to get out of this cave. The place must have a buildup of some sort of gases. Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.

Uneasiness overrode the nausea when no response an-

| MAEVE GREYSON | swered her call. That never happened. “Brodie!” she shouted louder. Moving faster, she squinted through the murky darkness as she edged between and under overhangs of stone. The way opened up, making breathing easier, but the uncomfortable pressure building inside her head was worse.

Another series of hard swallows didn’t ease the sensation, nor did coughing, or sticking her fingers in her ears then popping them out. Violent shivering took over, and she broke out in a cold sweat. A telltale throbbing right under the hinge of her jaws warned her. The bread and jam she’d had for lunch came out with such force; it left her sagging against a stone.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then fumbled through the multiple pockets of her canvas coat, searching for a tissue.

“Jings alive, we have to get out of here. Fast.” She held her head, gasping to catch her breath. Cave gases. Had to be. Sheep or no sheep, she and the dog had to leave. “Brodie, come to me! Now, lad. Come.”

A noise she didn’t expect answered her call. Not her precious dog’s bark, but what sounded like— “Nah, it canna be. I’ve gone barmy with the foul air.”

She pushed off the rock, steadying herself with her shepherd’s crook. “Brodie, come,” she repeated, but it came out so weak, she doubted the sweet lad heard her. That doubt brought a smile. Nay. He heard. Many a time, when training him as a wee pup, he had responded to the softest whisper. Her precious dog was pure dead brilliant.

The noise that could only be described as sounding like the reenactment battle she had watched at Bannockburn festival came to her again. Clash of steel.

Loud bangs of shield hitting shield. Roared curses and shouts. While she massaged her throbbing temples, outrage took hold and grew. This was her land.

Her family’s land. Da hadn’t leased it to any re-enactors. “We’ll see about this.” She pushed through the nausea and headache and charged forward.

The cave split off into three potential routes. She listened at each of the tunnels, straining to pick up on any clues. “Brodie!” A curt bark turned her to the passage farthest to the right. Less and less light filtered through from… wherever. It wasn’t coming from above anymore, but for some odd reason, she

could still see well enough to continue on. The battle sounds grew louder, heating her blood.

Those fools better have proof of who had given them permission to come onto her land. If not, she would have their arses thrown in jail and their vehicles impounded. Especially if they’d buggered up her meadow.

A joyous bark greeted her as she wormed her way free of the tight tunnel. Brodie bounded to her, his tongue hanging out the side of his smiling mouth.

She bent and gathered him into a hug. “Good, lad.

At least ye’re all right. That’s all that matters.”

An indignant, grumbling baa disagreed. The ram stomped his front feet as though throwing a tantrum for attention.

“So, ye decided to stop playing chase, did ye?”

The animal marched over and nosed her jacket pocket, tossed his head, then bumped her again.

“No, sir. Ye’ve earned no treats.” She stamped her cane, then tapped it against his rump to get him moving. “Ye’ll have yer feed and water this evening and be thankful for it.” Pointing to what looked like an opening of wondrous daylight up ahead, she waved Brodie forward. “Away wi’ him, my fine lad. We’ll take the long way home as soon as we settle our business with these trespassers.”

The dog nipped at the ram’s heels, herding him into a fast trot toward the sunshine.

From the sound of it, the battling had increased to a raging frenzy. Kenzie halted just outside the mouth of the cave, surveying the area. Her anger shot to a bloody fury.

Clots of her precious land filled the air, kicked up by charging horses that looked to be Shires or Clydesdales. Whatever they were, the monstrosities were huge. And cattle! Where had those Highland cows come from? At least a dozen or more of the hairy beasts milling about as the men played their game of swords. How had they brought in all these animals?

“I bet they’ve rutted the place with their trucks and trailers. It’s too wet to be driving in these fields!”

The nearest road was over a kilometer away. She shuddered to think of the damage they had done.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | in time to see one man slash another across the chest. The wounded actor fell from his horse with a red streak staining the front of his dingy yellow tunic. It looked realistic enough. She’d give them that.

Whipping out her cell phone, she powered it on and tapped her father’s speed dial. Da had several constable friends. They’d take care of this blatant vandalism. For that’s what this was. Pure disregard and destruction of her land.

‘No Service’ flashed across its screen.

“Still?” She held it higher and turned in a circle as if that might somehow help. “Bloody hell,” she muttered, tapping on the contraption.

Brodie interrupted, transforming into a snarling protective beast. Ramsay joined in, rumbling with the furious sound he only made when protecting his ewes.

Kenzie shoved her phone back into her pocket and whirled to face whatever had triggered their reactions.

A wild-eyed man, sword raised and costumed as if he belonged somewhere in Scotland’s long ago history, slunk toward her.

“Who gave ye permission to play yer games on my land?” She resettled her stance and readied her staff. If this idiot thought to scare her, the trespasser would be disappointed. If he wanted a battle, she’d gladly oblige him. With five rough-housing brothers, she knew how to fight to win.

“Games?” the man snarled. “MacPhersons dinna play games when it comes to thievery.” He loomed closer, sword still ready. The wind picked up, whipping his long brown hair to one side and carrying his stench to her.

“Shew! Ye go all out in yer reenactments, dinna ye? Did ye roll in pig shite to smell like that?”

Surely, he hadn’t dyed that tunic yellow with urine to be that historically accurate. But the powerful stink of piss added another level to his disgusting body odor.

The man glared at her. Then he charged. “Ye’ll be coming with me,” he shouted and lifted his weapon higher. “The Stronachs can pay for this insult with one of their women!”

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“Are ye on feckin’ drugs?” She parried, avoiding the slash of his heavy sword and countering with an effective hit of her staff, cracking it across the back of his neck. Her animals jumped into the fray. Brodie sank his teeth into the man’s thigh while Ramsay took out the trespasser’s other leg at the knee.

The enraged actor rolled as he fell, beating at her precious beasts with his sword.

“If ye hurt my babies, I’ll kill ye!” Kenzie bore down on him, whacking the fool with the seasoned hardwood crook Granddad had given her. It worked for many things besides herding sheep. “Drop yer weapon! Now!” “She’s thrashing yer arse for ye, Ellar,” shouted someone from behind.

Kenzie didn’t let up in her fight. A glance over her shoulder assured that the trio of grinning men weren’t an immediate threat. She’d deal with them later. First, this idiot trying to hurt her pets needed some sense and manners beat into him. She leapt and attacked from the rear, scoring a well-placed hit that caught him dead in the bollocks.

He roared in pain, and the sword fell from his hand.

“I’d say yer done, Ellar,” observed one of the men in her audience.

“Aye, and yer guard’s deserted ye,” called out another.

“Already gathered yer wounded and rode off. Dinna ye think ye’d best give up and be on yer way as well?”

On hands and knees, Ellar bared his yellowed teeth and gave Kenzie a murderous glare. “This isna over,” he hissed, spitting blood with every word.

“Ye’re right. It isna over,” she agreed. “Brodie, hie to me.”

The dog unlatched his jaws from the man and goaded the ram to stand behind her. One foot planted on Ellar’s sword, she took out her cell and pointed it at him.

“As soon as I get a signal, the constable will take care of yer drugged-out, trespassing arse.” She frowned down at the phone. Still no bars. She’d thought sure she had gotten a decent signal at this end of the glen before.

“This yer witch?” Ellar growled to the three observers as he held his crotch and tried to stand.

“Aye, we’ll be claiming her,” said the largest of the trio.

| MAEVE GREYSON | That one had long dark hair too, but it looked a great deal cleaner and had been pulled back from his face and tied. The historical look suited him and made Kenzie wish he wasn’t a bloody trespasser. She wouldn’t mind sharing a dram or two and getting to know this one if he hadn’t already proven himself to be such a disrespectful arse.

The actor strode forward, smiling as he lifted both hands to show he bore no weapons. Amusement gleamed in the light coloring of his eyes. Gray or maybe blue. She couldn’t decide.

“Mathias Stronach at yer service, m’lady.”

Her confidence wavered the slightest bit. He looked like a bodybuilder. On steroids. Taller than most men she knew, and bigger than any she had trained with in her self-defense classes. Chest so broad, the linen of his tunic stretched taut across it. She could almost hear the threads screaming with the strain. Narrow waist. Leather belt riding low, sporting not one but two swords, one long and one shorter. His massive legs bulged with muscle, their sculpted cording visible through his snug leggings. This actor was definitely a feast for the eyes.

With a slow rotation of her shepherd’s crook, she squared her shoulders. He might be big as a mountain and a beauty to behold, but she had speed and determination on her side. “I’m Kenzie MacMartin, and this is my land. By what right do ye play yer games here and tear up my meadow?”

His dark brows drew together, matching the confused tilt to his head. “Yer land?”

“Aye, MacMartin land. It’s still in my Da’s name, but his solicitor’s got the papers showing where this part comes to me when he passes.” She stopped working the staff, but kept it clutched in front of her. Why was she explaining herself? She wasn’t the trespasser.

“Answer me. Who gave ye permission to be here?”

She pointed the crook at the bedraggled field, now peaceful and empty except for the herd of cows and other men who had ridden closer to eavesdrop. “Look at the mess ye’ve made of my glen. And cows? Cows where my sheep are to graze? This isna the dark ages anymore. Ye canna be using someone’s farmland without their leave.”

“She’s tetched as old Annag,” remarked a man not

quite as large, but still bigger than most.

Mathias shot him a silencing look, then returned to studying her. He scrubbed his fingers through the stubble of reddish-brown beard shadowing his jaw. “Ye speak strange, lass.” He looked her up and down, head tilting the other way now. He frowned when his gaze hit her bright red rubber boots. “Ye dress even stranger.”

“I dress strange?” She tugged on her jacket, then pointed at his garb. “When ye’re not playing yer games, do ye wear that everywhere?” The swords at his side caught her attention. “Have much trouble going into the shops with those?”

“Throw her on yer horse and be done with it,” said the third of the original trio, the one closest in stature and build to Mathias. He strode forward, a sour look on his face. With a jab of his finger at Ellar, he growled, “Hie yer arse back to yer chief.

We’ve reclaimed what is ours.”

“As I said,” Ellar threatened. “This isna over.” His attention shifted to his sword still under Kenzie’s boot.

“Dinna even think about it.” She leaned toward him with a warning swish of her cane.

Ellar backed away until the length of several long strides stretched between them, then turned and took off with a fast-limping hop.

“Ye said his name was Ellar?” She tapped on the notes app on her phone. “Ellar what? I’ll need his full name for the constable.”

“Ellar MacPherson,” Mathias replied, sounding as though he’d found a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

He nodded toward the phone. “What is that in yer hand?”

He had to be joking. Trying to throw her off guard so she wouldn’t set the constable on them. Even though the man was a pleasure to look at, he’d soon find out she wasn’t a pushover for some handsome, silver-tongued devil.

“Ye can drop the act.” She typed both his name and Ellar’s into her phone, then turned to the others. “Names?” She’d turn every one of them in and see that they paid for any damages.

The two looked at Mathias. He shrugged. “Give her yer names.”

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | The sour-faced jerk who had suggested she be thrown over a horse gave a defiant tip of his chin.

“Bhaltair MacSorley.”

“Eumann MacVail,” said the heavyset man next to him. His crooked nose and lopsided smile possessed a charm all their own and more than made up for his tubby appearance.

“And the rest of ye?” she said to the horsemen who had moved closer to observe from their mounts.

“Moray Cleireach,” called out the rider farthest to the right.

“Lyle,” said the next one, then added an air kiss and a wink. “Lyle Stronach.”

Apparently, the Stronach family thought flirting would get them off scot-free. She typed the name and placed an asterisk by it. She looked up. “And yerself?”

“Ruari Stronach, m’darling. Best of the lot of them.” This one resembled Mathias. She wondered if he was a brother or something. He waved her forward, then grabbed his crotch. “Ride with me, lass. I’ll keep ye safe and warm. Ye have m’word.”

Kenzie ignored the rude offer and eyed the next man. “Name?”

“Hew MacVail.” The gravelly voiced rider cleared his throat and spit. His mount pranced from side to side as he shifted in the saddle. “We’re wasting daylight and risking the MacPherson’s return with more men. Their chief willna bear the thrashing Ellar just took at the hands of a mere woman. We need to move, aye?”

Mere woman? Kenzie placed an asterisk beside MacVail’s name too. He’d pay double for that remark. She fixed her scowl on the last trespasser.

“Name?”

“Ye’ll nay have my name,” the twitchy little man retorted. He jerked a nod at the phone. “I dinna ken what that there thing is, but ye’ll nay be stirring my likeness into it to help ye with yer spell casting.”

“May I present Daw MacSorley,” Bhaltair said with a taunting flip of one hand. “My only brother and, as ye can tell, the bravest in all of Clan St46 | UncagedBooks.com

ronach.” He blew out a long, bored huff, then turned to Mathias. “I’m all for a bit of levity to lighten our days, but Hew’s right. We need to be moving. Throw her on yer horse and be done with it, aye?”

“Throw me on a horse?” Kenzie powered off her phone to conserve its battery and shoved it in her pocket. She hefted her shepherd’s crook in both hands and pointed it at the men. “I advise ye to get yer arses and yer livestock the hell off my land.

Now.” “Or what?” Bhaltair growled as he stormed forward.

Mathias blocked him. “Enough.” His jaw tightened as he made a curt tip of his head toward the horses.

“Hie to yer mounts and leave her to me, aye?” He eyed the dog and ram. “Her and her animals. The rest of ye tend the cows. The Stronach will be pleased when he sees we’ve recovered so many.”

“I’m sure the lass would rather ride with me,” Ruari crooned in a tone that made Kenzie remember which pocket held her pen knife. It might be small, but it’d do well enough at splitting that arrogant fool’s bawbag.

“I said,” Mathias repeated in a voice rumbling deep as thunder. Somehow, it made him seem even larger.

“Tend the stock. I will handle her.” He stared down the men with a fearsome scowl that left no doubt who was in charge.

Each of them gave an obedient nod. Their defiance checked, they mounted and went to the herd, urging the hairy, ruddy-coated beasts into a southwesterly walk.

“Hie to me, Brodie,” Kenzie whispered, easing backward into the mouth of the cave. She wasn’t confident to the point of being foolish. While she believed she might cause significant damage, she doubted she could best Mathias one on one. He seemed more intelligent and a great deal more agile than Ellar MacPherson. But if she could reach the tunnels, she would have it made. The cave’s tight twists and turns would be hard for a man his size to manage with any ease or speed.

“Heel, lad,” she breathed out softly. The collie stepped to her left and surprisingly enough, the ram followed suit.

Mathias turned to her, his ferocity fading into a

| MAEVE GREYSON | pained frown. He held out a hand. “I dinna wish to hurt ye, lass. Come.”

“The only place I’m going is home.” She took another step backward. “Leave me be, aye? Or the trespassing charge will be the least of yer worries once my Da and brothers get hold of ye.” He appeared to have a kind, sensible vibe about him. Surely, now that his cohorts were busy with the cows, he’d see the reasonable thing to do was leave her alone and join them.

He took another step toward her. “Word will be sent to yer kin, so they know ye are at Stronach Keep. They can collect ye there.”

Her devoted dog rumbled a warning growl that clicked low and ominous. Hackles raised and head lowered, the collie stood ready to lunge. The ram grumbled, stomping from side to side behind her.

Mathias eyed her defenders, his jaw flexing as though this chore had turned out to be a lot more difficult than it should. “I shall see that ye’re… that both yerself and yer animals are kept safe.” He waved her forward.

“Come, lass. Ye can either join me willingly and ride in comfort, or travel like a sack of grain tossed over my horse. The choice is yers.”

She spun and ran, determined to make the tunnel. A glance back stopped her. Brodie and the ram stood fast, blocking the man’s way, the canine with its teeth bared and the sheep with its great curved horns lowered. “’Tis admirable yer beasts will die for ye,” Mathias observed in a chilling tone. Slow and steady, he drew a sgian dhu from each boot. He flipped the daggers and held them by their blade tips. He lifted both hands and stared down at the dog and sheep. “Will ye sacrifice them then and continue with yer escape?”

She knew what Da would say. And each of her five brothers. They’re just animals, Kenzie. Dinna be a tenderhearted fool. She couldn’t help it. It was who she was. A tenderhearted fool. And Mathias, damn him straight to hell, had spotted that weakness and used it.

“Dinna hurt them.” She meant to sound strong, but her voice cracked, and the words came out like a plea. “Please,” she added, forcing the word through clenched teeth.

“Then come with me.” He held steady; daggers ready,

steely glare locked with hers.

“First, tell me where we’re going.” If these overachieving re-enactors were stupid enough to leave her with her phone, she’d call for help as soon as she reached somewhere with a bloody signal.

His hardened air softened. “I told ye. Stronach Keep.” He bent and shoved the daggers back in his boots without taking his gaze off her. With a worried squint, he straightened and motioned her forward. “Are ye unwell, lass?”

“There is no such place as Stronach Keep,” she countered. And there wasn’t. Unless Stronach Keep was the name of their acting team’s building. Her hopes rose. If they passed an inn or one of the tourists stops in Gairlochy or Stronaba, she could make a call through Wi-Fi. Da would have a conniption fit about this. So would her brothers.

Her riding off with this oversized ox and his gang was lunacy itself. But she had no choice, and a gut-feeling told her he was safe enough. Instinct had never failed her before. She prayed it wasn’t wrong now. “Where are we going, really? Fort William? Kinlochleven maybe?”

“Stronach Keep,” he said again, repeating the words slowly. “Glen Loy.” He glanced down at the animals. “The journey will take us a few days, what with the coos and yer beasties there.”

The sentiment in his forced smile didn’t reach his eyes, making her second guess everything. “But no harm will come to ye. Ye have my word.”

No harm would come to her? Why had he added that again? Were some of his men dangerous?

She bet that Ruari one was. And Bhaltair. Both looked like trouble. “A few days?” she repeated.

“Aye.” He glanced at his horse then back at her.

“Come.”

A few days. That meant they’d stop at one of the hunting lodges. Many of those promised Wi-Fi as a selling point to prospective travelers. She lifted her chin, pulled in a deep breath, and blew it out.

“Fine, then.” With a single tap of her shepherd’s crook, she strode forward, giving the collie the hand signal that let him know to stand down.

“Well done, Brodie lad. Close now, boy.”

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | ness, spurring the ram into a quick trot beside Kenzie.

“Braw animal ye have there,” Mathias said with another placating smile that tempted her to smack him right between the eyes. In fact, if she hit him hard enough with the hardwood crook, she and the beasties could make the tunnels before he recovered.

“Dinna try it, lass,” he warned, snatching the staff away before she could put the thought into action.

“Give that back! It was my Granddad’s!” She flew it him, not caring that she sounded like a spoiled child fighting for a toy. “Give it to me now!”

Her best spinning kick thumped hard against his muscular gut, bending him forward slightly but otherwise causing minor damage. Quick as a cat, he caught hold of her ankle and flipped her to the ground. She leapt to her feet, ready for more.

The collie joined in, aiming for the man’s leg.

Mathias booted the dog while beating off the ram with the cane. “Dammit, woman! Ye can have yer wee stick when ye’ve enough sense not to use it as a weapon.” He kicked harder. Brodie yelped and tumbled across the ground, but jumped up and came back for more. “Call them off or it’s my sword for them next.” To add weight to his words, he unsheathed the lethal blade that looked more deadly than any reenactment prop. He pointed it at her. “And then I’ll be taking the flat of it to yer arse!”

“Brodie! Ramsay! Come to me.” Dammit, she didn’t mean to cry. She hated that. It always happened when she was madder than hell. “Hie to me now,” she ordered, tears coming so fast she wanted to scream.

The dog corralled the sheep, and both animals returned to her side.

“Dinna weep, lass,” Mathias said with a hurried sheathing of his sword. Her captor looked more pained than when she had kicked him. “Forgive me, but ye… ye left me no choice.” He shuffled in place, obviously uncomfortable but not enough to stir any sense of forgiveness in her.

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With a glance down at the shepherd’s crook, he gave her another infuriating smile. “Ye can have it once we reach the keep. I promise.”

“I hate ye.” She spit at his feet. “I’ll make ye pay if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I am certain ye will,” he agreed with a resigned sigh. Pointing at his monstrosity of a horse, he held her staff behind his back. “To my horse now with ye.”

Stomping past him, Kenzie plotted all the ways she would get her revenge. She’d have him thrown in jail. Sue him. Go online and expose him for the disrespectful, animal abusing, kidnapping swine he was.

He’d never work in Scotland again. Or England. Or Ireland. She didn’t have a clue how to ruin a person in such a way, but by jings, she would figure it out.

He sheathed his sword, threaded her crook under the ropes securing a rolled bundle to the back of his saddle, then hoisted her up and seated himself behind her. His muscular arms caged her in, as he took hold of the reins and set the animal in motion with the slightest shifting of his legs. “We’ll be joining the others to help with the cattle. Highland coos dinna move that fast. Leastwise, long as we dinna startle them. Yer wee dog and sheep should have no trouble with the pace.”

She ignored him, aiming a sad smile down at her beloved collie, who kept the ram moving along beside them. “Good lad, Brodie,” she encouraged. We’ll get out of this, she added silently. And I’ll feed ye this one’s bollocks for supper.

showcase Joyce FitzGerald Galloway

The Cats Who Love(d) Me And The One Who Doesn’t The Cats Who Love(d) Me and the One Who Doesn’t Joyce FitzGerald-Galloway Cat Care

About Who would have thought that cats will make her take a 180-degree turn in her life? She never thought the impact they will have in her life. Cats can bring out latent talents in humans, and they do so with remarkable success for author Joyce FitzGerald Galloway, as told in the pages of “The Cats Who Love(d) Me and the One Who Doesn’t”. She shares her learning, adventures and stories of how these little creatures were an important part of her life.

Cats can bring out latent talents in humans, and they do so with remarkable success for Joyce FitzGerald Galloway, as told in THE CATS WHO LOVE(D) ME AND THE ONE WHO DOESN’T. It all begins one stormy night when the author retrieves a drenched and frightened tiger kitten from a gutter near her home in Ireland. Penny is to lead the parade of these cats, cats with colorful beauty and remarkable individuality, as they are endowned with special gifts, all but one giving her affection. For instance, there’s Spot, the watch-cat who thwarts a burglary, and Bunny, a cross between a rabbit and a clown.

The author takes readers from the beginning when one stormy night, she retrieves a drenched and frightened tiger kitten from a gutter near her home in Ireland.

Penny is to lead the parade of these cats, cats with colorful beauty and remarkable individuality, as they are endowed with special gifts, all but one giving her affection. For instance, there’s Spot, the watch-cat who thwarts a burglary, and Bo Elizabeth who joined her in the shower, and many more.

Here is a book that has cats cavorting through its pages, each brought to life by the author’s descriptive powers that illuminate the surroundings. These cats that tapped the author’s ability to nurture also tap the reader’s wonder in this entertaining and amusing book.

As quoted by Walter Cronkite: “Those who aren’t already cat lovers are not likely to read this book. Assuming that we could use more cat lovers, that is a shame. This volume is bound to create more feline fanatics. It takes the reader behind the cat’s clever intelligence, its devilish tricks, its emotional attachment (and sometimes nefarious perfidy.) It virtually guarantees homes for many a deserted kitten.”

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In this book, readers will get to follow some cats cavorting through its pages, each brought to life by the author’s descriptive powers that illuminate the surroundings. These cats that tapped the author’s ability to nurture will also tap the reader’s wonder in this entertaining and amusing book.

5 Star Reviews This is a must read for all the million of cat lovers out there! Mrs.Fitzgerald-Galloway does such an excellent job of describing in vivid details the personality of the cats she encounters one can almost get the sense these are people not animals. Even if you aren’t a cat lover you’ll enjoy reading about her experiences with our furry friends and her family as well. I truly enjoyed this book and can’t wait for the next one. ~Amazon Reviewer The parade of feline characters that have passed through Ms. Galloway’s life will leave their mark on yours, as they are brought alive in her pages. I laughed at the antics of Bunny the clown and cried for Tina. Each cat is so well described that I felt as though I were cat sitting for a friend. I loved how each cat brought something different into her life, as we all know every cat has it’s own unique personality, and the unconditional love from a pet shines through. ~Amazon Reviewer

Joyce FitzGerald Galloway, formerly of Staten Island, New York, Cork City, Ireland and Hough’s Neck, Massachusetts, now lives in Massachusetts where she is retired from her position as a staffing coordinator at a health care facility. She has also been employed as an executive assistant at a Boston bank. An anthologized poet, with a love of travel and cooking for large groups, she shared her interests with her late husband, Dicey, an award-winning singer with the 1950’s Doo Wop group The Harptones. It is still her dream to live in New York again someday.

“Those who aren’t already cat lovers are not likely to rad this book. Assuming that we could use more cat lovers, that is a shame. This volume is bound to create more feline fanatics. It takes the reader behind the cat’s clever intelligence, its devilish tricks, its emotional attachment (and sometimes nefarious perfidy.) It virtually guarantees homes for many a deserted kitten.” ~Amazon Reviewer

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RUTH A. CASIE

R

uth A. Casie has always had stories in her head. Encouraged by family and friends this ballroom dancing, Sudoku playing, aspiring gourmet has given way to her inner muse.

Now, rather than write project plans and marketing/ communications for a major US bank’s international business, she writes historical fantasies about strong men and women and how they cope | UncagedBooks.com 54 empowered

with unexpected challenges.

Ruth is involved in social justice causes and has served as board president on her local county’s women’s shelter for victims of domestic violence.

She has also served as the board president on a local section of a national organization advocating for women, children and families.

When not writing you can find her home in Teaneck, New Jersey, reading, cooking, doing Sudoku and counted cross stitch. Together with her husband Paul, they enjoy ballroom dancing and going to the theater.

Ruth and Paul have three grown children Staci, Cori, and Ari and four grandchildren Olivia, Alex, Caylee, and Logan. They all thrive on spending time together.

It’s certainly a lively dinner table and they wouldn’t change it for the world.

Ruth is a USA Today bestselling author and hopes her stories become your favorite adventures.

Stay Connected

ruthacasie.com Uncaged Welcomes Ruth A. Casie Welcome back to Uncaged! You’ve signed with Dragonblade Publishing, what do you have in the works that you can tell us about?

Thank you. I am so glad to be here and tell you about my new project, a Regency series, The Ladies of Sommer-by-the-Sea. This series takes place in Sommer-by-the-Sea, a small vibrant village nestled on the rugged northeast coast of England, 15 miles northeast of Newcastle upon Tyne.

Here, the world is centered on the country village and the lives of the landowning and professional families.

Sommer-by-the-Sea is populated with aristocrats, gentry, self-made men, shop owners, local workers, and servants, a cross-section of the people of the time.

Steeped in history dating back as far as the Vikings, the villagers are proud and celebrate their heritage.

Everyone from the elite summer residents to the year-round residence keep business flourishing and gossip thriving. As with any small town, there are challenges and successes, secrets, disagreements, and feuds. There is no shortage of romance, mystery, drama, and even a murder or two.

Graduates of the Sommer-by-the-Sea Female Seminary have a unique education. Along with the usual studies available, the head mistress has nurtured each woman’s innate ability and helped them develop into the women they are today. This shared unique experience has kept the graduates close.

Each lady has her own story to tell as she is called to action and must demonstrate she is smart, strong and sensible and must challenge the accepted definition of a “woman’s place.” For these women, arranged or political marriages will not do. If she chooses a husband, it will be for love, on her own terms, and with a man who will accept her as a partner.

Three books are currently planned. The first one The Lady and Her Quill is releasing this November 16.

The second The Lady and the Spy, is due out in February 2022. The third story The Lady and Her Duke is scheduled to release May 2022.

You’ve also written a few stories for the Pirates of Britannia Connected World. Can you tell us more about those?

Shiver m’ timbers! Ahoy there matey! What a thrill it was to participate in this connected world. I enjoy writing romantic adventure stories and action scenes. The only thing I knew about pirates was from Treasure Island and Captain Blood. I knew there had to be more. I researched and studied. Writing 13th century fight scenes at sea was a challenge and an education.

I took Kathryn’s and Eliza’s suggestion and based my stories on a secondary character from my one of my series. This gave me the opportunity to build backstory for him. The stories The Pirate’s Jewel (I’m truly in love with this cover) and The Pirate’s Redemption were well received. So much so that readers wanted to know what happened next. I gave Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | my leading character three sons, and the trilogy was developed, The Sons of Sagamore, Hugh, Graham, and Donald. All five stories are cross-over stories to my Stelton Legacy Series.

What is the most difficult scene for you to write?

What is the easiest?

At first glance, my answer would be the sexy ones. I’m more of a closeddoor kind of author. I want to give enough clues and cues and heat, there has to be heat, for my reader to fill in the gaps with what they think/want to experience. To me, that puts my reader in the story. On second glance, it’s still the sexy ones, but given a glass of wine and mood music I can do it, write that is!

The easiest scenes to write are the descriptive ones.

Like many authors, I visualize my story. I want my words to resonate and paint pictures.

I worked at bank before webinars and Zoom. You actually had to visit your clients. I was fortunate to be responsible for the international market. I was with a group from the New York office that was visiting our clients in Israel. On that trip, one of our clients arranged for us to go on a tour of Caesarea.

The coastal town was built by Herod the Great about 25–13 BCE. When I was there they were excavating the buildings. I remember standing in the fort in a long stone where the Crusaders returned after their mission. I tried to imagine the sound of the horses’ hooves, their heavy breathing, and the slurp of the water out of the trough at the end of the room.

Whether it’s walking in the woods during the fall and explaining the aroma, sound Putting myself in a situation and deciding how to explain it can be challenging, but it is so rewarding.

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Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about? *Sigh* Lord Arik. He is the hero in my first book, Knight of Runes. This is a time travel story of a 17th century Druid knight and a 21st century history scholar, Dr. Rebeka Tyler. His struggles with 21st century advances were fun to write especially when he learned to ride a motorcycle. Our buff Druid knight looked AWESOME in aviator sunglasses and well-fitting black tee and jeans! Arik was very clear to me. I found him easy to write.

I am writing the third book in this Druid Knight series, Knight Redeemed. I had finished writing books 1 and 2 in this series with the same villain, Bran. I had every intention of killing him off at the end of book two. But Lord Arik refused. Er… I thought I wrote the story. And this is the part about writing that I truly love and wait for. The characters talk to me. I am not the only author this happens to. I would venture to say every author has characters that talk to them, but I digress.

Lord Arik wouldn’t kill Bran. It was eye opening when he told me Bran was his brother. I was annoyed he waited until the end of the story to tell me. That required a bit of editing, but I really didn’t mind.

So, the third book is about a redeemed villain. This is a trope I’m not familiar with. It will take me some research to write it and get the character growth correct, but I’m not giving up.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

I have some great titles. To Hearth and Home except if you look at any list of my books you won’t find it. My publisher changed it to Knight of Runes. Then there is Mine Forever. Another no-show on my list. This one became The Guardian’s Witch.

I haven’t learned my lesson. For my new Regency series, my titles were simply the name of the heroine in each story, Lady Alicia, Lady Patrice, and Lady Kathryn. My publisher gently told me those wouldn’t work.

Here is what we decided: Lady Alicia, the story about an author, became The Lady and Her Quill.

Lady Patrice, the story about widowed lady and a Rus-

sian spy who was an acquaintance, became The Lady and the Spy. Lady Kathryn, the story of love lost, became The Lady and Her Duke.

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

Here are five things you probably don’t know about me.

1. I filled my passport up in one year.

2. I write both historical romance and contemporary suspense, The Havenport Series. Those who know me will find my family sprinkled here and there.

3. I did a rap to “How Many Trucks Can a Tow Truck Tow If a Tow Truck Could Tow Trucks” with my son when he was in 1st grade. UPDATE: He and his wife just welcomed their first baby this past August. I can’t wait to read the book to Logan Max. 4. I dance when I cook.

5.My Sudoku book is in the bathroom. I’m not saying anything else about that.

My hobbies: * counted cross stitch * ballroom dancing - not just between the fridge and stove * reading almost anything * Sudoko - I’m still staying quiet about that Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

I like to watch British mystery TV shows, Midsomer Murders, Inspector Morse, Endeavor, Miss Scarlet, to name just a few. I also like the period dramas.

A hobby I have not had enough time for is counted cross stitch. I think everyone in the family has gotten something for their home.

| RUTH A. CASIE |

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

Fall is my favorite time of the year. I’m not sure if it’s because I taught for ten years, and school starts in the northeast after Labor Day or the cooler days.

The fall just seems to be a new beginning. Also, I enjoy temperate days and cool nights. I really enjoy sitting in the living room, with a cup of tea, and fireplace on. It’s one of my favorite places to write.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

It really depends. For some books, I have a very clear idea of the primary characters, know their capabilities and develop a story around them.

In other instances, I come across a story concept and once I have an idea of the bare bones characters start to emerge.

I have the luxury of being retired. If I am not with our kids or spending time with at a community service organization I give me time to, I spend about six hours a day writing and researching on a first draft. I spend up to ten hours a day editing a draft. I get into a mind set and hate to stop.

From start to finish,

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I have several go-to things. I enjoy spending time with the grandkids. It’s wonderful to enjoy them and then go home!

I prefer physical books although I have many, many, many books on my Kindle. I just finished reading Anna St. Claire’s The Earl of Excess, a Regency Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| RUTH A. CASIE |

romance.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

I want to thank the fans who have followed me from the start and those who have found me along the way.

It has been a great journey since I started with Carina Press in 2011. As I have grown, many of you have grown with me, all the way to the USA Today bestsellers list. For that, I am humbled and grateful.

For those that are new to me, read my stories and discover strong men and empowered women as they face unexpected challenges. Watch their stories unfold as they encounter magic, danger, and passion. Join them as they race across the pages to places where love and time know no bounds. Welcome to my stories. I hope they become your favorite adventures!

Enjoy an excerpt from The Lady and Her Quill The Lady and Her Quill Ruth A. Casie Historical Romance Releases Nov. 16 Her mind kept telling her to stop loving him, but her heart couldn’t let him go.

Renowned author Lady Alicia Hartley has lost her muse after a bad review. She blames it all on the author JC Melrose. A chance encounter with a handsome, witty Justin Caulfield has her heart racing, and her muse seemingly back. Is he her savior or her worst nightmare?

He didn’t see the turbulent ocean. He was too busy dealing with a different tempest.

The recently retired Captain Justin Caulfield is facing his own demons. As gifted author JC Melrose, his stories honor men who died at the hand of one man.

His only focus is to avenge their deaths, that is, until

he meets and falls in love with Lady Alicia.

The two authors take on a writing challenge to determine the better writer. While researching the story, she is captured by Justin’s nemesis.

Can Lady Alicia turn this mystery into an awardwinning story? Can Justin save his own real-life heroine? Can they both overcome their own challenges for a happily ever after?

Excerpt London November 1814 Lady Alicia Hartley clutched the heavy parcel under her arm and hurried along Fleet Street through the thick fog. She took scant notice of the people rushing past her or the church bells chiming noon.

New ideas fluttered and flittered through her mind.

Success had led to opportunities she never dreamt possible until now. Her lips pursed as she tried to suppress a satisfied smile.

Caution. The small inner voice broke through her dreaming and her brows knitted together. Don’t be reckless.

Alicia rubbed the amber stone she wore around her neck. The pendant was a gift from her father.

Confidence is everything was one of Mrs. Bainbridge’s guiding principles.

It started with Miss Whitlock. Since Alicia was a little girl, Miss Greta Whitlock had been her governess. Alicia was fond of the tall, pleasant woman who at times was more like an older sister. Some of her best memories were sitting in the window seat in the attic room, staring at the sea and just talking about hopes, aspirations, dreams, and well, everything. Nothing was prohibited. If anything, the woman encouraged her to be an independent thinker and draw her own conclusions.

Alicia soon became proficient in drawing, needlecraft, music, and dance. While only a passing knowledge of French and Italian was expected, Alicia excelled past songs and snippets of poems and stories presented in the romantic languages.

Her natural curiosity eventually drove her to acIssue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | quire fluency in both, and proficiency in Greek and Latin.

Her schooling included the practical study of household management that went beyond managing the staff and counting the silver, but also included training in hiring, purchasing, and gardening.

Decorum ruled a lady’s life from her core to her habits. Nothing less was tolerated. Everything she did was scrutinized and criticized. Miss Whitlock had done her job well.

They spent hours in the attic at her desk and looked forward to those days her father was not home. He agreed she could use his library when it wasn’t occupied. She sat at the large table, surrounded by books, and enjoyed their sweet, musky scent.

Of all the subjects, her true love was writing – taking the actions, colors, sounds, and emotions of imaginary people and places she conjured in her mind and translating them into words for others to read and enjoy.

She had all but driven Miss Whitlock dizzy with her thirst for knowledge and her quest to improve her writing.

By the time she was fifteen, she mastered all the acceptable subjects a young woman was expected to learn and others some people would think unnecessary, a waste of time, or worse, scandalous.

With her parents’ agreement, her governess sometimes submitted her essays to the village paper, the Sommer Sentinel. Mr. Leon Hawkins, the elderly owner, enjoyed her short story about “Margaret’s Miracle,” a long-held folktale about the village mayor’s daughter Margaret and a Scottish trader. It was a reflective essay that spoke about the tale and introduced ideas based on facts she researched.

Hawkins also printed her more creative pieces.

One, her story that featured an upper-class lady and her plight in London society, had been very well-received.

“You make me proud,” Miss Whitlock had said, standing next to her at the library table, her hands clasped in front of her.

Proud. Alicia glowed brighter than the light from the oil lamp at the compliment.

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“Put your books away and bundle up. It’s bitterly cold out, and we’re going to the tearoom today.”

It was an innocent excursion. One they had made many times before. One she thoroughly enjoyed. Or was it the biscuits that drew her there?

When they arrived at the tearoom, Miss Whitlock led the way to a table by the window, where they joined another woman.

“Honoria, I’d like to introduce you to Lady Alicia Hartley.”

Miss Whitlock turned to her.

“Lady Alicia, this is my dear friend, Mrs. Honoria Bainbridge.”

Everyone knew Mrs. Bainbridge – if not in person, then most definitely by reputation. She was the head of the Sommer-by-the-Sea Female Seminary, an elite school that every girl in the district, if not all of England, wanted to attend.

One didn’t apply to the seminary. Admittance was only by Mrs. Bainbridge’s personal invitation.

She and Miss Whitlock took their seats. Tea was already laid and waiting for them. At first, Alicia thought she would be a silent observer and given an opportunity to occasionally add her voice to the conversation.

Instead, she sat at the table as if she was a pane of glass, one both women saw right through. As tea progressed, she became anxious, and she had no idea why.

“Lady Alicia.” Pulled from her stargazing, she faced Mrs. Bainbridge. “Have you seen the London papers?

Edmund Kean has signed a contract with Drury Lane.

He is to play Shylock in The Merchant of Venice. They are expecting a comedy,” Mrs. Bainbridge said as she picked up her teacup. “What do you think of the play?”

It was a straightforward question.

One she was prepared for. She had studied Shakespeare and knew the play. “To me, the play is a drama, especially when Portia, disguised as a lawyer, begs Shylock to show mercy to Antonio. Her speech on the quality of mercy is dramatic and moving.” Alicia took a breath and leaned forward, eager to go on. “The characters are sensitive and engaging. I don’t see this play as a comedy. Although, I do think there are scenes where Shakespeare inserts comic elements to provide relief for the story’s tension, but is the play a comedy?

Not to me.”

| RUTH A. CASIE | Mrs. Bainbridge smiled and gazed at her thoughtfully, then turned to Miss Whitlock.

“With the cold temperatures this last month, the Thames has frozen. There are plans for a frost fair between Blackfriars Bridge and London Bridge on the first of February.” Mrs. Bainbridge set down her teacup and sighed. “I was a little girl when they had the last one.”

Alicia really didn’t want to talk about Shakespeare or the frost fair. Alicia stared out the window at the cold gray sky. She willed herself to stay in her seat.

“I read your story in the Sommer Sentinel.”

Alicia whipped her head around and again faced Mrs. Bainbridge.

“Your story, the experience of a young upper-class woman who must navigate London society for the first time and falls in love with a social superior, was very good. I thoroughly enjoyed the way you re-created the social world. Your characters are sensitive and engaging. I like the way you let your reader experience their distress and tenderness.

“The conflict is well-planned and given with enough context to maintain a good pace and keep your reader turning pages. You are a good storyteller.”

Alicia felt her face flush at the compliment. “Thank you, Mrs. Bainbridge. I’m glad you enjoyed the story.”

“I do see room for growth.”

Alicia stared at the woman and tamped down her annoyance. What was wrong with her writing?

She didn’t think the headmistress would wait long to tell her.

“Draw out the conversations. Just because you know where it is going does not mean your reader does. And give a little more exposition within the narrative itself as an anchor.”

“It is very kind of you to give me some direction. I will certainly keep your comments in mind.”

“I expect you will. I see a young person eager to succeed. You will, you know. You are a gifted storyteller.”

Mrs. Bainbridge gave her a smile, not one of those smiles that didn’t reach the eyes, but a smile that came from her heart.

Alicia took a biscuit and finished her tea. She gave Miss Whitlock a fleeting glance. Her governess sat proudly by as she engaged in a conversation with Mrs.

Bainbridge.

She liked her governess, but she wanted to learn more. In truth, she longed to be under Mrs. Bainbridge’s tutelage. The headmistress worked with her students to create a plan filled with courses that surpassed anything Miss Whitlock could teach.

Some were usually only available to men.

Mrs. Bainbridge’s words kept repeating in her head.

You are a gifted storyteller.

With tea over and the snow beginning to fall, they said their good-byes and departed.

“What do you think of Mrs. Bainbridge?” Miss Whitlock asked as they walked along the river.

“She’s an excellent judge of writing talent.”

Miss Whitlock stared at her for a heartbeat or two before she burst out laughing. “Yes, she is,” she concluded. “And I think she gave you excellent advice.”

Mr. Dodd, the Hartley’s butler, opened the door as they reached it.

Alicia and Miss Whitlock went into the drawing room, laughing like schoolgirls. The soft scent of violet on the air announced her mother was present.

“Did you have a nice outing?” Lady Hartley said, looking over her spectacles as she stitched a sampler.

“It was wonderful. We had tea with Mrs. Bainbridge. And I was careful, I didn’t spill my cup and I only took one biscuit.”

Lady Hartley smiled and put down her stitching.

“Yes, I know you can be quite civil when you put your mind to it.”

“Mrs. Bainbridge complimented me on my essay that was in the Sentinel.”

“Then she must have good literary taste,” her mother said. “Before I forget, you received a letter.”

“It must be from Hattie in London. She told me she’d write to tell me when she was returning to Sommer-by-the-Sea.” Alicia took the dispatch from the salver and opened the letter.

She took a seat next to her mother, read the contents, then stared at the note without saying a word.

“Alicia, is anything wrong? I’ve never seen you so quiet,” her mother said glancing at Miss Whitlock.

Alicia looked at her governess then her mother.

Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | “What is it?” her mother asked.

“It’s an invitation.” Her heart was beating so loud she was sure her mother could hear it. She lifted her chin. “Mrs. Bainbridge has invited me to be a student at the Sommer-by-the-Sea Female Seminary.” *** Looking back, she had no idea that tea with Mrs. Bainbridge would change her life. That was seven years ago. She spent five wonderful years at the Sommer Female Seminary learning everything she could. Now, two years later, she still heard Mrs. Bainbridge’s words warning caution.

She clutched the parcel to her chest. This completed project was a good one. Better than her last. As soon as she presented it to Mr. Caulfield, he too would be enthusiastic.

Remain calm. Be gracious and pleasant but remain firm.

By the time she had mentally repeated the words several times, her doubts quieted. Of course, Caulfield would bargain. She would remind him their past achievements were for the most part her doing. She no longer wanted to sell her story to Caulfield Publishing for a fee and receive nothing beyond that. Her books sold well and made a profit, but only for Caulfield.

The sales gave her the confidence to ask for a change in their financial arrangement on this the last book in her contract. She would gladly pay all the production costs for publication. Caulfield Publishing would distribute them and get ten percent from the profits, a reasonable and more equitable financial arrangement. It would also give her more control of her work. She pressed her parcel closer to her chest. If he wouldn’t budge, there was the letter that arrived in yesterday’s post.

How could he refuse?

Her smile dropped and her step faltered. Question her project, perhaps, but refuse? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he? A cold chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran up her spine.

A passing carriage startled her shaking her out of her moment of distraction. Alicia looked about.

Temple Church was to her right. Her destination 62 | UncagedBooks.com

wasn’t much further. She resumed walking, but at a slower pace.

What if he did not agree to her request? She stared at the ground as if by some miracle the answer lay at her feet.

“I admire your conviction, Alicia, but you can’t always have your way. In all things there is a give and take, a bargaining. Coming to a mutual understanding is the way both you and the other person will be successful.”

More wisdom from Mrs. Bainbridge. The woman had an uncanny way of always seeing the truth of a matter.

It would be best for her to be prepared to listen, then bargain. See a way for both she and Mr. Caulfield to come away a winner. Satisfied she had a plan, she quickened her step, eager to come to an agreement with her publisher and present him with her finished manuscript. She crossed Fetter Lane and came to her destination, Number 32.

Alicia entered the building, climbed the stairs, and stood at the door to Caulfield Publishing. Isaac Caulfield was a congenial gentleman for the most part, but occasionally he acted like most men—opinionated, closed-minded, and unrelenting.

Caulfield Publishing was not the first publisher she approached. She had set her sights on the renowned William Lane. With grace, he declined her manuscript and advised her the best and probably only way her story would be published was if she paid to have it printed and sold copies to her family and friends.

As an afterthought, he suggested a small, unknown company, Caufield Publishing.

She returned home heartbroken. Her sister, Beatrice, and brother-in-law, Captain Douglas Elkington, tried to soothe her. She told them Mr. Lane suggested another publisher, one more willing to produce her type of story. It was Elkington’s approval that made her consider the idea. Intent and undeterred, she approached Isaac Caulfield.

He was not enthusiastic when she brought him her first manuscript.

Not at all.

He was ready to reject her story before he read a single word. Desperate, she cajoled him into reading the piece before he passed judgement.

That was two years ago. Now, their business arrange-

| RUTH A. CASIE | ment was a successful one. Earlier this week Caulfield released and sent her fifth book, The Lost Dowry, to the library on Leadenhall Street.

Her triumphs were on her side.

Alicia took a deep breath, straightened her spine, turned the latch, and entered. “Good day, Mr. Caulfield.”

The publisher sprang to his feet.

“Lady Alicia.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “You’re early. What a pleasant surprise. Please, be seated.”

“I apologize for my early arrival, but I am eager to speak with you.”

“Are you here alone?” He came to her side and glanced out the door.

“Yes.” She winced at the trace of defiance in her voice.

Another social blunder. Beatrice warned her London propriety was different from that at home in Sommerby-the-Sea. It amazed her that a different world existed three hundred miles south of the village.

A chaperone.

The idea made her teeth itch. Today, Beatrice was otherwise engaged and in truth, Alicia’s patience ran thin waiting for her.

She stepped inside. The office was cramped not because it was small, but because it was in disarray.

Everywhere she looked, there were books and papers.

Dark walnut bookcases stuffed with unorderly books lined the left side of the room. Light filtered through bedraggled curtains on the large windows to her right.

Several stacks of papers filled Mr. Caulfield’s desk, which was positioned in front of the window. Similar bookshelves were on either side of the fireplace on the far wall – but were hidden behind a pile of papers on a second desk across from Caulfield’s. The clutter of papers and books rendered that desk unusable. A modest fire burned in the grate to take off the chill.

She was surprised the entire place didn’t go up in flames.

She stepped with care around crates that littered the floor, removed the London Gazette laying on the chair, and settled into the seat.

“My sister was unavailable to join us. She and her husband are preparing the family for a trip north to join our parents for the village’s Harvest Festival. I wanted to speak to you before we left.”

Had he heard her? She followed his stare. He was fo-

cused on the Gazette in her hand. She glanced at his desk, the chair next to her, but there was no place to put it.

“I’m leaving with the family for Sommer-by-theSea. I look forward to reading at Mrs. Miller’s Circulating Library. I wanted to thank you for seeing that my books were delivered.”

“You’re most welcome. I’m sure reading small segments of your story will encourage people to either borrow or buy your book. I am glad you’re here. I wanted to speak to you today on another subject. I too, will be leaving London.” He reached for the Gazette. “Here. Let me have the newspaper, if you please.”

Alicia took a quick look at the headline: Missing Walmer Castle Chest Found – Empty?

She glanced at Caulfield’s extended hand. She was about to give the newspaper to him when she spotted a corner of the paper was turned down, exposing the book review page. She opened the paper and stopped.

One review was circled: The Lost Dowry.

She read the article out loud.

“This is the fifth little story by Lady Alicia Hartley. While her other stories held promise, this book does not reach the standards the author established in her previous publications. Perhaps the author’s muse has gone astray. The characters and conflicts in The Lost Dowry had potential but only the heroine, who is quite good, shines. It is unfortunate that the others appear to have lost their way. They are forced, mechanical, and obstruct the story. In a word, they are disappointing. In this story...”

Skipping the summary of the plot, she went to the final paragraph.

“She should read J. C. Melrose’s In My Brother’s Shadow or any of the other eight stories in that series. There is an author who evokes a man’s emotion, albeit the author could use some assistance with the female point of view. Can you imagine if these authors combined their skills? They would lay out a plot with characters that would keep you reading until the last page or the last flicker of your candle.”

The newspaper trembled in her hand. She went Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | back to the beginning of the article to find the name of the reviewer. Anonymous.

The coward.

Her eyes focused on the review. The small quakes and quivers of the paper she held attested to the state of her nerves.

“How did an appraisal of my story turn into a review for…” Her words clipped, her tone chilly, she spoke with as reasonable a voice as she could manage and scanned the article. “J. C. Melrose?”

She lowered the paper. Mr. Caulfield’s lips moved as the empty feeling in her stomach built into a furious storm. She wasn’t aware of anything he said, until his words filtered through at last.

“Lady Hartley, are you listening? Reviews like this are...not unusual. Keep in mind, you can’t please every reader. I’m glad to publish your little stories.”

“Little stories.” Her heart galloped like a horse in the steeple chase. Her hand touched her pendant.

Remain calm.

But soothing herself was getting more difficult by the moment. Even rubbing her stone didn’t help now. People were buying her novels, all of them.

Alicia thrust the offensive paper at him.

“Perhaps we should give the readers some time.

We plan to publish your next story in the summer.

I want to speak to you about my plans for the company. I’ve bought a new press—” “The plan was for my new story to be published in February. Now you want a delay? Or do you mean to cancel our agreement?”

His face closed, as if guarding a secret. Her heart sank. He accepted this review. He may be tolerating her tirade, but he agreed with Anonymous.

Unable to remain calm a moment longer, she shot him a penetrating glare as she rose, her parcel in hand.

“Not at all.” He sprang to his feet, his chair scraping the floor behind him. “Being an author is not easy, Lady Alicia. I warned you before we began you would be at the mercy of the reading public, a capricious lot. I knew you were persistent and had promise.” He studied her over the rim of his glasses. “I believe you still do, but with the new 64 | UncagedBooks.com

press I have plans to—” But. How often had she heard that insignificant word in front of every variation of the word no, a weapon men used to deny a woman her due?

“This is one review.” Alicia paced the small space in front of his desk. “Caulfield Publishing has published five of my,” she turned and faced him, “‘little stories’ to your financial advantage.”

He gave her a sheepish glance.

“Before I let you read this…” She paused and held up her parcel. “I’ll give your suggestion to delay publishing more thought, then send you my decision.”

As disappointment and despair dimmed her enthusiasm, she questioned what happened to yesterday’s excitement and celebration. The Lost Dowry was in the circulating library. Congratulatory notes from friends were piled on the salver on the foyer table.

And there was the letter.

She couldn’t believe her good fortune when she read William Lane’s message, although Elkington believed it. She had never seen her brother-in-law so excited.

He took out the sherry and they all toasted the occasion. But now…her dream was dissolving in front of her eyes.

How could one awful review ruin everything? Mr. Lane would not want to read her manuscript now, and Mr. Caulfield questioned publishing her next story.

Remaining calm was out of the question.

Her secret was out. She had done a good job and convinced herself and everyone else Lady Alicia Hartley was an a https://www.writersrepublic.com/bookshop/ biodiversity-institutes-conservation-and-education uthor.

Everyone but one reviewer. Her breath came in small bursts. She stared at the Gazette on his desk and wanted to tear it to pieces.

“Lady Alicia, please sit down. We’ll discuss this and come to a decision that is satisfactory to us both.”

She glanced at the man, remained motionless, and held her words behind her teeth, not trusting herself to speak. Afraid she’d say something she would regret, Alicia turned and marched to the door with as much dignity as possible.

“My ‘little stories,’ as you like to refer to them, are all

| RUTH A. CASIE | the rage.”

She grabbed the latch and hoped he didn’t observe her trembling hand or her watery eyes. At the moment, her single thought was to escape.

“Please, come sit and we can discuss our course of action without any—” “Womanly emotions?” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“No, not at all. I’ve been trying to tell you about some changes.”

“Another time, perhaps. My family is traveling north, and I mustn’t delay.” By all that was holy, she needed to get away from the man.

“I understand. My regards to your sister and brotherin-law.” He called to her as she pulled open the door and collided into a solid obstacle. Startled and thrown off balance, Alicia lost her grip on her parcel and sent the bundle tumbling to the floor.

Strong hands grasped her shoulders to steady her. Alicia’s head snapped up. She stared into concerned gray, silver-streaked eyes. She took a deep breath and was surprised by the scent of lavender and citrus.

“I... I... forgive me, sir.” She lowered her gaze to the gloved hand on her right shoulder and back to his penetrating stare. “Release me, please. I assure you I have recovered.”

The man’s concerned expression vanished, replaced with a humorous glint. He removed his hands and stepped away.

His great coat flowed around him as he bent and retrieved her parcel from the floor. Her shoulders felt the ghost of his strong yet gentle grasp. As he stood, she looked away eager to leave.

“There is nothing to forgive.” He bent his head toward her and handed her the bundle. “I, too, would want to make a fast escape from Mr. Caulfield.”

“Thank you,” she said without any humor, pulling the parcel close.

“My pleasure, I assure you.” The gentleman tipped the brim of his hat.

Alicia turned and rushed down the stairs. *** Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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showcase

Karin A. Todd

Promise to a Guardian Angel Promise to a Guardian Angel Ronald Freed & Karin A. Todd Mystery

Top CIA Agent suddenly finds love in this 1960’s actionfilled suspense and drama.

In author Karin Todd’s captivating story, “Promise to a Guardian Angel”, it shows how life connects the dots, despite the twists and turns that humans create in that path, in the end, everything will all work out. This story is an easy read even with all the action, mystery, love, moderate violence, despair, rage, elation, contentment and surprises.

“Promise to a Guardian Angel” will keep readers guessing all the way to the end.

Special agent Rusty Kincade (aka Sundance) has tallied fifteen years of covert foreign operations in the service of the CIA. At the top of his field and a ‘soldier’ at the ‘Front’ of the Cold War, he has survived and outfoxed every entrapment scheme concocted by his East German and Russian counterparts. Rusty is now ready to end his tour of duty, retire from The Agency, marry the love of his life, and settle down to raise a family on his ranch in California. Abruptly, his dreams are destroyed, but then a miracle occurs, and he realizes that all of his expertise will be required to solve the mystery that has ensnared his life.

68 | UncagedBooks.com

Excerpt After a thoroughly enjoyable deep-sea fishing trip off the coast of San Diego, Rusty was enjoying the pleasant drive up Highway 101 from San Francisco. He loved this part of California in the spring, with its many mountains, farms, ranches, and vineyards. It was peaceful and invigorating with the smell of the cool, clean, fresh air, created by the recent storms. Having a 4WD on his Dodge had come in handy quite a few times on the little side trips he had taken, when he had encountered more than one mudslide caused by the storms.

He’d had great luck on his fishing trip, and had more than enough yellow-fin fish stored in the cooler back in the camper shell of his truck, to be able to give some to his sister, The Judge, and Doctor Brown, the long, time family physician in Willits.

About twenty miles from Willits he was suddenly hit with an anxiety attack. They didn’t happen very often, but when they did, they usually meant something was seriously wrong. His hands and face became icy cold and clammy at the same time, his stomach felt queasy and full of dread. It was as though the Angel of Death had just passed him by. At that moment, Rusty knew his life was about to change and how, remained to be seen.

He began mulling over the possibilities, what could it mean? Had something already happened? Or was it about to? Was there anything he could do to avert it?

His fiancée was an operative on assignment in Poland; but her assignments didn’t generally put her into the path of danger, unlike those he experienced as Sundance (his CIA alter ego). ~~ Lately, Sonya’s been working as a “blender” at social functions, picking up tidbits of information here and there. Granted, she’s very good at it, but it shouldn’t put her in any danger.

We both knew it wasn’t wise to get close to someone in this line of work, and so we shouldn’t have become so involved; but when love comes along, there isn’t a whole lot you can do about it.

If another operative ~ foreign or Federal ~ found out about us, they could use it to their advantage; but we’ve been super discrete. Smokey’s given me a couple of months off, so there shouldn’t be anything happening

in that arena either. I hope nothing’s happened up at the ranch; but if it has, I’ll know soon enough, I’m almost there now.

As much as Rusty hated these premonitions, they’d saved his life on more than one occasion; so he wasn’t about to ignore or downplay it now. Deciding to pull over for a few minutes to regain his equilibrium; he checked his right side-view mirror before making the lane change and spotted a highway patrol car behind him, with lights blazing. ~~ Oh great! That’s just what I need. ~~ He pulled over to wait for the officer to approach.

Glancing into his side-view mirror, he was a little surprised to see a tall, attractive woman with brown hair and eyes, wearing a CHP uniform, approaching the truck. Her body language told him she was all business. ~~ Get used to it Rusty, we are almost into the seventies now, after all. I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot more women entering the workforce ~ yes, even law enforcement. ~~ Karin A. Todd, a fifth generation Californian, has resided in Yolo, Alameda, Marin, and Sonoma Counties. She now resides with her life-partner and five cats in the town of Sonoma, and has a daughter living in Santa Rosa, California. She worked in the securities industry for thirteen years, the natural foods industry for ten years, and is currently pursuing various IBO and Internet opportunities. After a ten-year journey that included Heald College and Santa Rosa Junior College, she has recently received a B.S. from the University of Phoenix, and is currently considering various universities’ Master’s programs.

Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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On the Road to Publication: Preparing Your Manuscript for the Journey

Guest column by Marie Powell

| GUEST COLUMN |

On the Road to Publication: Preparing Your Manuscript for the Journey

by Marie Powell

There are as many ways roads to readers as there are writers to walk, run, or stumble down them. But whatever the route, most writers seek help to package up their manuscript for the [sometimes long] road ahead.

A quick search on the Internet reveals some staggering statistics: 750-million print books were sold in the USA and 1.7 million books were self-published in 2019. That’s a competitive market. It also proves that writers need help to secure a place for their books, whether their path leads to self-publication or to agents and traditional publishing houses.

Like many writers, I tend to leave no stone unturned in my search for the perfect process. After all, we want to be sure the reader has the best experience possible when they pick up a book. I’ve worked with both large traditional and smaller independent publishers, and I’ve worked as an editor on other writers’ manuscripts. And I’ve discovered a growing industry of support services available to help bring a book along on its journey to publication.

Most writers have heard by now that it’s a good idea to hire an editor before sending a manuscript to 72 | UncagedBooks.com

agents or publishers. But there are different kinds of editors, and a bewildering range of editing services available today. Each has its own advantages.

For example, a writer with an incomplete or stalled manuscript may want a developmental or structural edit to help organize, revise, expand, and/ or clarify the story elements.

Writers with a completed manuscript may prefer a copy editor to mark line-by-line grammar or continuity corrections, without comments or feedback. And those about to hit the “publish” button may benefit from a proof-reader to check for those typos and tiny errors we can be too close to our work to see. (For a comprehensive source of editorial services and definitions, check the Editors’ Canada free download, “Definitions of Editorial Skills” https://www. editors.ca/hire/definitions-editorial-skills.)

Hiring an editor can be expensive. Some writers decide to seek feedback on their manuscripts informally before taking that step, to help minimize the costs. That can be as simple as an informal request to a trusted writer-friend to give feedback, or to be a “beta reader” for the manuscript.

Writing groups can also be a real help to writers at all experience levels. A writer’s group is just what it sounds like: a group of writers who get together to read and critique each other’s writing. Such groups can meet locally or online, giving comments via Zoom or other software.

Many local or regional writers’ associations or guilds offer leads to find writing partners working in similar genres. Writing conferences may include a special “speed dating” or networking session for writers to get together informally and discuss become critique partners or writing groups.

While some writers prefer getting together face-to-face in a local group, many writers have discovered online

groups, especially since the pandemic. Online groups have the advantage of allowing writers to participate from across the country or around the world. Larger online writing communities have also appeared in recent years, and the best of these combine learning services or webinars with networking and critique services.

The process of seeking “beta” readers can also range to more formal services, like hiring a sensitivity reader or a professional manuscript evaluator. Some local writers’ guilds or national or regional writers’ associations may offer discounts or funding for their members to obtain an evaluation by a professional writer or editor. As well, some offer formal mentorship programs that allow emerging authors to work one-on-one with a published author, to gain more insight and experience into their manuscript.

A quick search online also produces a large number of private editorial services that offer manuscript evaluations as well. Most point out that manuscript evaluations are not the same as hiring an editor. Usually, an evaluation provides a more “high-level” review and analysis. That means an experienced professional will provide a writer with anywhere from three to 10 pages of discussion and professional advice. This can include comments on structure, character goals and motivations, plot development, genre considerations, technique or style, voice, clarity, and grammar.

make the journey all the more pleasant and rewarding. ©Copyright 2021 Marie Powell for Uncaged Book Reviews www.uncagedbooks.com Marie Powell’s adventures in castlehopping across North Wales resulted in her awardwinning medieval fantasy series Last of the Gifted: Spirit Sight (Book 1) and Water Sight (Book 2). The series is available in eBook, paperback, audiobook, omnibus, and hardcover. Marie is also the author of more than 40 children’s books with such publishers as Scholastic Education Canada, Amicus, Crabtree, Lerner/Lightning Bolt and more. Her award-winning short stories and poetry appear in literary magazines and anthologies. She lives and works on Treaty 4 territory in Regina, Saskatchewan, where she enjoys experimenting in gardening and medieval cooking.

Find her at mariepowell.ca

Like mentors, evaluators may also suggest online resources or tools to help develop the manuscript, or ideas for marketing. That’s one reason why the manuscript should be past the developmental stage before it’s submitted for evaluation. In the case of private evaluations, the process can also include additional conversations by telephone, email, or Zoom.

The point of the journey, really, is for the book to find a readership. Writing groups, communities, associations, and conferences are all good sources of information and assistance along the road. And in today’s marketplace, writers who seek assistance from this growing support system will often find themselves a step ahead of the crowd. For the writer and the reader, that can Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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shortstory Final

Tess

by Michael Giltner

| SHORT STORY | This story will continue in consecutive months.

Tess

Pt. 2 - Final

By Michael Giltner The fight at the bar as well as the abandoned and stolen car found in the ravine were the main news items the following day. The police had visited Steve to find out why his car had been abandoned in the ravine. He was stunned and responded with true honesty, “it must have been stolen. I keep it in town and only use it for long trips. I haven’t used it in a couple of months. My truck is my main transportation around here. It’s a 4-wheel drive and good in the snow.”

There were a few more questions and then they left.

“Tess, can you come down here?”

Sheepishly, Tess exited the upstairs bedroom and came down to where Steve was sitting.

“You want to tell me what is going on?”

Not really knowing how to lie even though she did understand what a lie was and why people lied, it wasn’t built into her system to actually lie. She could “beat around the bush” so to speak and obfuscate issues but not directly lie.

“I was going to tell you but felt it would be better if you heard the truth after talking to the police. I knew they would come here and I didn’t want you to have to lie to them for my sake.”

With that stated, Tess gave Steve all the details regarding her adventure. How she had ‘stolen’ his car, disguised herself, and how she had disposed of the car.

She also told him ‘why’ she had gone to that particular bar, how they tried to drug her, and how she defended herself. She intentionally left out the part about disfiguring one person’s arm and almost killing two other people. If he asked, she would cough up the truth, but otherwise, he had the bulk of the story.

“But, don’t worry. I’ll buy you a new car when you’re ready for one,” Tess professed with a huge grin on her face. “It’ll be exciting, just like they advertise on TV!” 78 | UncagedBooks.com

Sitting there with his mouth gaping open, stunned by her actions, he wasn’t sure how to react. Yes, he should be totally mad, but she had essentially confessed to helping eliminate a “sore” that had existed in the area for years.

Everyone knew the truth about the bar but no one would take any action. In one night Tess had hopefully rid the area of the criminal plague that festered there.

“You sure they won’t find you? If they do, there will be big trouble for both of us,” stated Steve. “Also, how were you able to drink anything? You don’t need to eat.

Where does the food go?

“Oh!” replied Tess. “I have a de-atomizing processor in what you would call my throat. It takes everything, liquid or solid, and converts it to pure energy. While I don’t need the extra energy input, I guess it could act as a backup, if necessary.”

“OK,” responded Steve slowly as he realized there was a lot more here than he had originally thought and would definitely need to keep her away from any authorities.

The extent of what Tess had done was also starting to fully sink in and the ramifications could be serious if she were traced back to him.

“You know what? I think it’s time for a road trip. I need to visit my publisher in Boston and you will get to see more of the world. By the time we get back, all this should be blown over and everything here will be back to normal.”

While he was smiling on the outside, Steve was very concerned on the inside. He knew, from the local gossip, who was actually behind the men at the bar, and he wasn’t sure they would just ‘forget’ what happened.

The drive to Boston took only a couple of hours. The roads were clear so there was nothing other than Tess’ amazement at every new thing to slow them down. She had seen a lot on the TV and via the internet but being there in person made a major difference. She wanted to walk around Bunker Hill, go by the old church used by Paul Revere, see “Old Ironsides” and more. Still a kid at heart, Tess’s head was constantly turning left and right trying to see all the sites. Steve was getting almost as much excitement as Tess just seeing how she reacted to everything. She was over the top when she rode the Swan boats in the park. After an Italian lunch in the North End, it was time to hit the car dealership.

| MICHAEL GILTNER | Steve had decided his best option was to trade in his old truck since a new Jeep would handle all his problems, snow, and distance travel. It would also eliminate having a vehicle “stashed” downtown. Once they had “picked” from the available models, it was time to sign the papers and make a payment. Tess insisted Steve sign up for the extended warranty since she was footing the bill. The funds from the insurance company for the old car; i.e. the stolen and burned car, would pay for a lot of gas!

Tess moved to the side of the office so that Steve’s body blocked the view of her from the salesman. Pulling up the edge of her new Bruins sweatshirt, Tess ran her finger along her hip line. Immediately a pocket opened in her skin. Reaching in she pulled out a heavy Black credit card. Handing it to Steve, she added, “Here, use this.”

Steve hesitated but figured Tess knew what she was doing and handed it to the salesman.

“Uh,” he responded after glancing at the card. “How’s this work? There’s no number or magnetic strip? It’s just a piece of plastic.”

“Actually, no it’s not,” replied Tess. “Run it through your system and you’ll see it works just like a normal card, well, not normal but even better!”

With a reluctant glance at Tess, he hesitated until she motioned for him to try it in the machine. As soon as he ran it in the card reader, it beeped and asked for more information.

“It says you need to enter the card number.”

Stepping forward, Tess quickly entered the number.

Almost as quickly the system responded with a second beep.

“Now, it says it needs an ID code.”

Reaching around the salesperson, Tess typed in the code and hit ‘enter’. The card was immediately accepted, much to the amazement of the salesperson. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen a card like that. And, you’re paying the whole amount?”

“Yes,” replied Tess. “And don’t forget the extended warranty.”

Since this was a lot more gravy in his boat, the salesman gladly complied by entering the total amount into the system. The order was taken and immediately showed ‘paid in full’.

Again, “wow!” as the paperwork began to spill out of the printer.

Since it was a “year-end” sale, their new vehicle was ready to go as soon as a few signatures were added to complete the paperwork. As they got into their new car

and exited the dealership, Tess noticed in the side view mirror a person that had been watching them in the showroom was leaving also and appeared to be following them. Tess suggested they pull into a somewhat isolated ATM where she could get some cash. She preferred to pay for purchases that way versus using her card in public. As they stepped out of the car to enter the ATM vestibule, another car pulled in behind them completely blocking their exit. The stranger stepped out and followed them into the ATM location.

“OK, lady, I’ll take that card,” he stated as both Steve and Tess turned to face him.

With a short laugh, Tess responded, “really, you certainly don’t pay a lot of attention to what’s going on do you?”

“What?” he responded as Tess held out the card.

Taking a quick look, he spoke directly to Tess.

“There aren’t any numbers on this card!” he exclaimed.

“Nope. They have to be entered manually every time it’s used and it changes after every use. The same for the pin which is 12 digits versus 4. Still want it?”

Now obviously confused, he took the low road and asked directly, “Fine, I want you to withdraw as much money as possible right now.”

“And, if I don’t?” replied Tess.

To back up his statement, the stranger threw up his right hand. He had been concealing it in his jacket pocket during the conversation. The silvery finish of the stiletto flashed in the bright lights. With a “snicker” the 6-inch blade popped into play.

“That’s a big mistake,” said Tess, with a frown marring her face.

“Get the money now or . . . .,” was as far as he got before Tess’ hand shot out and crushed his larynx. Her “YouTube” training and detective stories had both indicated this was both an effective and generally safe blow in close situations. Since it had worked to quickly dispatch the guy in the bar, it made sense to use it whenever needed. He reacted to her movement and managed to slash her jacket and nick her skin but then dropped the knife and clutching his throat, fell to the floor.

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| SHORT STORY | “Should we leave or what?” asked Tess.

next to him until the police arrived.

Stunned by her actions and the now disabled robber on the ground, Steve was somewhat surprised but quickly recovered his voice.

It turned out the robber was no stranger to the police. He had a long criminal record and had pulled several similar robberies over the years. His mode of operation was to hang around where people might make large purchases, follow them and when an opportune moment ensued, rob them of their card and pin or get money. He had been arrested and convicted several times in the past and had just finished his last sentence months earlier. Since this was an armed robbery attempt and a parole violation, he would now be in for a very long time.

“We need to call the police,” he stated as he looked around. “Our car is blocked in, so we can’t go anywhere, and we’re most likely captured on the video camera of the ATM. The big question, how do we explain his condition?”

“Easy,” said Tess with full confidence. “I was a karate student before coming to visit you. A black belt and specialized in self-defense. Blonds may have more fun, but they also draw more attention; wanted and unwanted.”

“OK then, that’s our story, and we’re sticking to it,” replied Steve as he reached for his phone.

Taking her arm into his hand, Steve looked to see if Tess was injured.

“It looks like he cut you.”

Glancing down, Tess saw the tear in the jacket and the small nick on her skin. Taking her free hand, she wiped the nicked area from top to bottom and it immediately disappeared.”

“What!” exclaimed Steve.

“Not only do I not need sleep or food or drink, but my skin can also heal instantly. It’s a non-Newtonian, composite compound and makes me impervious to most situations. All it takes is a quick wipe and ‘bingo’, I’m as good as new, ” she added with a smile.

“We really must talk in more detail when we get back,” stated Steve.

Tess looked down at the knife and was starting to reach for it just as Steve again grabbed her arm.

“I think it’s best if you don’t touch it. Slide it away from him with your foot. We don’t want them checking for fingerprints and by the way, you might want to put on your gloves just in case they look at your hands but keep them in plain sight. OK?” Taking Steve’s advice, Tess put on her gloves and stood 80 | UncagedBooks.com

With the video from the bank to back up their story, and a police force glad to get another criminal off the street, the police quickly finished their report and let Steve and Tess go on their way. # The trip back to New Hampshire was quiet. Every time Steve started to ask a question, he would stop just before the first words left his mouth. The 20 questions had turned into 100’s but still, he was almost afraid to ask them, and he was unsure if he wanted to hear the answers. He now knew she had some unknown mission, unknown to him, and possibly, unknown to her. He was also sure everything that had happened; the bar and the attempted ATM heist were part of the program, training maybe, but still, where was it going from there. Upon reaching the cabin, they marched inside, and finally, Steve couldn’t hold it any longer. He had pondered how to start, so he just blurted it out, “what next?”

Un-startled by his question, Tess responded, “finally, you’ve kept it all bottled up all the way home and that’s all you can ask?”

“I wasn’t sure where to start. I assume you have a mission or plan or something brewing otherwise you wouldn’t have studied the things you have. I also feel it is something I won’t be involved in, like what happened today but I’m also not sure you may understand everything that could happen to you. What will happen should you become disabled? Will they experiment on you, develop duplicates, use them to their advantage? Are there more of you or your type out there today?”

Looking up at him, Tess responded, “the majority of those questions, as you’ve guessed, I do not have answers to. Are there more of ‘me’ out there? I don’t know.

If I am disabled to a point where I would, as a human,

be considered dead, this unit will immediately disintegrate. That’s all I’ve been told. Nothing of ‘me’ will remain so there shouldn’t be any worries there. Do I have a mission; it’s developing and when it is complete, I will leave. I need to say “goodbye” now because I’m not sure when it will happen but when it does, I will need to leave immediately. You have been a great help to me and I do want to thank you.”

Moving to Steve, Tess embraced him in what was a much more affectionate hug than the previous one. It also didn’t take his breath away. Stepping back, Tess added, “I need to watch more videos”, turned and headed for the computer. Steve just stood there, lost in thought.

Could he stop her; “No“.

Could he go with her; definitely “NO”.

All he could do would be to hopefully wait for her return. # The commotion in the outer room was typically a sign that it was going to be another bad day. She scrunched into the darkened corner hoping they wouldn’t come for her but realized that just like escaping, it was just another fantasy. She couldn’t hide anywhere in the room or in her mind. They would eventually come for her just as they had almost daily. The commotion was typically a sign they were clearing the table or, if she was lucky, the cot. She had initially fought their actions, but they were stronger and once they had their way with her, she was thrown back into the room. Generally, there was only one but a few times there were two men.

Later they would feed her and allow her to wash up, wanting her as clean as possible for the next time. Not the best situation for a 15-year-old. Yes, other girls had passed through the same room as she now occupied.

Most quickly left as they were being trafficked to other men, some in-country but generally, smuggled to the Middle east. For some reason, she had languished in the room. They had kidnapped her from her village months ago and while she quickly learned from the other girls what was most likely going to happen, she wasn’t sure if or how she could escape. When she initially fought them, they beat her, but gently so as to not “bruise the merchandise”. But lately, Richardo had taken a liking to her, and she tried to take on a more loving attitude so it would appear to be more than just a sex act. She hoped

| MICHAEL GILTNER | he would eventually give her an opportunity to escape or help her getaway. Option one was most likely.

After their recent trysts, he would generally fall asleep, regardless of the time of day, and a few times, he did so with her in his arms. When she tried to move, he would wake up and put her back into the room. She had tried to find a position that allowed her to move without waking him, but so far, she had failed. This time, she would try harder.

The door to the room slowly opened and the faint exterior light filtered in through the dust stirred up from the dirt floor. She took a deep breath steeling herself for the next rape while hoping it was only Richardo today.

The shadow cast into the room didn’t look familiar; it even took on the shape of a woman. No woman had ever visited the holding area since she was there.

In her own language, the shadow spoke, “Come with me. Time to leave this place and go home.”

Quickly jumping up from the corner, she hurried to the shadow’s side. Most of the shadow’s face was covered, but she could see her eyes; bright blue, sparkling in the sunshine that had filtered into the room from the open front door. She had heard stories in her village of the Angel with blue eyes but thought they were just another fairy-tale they told to make everyone feel there was hope when in reality, nothing changed. She drew in her breath. The Angel was real and here to save her.

Hurrying after her they left the house. Looking back, she could see Richardo lying on the cot, his head and neck at an unnatural angle, and his bare chest not moving. Glancing to the side, there was another body face down on the floor. It didn’t matter, she was free, for the moment.

“I’m going to take you back to your village. I hope that you and the others will be more vigilant from now on.

You must learn to protect yourself or it will happen again. I can only do so much,” stated Tess.

Tears ran down the girl’s cheeks as she continually thanked Tess for rescuing her. Yes, she promised, she would be more aware of what was happening and warn the other girls. Tess had previously met with the elders of her village and had given them some simple procedures that might protect the women there from more raids. While it wasn’t foolproof, it might help.

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| SHORT STORY | on that part. Surprisingly, a large number of the people involved with organizing and running the sex trafficking in the area were disappearing, some never to be found. Others were left with messages warning what would happen if the trafficking didn’t stop. A few of the braver members of the organization openly defied the warning and soon disappeared. With the leadership gone and the warnings starting to sink in, the trafficking groups moved back into the drug smuggling business as a safer option.

As her legend grew and was passed from village to village, the shadow acquired a moniker, “Blue Angel.”

No one in the villages had ever seen anyone with blue eyes before, nor had they ever had a rescuer before.

Typically, they were left to the whims of the ruling element and had no voice in their lives. She was offering them hope, something that was far and between in their lives. # The drug lord sat behind his desk. Concern showed on his face. A “ghost” was attacking his operation, so he had been told. Many of his men were now missing and presumed dead, his products destroyed by fire, his pipeline disrupted and in several cases, quantities of cash missing. While he could always get more men, the loss of cash and product was more of a concern. The only feedback he had received was that a person, the ghost, would appear as if by magic and “poof” everything was gone as well as the ghost.

“I do not believe in ghosts,” he told himself as he heard his door begin to open. A form quietly slipped through the doorway and moved to the side of the room. Shadows helped hide the intruder creating the further allusion of a ghost.

“I do not believe in ghosts,” he thought again as he drew his guns. Immediately, his wrists were pierced by knives, his guns clattered to the floor. The cry of pain failed to leave his lips as the next knife pierced his throat, severing his spinal cord. The only sound he made was the thud of his head hitting the desk. The shadow moved along the wall and quickly found the safe. Using her acute hearing and equally sensitive touch, Tess quickly determined the combination and removed all the cash and documents.

Quickly scanning the documents, which were immedi82 | UncagedBooks.com

ately stored in her vast memory bank, she whispered to herself, “more to do, more to do.” as she left the home.

Glancing back from the top of a nearby hill, Tess could see that all the buildings in the compound were now totally engulfed in flames. With no one around to quench the fires, the whole area would be cinders by morning.

The flames were intense enough to reflect off her eyes.

The blue sparkle was even more intense as she stared for a few moments longer and then turned away. The next target was already being planned in her mind as she moved down the backside of the hill to her awaiting car.

She had found and was now leaving as her calling card, blue wooden angels she found in the local market. An angel was now planted on a stake at the entrance to the compound. She wasn’t interested in any credit but didn’t want her actions to reflect on the locals. She knew reprisals were a normal occurrence and hoped this would help alleviate some of the damage.

“It was the Blue Angel again!” was all she wanted people to say. “If they want to give me a name, why not use it,” she thought as she started the car and moved on to her next encounter. # He sat behind his ornate, hand-carved desk with beads of sweat pooling on his brow even though the room was almost chilly. His pipeline of cash was drying up fast as various “criminal elements” in the region mysteriously disappeared. All he knew was stories about a “ghost” with blue eyes appearing mysteriously, and then “poof” everyone was either dead or missing. While he was not concerned about the men, he was concerned about the cash it generated. His off-shore bank account was considerable, but he always felt “he never had enough.”

As he sat silently staring at his phone, hoping for a call saying the entity that was plaguing the area was captured or killed, his door quietly opened and a camouflaged figure moved quickly into the room. He only noticed the change when the voice spoke.

“I don’t think you’re going to be getting any calls,” the figure said.

“Who are you and how did you get in?” he asked as his knee quickly pressed against the emergency alert button under his desk.

Noticing his movement, Tess responded, “No need to press the button, Governor. First, it’s disabled and secondly, there’s no one to respond. It’s just the two of us, and we need to have a little talk.”

“Your operations have been, shall we say, suspended and I suggest you resign and leave the country while you can.

All the documents I have obtained have been sent to the President and I’m sure the authorities will be showing up outside your door very quickly. You have 24 hours or I will be back and end things forever.”

Turning to leave, the light from the room flashed off her eyes.

“The Blue Angel,” was all he could say before she was gone. # Approximately 2 years after Tess left the cabin there was a knock on Steve’s front door. Winter was still prevalent even as it crept toward spring. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground and the temperature had only recently moved above freezing. Steve struggled to rise out of his chair, his breathing labored. The oxygen generator hung from his shoulder and its hose stretched up to his face as he moved slowly to the door. A second gentle knock started just as he opened the door. Throwing it back all the way, Tess stood in the dim light on the porch.

“Oh my goodness!” gasped Steve. “Come in, come in.”

Slowly turning back into the room, he ambled back to his favorite chair and then fell into it. Weak and exhausted from that slight sojourn, he closed his eyes and took as deep a breath as his lungs would allow trying to revive his energy.

Closing the door behind her, Tess remained frozen by the sight, not the weather. She was wearing a Brazilian soccer sweatshirt, long pants but no coat. Slowly analyzing Steves’ state, she moved to face him.

“Steve,” she asked “what’s wrong? I didn’t know you were sick.”

Regaining enough energy to speak, Steve responded in a low voice as he knew Tess could hear him, “COPD, all that smoking I did when I was younger caught up with me. I also have cancer in the upper portions of my lungs.

| MICHAEL GILTNER | The doctors aren’t sure if they can do anything since my lung functionality is so low. An operation might kill me. Chemo might do the same thing. I’ve had some mild radiation treatments but it doesn’t seem to do much, so here I sit just waiting for either a miracle or ‘the darkness of the eternal night’ to find me. That’s a phrase I used in one of my stories. Thought it was fitting.”

Taking another deep breath, he paused before continuing, “I have been following you as much as possible, the “Blue Angel”. You’ve been busy and have covered a lot of territory. Are you OK?” Now totally out of breath, Steve sat back to regain his strength. He was very excited to see Tess, but his physical state limited his ability to do much, and he tired easily. He could see the excitement in Tess’s eyes and knew she had a lot to convey so he motioned for her to proceed with her story.

“Well,” she started, “as you stated I have been busy.

Following somewhat along a path for bringing some form of justice into different areas of the world, I have tried to improve the lives of many different groups of people. I eliminated several sex trafficking operations, drug production and distribution channels, cartel organizations that dealt in murder as much as moving their products, dishonest government officials, warmongers, and gun traffickers. It has been very frustrating and unfortunately, not as beneficial as I had hoped.

Someone once told me ‘the universe abhors a vacuum’ and now I understand what they meant. As soon as I would eliminate one of the operations, someone else would move in to take over and it would proliferate again.”

After about an hour, she paused as though to catch her breath, something she certainly didn’t need to do but did sigh. Steve’s eyes widened when he realized something was different.

“You’re breathing!” he stated.

“Oh! Yes, I have learned a lot about my body and have been able to make some modifications. I felt it was more natural to emulate breathing, so I made my chest rise and fall. No real breaths but it does look like it, right? Oh, and look at what else I’ve done!”

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| SHORT STORY | above her chest and exposed a perfectly formed pair of breasts, totally human this time.

“Well,” replied Steve “I could answer that but I believe you already know the answer.”

“Wow!” choked Steve. “That’s amazing. How did you accomplish it?”

Smiling, Tess responded, “I always knew you were a very smart person.”

“Remember when I ‘found’ the credit card and then ‘healed’ the scratch from the knife in Boston? I realized at that time that I could make changes to my external appearance. I figured breasts would be the most obvious item and look.”

After another sigh, she added, “I have seen love and hate, darkness and light. These elements fight constantly and unfortunately, those caught in the middle suffer. I’m not sure what will become of the knowledge I have gained but I hope it will lead to a better life for humans. I can’t stay but wanted to see you again before I go. I don’t want to put you in any danger. I also don’t know where I’m going next or if I’ll ever be back but I had to see you and thank you for caring.”

She then shook her shoulders back and forth and her breasts swung slightly to the movement.

“You want to touch them? I’ve been told they are soft and sexy?”

Now, choking back a laugh, Steve quickly answered, “no, I believe you.”

“I’ve also modified other parts of my body.”

Reaching down she folded the top of her pants down to expose her pierced belly button.

“I did it myself and added all the other female and human parts I was missing, You want to see them?” she asked.

“Uh, No,” Steve responded. “I’ll take your word for it.

It’s amazing what you’ve done.”

“Thank you. Not a lot of people appreciate what I’ve tried to do. I also tried to become more ‘human’ in the process. I even had sex once.”

“Really?” replied Steve.

“Yes, but I didn’t find it very satisfying.”

“Well,” stated Steve “I’ve always felt satisfaction comes with an emotional connection. Having sex just to have sex may not create the emotions you were seeking to make it more enjoyable.”

Cocking her head to one side, Tess paused and then added, “you may be right. I just did it for the experience and didn’t really do it for enjoyment or to establish any relationship. It was just something humans do so why not me.”

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Reaching out she pulls Steve up from his chair and into a major bear hug. As he feels heat radiating from her body into his, he looks down into her brilliant blue eyes.

“You are the Blue Angel?”

Nodding, she replies with a smile, “Yes.” Turning, she looks back over her shoulder as she opens the front door to leave.

“Thank you for being a friend.”

A week later Steve visited the Doctor to determine what, if any, further treatments were necessary. He was feeling better and after a few tests, the Doctor was startled when he got the test results.

“Steve, you’re cured! There’s no trace of cancer in your body anywhere and your lungs also appear 100 percent clear! I’m not sure how it happened, but I’m very happy for you.”

Looking up at the Doctor, Steve just replied, “Doc, you believe in angels?”

The End

© Copyright 2021 Michael E. Giltner All rights reserved.

Published with permission.

showcase Larry Vernor

In Search of God In Search of God Larry Vernor Religion

Having been somewhat of a religious skeptic, quite unexpectedly a loving and devoted grandfather had to plead for God s intervention when his cherished fouryear-old granddaughter, and best friend, was diagnosed with a life-threatening condition.

In Search of God is a true story of genuine love, hope, and expectation to validate that a loving, caring God actually exists.

Searching for God through an emotional journey, the author shares his experience of calling out for God’s help.

When there’s nothing else to be done and no one else can do anything, there’s no other way to go but through Him. Author Larry Vernor bares his soul in this touching personal story of surrendering to God, even if he was never a firm or faithful believer. In his book, In Search of God: A Journey Shared with Lauren, he honestly shares how he had to finally reach out to God to help for his beloved granddaughter.

Having been somewhat of a religious skeptic, quite unexpectedly a loving and devoted grandfather had to plead for God’s intervention when his cherished fouryear-old granddaughter, and best friend, was diagnosed with a life-threatening condition. In Search of God is a true story of genuine love, hope and expectation to validate that a loving, caring God actually exists.

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Born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, Larry Vernor is a naturalized US citizen residing in Galivan Hills, California, with his wife, Caroline. He is a retired engineer/executive who has worked on various Navy and Air Force fighter aircraft projects during this career with Northrop Grumman. Gardening, landscape design, horses, tennis, and family currently occupy his mind and heart.

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feature authors

comtemporary | paranormal suspense

Lila Fox

DK Marie

Mark Leslie

LILA FOX

L

ila is a self-proclaimed naughty girl that loves everything erotic. She writes under a few other pen names, but she’s able to really express herself with Lila’s books.

She lives in the country with her husband, four dogs and two cats. Her three sons are grown and out living their own lives although mommy, requires their presence a lot for family dinners.

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Besides writing, she reads everything she can get her hands on, gardens, hikes, rides horses, quilts, scrapbooks but mostly just writes and spends time with her family.

Stay Co n n e c te d

deal with everyday decisions and gladly give up most of the control to the men (the daddies) in their lives.

These women usually have a higher than average IQ. Most have had tragic childhoods.

The men need to control as much as they can in their lives, and when they find a woman who wants that too, they grab them and make them their forever woman.

These men want to be called daddy. They don’t want children. They want actual women with women’s bodies and needs.

Welcome to Lila Fox Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest release was in your long running Daddy Series, Daddy’s Little Warrior.

Can you tell readers more about the series? You also have a new MC series, Viper’s Crew. Can you tell us more about that series also?

Daddy’s Little Warrior starts off with tragedy, but of course, there’s a happy ending. I can’t write it any other way. This book is number 13th in the Daddy Series.

A quick blurb about it.

Drake’s life stopped the day of the explosion, and he hadn’t thought he’d want to live again until she came back into his life.

Aisha thought it was a miracle that she’d been reunited with the other half of her soul, but now she had to try to fit into a place so foreign to her that about everything made her anxious.

She didn’t know if she’d ever been able to adapt to her new environment and be the woman Drake needed.

Drake almost lost it when he couldn’t find her again, and he knew if he didn’t catch her, his life might as well be over because he couldn’t live without her again.

The Daddy Series is about dominant men and women that like to be cherished and taken care of. In this crazy world we live in; some women don’t want to have to

Every story is a sweet romance, and most of them have to go through something traumatic, but the stories always end with happy endings.

My MC Series is about two different motorcycle clubs. Viper’s Crew and Devils Son’s. These men are dangerous, violent, hard-muscled, arrogant, and dominant, but when they find their one and only, the only woman that can ever capture their hearts, they’ll do anything in their power to keep them.

What is the most difficult scene for you to write?

What is the easiest?

The sex scenes are the hardest for me to write. I don’t know why; it’s just always been that way.

The easiest scenes tend to be the part where they deal with conflict. That probably tells you a lot about me. Let’s just say I have a lot of experience when it comes to that.

Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

I can’t pick just one because they all have a piece of me in them. I do like the spunky ones a little more.

They are more like me than the others.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

I have yet to have a character be challenging to write about. Writing the woman’s point of view is a bit easier, though.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

The titles are usually about something that happens to the characters or a personal trait of one of the characters. For example- Devil’s Fury is what happens when his woman is taken from him. Daddy’s Little Liar is pretty explanatory. Lol What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

I’m an extremely gentle soul. The thought of hurting anyone is abhorrent to me, even if they’ve been horrible to me. If I see someone crying, I cry too, 92 | UncagedBooks.com

even if I don’t know why. The fact that they’re hurting hurts me.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

I would say the characters, but the plot comes in a close second. The characters are the ones that determine what happens along the way. I’ve tried to change the way the story goes, but it’s impossible. The story in my head has been written already; I just have to get it down on paper for others to enjoy.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I love being with my animals and family. There’s nothing more peaceful for me than to be on a horse and

away from traffic or having my dogs surround me on the sofa or a blanket on the ground. But, I am happiest when my husband and boys are with me.

| LILA FOX | Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I love the feel of physical books, but I love the way I can store thousands of ebooks. I don’t have the room for the actual paper versions I have.

I am between books at the moment. I have a stack of over thirty I want to get to, but I hate to stop writing long enough to read them.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

I would like to thank the fans that have read my books and enjoyed them. Because of you, I’m able to devote myself to writing the stories that entertain you.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

I love spring, but I’m terrified of the storms and tornados that come with the season. I’ve had to deal with a tornado and a Derecho in the last few years that have destroyed a lot of our property. So, I’d have to pick Fall. I love when the weather is chilly without being frigid. My gardens are down for the season, so much less work for me to do a day. The Autumn colors are spectacular, and the kids are back at school. Who doesn’t love a good bonfire?

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

On average, If I have no other obligations, I write ten to fifteen hours a day, seven days a week. It doesn’t feel like work to me, so it goes fast. I have to pull myself away to clean, cook a meal, or sleep.

A novel can take a few weeks or up to three months to write. Some books I’ve started a year or more ago but got stuck and moved on. I’m always able to go back to them in time.

Enjoy an excerpt from My Own Daddy My Own Daddy Lila Fox Contemporary Romance Larkin doesn’t know how to adapt to the modern world.

Instead of going to bars, shopping for clothes, and meeting boys, like other women her age, she prefers things girls half her age want to do.

The one time she attempts to act her age, she wakes up in bed with a man she doesn’t know or even remember. She’s thrilled she finally lost her virginity, but can’t face him in the light of day.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | be. Larkin needs him to take care of her, for him to be her very own daddy. Sweet little Larkin would be his.

She can run but he will make her his own lg/little.

Excerpt When his limo came around a corner, Darian caught sight of something that stopped his heart.

A young woman stood surrounded by three guys.

Right away, he could tell the girl was drunk, confused, and terrified.

“Hicks, stop the car!” Darian yelled and jumped out before it came to a full stop. He spun the first man around and shoved his knee into his groin, effectively taking care of him. His right hook flattened the next guy. The last guy yelled and ran, leaving his injured friends behind to wither on the sidewalk.

Darian pointed to the men on the ground. “Watch them while I get her taken care of.”

Hicks had come around the car with a tire iron as backup. He nodded and slammed the metal against his palm in a threatening manner.

Darian made it to the girl as her legs gave out.

“I’ve got you.”

She stared up at the stranger as she seemed to try to understand what just happened. “Who are you?”

“My name is Darian, baby. You’re safe with me.

Just relax.”

“I didn’t mean it,” she whimpered and laid her head on his chest. “I don’t want to cause problems.”

Darian kept his arms around her and pulled her tighter against him. “You didn’t do anything wrong, love.”

She nodded. “I did. I always do.”

He nuzzled the side of her head and looked up as two girls came racing around the corner.

“Jesus, Larkin, you almost gave us a heart attack,” 94 | UncagedBooks.com

one of the women said.

The other one caught sight of the men on the ground and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“Three men were accosting your friend here.”

“Oh, God, Larkin.” The tall one gasped.

Darian narrowed his eyes. “Where were you guys?”

Both women turned red at the accusing expression on his face. The shorter one cleared her throat. “We were in the bar around the corner. We turned around for a second, and she was gone. The minute we saw that, we raced through the bar and then out here when we couldn’t find her.”

“So, you’re her friends?” Darian asked and raised a single eyebrow.

The tall one crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I mean, we haven’t known each other long, but we met when she started working with us.”

“What are your names?”

“I’m Monica,” the tall one said. “This is Laura, and you’re holding Larkin.”

“I’ll need your phone numbers, and I’ll give you my information and have her call you in the morning.”

“Wait! What?” Laura burst out. “You can’t take her.

We’ll take care of her.”

Darian shook his head. “From the way you look, you both have had a few drinks. Correct?” Both women nodded. “She is highly intoxicated and should be watched all night. Are you going to be able to stay awake and take care of her?”

Both women glanced at each other. “She’s only had a few beers. We didn’t know she’d react to alcohol like this.”

“Now that you see it does, how would you handle the situation?” he asked Monica.

“We’ll call someone to come over,” Monica said.

Darian looked over his shoulder. “Hicks, will you get a business card for them and write my number on it?”

Hicks nodded and took a look at the men on the ground, as though making sure they couldn’t cause trouble. “Yes, sir.” Within a minute, the driver handed Monica the card.

“That has all my information…”

Laura shook her head and started to take a step toward them but stopped at the look in his eyes. “Listen, we

| LILA FOX | can’t let you take our friend. We don’t know if you’re a good guy.”

Darian sighed. He commended them for fighting for her, but he just wanted to get her home. “What would ease your minds?”

Monica looked at Laura then back at him. “For starters, someone to confirm who you are.”

“Hicks, will you go into the bar they were in and have the manager come out?”

“Sure thing.” His driver disappeared around the corner.

Darian took more of her weight when her legs wouldn’t stop shaking and he had a hard time holding herself up. “Are you sure she’s only had a few beers? Is there a chance someone slid something into her glass?”

Laura shook her head. “No chance. We don’t trust anyone but each other, so we pay close attention to the people around us.”

“It could have been the bartender,” he suggested.

Monica shook her head. “We only order bottles of beer, and we have our own bottle opener. A friend of ours was drugged a few years ago, so we’re cautious.”

Darian nodded. “Why do you think she’s like this now?”

“She never drinks. We told her she didn’t have to drink to come with us,” Monica explained. “But she said she wanted off the porch for once.”

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked in frustration.

“It’s a saying. If you can’t play with the big dogs, stay on the porch with the puppies,” Laura explained.

Darian closed his eyes. He started to ask something else, but Hicks had brought back another guy.

“Boss, this is Danner. He’s the manager.” Hicks turned to Danner. “Do you know who this is?”

Darian knew the answer when the man’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Mr. Marsh.”

“Is he a good guy?” Laura asked Danner.

Danner nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him before. He owns a lot of businesses in town.”

“Like what?” Monica asked, seeming curious.

“He owns the whole Stapleton Building, for starters.”

“I’m not the only one that owns it,” Darian said. “I have some friends who are involved with several of my ventures.”

“I’m dizzy,” Larkin murmured against Darian’s chest.

“Do you have everything you need? Because she’s going to pass out here pretty soon,” Darian said.

Monica and Laura nodded.

“Where will she be?” Laura asked.

“My condo in town. The address is on the card.

I don’t think it would be a good idea to have her in the car for as long as it would take to get to the house.”

“If you want us to come get her, call,” Monica said.

Darian bent his knees and lifted Larkin into his arms. “I doubt I’ll be calling, but I’ll have her call in the morning, so you don’t worry.”

Hicks opened the back door of the limo. “What do you want done with those two?” Hicks indicated the men on the ground.

Darian turned to look down at the pathetic men he’d laid out. “Nothing,” he said before he ducked into the car. He arranged Larkin in his lap, so her head was on his chest and her legs were stretched out over the padded seat. He was vaguely aware of the three sets of eyes watching him from the sidewalk. “Get us to the building. I can guarantee she’s going to be sick.”

“Poor girl,” Hicks whispered as he pulled into the street.

“We’ll take care of her.” Darian smoothed her hair from her face. She was a beautiful woman. He loved how she curled herself around him and lay against him so trustingly. He knew she was drunk, but the way she had looked at him made his stomach tighten with desire.

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CICI CORDELIA & Alex & Jax Char: Currently we take care of a feral cat, a Siamese/Ragdoll mix named Alex.

Three years ago we fostered her litter of six kittens, and from that point on she adopted us.

She’s very sweet but still feral. We could never bring her inside, so we spend time each day outside with her. She likes to sleep in the bird bath. ::grin:: Cheryl: Jax is our American Eskimo.

We believe he’s about 5 now, as he was a rescue dog so we’re not sure of his exact age.

Sweetest dog ever…

I’m currently owned by three slightly spoiled felines. Allow me to introduce them: Charlie—the solid gray fellow looking up into the camera. A sweet hearted giant who lives for treats.

As a matter of fact, he’s learned that if he rubs on the lever on my office chair, making the seat go lower and lower, when I hit bottom, he gets a treat.

I didn’t catch on to his antics as quickly as he did.

I was giving him treats to make him leave the chair alone!

AmyCat and Spazzy are pictured together in the cat tree. Spazzy is on the right giving the camera what we fondly call the “stink-eye”. AmyCat has the “I’m so innocent” look. At just a year old, she’s the youngest of the trio and rules the roost. Charlie is nine, Spazzy is six, and both do whatever AmyCat wishes, or at least hide from her because if they don’t, she pesters them without mercy.

All three are rescues, wickedly sly, and are the most accurate alarm clocks in the house. Every morning, they ensure I’m up and, in the kitchen, dishing up their breakfast no later than 6:30 a.m.

Whenever daylight savings begins and ends, it is not a pretty picture because cats do not adjust their settings.

RUTH A. CASIE & Feebz, Gungi & Kaiah

MAEVE GREYSON & Charlie, AmyCat & Spazzy

family.

Our Westie, McDuff has passed on, but now we live vicariously as Nana and Pop Pop to Feebz who is part of our daughter’s family and Gungi who is an integral part our son and his

Feebz is a rescue dog that they got last March.

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A U T H O RS A N D T H E I R P E TS Pets and companions come in many shapes and sizes. From furry to feathered to hairy and scaley - there is a place for all of them. Authors have a special relationship with their pets - whether they remind them to get up and take a break or they inspire their writing. Meet the critters that share their love and devotion to Uncaged Feature Authors.

much she helped the family during COVID. She has grown and is loved by all of us.

Gungi is also a rescue dog. He is a happy-golucky puppy and was a good buddy to Kaiah (a King Shepherd) who is no longer with us.

LILA FOX & Bella This is my Bella. I have four dogs, but this one has a special place in my heart because she and her sister would have been shot if I hadn’t saved them from a farm. The person I got her and her sister from was an old farmer that didn’t believe in spaying/ neutering his dogs and cats, and when a new liter came along, he usually just shot them to get rid of them. I was made aware of a new litter and stopped at his house. The female had two pups, and I asked

for both. He gladly gave them to me. I tried to get the mother, but he liked her. I even said I’d pay to get her spayed, but he was against that idea.

I took Bella and her sister Bailey home. I love them both, but my Bella attached herself to me right at the beginning. She’s either under my legs or staring at me like she is here.

Sometimes it’s damn spooky. LOL I don’t know how many times I’ve tripped over her because she’s always under my feet and follows me everywhere.

I love all my animals a lot, but some, like Bella, touch my heart on a deeper level then others.

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DK MARIE & Eevee & Cosmos I have two pets—Eevee and the newest addition, Cosmos, the kitten. As you can see from the photo of them together, Eevee is less than thrilled with another cat in the house.

Also, they couldn’t be more opposite. Eevee HATES to be held, while Cosmos seems to live for it.

Maybe after some time, Eevee will appreciate having Cosmos around because we won’t try cuddling with her as much. Lol.

NICOLE FANNING & Rocky, Loki & Benji Hello world! We are the dedicated doggos behind the scenes at the Fanning Fortress!

Rocky, a 10-year-old mutt terrier from the Bahamas is the oldest and a senior snuggler.

Loki, a 6-year-old PomeranianChihuahua mix might be the smallest, but he is the mischief mastermind! And Benji, a 6-year-old American-Eskimo, is mom’s fluffy “Velcro Dog” and her official “Poofreader.”

TOM MCCAFFREY & Claire

MARK LESLIE & Maya, Indie, Meredith & Atticus My partner and I live with two dogs and two cats. Because I work from home most of the time, the animals spend most of their day with me in my bedroom that has been converted to a home office/ library.

I’m not sure I can use the term “pet.” Claire is family.

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DK M arie

D

K Marie’s a voracious reader. Her number one love is romance and devours any and all of its genres, but also enjoys thrillers, horror, and non-fiction.

Basically, if there are words on a page and a spectacular story, she’s diving in, heart and soul.

However, there’s one thing she loves even more, and that’s writing her own steamy contemporary romances. Her four books out now, Fairy Tale102 Lies,| Love Songs, Taste of Passion, and UncagedBooks.com

Colors of the Heart readers are calling compelling and addictive. They’re a mixture of heart, heat, and humor. Brimming with confident heroines and kind heroes, all living, loving, and lusting in and around her hometown of Detroit, Michigan.

When not falling in love with her characters, DK Marie is laughing, relaxing, and planning her next adventure with her family. Okay, and also drinking boatloads of coffee, chatting on social media, and dreaming about her next travel destination.

Stay Co n n e c te d

dkmarie.com Uncaged welcomes DK Marie Welcome to Uncaged! You released Colors of the Heart, the fourth book in the Opposites Attract series.

Can you tell readers more about this book and series?

What ties the books in the series together?

Lucas and Harper (the main characters in the story) have dealt with the sharp and painful side of love and fear getting cut again. They meet at a friend’s wedding.

Their chemistry and friendship are instant, but offering more than lust is difficult for them. Lucas is a young widow and struggled with depression after losing his wife. He’s afraid to make himself vulnerable again.

Once Harper learns of his past, she is convinced Lucas will never have room in his heart, that his wife will always have it. If they can’t move from the past, there will be no future for them.

As mentioned above, this is the fourth (and the last book of the Opposites Attract series). Friends and family tie the series together. For example, the wedding

they are attending at the book’s start is from a couple they both know, and their story was told in the first book of the series (Fairy Tale Lies).

Also, Lucas and Harper are in the other books as secondary characters.

Also, while the stories can be read alone, they do flow in a linear timeline.

What are you working on now that you can tell us about?

I’m writing on a new series. The working title is Lake House Love. This series will also take place in Michigan, but instead of in the state’s bigger cities, it will be in and around a small lake community.

As I did with Opposites Attract, I like to tackle reallife issues, such as divorce, raising kids as a single parent, abuse, and more. I balance these complex topics with humor and heart (and heat).

What is the most difficult scene for you to write?

What is the easiest?

When things begin to fall apart is the most difficult for me to write. I always want my characters to sit down and have a reasonable talk. Lol. I find dialogue the easiest. It is when the characters feel the most real and alive to me. On the flip side, I always have to go back and make sure to describe settings better.

Also, unlike some romance authors, I don’t struggle with writing the steamy or sex scenes. I love the vulnerability found in them. It is when they aren’t able to hide themselves, physically and mentally.

A lot more than pleasure is discovered about characters during these chapters.

Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

Hmm, that isn’t easy to pick. Each character that Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | I’ve written is so different, and I love them all for various reasons.

Will Grimm from Taste of Passion was probably the most difficult to write. At the start of the story, he is an addict, more than five years clean. Writing his demons and regrets was heartbreaking and real. I have people close to me who are struggling with addiction and those who, like Will, have years of sobriety, but are battling the fallout and regrets because of things he’d done in his past. So, while this was a romance story about forgiveness and second chances, I also wanted to show the complexity and reality of addiction. There probably isn’t a person alive who isn’t affected by this disease (either battling it themselves or close to someone who is), and I didn’t want to make light of the topic.

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This was the same with Colors of the Heart. There is love after losing a spouse, but it deserves brevity and care.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

It depends on the book. Sometimes I know it from the start, and with others, it comes to me as I’m writing the story. Or I have to brainstorm ideas, and the title changes a dozen or so times.

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

I am not a hopeless romantic. I am pragmatic and a pessimist.

Which, is why I love writing (and reading romances). It is freeing to write stories about hope and happily-ever-

afters.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

Always the characters. I need to know them, their wounds, flaws, what makes their hearts race, and what puts them to sleep. In short, I need to know how they will react before writing what they are doing.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I have lots of hobbies, too many, but my top favorites are photography and reading. They always relax and help center me.

| DK MARIE | I just finished reading the physical book of ‘Hament’

by Maggie O’Farrell.

On my Ipad, I’m 20% into ‘A Duke, The Lady, and a Baby’ by Vanessa Riley.

And I’m listening to ‘Spoiler Alert’ by Olivia Dade.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Thank you for giving my stories a try. I love each character and every book, and there is no greater joy than sharing them with you.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

Autumn. I live in Michigan, and the color change is stunning. I love to be outdoors, hiking, walking, or biking, and the temperature is nearly perfect. The sun still warms me but doesn’t push into me with its heat, like in summer. Also, the wind holds a chill, but not the bite of winter.

10) How many hours a day do you write?

On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

Depends. I write for at least two hours, nearly every single day. Most days, it is around four to six.

It takes between six to nine months for me to complete the first draft. Finishing it completely depends on how much editing is needed and what is happening with other books.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I love them all.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

Enjoy an excerpt from Colors of the Heart Colors of the Heart DK Marie Contemporary Romance What is it about the men in Harper’s life? Every single one of them eventually let her down and abandoned her.

Damn it. She freaking knew better.

Her passion should be only for her art and her gallery.

She is a fool to think Lucas is different. Yet, she fell into his kind eyes and sensual smile, landing in bed with him. She offered him her unrestrained passion and hope for more. In return, he left her hotel room before the sun had even peeked over the horizon, not bothering to leave a note or his number.

Lucas can’t believe how royally he messed things up with Harper. He wants a second chance, but part of him wonders if it might be better to leave her alone. A past tragedy has left him a shadow of the man he used to be. Yet, he’s drawn to Harper and can’t walk away.

Once learning of his past, Harper agrees. She doesn’t want a risk falling for a man who might never be able to love her in return.

If only her body and heart would listen to her.

Excerpt Lucas needed to get back to the wedding reception, but he couldn’t look away. The horse with the bulbous eyes and the demon sitting on the woman’s torso, her face a mask of hopeless despair, held all his attention.

This painting, The Nightmare, had been him for so long. Until, slowly, life and heartache moved on. The changes were so imperceptible he barely 106 | UncagedBooks.com

noticed them.

First, he was able to breathe around the sadness. After a while, his laughter began to ring true and his smiles weren’t a brittle, false mask. Then one day, he noticed he felt human again.

The click of high-heels pulled his attention from the painting and his musings. He turned to find a woman walking in his direction, her entire focus on the phone in her hand.

She was stunning.

Her black hair was swept into an intricate style matching her fancy dress. A few strands had fallen from her up-do, and she tugged on them with one hand while the other swiped a perfectly manicured thumb across the screen of her cell, scrolling through something.

He recognized her green gown. Like him, she was at the Detroit Institute of Arts for Jacob and Greta’s wedding. She was one of the bridesmaids.

She was within a few feet of him but didn’t notice she wasn’t alone. No surprise. He hadn’t moved since spotting her, and it was late in the evening. The DIA was mostly empty. Since sneaking away to the upstairs galleries for a breather, she was the only person he’d seen.

He cleared his throat to let her know he was there. ground. She gasped, her head shooting up as her phone clattered to the Shit. So much for not startling her.

He hurried forward, grabbing her cell. Glancing at the screen, he saw a marble statue.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He handed her the phone, almost stuttering his words.

He’d caught a brief glimpse of her walking down the aisle during the wedding and thought she was pretty.

Seeing her up close, with those gray-metal eyes pinning him, she was striking.

“No, my fault,” she said, her quiet, breathy laugh wrapping around him. “I was in my own world and didn’t see anyone on my way here.” She patted the lapel of his suit jacket. “Are you a guest from the Grimm wedding?”

He nodded, wishing she’d touch him again. It had been light, only lasting a second, yet the warmth of her hand and her nearness was distracting. And en-

| DK MARIE | trancing.

Not in a bad way, but definitely different, something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

Lately, he’d begun to wonder if that part of him died as so much had on that awful February afternoon two years ago.

“Coming from the same party, I wonder how we managed to miss each other.” She gave a brilliant, gleaming smile.

Clearing his throat again, he replied, “I probably left before you. I’ve been here a while.”

She quirked a questioning brow. “Are you avoiding the wedding or your date?”

He licked his bottom lip, his pulse zinging. Was this small talk, or her subtle attempt to find out if he was single?

He ran his thumb along his ring finger. The old, unconscious habit caused him a sliver of pain. His finger was, of course, bare. His wife had been gone for more than two years, and sometime last year he’d made himself remove his wedding ring.

He went with a half-truth. “Neither. I wanted to visit this painting.” He pointed to The Nightmare. “And, okay, I needed a break from my sister. She talks a lot.”

“You came here with your sister?” She lifted a single brow, her gaze running over him.

He wasn’t about to get into his reasons for not having a date and shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“You’re handsome. I can’t imagine you’d have a difficult time finding a date.”

Pleasure warmed his veins. Perhaps she was interested in him.

He took half a step closer, her perfume teasing him.

The scent was alluring and sensual, matching her perfectly.

“Plus, it makes me feel like less of a loser.” She smiled, her enticing full lips twitching with humor.

“My mother is my date.”

A burst of sharp, surprised laughter escaped him.

“Really? You couldn’t find someone to bring?”

The woman was hot. All she’d need to do was crook a finger, and men would come running.

“The bride is my cousin, so my mother was already invited. She was the logical choice. I don’t have time

for a man in my life right now.” She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Why waste my evening with one?”

Her lack of interest in men bothered him more than it should. He wanted to change her mind.

“However,” the sexy stranger continued, “if you happen to run into my aunt Sophia, please don’t tell her what I said. She’s been dropping hints since the wedding invites were mailed that I need to find a man before all the good ones are taken.” Leaning in closer, her eyes dancing with mirth, she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Her other word of advice was to stay away from the groom’s side. According to her, they’re low-life commoners. She must’ve missed the memo that we aren’t living in the eighteen hundreds.”

He snorted. Jacob had told Lucas plenty of stories about his snobby mother-in-law. The man must really love his new bride to be willing to deal with her mother. “Aw, well, that’s a shame.”

“What is?”

“That you were warned off from the groom’s side, and you don’t have time for men.”

His flirting surprised the hell out of him, and when her smile turned from playful to wicked, his disbelief morphed into something hotter.

“I don’t take bad advice. And, I might have time for you.” She winked. “If you make it worth it.”

Right then, he wanted to make it his life’s mission.

This woman’s boldness and confidence were alluring as hell.

He opened his mouth to say something. What, he had no idea, but her phoned buzzed, snagging her attention.

“Crap,” she muttered, reading the screen before returning her gaze to him. “I have to go back downstairs for my bridesmaid duties.”

He offered her his arm. “May I have the pleasure of escorting you back to the party?”

She licked her lips. It stroked along his desires.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she purred, linking her arm through his. “I’m Harper Marquette.”

“Lucas Genezen. Nice to meet you.” ~* ~ Nice was an understatement.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | The man was gorgeous with his broad shoulders, thick, dark brown hair, and a charming, quick smile. Plus, their light flirting had been fun.

In a matter of ten minutes, Greta’s wedding went from fun to phenomenal.

Harper slid her arm through Lucas’s. The smooth material of his suit jacket was expensive and soft under her hand. Even more enjoyable was the surprisingly muscular bicep she was holding tight.

Taking in his warm smile, proud nose and strong jaw, she did her best not to swoon.

He reminded her of an old film star from the black and white movies. She was unable to recall which one, but it would come to her.

The short elevator ride and a brief walk to the wedding reception in the Great Hall wasn’t enough time. They hadn’t talked about anything important, only how they knew the bride and groom.

He intrigued her, and she craved more time with him. His manner was reserved, yet something told her there was a wildness in him that’d match hers.

His moss-green eyes were solemn with an impish glint. She wouldn’t mind falling into his gorgeous smile.

As they entered the reception room, she said, “I have to go. Greta’s requesting the single ladies for the bouquet toss.” She peeked at him through her lashes, suddenly shy. “Will you be out there for the garter toss?”

All his humor seemed to drain away. “No.” “Um-okay,” she stammered, rubbing the base of her neck. His fast mood change made her flounder.

He stopped walking. Then, as if forcibly regathering his light- hearted mood around him, he smirked. “With my luck, it’ll be my sister who catches the flowers.”

Yeah, right. She suspected there was more to it and considered pressing him. However, the flash of pain she caught punching through him before he buried it told her it wasn’t a topic he’d discuss.

Instead, she asked, “Okay. Well, what about dancing? Do you do that?”

“If you’re asking I do.”

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sudden mood shifts. She glanced at the gathering ladies, wishing they’d disappear. Wishing the lights were dimming and the band was playing a slow, sensual song.

With difficulty, she managed to keep her smile blasé and carefree. “Let’s meet on the dancefloor when this is finished.”

“Definitely.” His voice promised more than a dance.

Yes, please.

He walked her to the group of women waiting for Greta to throw her bouquet. Some eyed him like they’d take him instead of the flowers. “See you soon.” He dusted his lips lightly over her knuckles before leaving.

His touch remained after she lost him to the crowd of partygoers.

With her opposite hand, she ran her fingertips along where his mouth had been, wondering if he was a good kisser.

Taking a spot in the far back, she caught sight of Aunt Kimberley pushing her way to the front. The way she stared at the bouquet in Greta’s hands was hysterical.

And a little scary.

In the end, her aunt’s aggressive maneuvering didn’t work. The flowers had landed in her cousin Cindy’s open arms as if destiny demanded it.

Hell, maybe it was because five minutes later, the groom’s brother, Will, caught the garter.

The two had gotten rather friendly with each other during the combination bachelorette and bachelor party at Lake Michigan. Like friends-with-benefits close.

Cindy had said it wouldn’t last past the weekend. The way her blue eyes locked with his coffee-brown ones and his hands lingered under her dress, Harper was certain they weren’t done with each other.

Eventually, Will finished with the garter, and the chairs were removed from the dancefloor, making room for the band.

The opening chords rang through the Great Hall, slamming against the left side of Harper’s head.

She rubbed her temples, sincerely hoping the light thumping pressure wasn’t a sign of a horrible oncoming migraine.

Standing on the outer edges of the dancefloor, she tried to decide if she should locate her purse with her meds

| DK MARIE | or find Lucas.

He found her first and offered her his hand, asking if she wanted to dance. She wanted him more than her medication.

Besides, the pain had almost vanished. Perhaps it was only a brief flare-up and not one of her debilitating migraines out to ruin her evening.

He guided her to the center of the dancefloor. His steps were smooth, and he led in a way that had her pondering if he was the same in bed.

Images of him commanding and demanding her pleasure flooded her senses, sending rivulets of desire coursing through her. Her breath hitched, and her cheeks warmed. She sincerely hoped this overwhelming lust for him wasn’t stamped on her every feature.

She needed to get her mind out of the gutter. “Do you come to the DIA often?”

“I do love it here, but it’s been a few years. What about you?” “As often as I can manage. I find it inspiring.”

He tilted back, appearing intrigued. “You never told me why you were upstairs. Were you wandering, or was there something specific you wanted to see?”

She debated telling him. When they were returning to the party he told her he was a business owner. Something called eco-consulting. Would he scoff and call her passion, her career, a fanciful hobby?

He wouldn’t be the first. Hell, even her mother didn’t fully understand. She supported her financially and admired Harper’s work. However, in the silent spaces and the undercurrent of conversations, her mother’s disappointment was heard.

She was a financial manager and a legend in her circle.

She’d wanted her daughter to follow in her footsteps, but it was a lost cause.

Harper lifted her chin. “I’m an artist. Mainly a sculptor. I was visiting my favorite statue. The Veiled Lady.”

She waited, steeling herself. Would he offer derision, indifference, or interest?

To her immense pleasure, his eyes lit with interest. “I thought that’s what I saw when I picked up your cell.

It’s the small statue by the elevator. Right?”

Him recognizing it warmed her. “Yes. I’ve managed the technique with clay, but I can’t get it with stone or

marble. I’m getting closer, and I was hoping visiting it again would offer insight, or at the very least, inspiration.” Clamping her mouth shut, she shook her head, mumbling, “Sorry. I tend to get overexcited talking about my work.”

He gently squeezed her waist, bringing her closer.

“Please, keep going. I find the whole process fascinating. Just don’t ask me to draw even a stick figure. It’s embarrassing how terrible I am at it.”

He let go of her momentarily, waving a hand. “Anyway, where do you sell your work? Anywhere I could see it?”

She wanted to answer his questions, but his nearness was distracting and oh-so-delicious. His warm embrace, combined with his sinfully delicious cologne was evoking images of autumn and slow, lazy sex in front of a fire.

As if reading her mind, he leaned in closer. If she stood on her tip-toes, their lips would meet.

Would she kiss a near stranger?

The answer was immediate. Yes. He didn’t bridge the miniscule space between them, and she was too much of a coward to do it. Struggling to calm her rapidly growing desire, she tried to recall his question.

Something about her art...

Oh, yeah. He was asking where I sell my artwork.

“Sometimes, my work is commissioned. Or I’ll sell my pieces to private buyers. I’m also opening a gallery. It’ll feature my stuff and other local artists.

Well, right now it’s in its early, infant stage. I’m trying to find the perfect place. I want it in Detroit.

In one of those old art-deco buildings. Anyway...”

She smiled shyly. “I’m babbling.”

He said something, but the song changed to a fast, loud tempo drowning him out. The booming bass shot straight through her skull, making her wince.

His color drained away, and he choked. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, taking in his strong reaction. He appeared close to damn-near panicking.

Waving a reassuring hand, she said, “It’s no big deal. I tend to get headaches around loud noises.”

“Are you sure it’s just a headache?” His voice was Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | a little shaky.

What else would it be?

“Yup, I’ve been getting them since I was a kid.”

Tilting her head, she studied him. “Are you okay?

You’re pale as a ghost.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, yeah. I’m overreacting.”

She stepped from his warm embrace. “I need to find my mother. She has my painkillers.”

Leaving his arms bothered her almost as much as her throbbing head. However, ignoring the pain was impossible.

“Do you need me to go with you?” he asked.

She wanted him to go with her, even knowing it was a bad idea. Talking would exacerbate the pain.

“No. Enjoy the party. I think they’re getting ready to cut the cake. You don’t want to miss it. I heard the raspberry and custard filling was heaven on the taste buds.”

“I don’t mind. Really.” He winked. “Cake is great, but I like being around you more.”

His words made her lighter, hopeful. He made her feel like she was the only woman in the room who mattered.

Damn, she didn’t want to leave him.

Rubbing her forehead, she tried to wish away the pain. It didn’t work.

“I’ll be terrible company until I get this headache under control.

I’ll find you when I’m better, okay?”

He nodded, a worry line forming between his brows. His concern made her want to hug him.

She held in the impulse and scanned the room, spotting her mom at the bar. She was talking to a handsome man who was at least fifteen years her junior.

Not that age stopped her. The opposite, in fact.

She liked her men young and adoring. From his starry-eyed expression, her requirements were filled.

Since Father left them, back when Harper was ten, to marry his high school sweetheart, mother 110 | UncagedBooks.com

never dated anyone seriously. Or around her age.

She claimed the younger ones were more fun, and that’s all she needed from them—a good time.

She caught her mother’s gaze. Her smile faded into a worried frown. She said something to her new friend then made her way across the reception room.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Harper leaned closer as shouting hurt too much. “I’m getting a headache. Do you have my meds?”

Mom pointed to the head table. “Our purses are on your chair. Wait here. I’ll retrieve it. Do you want me to drive you home or to the hotel?”

Her heart dropped. She wasn’t ready to leave Lucas.

“Neither. I’ll get it. You stay here with your,” she lifted a taunting brow, “friend.”

Mom gave an unrepentant smile. “He is spectacular company.” She turned serious. “If the medication doesn’t help, come get me. I don’t want you driving or staying here, suffering in pain.”

Harper raised a hand in agreement as nodding hurt too much.

She headed for her purse and a quiet corner.

MARK LESLIE

M 114 | UncagedBooks.com

ark Leslie (Lefebvre) is an author, professional speaker and bookseller with more than a quarter century of experience in writing, publishing, and bookselling.

Having grown up with an intense passion for reading and writing, Mark started writing when he was thirteen years old, was drawn to bookselling and has remained in the industry, wearing many different hats, since 1992.

Mark is the author of more than 25 books, including thrillers, speculative fiction, urban fantasy, horror, and paranormal/true ghost story explorations.

Stay Co n n e c te d

markleslie.ca Uncaged welcomes Mark Leslie Welcome to Uncaged! Your newest book will release on December 7th, called Fright Nights, Big City and is part of a series. Can you tell readers more about the book and the series?

Fright Nights, Big City is the fourth book and third full length novel in my “Canadian Werewolf” series that began with A Canadian Werewolf in New York.

The books follow an ex-pat Canadian who is trying to live a semi-normal life despite being inflicted with a werewolf curse. The result is a combination of an urban fantasy thriller with humorous undertones.

After sunset when the moon is 80% or more full, Michael Andrews changes into a grey wolf. Navigating his alter-ego’s desire for midnight green space romps in one of the world’s largest metropolitan centers is just one of his challenges. Since he has no human consciousness or memory of his time as a wolf, he sometimes finds himself waking up in strange locations, completely naked, and having to unravel the mystery of what happened the night before.

Along with his curse come extraordinarily enhanced senses of smell and sound, a powerful constitution, and superhuman strength. Andrews, who is a boy scout at heart, and grew up reading Spider-Man comics, can’t help but leverage his extraordinary abilities to help

others.

In this latest novel, Michael and his new girlfriend, a woman with her own enhanced powers have returned from Los Angeles to start a new non-hero life together as well as to separate her from her ties to a West Coast cult obsessed with instilling superpowers in their members and spreading their agenda of neo-Nazi style hatred, fear, and lies. Michael and Lex soon discover that this hate-group has already infiltrated New York City and uncover a plot that will turn the city into an absolute terror zone that will infect this Big Apple, and perhaps the entire nation, to the very core. The only way to defeat this rising horror is for them to split up while Michael teams up with his ex-girlfriend, an expert in the occult and the dark arts.

The book can be read as a stand-alone, but the events follow immediately after the end of Fear and Longing in Los Angeles, the previous book in the series.

What is the most difficult scene for you to write?

What is the easiest?

Scenes involving dialogue and characters interacting with one another, whether it is enjoyable conversation or a heated argument, are always the easiest for me to write. Perhaps this is because so much of story is about the characters, their goals, desires, struggles, and the way that the overcome them, both externally and internally. Perhaps I enjoy this part because of my work, years, ago, in theatre, and understanding that, in every single scene, each character has a specific motivation. Sticking true to that, it’s fun to explore the dynamic interactions that can come out of it. And often, I But when the interaction and conflict turns physical, that’s always difficult for me.

Describing a physical confrontation is always challenging. I often worry about fight scenes being too cliched or just monotonous. There are, after all, only so many ways one can punch, kick, jab, tackle, or shove their opponent.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Fortunately, one of the amazing editors I’ve been lucky enough to work with, Joshua Essoe, has helped me ensure the fight and action scenes can be just as enriched with a character’s emotions, tensions, and feelings. In fact, this past year he compiled much of what he has helped me and other clients with into a book called Essoe’s Guides to Writing Action Sequences which I highly recommend and refer back to when writing every novel.

Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

That’s a great question, but also a hard one. I don’t think there’s a character I’ve written that I haven’t enjoyed or liked in some way; even, perhaps, if

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that’s someone I like to dislike.

But one that stands out to me is the young teenager Bridget, who appears in the second book in my series, Stowe Away. In that novella, which was originally intended to be a short story, Michael is on a train from Manhattan to Stowe Vermont, to be there for a friend who is dealing with a personal family issue.

A common thing that happens to Michael is, on route to a personal goal, he encounters (thanks to his heightened senses that can pick up things most people would never notice), people who could use some help. In this case, it’s a young girl on the run from a dangerous adult human predator. In the original story, Michael was meant to be temporarily sidetracked while helping her, but the minute Michael and Bridget met one another, the two clicked, and developed an interesting father/

daughter or mentor/protégé bond that worked both ways. I really had a fun time exploring Bridget’s character in more detail, and the course of the story evolved into something I had never originally expected.

I know, for example, that she’ll have to come back in a future book because I really enjoyed listening to her thoughts and what she had to say.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

Sometimes they just come to me. For this particular series, I’ve been following the pattern that the fulllength novels have a specific structure. As you can see from Stowe Away I’m fond of the play on words between the idea of a “stowaway” on a train bound for Stowe, Vermont.

A Canadian Werewolf in New York was a cheeky nod to the 1981 John Landis humorous horror film An American Werewolf in London. Because my novel featured a character from the “horror” genre, and included wry humor throughout, I figured the title might appeal to my ideal audience.

But there’s also something quite appealing to a title that seems to be familiar yet has a bit of an unexpected twist. I’ve always been a fan of song parodies, in the style that Weird Al Yankovic does. The sounds are similar, but the words and meaning are altered into something unique and humorous.

Fear and Longing in Los Angeles was, similarly, a nod to the Hunter S. Thompson novel Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while clearly showing my main character’s trip to Los Angeles.

The titles don’t always come to me early. They sometimes come later. But in the case of Fright Nights, Big City, I remember the moment, when, in the throes of writing Fear and Longing that I realized a larger story arc that would continue well-after the resolution of this particular book. I toggled off the screen from my word processor, made a few notes, and then looked for movie or book titles involving either fear or a city.

After about fifteen minutes of noodling around, I came up with Fright Nights, Big City, a riff on the

| MARK LESLIE | 1988 film Bright Lights, Big City staring Michael J. Fox (a Canadian who also played a werewolf in Teen Wolf), Phoebe Cates, and Kiefer Sutherland (another Canadian). I couldn’t resist the multilayered reference there.

I immediately contacted my cover designer and sent him the intent for the dark feel of the book, the title, and within 24 hours he turned around the first iteration of what became the cover for this book.

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

Perhaps that I’m a big chicken, and I am not good at conflict. I’m a bit of a wimp. And definitely a push-over and a people pleaser. I’ll take a significant amount of grief just to appease someone else, and in order to avoid conflict.

I write about dark and scary things, and if you look at me, I’m a large scary looking dude. I stand 6’3”, am bald with a dark goatee. People have jokingly compared me to a character from Sons of Anarchy, or Anton LeVay (founder of the Church of Satan), or Ming the Merciless from the Flash Gordon comics, film, and TV adaptations.

But underneath all that, I’m a big softy. I cry at the drop of a hat. In fact, much of the “beta human” contrast to the “alpha wolf” in Michael’s character is derived from me and my own perspectives.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

I think the situation and the character tend to come first. Everything else is born out of that.

For example, the entire series, which originated in a short story “This Time Around” came from wondering a simple thing. Imagining how a person might deal with waking up naked in Battery Park with a bullet hole in their leg, the taste of human blood in their mouth and no memory of the night before as a wolf. I started to explore that and both Michael and the universe he lives in, and all the other characters, was born out of that.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I love books and I love beer. In particular, craft beer. My partner is also a bit of a beer nerd, and we enjoy exploring local small breweries in our region, or, when traveling, seeking out interesting bars and breweries where we can try new beers and talk to the people who make and serve craft beers.

I also enjoy long walks, both in nature, and in cities. You can really get a feel for the locale (useful for personal enjoyment as well as potential fruit for writing fiction) by exploring on foot. Liz and I have often combined the two pursuits. For example, on one trip to New York, we spent 12 hours walking from Hell’s Kitchen down through Brooklyn and 118 | UncagedBooks.com

back, clocking in the equivalent of a marathon in steps, and visiting more than half a dozen different breweries and craft beer bars in the area.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

Oh, please don’t make me choose. I really love the heat and sunshine of summer, particularly because I live in a part of the world (Ontario, Canada) that gets a real winter, bitter and cold.

But, if push came to shove, the season would be Halloween. Not fall, though I do adore fall. Not too hot, not to cold, and the glorious colors of the trees as the leaves change colors. But, more than that, I’m a huge fan of Halloween. For me, the entire month of October

is all about Halloween.

So yes, Halloween would be my choice for a single allyear season.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

I typically write from anywhere between 1 and 2 hours in a typical day. That’s because I don’t write full time. I work part-time as a book industry consultant, working with a major digital book distribution company as well as for 1:1 author coaching, and I run a weekly podcast (Stark Reflections on Writing and Publishing), and I do a lot of talks, both in person and virtual, as a writer and book industry representative.

But when I’m on deadline for a book project, those smaller writing sprints can stretch out. There have been times, when on a tight deadline, that I would write for 10 to 14 hours, just to get back on track.

I’m not a fast writer, because I spend a lot of time between writing sessions in my head sorting out details, but when it comes time to sitting down and hammering it out, I’m fast. I would say that a typical first draft of a novel is about two months of work, writing typically for an hour or two every day where I can produce between 500 and 750 words per hour.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

Are you reading anything now?

All of the above. I always have at least one of each on the go at the same time. Right now, here are examples of what I’m reading in those formats: Small Changes – Alicia Witt (audiobook). Non-fiction memoir/lifestyle/health/cooking Masquerade – Valerie Francis (eBook). Romance Book Wars – John B. Thompson. Non-fiction. Book industry/history.

| MARK LESLIE | about me or find links to my various social media shenanigans (where I mostly share dad jokes, musical ear worms, skeleton and skull memes, and other frivolous fun) at www.markleslie.ca.

Enjoy an excerpt from Fright Nights, Big City Fright Nights, Big City Mark Leslie Paranormal Suspense Releases Dec. 7 STOP SPREADING THE NEWS THERE’S NO LEAVING TODAY Not when the Big Apple comes under attack from an infectious worm threatening to rot it, and the entire nation, to the core.

Michael Andrews thought he’d found the perfect woman. A companion whose own powers neutralize his werewolf curse and bringing the balance he’s always wanted. But his plans on settling down and giving up the vigilante lifestyle are fleeting.

The hatred, the fear, and the monstrous attacks on innocent civilians are growing and spreading as supernatural monsters roam the city streets at night. The neo-Nazi Proud Fighters for America, aware of the special abilities that Lex possesses, track her down and plan on leveraging her powers for their own nefarious purposes.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

With Michael’s powers nullified in Lex’s presence, the couple is forced to divide in their attempt to conquer, and Michael turns to his ex-girlfriend and her knowledge of the occult world in order to understand how to fight this rising evil.

I love to hear from fans, and readers can find out more

But will two supernatural forces of good operatIssue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | ing separately and one paranormal scholar be enough to vanquish the growing legion of evil?

Excerpt Tuesday, July 4, 2017 Prologue: Wolves on a Plane I was used to waking up naked in strange places with foggy memories of what I’d done the night before when romping around as a canine.

It’s amazing how accustomed one can become to the strangest things. But those odd moments, the things we never thought we’d get used to can, over time, evolve into habits, rituals. They might even become comforting in a bizarre way.

This time I woke in a sitting position. The feel of clothes on my body immediately informed me of something important: It must not be that time of the month for me. When the moon is at 80% or more, my body undergoes a metamorphosis from a six foot-two two-hundred-pound male Homo sapiens into a six-foot long Canis lupus.

As consciousness returned to me, and I took in the sounds and smells around me – the base low rumbling of engines I could both hear and feel vibrating through my bones, the recycled air, the sweat, perfume, halitosis, heartbeats of more than a hundred other humans in a tightly closed environment – I remembered I was on a plane. It was a flight from Los Angeles, where I’d spent the past several weeks. I was returning back home to New York.

The scent and distinct heartbeat of the traveling companion sleeping beside me brought an immediate wave of warmth and passion. It was Lex. Alexandria. She was, of course, more than my traveling companion. She was my partner, my lover, my confidante. Meeting and getting to know her just a few weeks earlier had been a significant turning point in my life. She’d come along at just the right time for me, as I had just been rejected, again, by the only woman I had ever truly loved up to that point in my life.

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and former girlfriend, Gail, had made it clear that, despite how we both felt about one another, there wouldn’t be a return to our previous relationship.

That part of our relationship was over.

Getting away from New York, and from the serial rejection of Gail, seemed to be just what I’d needed.

Exactly what my literary agent, Mack, had intended when he forced me on that work trip as a script consultant for a movie based on one of my novels.

Damn, I hate when that gruff, crude, cigar-chomping loud-mouth was right. He wasn’t a pleasant man to be around – he came about his nickname of Mack “the knife” Halpin quite honestly – but he had never steered me wrong in all these years.

Mack surprising me with the trip to LA had come at exactly the right time; and I’m not just talking about my emotional life. The trip had been scheduled, without my knowing it, almost exactly between the lunar phase cycle that would have me turning into a grey wolf.

It meant I could be human and not worry about the lycanthropic change the entire time I was hanging out in Hollywood.

And during that time, I had met, and almost immediately fallen in love with, Lex. We had been through a roller coaster of adventure, fearful encounters with some nasty characters, and in-depth explorations of one another, both physically, and emotionally.

I couldn’t have even imagined meeting and loving someone like Lex on my flight out to LA, but here she was, such an integral part of my life that she was leaving everything she knew behind to be with me in New York.

No, it wasn’t as simple as that.

We were distancing ourselves from a disturbing group of people she had gotten mixed up with. Really bad people. Evil people. A racist hate-group cult that also possessed oddly supernatural powers.

I might have the heightened senses, strength and agility of a wolf, even when in human form, due to some inexplicable curse running through my veins; and I might have been able to take out a few bad guys over the years – petty thieves, bullies, attempted rapists, even a handful of mobsters. This was a side-effect of

| MARK LESLIE | my boy-scout tendencies likely derived from reading too many Spider-Man comic books in my youth. But I was not prepared, equipped, or trained to take on such a group.

I realized, after a few encounters with this group where I’d been over-powered, and where my meddling led to the death of an innocent bystander, someone I considered a friend, that I was in well over my head.

I needed to leave dealing with this hate group, the neo-Nazi Proud Fighters for America, to the professionals, the police, the CIA, the special task force assigned to tracking and stopping them.

And I needed to focus on having a life again; building a new life with Lex, this amazing woman who had given me a new lease on life in more ways than one.

When Gail and I had been together, I’d kept my werewolf nature from her; and that deception had led to the dissolution of our romantic relationship. She’d been lied to, deceived, cheated on, one too many times in her life. It wasn’t something she could get past.

But with Lex, despite a bit of a rocky start, the deception about my true nature was revealed before it could tear us apart. Because we both had been initially hiding supernatural secrets.

Not only had Lex loved me despite my awkwardness, faults, and emotional scars, but her presence came with a most welcome side-effect. When I was with her my heightened wolf senses and powers were muted.

Which meant that I fell in love with her in the depths of normalcy. I didn’t have insights into her emotions through her scent or heartbeat or any of those obvious tells. I had to navigate my feelings for her, and her feelings for me, like an everyday human.

It felt amazing to feel so normal, and yet so extraordinarily blessed at the same time, by being with Lex. We had figured out, by accident, that Lex possessed a strange ability that caused bad luck to harmful actions directed towards her, as well as a side-effect of nullifying my special senses and powers. It only seemed to work when I was in close proximity to her.

The effect faded when she was asleep, like she was now.

But it meant that when I was with her, I could be a

normal human. I could live a normal life. Well, apart from the fact that, for about ten days every month I morphed into a wolf.

Lex was the first person I had willingly shared the details of my affliction with. Well, technically, she was the second, but the first person I told was in a situation where I had no other option, because the change was coming at me like a freight train, and I had no choice but to explain what she was about to witness.

But with Lex, it was completely voluntary, and built off the mutual trust and late-night in-depth conversations and sharing. She had confided the details of the violations of her own morals by joining the PFA in order to try to save her best friend from their clutches. And how, despite leaving, they had still maintained a hold on her, and power over her.

We relayed the curses we had both been living with alone and became stronger for the sharing of those experiences. Because we no longer had to live with those curses on our own. We had one another.

And we were on our way to building a new life together.

Among the sounds of murmuring voices of the other passengers as I sat there with my eyes closed, I heard the voice of the pilot speaking.

It wasn’t on the intercom, though. My superenhanced hearing was picking up his voice talking to the co-pilot. He was talking about the heat wave in New Jersey and how the thinner air would make it more dangerous to land. Flight take-offs and landings were being delayed, and they needed to circle over the greater New York area waiting for the sun to set and the air to cool down enough before they’d likely get the goahead that it was safe to land.

This wasn’t good. Because timing wise, tonight the moon was expected to be at 82% in New York City. Lex and I had devised a plan on how she would help me get to a safe location to change into wolf form shortly after we landed.

But this new delay, staying in the air until after the sun set, that wasn’t going to go over well.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | I don’t think that this airline was prepared to deal with any sort of wolves on a plane scenario.

I opened my eyes, just as the pilot was coming on the PA system to announce this update to the passengers.

Lex woke as the pilot made his announcement.

“What do I do now?” I asked Lex, when he finished sharing the delay that would mean landing after nightfall. “Lock myself in the restroom?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, feeling the tingling and ringing sensation in my head, the aura that I knew meant the change was about to happen, coming over me.

“It’s happening now. It’s happening early.”

“The altitude must be causing an altered reaction,” she whispered.

I looked down at my hand, the one Lex was clasping, and watched incredulously as tufts of fur started to grow out of the back of it. Simultaneously, I felt the tautness of my arm muscles stiffen and jerk.

I had never been conscious of the change into wolf form before; I had always blacked out. I’d never experienced it happening. This was different. Lex and I stared at my hands as my fingers retracted and the bones of my hands compressed.

It was excruciating and I let out a squeal of pain.

What the hell was happening? Why was I experiencing the change consciously? With the pain I was feeling this early in the process was it even possible for me to maintain sanity while it was happening?

There’s no way a person could remain of sound mind experiencing this intensity of anguish.

I looked into Lex’s eyes, tried to tell her I loved her, but my lips were no longer working. My face had been distorting and my jaw was elongating.

She didn’t look horrified about the creature I was turning into; she appeared completely empathetic; and the scent rolling off her was of love, compassion, concern for my well-being.

“It’s okay, Kal. I’m here. I’ve got you. We’ve got this.”

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sified. She started calling me Kal that first night at the bar where we’d met. Her full name was Alexandria, but she preferred to go by Lex. And instead of calling me Michael, she nicknamed me Kal. Short for Michael as well as for Kal-El, the name Superman had been born with. It was our little inside joke of Kal and Lex being partners.

I closed my eyes, started to pray that Lex would be okay in dealing with the bizarre repercussions of her travel companion morphing into a wolf in the middle of a flight. And without the help of Samuel L. Jackson.

Suddenly, the pain started to retract, to retreat.

The aura, the tingling, the crushing pain in my bones, it all faded away. I looked back down at my one hand that had been morphing into a paw and saw it was reforming back to its normal size and shape. The tufts of fur had returned to regular dark human hair on the back of my hand.

I moved my jaw as I tried to speak.

“It’s...not happening,” I said. “I’m not changing.”

“Thank God,” she said.

“No,” I said, realizing what was happening. “Thank you, Lex.” “What do you mean?”

I thought back to the odd things I’d witnessed her doing that led us to believe she had some sort of bad luck curse. How, when she was conscious, my paranormal senses didn’t work around her.

She didn’t just possess a good luck charm aura that protected her from harm. She also had the ability to completely neutralize magic and the supernatural.

Lex herself was the charm to the curse I had been living with for years.

When I was with her, I could be one hundred percent human and normal.

All the time.

No more nocturnal escapades in canine form.

Talk about an amazing new chapter in my life.

“It’s you, your charm,” I said. “It isn’t just reducing the side effects of my enhanced wolf powers as a human. It’s working to allow me to maintain my full humanity.

“It’s you, Lex. You’re giving me a new lease on life.”

I paused and grinned at her as the horrible pun came

| MARK LESLIE | to me.

“Or maybe I should say a new Lex on life.”

She groaned.

“Why don’t you just stick to writing mystery thrillers and leave the comedy to the professionals?”

“Lex my love,” I said. “I’m going to do more than that. I’m going to leave the comedy, and the heroics, to the professionals.”

She squeezed my hand and I lost myself in her beautiful eyes as the Rush song I’d been thinking about on my flight to LA just a few weeks earlier came back to me.

Fly by Night.

“Change my life again, indeed.” I whispered.

“Change our lives again,” she replied, and kissed me.

The plane remained in the air, circling the city I had fallen in love with years ago, for another hour and a half. Lex and I held hands as we looked out the plane window together.

Her face beamed so magnificently as she marvelled at the view of The Statue of Liberty from the air.

“Oh Kal,” she said. “It’s spectacular.”

“It sure is,” I said, realizing how much I missed seeing that beautiful sculpture, not that I’d seen it from the air very often. I realized that being with Lex was going to give me a whole new perspective.

She was a glowing beacon of light in the middle of the dark water. The flood lights were lighting her from below, and her torch gave off its own light. But there was an additional light hitting her from above.

The moon.

I tilted my head to look up and see the almost full orb in the sky and realized how long it had been since I’d been able to look at the moon; well, at least in this human form, with a consciousness I could remember.

Lex squeezed my hand.

“You haven’t seen that in a while, have you?”

“No,” I said. “I haven’t seen a full moon in years.

I’ve never seen a full moon over New York City. And there’s nobody I’d rather share that experience with than you.”

I turned to see her looking not at the moon, but at me.

Her face was beaming, so filled with unadulterated joy at watching my reaction to seeing the moon. I had

no special heightened sensory input into what she was feeling; no scent, no heartbeat indicators.

But I didn’t need any of that.

I could see it in her eyes. I could feel it in the way she squeezed my hand.

“This is one of so many amazing things you bring into my life.

“I love you, Lex.” “I love you, Kal.” That heightened mutual passion continued to grow as we sat there in silence, not letting go of each others’ hands, looking out the window. It remained as the plane landed and we disembarked along with the other passengers, still keeping our hands clasped tightly.

We made our way, in that same fashion, through the terminal within the flow of the crowd, a part of them, and yet uniquely alone together, on our way to the baggage claim area.

The pounding of passion in my chest for Lex seemed to grow exponentially with each new beat of my heart. Here we were, starting a new life together, in my city. She knew who I was, what I was, and she not only loved me anyway, but her proximity allowed me to live a normal life.

At about the moment when I thought my burning and throbbing heart might burn a hole through my chest, I felt like I was hit with a startling splash of cold water.

It was as we were standing in a tight crowd of people gathered around the luggage carousel when I looked up and recognized a stunning brunette woman hustling her way in our direction from across the room.

From more than thirty feet away, I could see the mixture of tension, concern, and confusion in her beautiful green eyes.

And I knew exactly what she was worried about.

She not only knew I was a werewolf, but she was familiar with the cycles that affected me And we were more than an hour after sundown on the night of a near-full moon.

What the heck was Gail doing here?

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Mending of a Broken Time Guest column by Mary E. Jackson

| GUEST COLUMN |

Mending of a Broken Time

by Mary E. Jackson Our world is approaching two years of one of the most unprecedented periods in our lifetime and in our world’s history. The struggles and challenges have been felt by people all over the globe. Our children and young adults view of life, and mental health has been seriously altered and changed. At this point, we cannot see a clear path ahead of us where life will come back into more balance. So it is up to each of us to help our younger generations maneuver through this time and experience better mental and emotional health as well as a more well-balanced future.

outlets will make all the difference between whether a child suffers and feels lost or has a chance at healing and a new way of living. We have options to help us pull through this time and come out the other side in a better mental and emotional state. We can help empower our kids now and gear future generations with the confidence to conquer or handle whatever life presents.

©Copyright 2021 Mary E. Jackson for Uncaged Book Reviews www.uncagedbooks.com

Using the power of writing, books, video, and classes, we can empower our kids with tools, information, and resources to equip them with more success. Suicide and the thoughts of suicide are at an all-time high. Depression and anxiety are becoming the norm for children of all ages. Bullying hasn’t gone away; it has only morphed into a variety of different forms. Adults are suffering too. The imprinting on a child’s psyche is nothing like it was or could be. It will be like memories of trauma experienced during the depressions and wars of long ago for some kids. When I have spoken to older generations about it, this is what our present time reminds them of.

We have the power to affect this now. By bringing awareness about what is actually happening with mental health in the present, we can aid in this ongoing effort to create positive change. Some of the best actions we can take right now are giving children tools they can apply daily, resources they can connect to, and information that demonstrates options other than suicide, depression, and anxiety. My middle-grade reader just released Cheers from Heaven; we are exploring some of these values and issues. Cheers from Heaven focuses on the challenges of bullying, redemption, accepting others, working through complicated mental and emotional feelings, and learning to be a better friend. There are applications and tools in the back of this book to assist schools in using them for individual students, groups, and whole schools.

Equipping children with more positive words and language, visual aids, books, stories, lessons, and various constructive, creative

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Mrs. Jackson is a very busy mom and wife. She loves nature, being creative, anything funny, and inspiring others to believe in themselves to go from where they are to their full potential. She lives with her hubby, three kids, and dog in the Nashville area.

-Cherish every moment of life.

www.maryejackson.com

feature authors

Bruce Lewis

Nicole Fanning

crime | suspense

Tom McCaffrey

B ruce LEWIS

B

ruce Lewis was a crime reporter for several California daily newspaper, covering police and fire. His reporting earned six awards for best news and feature writing. He is the author of the Master Detective cover story, Bloody Murder in Beautiful Downtown Burbank, and the book Tweet It! Great News Writing 140 Characters at a Time.

His work as a communications consultant earned more than 30 professional awards. He lives with his wife in Portland, Oregon.

Black Rose Writing, an independent publisher in Texas with over 500 authors, will publish his psychological thriller, Bloody Paws, on Nov. 24, 132 | UncagedBooks.com

2021. Bruce is working on his second novel, Bloody Pages, part of the ongoing detective series featuring Portland Police Bureau Detectives Kim Jansen and Mark Larson. The third book in the series, Bloody Feathers, is in the planning stages.

In development are two memoirs: Hooray for the Hillbillies and Rock Shops and Seven-up.

Stay Co n n e c te d

Uncaged welcomes Bruce Lewis Welcome to Uncaged! Your book, Bloody Paws, will release on November 24th and is the first in a series.

Can you tell more about this book and the series that will continue in the future? Is this your debut novel?

This is my debut novel. It is a crime thriller wrapped around America’s struggle to solve homelessness.

I have planned three more books in the series. The second book—Bloody Pages—has been completed and is in review at my publisher, Black Rose Writing.

Bloody Paws evolved from my volunteer work for the Mendocino Coast Humane Society in Northern California. About the same time that I was working with the Humane Society, I came across a young homeless man sitting outside a supermarket begging for food and money. It occurred to me (not a kind thought, I admit) that homeless humans were like stray animals in many respects: living on the street, sleeping on sidewalks, foraging for food, and using doorways and gardens for bathrooms. Out of that came two characters: Veterinarian Jim Briggs and the dark inner voice he calls DIME (Devil In my Ear).

In Bloody Paws, Briggs operates a mobile canine care service for paying customers and offers the same service, at no cost, for the dogs of the homeless. His firsthand experience with homeless suffering troubles him.

He wants to help find permanent homes for them.

Put these elements together and you have a benevolent veterinarian who has compassion for helping the unsheltered and an alter ego who wants to euthanize them the same way veterinarians eliminate 1.6 million dogs annually who aren’t adopted from no-kill shelters. “We could solve homelessness in no time,” DIME suggests. Did I mention that Briggs operates a pet crematory?

When homeless people begin disappearing without a trace, police think they are missing persons, not crime victims. After all, there are no bodies and no evidence of foul play. New clues soon suggest a serial killer at work. The heart-pounding conclusion will leave you breathless.

What is the most difficult scene for you to write?

What is the easiest?

It was difficult to find the right words to communicate the gang rape of Helen Williams, balancing the need to explain a horrible event without revealing some details I wanted to save for later in the story.

The meltdown of homeless drug addict Maxine Reid, who was found naked and screaming in the middle of rush-hour traffic one morning, was easiest. As a police reporter for a daily newspaper, I witnessed similar scenes many times.

Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

My favorite character is DIME, Jim Briggs’ dark inner voice. He can say things that are politically incorrect, outrageous, sometimes hateful, and often scary. He is the opposite of Jim Briggs, who is Mr. Nice Guy. Oddly enough, the newspaper reporter, Chuck Grayson, was hardest to write. Odd because I was a newspaper crime reporter for seven years. I was in my twenties during those years. I have written Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

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Grayson as someone in his late sixties—forced into retirement—a guy closer to my age. I needed to make a choice whether to make him young or old and what would best work for the story. An older version fit better.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

Strays was the original working title for Bloody Paws, reflecting the notion that the homeless—humans and dogs—were strays.

Some of my early readers and editors liked Strays.

However, I wanted to create a series with similar book titles to help readers remember them.

The Bloody Paws title, a clue in the book, ties nicely to Bloody Pages, Book 2 in the Kim Jansen Detective Series. Book 3 will be Bloody Feathers. Book 4 is titled Bloody Robes.

None of the books is particularly bloody. Hopefully, using bloody in the title won’t turn off squeamish readers.

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

The scene in the book where character Jim Briggs walks into the critical care unit of a large hospital to remove his mother from support on Mother’s Day. For the seemingly sad event, Briggs is wearing an oversized, red Hawaiian shirt. It’s almost as if he got lost on his way to a luau. It echoes my own experience. I wore a red Hawaiian shirt the day we removed my mother from life support. The shirt was her last Christmas present to me, just months before she died of COPD and lung cancer. I choke up every time I tell this story.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

Bloody Paws is plot driven. Characters were added as needed to tell the story.

Bloody Pages, Book 2, uses several existing characters from Bloody Paws, and a couple of new ones, to the execute a well-developed story that is also plot driven.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you

aren’t writing or working?

| BRUCE LEWIS |

Photo safaris: I love wandering with my iPhone taking photos. When I lived in Portland, Oregon (20152021), I would walk a half mile from our townhouse to the International Rose Test Garden, home of 10,000 rose. At the peak of the season, the gardens were ablaze in color.

Interesting architecture and humorous signs also capture my attention. One of my favorites: a clothing shop in Portland’s Alphabet District featured a sandwich board out front with this invitation: ‘Come in and cop a feel. Like Tinder, but without the foreplay.’ It’s funny and outrageous at the same time.

Each year, I publish a photo book of adventures (get-togethers with friends mostly) from the past 12 months. It always includes some of my favorites, like the ‘Come in and cop a feel’ sign.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

Fall is my favorite season: pumpkins, Halloween, the cool air, clear skies, and blazing colors. It’s invigorating.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

As a newspaper reporter, I wrote 3,000 words a day.

Most often, the writing was on deadline, in chaotic newsrooms. So, putting words down on paper has never been a challenge. I can write anywhere, and I never suffer writer’s block. When working on novels, I write two to three hours a day, which often equals a chapter.

Because of my inexperience writing fiction, Bloody Paws took years to finish, all written in bits and pieces, mostly on my laptop at a local coffee shop.

I wrote Bloody Pages, Book 2 in the series, much quicker. Getting the first draft on paper was easy since I outlined the entire book before writing. This organized approach allows plenty of creativity as I Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | turn notes into scenes.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I prefer ebooks because I can read them in bed at night and not bother my wife with the lamp light if she is trying to sleep. A digital version is always available to me whether I’m reading on a phone, a tablet, or some other device. I also enjoy holding a physical book. I buy some books from local bookstores and get others from the public library. I listen to audiobooks when walking or working out. All three have a place in my reading world.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Bloody Paws is meant to be a fun, fast read with a strong viewpoint about society’s failure to find solutions to homelessness.

I tried to develop fearless women characters, based on my observations of the women in my life, from my first bosses to my mother to my wife, who all have been strong, creative and smart.

Enjoy an excerpt from Bloody Paws Bloody Paws Bruce Lewis Crime/Suspense Releases Nov. 24 When veterinary college sweethearts Jim Briggs and Helen Williams broke up to pursue careers in other parts of the country, they had no idea a tragedy would reunite them around a common cause six years later in Portland, Oregon where Briggs operated a mobile canine care service.

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Shortly after Williams loses her husband in a freak accident and is then attacked and left for dead by a group of homeless predators, she shows up on Briggs’ doorstep to take a job managing his pet crematory.

Helen’s arrival coincides with Briggs’ own shock over witnessing a homeless woman flipping out in a drug overdose meltdown, begging, “God please take me.”

While Briggs struggles with an inner dark voice urging him to put down the homeless meth addict like a stray dog, Williams goes on a murderous rampage for revenge while sleeping with a detective assigned to the case.

Excerpt Ray and Mary Johnson were showing signs of senior spread from eating too much meat and potatoes and not enough vegetables. Each was 20 pounds overweight, the extra pounds nicely disguised by their oversized Heavenly Considerations sweatshirts. The image of a dog in angel wings standing at the Pearly Gates adorned the shirt fronts. The couple wore matching jeans and tennis shoes.

Sitting in front of the Johnsons was an assortment of donuts—a chocolate bar, two glazed, three jellies, two apple fritters, and a powdered—and two cups of coffee. Between the donuts with sprinkles and the bright logos of their t-shirts, they were a riot of color.

When Briggs entered the donut shop, they leaped from their seats like over-anxious puppies. Powder sugar covered Ray’s lips. Mary wiped jelly off the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

Even before Briggs met the Johnsons, he had decided to buy their pet cremation business, pending reviews of health permits and financials by his lawyer and his accountant.

Worldwide, the pet funeral business, including cremations, generated a profit of more than $100 million annually. Although a dog cremation averaged $200, some were extravagant. The most expensive on record

| BRUCE LEWIS | was for a Tibetan Mastiff in China. Cost: $733,000. It included a jade coffin and a plot of land at the foot of a mountain range.

Briggs wanted a piece of the lucrative market for cremating dog remains and returning them in an attractive box or urn to veterinary clinics and hospitals. He figured he could easily double his income. The extra money would help him realize his goal to give back to the community, especially to the dogs of the homeless, without depleting his nest egg his mother left him.

“Order a coffee drink for yourself,” Mary and Ray offered, stepping forward at the same time to shake Briggs’ hand. After ordering a latte, he sat down across from the Johnsons, who had settled onto an over soft sofa that sank under their weight. They both leaned forward, on the edge of their seats, as if they did not want to miss a word Briggs had to say.

Briggs’ latte arrived, and he was just about to take a sip when Ray exploded with recognition. “We thought your name sounded familiar when you responded to our advertisement, but we didn’t associate you with the green van and the white paws on the side.”

“That’s me,” said Briggs, amused by the Johnson’s Chihuahua-like enthusiasm and energy.

dispose of them, under a long-term contract, at a very competitive rate. And the animal shelters love us because we help them move the unadoptable pets out of their shelters to make room for new residents.”

Before Briggs could ask the obvious question, Mary jumped in. “We both had health scares this year. I had a triple bypass and Ray had prostate cancer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Briggs offered.

“No need to be sorry,” Mary continued. “We’re both fine. We have more medications to take, but part of that is getting older. Anyway, it got us thinking. We’ve got plenty of money. Yes, we could make more and wait until age 65 to retire.

But why?”

“Exactly,” Ray said, adding an exclamation point to Mary’s statement. “Why wait!”

“Sounds like you’ve made an excellent decision,” said Briggs. “I’m definitely interested in Heavenly Considerations. It would complement my mobile care business.”

“Absolutely,” said Briggs.

“Let’s make this easy for everyone,” said Mary.

“We will show you and your accountant the books, then discuss a price, and move forward.

We would be willing finance the deal and take a monthly payment as retirement income.”

“I don’t want to B.S. you, Jim, so we are going to be upfront about our business. We are making plenty of money and have for the past 10 years. More and more people, as you know, want their pet’s ashes returned to them. A way to keep their little companions alive, at least in their minds.

Briggs reached down and picked up a custardfilled maple bar and took a bite, then lifted the donut-filled box toward the Johnsons. The Johnsons selected jelly donuts. “Here’s to discovering new horizons and celebrating the best of what life offers,” they said in unison, raising the donuts like they were glasses of champagne.

“Veterinarians love the service because it bonds them to their clients. Cops, firefighters, and animal control officers love us because we take dead animals and

“Hey Jimbo, we have the perfect resting place for strays, don’t we?” said DIME, the ever-present dark voice in Briggs’ head. The voice brought his

“So Dr. Briggs, we’re delighted you came. Can we call you Jim?”

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | thoughts back to the nuts and bolts of the pet cremation business: basic equipment included a cremation unit—a giant industrial furnace—and a cremulator to pulverize bone and tooth fragments into fine dust.

Once the two-part process finished, you couldn’t tell the difference between a human and a dog. DNA ceased to exist.

Later that day, Briggs urged his lawyer and accountant to complete their business reviews. In less than a week, Briggs had struck a deal with the Johnsons.

They agreed to consult with him as part of the business transfer until he felt comfortable running the operation alone.

After a few days with the Johnsons, Briggs knew he could not manage the business alone. He needed help, and he needed it fast.

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showcase

Miguel A. Newman Your Stewardship Your Stewardship Miguel A. Newman Self Help

As a parent or parentto-be, have you ever explored who you are and how your values and beliefs are building a strong foundation for your children? If so, this book explores how taking a deep look into who we are, our beliefs, values, actions and the potential they have to impact the lives of our children.

Did you know that how we think and view things also transition to how we do things? Being good stewards require us to be in tune with who we are and how that is transmitted in how we express this to our children.

Understanding that our actions from very early will become the classroom from which our children will learn most of what will become subconscious knowledge deposits will help us view our actions with a more imparting nature.

From small mind changes, spiritual impartations, legacy building, and life teachings and applications. You will be asked to dive in, ask questions of yourself and take action not just to help your children grow, but in the process, your very self.

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About Your values, actions, and leadership have the potential to guide, inspire and encourage the generation of the future. Explore how taking a deep look into who you are, your beliefs, values, actions will impact the lives of your children.

How you think and view things will transition to how you do things. Being good stewards require you to be in tune with who you are and how that is transmitted in how you express this to your children. Understanding that your actions from very early will become the classroom from which your children will learn most of what will become subconscious knowledge deposits will help you view your actions with a more imparting nature.

From small mind changes, spiritual impartations, legacy building, and life teachings and applications, you’ll be asked to dive in, ask questions, and take action not just to help your children grow, but also your own self.

Miguel A. Newman is a trained teacher, project management professional, and serves in the children’s ministry at Amazing Church with his wife. He focuses his studies on family and child development through establishing structures for growth and advancement. He enjoys spending time with his family, reading, designing, and planning new projects.

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nicole fanning

N

icole Fanning is a smitten wife and super proud dog mom to three rambunctious rescue dogs.

She’s an old school romantic and documentary enthusiast, with a proclivity for a little mischief. She also has small obsession with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and obscure boardgames.

Her debut novel, Catalyst, is the first incendiary installment of the Heart of the Inferno Series which follows the| UncagedBooks.com romantic entanglement of deadly billionaire 144

mafia don, Jaxon Pace, and his unexpected paramour, Natalie Tyler.

Stay Connected

as they face a new challenge together: parenthood.

Natalie is unexpectedly pregnant. And while the ecstatic Jaxon Pace is more than ready to meet his heir, the dangers of his life, and the demons of his past are quickly closing in around them. He and his dedicated Alpha Squad are locked in a race against time to protect both his family…and his legacy.

What is the most difficult scene for you to write?

What is the easiest?

Uncaged welcomes Nicole Fanning Welcome to Uncaged! You’ve just released the second book in your Heart of the Inferno Series, called Ignite. Can you tell readers more about the book and the series?

“Ignite” is the second book in the Heart of the Inferno Series, and picks up right where book one, “Catalyst,” left off. HOTI is a mafia-thriller series that follows the romantic entanglement of deadly mafia don, Jaxon Pace, and his unexpected paramour, Natalie Tyler.

In the first book, “Catalyst,” we meet Natalie just as she arrives in Chicago to attend her cousin’s wedding.

Natalie, a simple nurse from Miami, is just hoping to survive the week with her estranged family and ex-fiancé. But a split-second decision, unknowingly puts her in the path of one of the city’s wealthiest bachelors…and one of the deadliest. She instantly finds herself thrust into a world she doesn’t understand: The world of Jaxon Pace.

Billionaire. Hotelier. Mafia Boss. In an expansive underworld of crime, violence and deceit, Jaxon is KING. But despite his determination to remain unattached, he falls hard for the beautiful and charismatic Natalie Tyler. Before long, this unlikely pair find themselves enraptured in a fiery romance that takes them both by surprise.

But Jaxon’s enemies have sworn to destroy him, and they have noticed Natalie too…and her value as a target.

I’d say for the most part the story flows effortlessly.

I personally enjoy the banter between characters and love crafting conversations-especially the funny ones!

I always assumed that the action scenes would be the most difficult to write, but surprisingly, when it came down to it, that wasn’t the case at all.

Instead, it was GRIEF that delivered a massive gut punch.

There is a pivotal scene in book two, “Ignite,” where a pregnant Natalie is shot by one of our villains and suffers a miscarriage. I’ll be honest, it is absolutely devastating.

As someone who has lived through the agony that comes with a miscarriage, this scene unexpectedly brought me to my knees. I cried the entire time I wrote it, and still cry when I read it to this day.

They say one in every four women have experienced a miscarriage, so I knew this would really hit home for a lot of people, and I just wanted to do it justice. I put my heart and soul into those pages, trying to find the best way to describe all that pain, confusion, and rage that both Natalie and Jaxon were experiencing. And I wanted to do it with the DIGNITY it deserved. In the end, we see the unwavering love and support they give one another, and how they manage to pull each other forward, an inch at a time, healing as a couple from this terrible loss.

But yeah…a lot of tears were shed on those chapters.

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Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

hole and landed on this video about the “Anatomy of a Fire.”

How do you come up with the title to your books?

They can have different identifiers, but basically there are four stages to a fire: The first stage is the “Catalyst,” which is where something comes into the situation and creates a chemical reaction. The second stage is the “Ignition,” which is where the spark ignites the flame, and the fire begins to grow. The third stage is called the “Flash Point,” and is typically identified as the hottest point in the fire. The fourth and final stage is the “Decay,” which is when the fire begins to wane.

I found this fascinating and fitting for my “Heart of the Inferno Series,” titling the books “Catalyst,” “Ignite,” and “Flash Point.”

Admittedly, I am a bit of a dorky-documentary kind of person. One day, I fell down a YouTube rabbit

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

Oooh! I love all my characters, but for some reason I have a soft spot for all my “villains!” It might sound weird, but I just adore the hate and disgust that slimeball ex-fiancé Colton brings out of my readers…and he is nothing compared to the other bad guys!

There’s something special about creating a character you and your readers love to hate together!

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I absolutely HATE cliffhangers! THEY STRESS ME OUT! And yes, I know, both “Catalyst” and “Ignite” end in cliffys, but I promise that book three, “Flash Point” will not!

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

For me they are both equally important. Before I allowed myself to write a single chapter, I mapped out the full “plot skeleton” as I like to call it, for the entire series. However, developing a solid character bible was a big part of that process too. I think if you want to create lovable and memorable characters, it’s essential they each have a unique backstory and voice!

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

Besides spending time with the friends and family I miss when I am on a self-induced writing hiatus, I love playing obscure and complicated board games with my husband! Our latest obsession is “Zombiecide.”

We are also proud dog parents to three rambunctious rescue dogs, who get lots of walkies, car rides, and beach days!

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

I feel like this is so cliché, but I don’t care…FALL! There are few things that bring me as much joy as curling up with a fuzzy blanket in a cozy corner with a cup of tea and a book. Add in an apple-cinnamon candle and oh my… *chefs kiss* How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

This is a tough question!

I write in my head ALL day long. Whether I’m folding laundry, or driving home from work, or picking up gro-

ceries, I am mentally writing away inside my head.

But as for physically sitting down at a computer, I typically write for at least an hour every day. Although, my husband disagrees and says it’s usually four hours. Oops!

I learned early on that having a daily writing schedule helps to keep me in the “zone.” But it’s also incredibly cathartic for me, and almost necessary.

In fact, I think it’s fair to say that I get a wee bit grumpy if I don’t write!

My first novel was 154,000 words and took 8 months to write. The second book, which was nearly 200,000 words, took only 4 months to write, but it was truly a labor of love. #caffeineislife Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

All three for me! I usually start with an eBook, and if I enjoy the story enough to reread, I will purchase the physical copy as well. I like the flexibility of having an eBook at my fingertips whenever I want and wherever I am. Additionally, I always have an Issue 62 | November/December 2021 | 147

| FEATURE AUTHOR | audiobook on standby for long car rides too.

Since I am deep in the trenches of working on book three, “Flash Point,” I’m not currently reading anything, as I like to stay immersed in the world I am creating. But I do like to reward myself and decompress with a book as soon as I finish writing a novel.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

THANK YOU. You are the magic that brings my books to life, and I couldn’t do any of this without your love and support. I know everyone thinks they have the best fans, but I know for a fact that I truly do. You inspire me every single day.

Thank you so much for loving HOTI and “Jaxalie” as much as me.

Enjoy an excerpt from Ignite Ignite Nicole Fanning Romantic Suspense “I love you...right, wrong, or insane.”

She never expected to fall in love with a mafia don.

He never expected to fall in love at all.

But will their love be enough?

Four weeks ago, Jaxon Pace, the billionaire “Don Supreme” of Chicago’s underground mafia syndicates, took a bullet. This bullet was meant for the woman who stole his heart, the beautiful Natalie Tyler.

Overwhelmed by the horrors she witnessed in Chicago, Natalie chose to return home to Miami, leaving the broken and brokenhearted Jaxon Pace to recover on his own.

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A month after her visit, Natalie’s heart still belongs to Jaxon...And you better believe Jaxon Pace is coming to collect HIS woman. But when he does, he discovers that Natalie has a surprise for him: she is pregnant.

However, his enemies will give the happy couple no reprieve.

Especially, Jaxon’s presumed-dead ex-girlfriend, Rachel...and her psychotic brother, Michael.

They are the leaders of Chicago’s newest mafia clan, the Two-Headed Dragon.

The Two-Headed Dragon has one goal: the complete destruction of the Pace Family Mafia.

If successful, they will destroy the mafia hierarchy that has guided Chicago’s underworld for a century, sending the city into complete chaos.

Will Natalie & Jaxon’s love be enough to defeat the dangers of the present...and the demons of the past?

Excerpt Three weeks after a gunshot ripped through my abdomen and killed our son, his ashes finally arrive at Pace Manor.

After a brutally sleepless night, I went with Jaxon to retrieve them, holding them almost as tightly against my body as Jaxon held me for the entire silent car ride back to the house.

But when we pull back into the driveway, my jaw nearly detaches itself and falls into my lap as well.

At least a hundred of Jaxon’s men, all in their typical black-on black attire, stand outside in the bitter cold, waiting for us. Their eyes staring straightforward into nothing. They stand as still and silent as terrifying statues, their massive frames lining either side of the pathway to the Pace family crypt.

I gently tug at the veil on the hat I’m wearing, to hide the fact that my eyes are still raw from crying.

“It’s tradition,” Jaxon whispers, answering my silent question. Marta walks out with Jessica, dressed in her little black dress and coat, and she takes her father’s hand.

I grip Evander’s ashes in one hand and in the other I take Jaxon’s arm, pulling myself against him.

| NICOLE FANNING | “When a member of the Pace bloodline dies, the rest of the family lines the path; so that the grieving never have to make that final walk alone. This is how we honor the dead.”

“That’s beautiful,” I whisper.

Even though my heart feels as if it has been shattered irreparably, this gesture and the meaning behind it, touches me deeply.

And just like Jaxon said, the men stand at attention all the way into the crypt, where the Alpha Squad greet us outside of the niche that has been prepared.

But the moment I see his name, etched forever into the marble, my breath hitches in my throat, and I feel as if I have been punched hard in the stomach.

This is happening. We’re burying our son.

A priest is here to say a small eulogy, and to bless the ashes, but I’m not listening. I just keep staring at his name carved perfectly into the stone. My heart breaks for our loss. My heart breaks for the fact that he will never know his father, who was so excited to meet him. My heart breaks for the life we all could have had together, that was ripped from us in an instant.

After the small service is complete, the niche is opened and his ashes placed inside.

“Is this where my little brother will be sleeping now?”

Jessica asks innocently, as her father picks her up.

Her question is honest, as she too is trying to make sense of what we have carefully told her in the days leading up to today.

“Yes,” Jaxon says, swallowing back his own emotions. “This is where your little brother will be from now on.”

“No,” she says suddenly, her little brow furrowed. “It’s just where he will be sleeping. You know, when he’s not busy watching over us, with all the other angels.”

I break.

Not wanting to cause a scene, I press my face to Jaxon’s chest, trying desperately to choke back my sobs, but still they echo against the cold stone walls that will forever hold my son. I can feel Jaxon’s body trembling too, overcome with the harshest of realities

any parent could ever face.

“Don’t cry, Miss Natalie,” I hear little Jessica say, feeling her tiny hand on my shoulder.

“Nan says angels are never sad.”

I take a deep breath before looking up at her with a smile.

“You’re right, troublemaker,” I choke out.

“They aren’t.”

And in the middle of my heart crumbling to pieces, Jessica Pace reaches for me, asking me to hold her.

Without hesitating, I take her in my arms, and she lays her sweet little head on my shoulder.

Jaxon wipes the tears from his eyes, and wraps his arms around us both, kissing my forehead and whispering of his love for us.

And in this moment, I look up at her father, the man I love with every breath in my body and realize one fundamental truth: No matter how we have come to be, or how broken we are, the three of us are still a family. And we still have each other. ***

“Miss Tyler?” I hear Marta say softly, and I awake from a nap just as the sun is setting.

I sit up quickly and look at the clock, embarrassed that I slept as long as I did. I rub my eyes, but instantly regret it as they sting painfully, the result of me crying myself to sleep after the funeral.

“Oh no, Marta!” I say realizing the time and frantically, pulling the covers off. “Did I miss dinner with Mr. Pace?”

She shakes her head with a smile.

“No, Ma’am. He only just returned from the gun range. I thought I would come and let you know so you had time to prepare.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” I breathe, walking to the wardrobe.

After the funeral today, Jaxon and I went upstairs to have some privacy in our grief. We held each other for hours, and Jaxon mentioned that he wanted us to have dinner together tonight.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | ently snuck out to handle his grief…another way.

“Also,” Marta says gently. “Mr. Pace wanted me to give you this, for dinner this evening.” She walks over to a small table and picks up a box, with a red chiffon bow.

Jaxon’s signature detail.

“Oh?” I ask, curiously. “I could’ve sworn he said we were dining at home this evening?”

“Yes, Ma’am, you are. Mr. Pace just thought you would like it.”

Instantly I smile.

Only this man, could drag me from my misery this evening.

I open the box, finding a handwritten note from Jaxon.

My Love, I will be waiting downstairs.

-J I feel myself blush.

I’m not sure how he does it, but he makes my body flush with heat, and my heart start to hammer away within my chest.

I slowly pull back the wrapping and immediately I’m stunned by the stunning deep eggplant-colored fabric that I see.

It’s a dress, knee length in the front, but the elegant fabric cascades down to floor in the back with giant flowing bell sleeves. It has the deep, plunging neckline that Jaxon seems to love, lined with a delicate guipure lace.

“Oh my…” I say in awe.

“Also,” Marta says, with a smile. “There’s this.”

She then produces a black jewelry box. Inside the box is a large teardrop diamond necklace and a set of matching earrings.

I gasp in astonishment.

Oh my God! He must have spent a fortune on this!

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“Are you alright, Ma’am?” Marta asks me, and it’s then that I realize I’m not breathing.

“Yes, this is just…a bit overwhelming,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “I thought we were just having dinner, but these look like jewels for a queen.”

Marta smiles but says nothing. She motions to the dress in the box.

“Shall I help you get dressed? I could put your hair up if you’d like. I used to do it for my younger sister.”

I look up at Marta and smile at the genuine sweetness in her face. I marvel at how far we have come as friends in just the short time I’ve lived here the Manor.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

Over the course of the next hour, Marta helps me get ready for dinner. She pulls half of my hair up in a loosely braided bun, while leaving the rest long and curled in the back, matching the design of the dress.

When I see myself in the mirror, I find it hard to believe that just a few hours ago, I was weeping myself to sleep. After an hour’s worth of makeup and pampering, I now look as though I’m headed to a grand affair.

“You’re ready,” Marta says, with a smile. “Let me go find out if everything is ready and I will be right back.” She excuses herself and closes the door behind her.

I chuckle to myself.

So much for just a quiet romantic dinner, Jaxon Pace .

I gingerly touch the stunning diamond around my neck. I can’t help but think all of this is really unnecessary. He knows I would have been happy with Chinese takeout and cuddling by the fire in front of my giant Christmas tree, that he still finds to be slightly ridiculous.

The door opens and Marta returns with a smile.

“Mr. Pace is ready for you.”

I take a deep breath and walk slowly through the bedroom, the swaying fabric flowing gracefully behind me.

“He will be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs,” Marta says, as I step out into the hall.

| NICOLE FANNING | However, my attention is immediately deflected when I notice that candles line the corridor floor on either side of the walls, and the entire hallway floor is covered in white rose petals. In the distance, I swear I hear the faint sound of a violin playing.

me flush against his body, making my heart flutter instantly. He leans in and presses his lips to mine tenderly.

“This, Aγαπημένη,” he whispers, against my lips.

“Is everything.”

Oh my God…

As he turns around to the atrium filled with men, I watch in astonishment as one by one, every single one of Jaxon’s men slowly take a knee, bowing their heads. Immediately I look to Ethan and Charlie, and see that they too, along with the rest of Jaxon’s Alpha Squad, are kneeling.

My heart starts pounding as I turn to Marta, who just smiles and nods, confirming what I already know.

This is not about to be a quiet romantic dinner.

With shaking breaths, I walk toward the staircase and by the time I’ve made it down the hallway, I recognize the tune of the violin softly playing, “At Last”

by Etta James.

But what I see the moment my hand touches the banister causes every thought in my brain to disintegrate into thin air.

Candles and rose petals line the entire staircase, and grinning at the very bottom, looking devilishly handsome and impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo, is Jaxon Pace.

Waiting for me.

However we’re not alone. I look out over the foyer and see that next to Jaxon stands Ethan, Charlie, Josiah, Levi, Travis and Wesley. In fact, the entire atrium is filled with Jaxon’s men…each holding a single white rose.

Oh my…

“Natalie.” I’m not breathing when I hear Jaxon say my name, bringing my attention back to him.

I slowly start to descend the staircase toward him, my heart pounding in my ears. Nervously, I extend my hand to him as I reach the final step and he softly brings it to his lips. His eyes holding a wicked satisfaction as they canvas my body.

“Jaxon…” I whisper, my voice shaking. “What is all of this?”

Jaxon smiles but says nothing.

Instead, he helps me off the stairs and onto the marble floor. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls

I now stand in a room surrounded by the most dangerous hit men in the world, all of whom are kneeling and bowing their head in reverence.

“REGINA VESTRA!” Jaxon’s voice suddenly booms over the crowd in Latin, and he beats his fist against his chest once.

“UNTIL DEATH!” His men shout back, beating their chest twice in response. Their voices echoing off the marble walls of the gigantic atrium long after they return to silence.

I don’t know what Jaxon said in Latin, but somehow I don’t need to know what was said to understand that this room full of men, just swore their allegiance…to me.

“You, Natalie Tyler, are everything to me. And now you’re everything to them,” Jaxon says, his face beaming with pride.

My heart explodes.

Many of these men have already risked their lives to protect or rescue me. But never in a million years could I imagine what it feels like to hear them swear such a promise to me.

I swallow back the tears welling in my eyes.

“Thank you,” I say, trying to summon my courage.

Is that what I’m supposed to say to them?

I look to Jaxon, who just smiles down at me and kisses my hand again.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | “Come,” he says, taking my hand and leading me forward. “I have yet another surprise for you, my love.”

“Jaxon, I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises tonight. This is already more than enough—” I’m in the middle of whispering when I look toward the kitchen ahead of us and suddenly see faces staring back at me.

The faces of my family.

I notice my parents first, who stand tearfully and silently waiting for me. And then I notice Steph, and the rest of my cousins smiling happily along with my grandparents. My best friend Mel and her husband Landon stand in the corner by the patio doors near Montresa, who is leaning against the counter.

I also happen to notice Sophia and Gabriel, holding each other tightly in the corner of the room.

I stop in my tracks and turn to stare up at Jaxon, who is watching me carefully, a warm smile on his face.

He planned all of this. Probably for weeks.

He arranged for my entire family to fly here, to surprise me. There’s no stopping the tears now, as I stare up at him in utter amazement. The violinist continues to play softly in the background as I feel my body begin to shake, and I struggle just to find my words at all.

“Jaxon…” I choke out, tears of happiness welling in my eyes. “You did this…all of this, for me?”

He smiles down at me, gently tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear while raising my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

I hear a soft murmur amongst the crowd, and it is then that I feel a little hand slip itself inside mine.

I turn to my right and see Jessica, in a lilac purple dress, smiling up at me.

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“Hey troublemaker,” I say, matching her smile.

“Natalie,” I hear Jaxon say beside me, but when I turn back to face him, I see that he himself is down on one knee.

I stop breathing.

Oh my God. This is it.

“Natalie, I know that I could live a thousand lifetimes, and still never deserve you. I’ve known it from the moment I met you. But if you will let me, I would like to spend the rest of this lifetime showing you exactly how much I love you, and how much you mean to me,” he says, his icy blue eyes staring deep into my soul.

“And me!” Jessica chimes in enthusiastically, walking to her father as soft laughter echoes around the room.

I feel the tears streaking down my face, and my body trembling as Jaxon Pace pulls out a red ring box and opens it to reveal a gorgeous teardrop engagement ring.

“Will you marry me, Natalie, and share this life with us?”

I cannot stop myself, and with my shaking hands I move to him, cupping his beautiful face in my hands.

“Yes, Jaxon. I will marry you,” I say, joy rising in my throat. I lean in and kiss him gently. “I love you.”

He smiles and slips the ring on my finger, before standing and kissing me deeply. Cheers and shouts of joy go up around the room. Jessica squeals with delight and wraps her arms around my legs, before Jaxon picks her up.

“Miss Natalie,” she asks softly. “Does this mean that I can call you…Mom?”

There’s no way for Jessica to know, but my heart bursts inside my chest with just this simple sentence.

| NICOLE FANNING | I kiss Jessica’s forehead and stroke her cheek gently.

“I would be honored, little one,” I whisper back.

Her eyes light up, and without a word she wraps her arms around my neck in a tight hug. Marta steps forward with a smile, extending her hand to take her upstairs for bed Jaxon turns to me, pulling me to him and kissing me again, before winking and nodding toward the anxiously awaiting Tyler clan.

As we approach my parents, my mother rushes to hug me, crying profusely. As she tearfully expresses her happiness, Jaxon and my father shake hands, before my father smiles and pulls him in for a hug.

“Thank you, Sir, for your permission,” I hear Jaxon say softly.

“Thank you for asking,” My father replies. “Just be good to her.”

Something tells me these two are going to be great friends.

Eventually we get to Mel and Landon, who are waiting eagerly in the corner.

“So, does this mean I have to apologize for threatening to beat you with a baseball bat a few months ago?” Mel asks Jaxon with a grin.

“You did WHAT?” Landon asks in shock, turning wide-eyed to his wife.

Jaxon gives a hearty chuckle.

“Jesus, Mel, we’ve discussed this! You can’t go threatening people with BATS!” Now I’m laughing, too.

“Nah,” Jaxon laughs, fist bumping Mel. “We’re good.”

“Until my dying breath,” Jaxon nods.

My father then graciously rescues me from my stillsobbing mother, who then turns and tearfully attacks Jaxon with a hug.

“You know,” my father says, looking at me. “I don’t understand all the pomp and circumstance back there, but I can see how happy you are…this suits you.”

“Thank you, Dad,” I say with a smile.

“Now, I suggest you get your fiancé out of here before your mother suffocates him.”

I laugh and take Jaxon’s hand, and we continue to slowly make our way around the room. Miraculously, the usually mercurial Jaxon is warm and charming, seemingly at ease as we’re received by my family.

“Pretty sure you just got inducted into a cult back there, Cuz,” Steph says, with a grin. “But hey, what y’all do in your private life is your business. Whatever gets your rocks off.”

She winks up at Jaxon, who just chuckles and shakes his head.

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T om M ccaffrey

T

om McCaffrey is a born-and-bred New Yorker who, after a long career working as a successful entertainment attorney in Manhattan, relocated with his wife to a small town in Northern Colorado to follow a road less travelled and return to his first passion, writing.

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Both Tom and Claire and the gang are thrilled that The Claire Trilogy continues.

Stay Connected

TheWiseNovelist.com Uncaged welcomes Elise Marion Welcome to Uncaged! The second book in a trilogy, An Alien Appeal, releases December 23rd. Can you tell readers more about the book and the series? Do you have a tentative release for the third book?

TPM: AAA picks up where TWA ends. Jimmy Moran rewards his new magical “family” for their support in TWA by applying all of his litigation skills to defend Everett before the High Council on Proxima b. However, it’s Jimmy’s life in the balance. Despite his skillset, and his own hybrid evolution, Jimmy’s existence remains in turmoil as he repeatedly engages with the law of unintended consequences on both sides of the galaxy. The only unwavering constant remains Claire, who helps Jimmy navigate the unknowable. KMAG, the final book in the series picks up where AAA ends, with the law of unintended consequences in full play.

The family expands organically, but despite their best efforts, they cannot prevent the most powerful forces on earth from coveting their powers. With nowhere left to run, the gloves come off, and Jimmy channels his mafia roots. Who will survive their last stand? KMAG will be released on March 24, 2022.

mourn at their passing. Comedy scenes are the easiest. I’ve been surrounded by really funny characters all of my life. I just let them interact and the humor just surfaces.

Do you have a favorite character you’ve written?

Has there been a character that’s been hard to write about?

TPM: Claire’s my all-time favorite character. I am absolutely in love with her. The Lenahan character was harder for me to fully develop. He was the most complex. He is my story’s Aragorn.

How do you come up with the title to your books?

TPM: I wait until I finish writing and then the title just flows from the story. Plus, I like being a bit irreverent. I am a wise ass.

What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?

TPM: I don’t drink scotch. Every individual character in all of my novels has a real-life counterpart.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

TPM: Characters. Claire was the first character around which I built the entire trilogy. It helps that she is every bit as magical as I make her out to be.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

What is the most difficult scene for you to write? What is the easiest?

TPM: Hanging with my wife, who is an RN and has run four NYC Marathons. Hanging with Claire (that’s her on the cover of all three novels). Working around the property. Love browsing in curiosity shops. Going for my early morning walks. I love binge watching BBC shows, even the ones with subtitles.

TPM: Death scenes are the hardest for me to write.

These characters are very real to me and I weep and

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

TPM: The fall. I love jeans and sweatshirt weather. Halloween is my favorite holiday. If I could arrange it, Tubular Bells would be my forever door chime.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

TPM: When I’m actually writing I put in two early hours each day during weekdays (I wake up at 2 am) and as many hours as I can get away with on the weekends. But my mind is always advancing the story. And once I sit down to write, I don’t stop.

Average for the three novels is slightly over eight weeks each.

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Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

Are you reading anything now?

TPM: I prefer ebooks if I’m reading to distill information, which is why I do all my legal research on line.

It’s just easier to scan and locate information as fast as my mind can assimilate it.

I love physical books when I’m reading for enjoyment.

I read novels at a far more leisurely pace.

I have to admit that I’ve only listened to one audiobook, and that was Joe Barrett reading TWA. I wasn’t going to listen to the whole thing, I just wanted to see how he handled the first few chapters, but within five minutes I was hooked. I like the collaborative feel of an audiobook, as it is my story being told through the eyes of an actor. It was a lot of fun.

I am rereading A Separate Peace by John Knowles.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Do I have fans? I will say to all of my readers that I love every one of you. Thank you for picking up my books and reading them. I hope I never disappoint you.

I don’t exist without you all.

I can be followed on, and contacted through, my website: Thewisenovelist.com I really try to respond to every email.

Enjoy an excerpt from An Alien Appeal An Alien Appeal Tom McCaffrey Suspense/Dark Humor An Alien Appeal picks up where The Wise Ass left off, expands the roster of mystical and magical characters, reunites Jimmy with his last sibling and finds Jimmy and Everett traveling through space to Proxima b to answer to that planet’s elite for Everett’s decisions and Jimmy’s continued existence.

All of Jimmy’s wishes come true, including arguing his friend’s case before the highest court in this galaxy, but there are prices to pay and Jimmy’s life hangs in the balance. Love is tested and irrevocable choices are made.

These colorful characters’ continuing evolution embraces love, interstellar courtroom drama, loss and tears. Of course, Claire plays her central role in the resolution of it all, but nothing remains the same.

Beware the law of unintended consequences.

| TOM MCCAFFREY | Excerpt I was surprised at how few vehicles were on the road, and then remembered that most people usually traveled during the early part of the day before Thanksgiving and were probably now all happily arrived at their destinations, in the arms of their loving families. I kept the speedometer at 65 and stayed vigilant, actively scanning the roadside to make sure I would not accidently hit some frightened animal seeking safe passage across the highway. Then it started to snow. Just above Fort Collins I spotted some movement up ahead just a few feet off the right side of the road.

It was a couple of back-packers walking single file on the right-hand shoulder. The young man in the lead was carrying what I recognized to be a folded tent on his back and the young woman walking behind him struggled with a large knapsack on hers.

A stunning young Alaskan Malamute, attached by a chain lead to the woman’s knapsack, cautiously followed up in the rear, its thick, impenetrable coat quickly covering with snow.

While this caravan seemed dressed appropriately for the season, they looked like they spent most of their recent time roughing it outdoors. As I got within fifty feet of them, I saw a hand emerge with the universal hitchhikers’ ‘thumbs up’ sign. The wretched part of me just wanted to continue along alone, stewing in my misery. But then the dog, startled by the approach of my large truck, bolted off to the side, pulling the poor girl down hard as they collapsed into a tangled mess. I suddenly remembered my father referring to hitchhikers as strays, and yet, he always picked them up.

That was the time before serial killers had emptied the nation’s highways of hitchhikers. At that moment, the baritone radio announcer heralded the midnight hour and wished his audience a Happy Thanksgiving. I was 200 An Alien Appeal another hundred feet beyond them before I finally pulled over, wondering the whole time, what I was thinking. I backed the truck up along the shoulder until I almost reached them. “You guys okay?” I called to the young man as he worked to disentangle the Issue 62 | November/December 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | woman and beast. I could hear the distress in her voice as she rubbed her right ankle. The dog, still attached to the backpack, panted nervously, and stared protectively in my direction, ignoring the steady increase in the snow fall’s intensity.

ized that she was a few months pregnant, when the thought ‘love’ emanated from the fetal girl within her womb. I could feel the young woman’s relief as she settled into the warm compartment, and the dog happily clambered onto her lap.

The young man ceased his efforts and turned to face me. He was a decent sized kid with a fairly thin beard that betrayed his youth, and he was rightfully nervous at the approach of a stranger. I saw him reach back and place his hand on a hunting knife in a sheath on his right hip. I stopped a safe distance away and held up both hands to show my peaceful intentions. He could see in my parking lights, that I was unarmed.

The young man had returned for his tent and was stowing it in the truck bed, while I retrieved the woman’s back-pack. He had taken his spot in the shotgun seat by the time I reached the driver’s side and was warming his hands on the now rocking heater vents. The snow on his clothes had already melted. Looking at the two of them as I slid back into the seat, I would have guessed they were not even twenty years old. They reminded me of Gina and me back in the day.

“Where are you kids going?” I asked. I scanned their minds and sensed the name of the town Cody, Wyoming, moments before he answered. I could also sense that neither one of these kids was a serial killer, even though that was something the new me had nothing to worry about.

“Wyoming, Cody, Wyoming.” He responded, cautiously.

I had no idea where Cody, Wyoming was, but I did not give a shit, because I had nowhere else to be. Thanks to my evolution, I was not feeling the least bit tired. “This is your lucky day,” I said with a smile. “I just happen to be heading in that direction. If you want a lift, hop in.”

The young man leaned in and whispered to the woman, who nodded her head vigorously. “Sure,” he responded, “do you mind taking the dog? We could load her into the truck bed in the back.”

“No,” I said, rejecting any distinction between the comfort of these life forms, “There’s plenty of room for you all in the cab. “Do you need a hand with your stuff?”

The girl had allowed the knapsack to slide off her shoulders and the young man helped her to her feet. She was limping on that right ankle. I walked over and detached the dog’s lead and then helped the woman and dog into the back seat of Tom McCaffrey 201 the truck’s cab. It was then that I real160 | UncagedBooks.com

“My name is Jimmy Moran,” I said without looking, as I got situated and accelerated onto the roadway. It was more a general introductory statement, than directed at either of the passengers. ****

DON’T MISS THIS TITLE:

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Stacey Rourke

STACEY ROURKE

S

tacey Rourke is the award-winning author of works that span genres but possess the same flare for action and snarky humor. She lives in Florida with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and two sweet pups. Stacey loves to travel, has more sunglasses than any one person could ever need, and considers herself blessed to make a career out of talking to the imaginary people who live in my head.

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in or checking out.”

Clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his head tilted with compassion. “I can say with absolute certainty that if you’re here, you already checked out.”

My brows knitted together tightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

Enjoy an excerpt from: In the End Corpse Queen Stacey Rourke Dark Fantasy/Horror With the king gone, the veil fell.

Thrusting Carnage Crossing into a fresh hell.

A city of the dead. A town built by demise.

Torn apart by the livings’ whim to exorcise.

The lineage was tracked and followed to a royal heir.

The fact she had a pulse a shocking affair.

Whisked through death’s door with grisly splendor, Her reign will begin when ties to the past sever.

Folding his hands politely in front of him, Azrael offered me a tight-lipped smile. “This is the town of Carnage Crossing, one of the three places you end up when you die. Not for the cream of the crop do-gooders. Not for the hell-raising problem cases.

Our residents are the delightfully mediocre.”

I considered myself a moderately intelligent woman. Still, the only response I could manage was, “Uh… what?”

“You’re dead, dear.”

Stifling an eyeroll, I openly scoffed. “Oh, I see.

This is one of those themed hotels. It’s a cute concept. A little morbid, but who am I to judge? That said, I don’t need the theatrics. I’m a simple girl.

Just pass me my room key and I’ll be on my way.”

Azrael didn’t budge. “This is no gimmick. You’re dead.”

I shook my head slowly at first, gaining speed and urgency with each jerk of my chin. “No. No thanks.

I don’t want to play.”

Yet secrets slither in with a venomous bite, Threatening to destroy all when they come to light.

He ticked each phrase off on his fingers. “Not a game. Toes up. Worm fodder. Pushing daisies.

Shall I go on?”

Will the truth revealed bring peace to the dead?

Or unleash the Corpse Queen to come for your head?

With an indignant sniff, I glared him down. “Who the hell are you?”

Excerpt

“Azrael, as I said when you first walked up.” If he was annoyed, he didn’t let on; he kept his face an impassive neutral.

“Welcome to the Dead-End Resort and Day Spa. My name is Azrael, and I am thrilled that you’re joining us.”

Free hand on the counter, I drummed my fingertips against the pristine marble. “Azrael, it’s a pleasure.

Maybe you can help me. I’m not sure if I’m checking

“How did I get here?”

“You died.”

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but I think I’ve had about enough of this place. Is there a way out?”

“Of death? Sweet child, were your parents first cousins, by chance? You’re really struggling to grasp this concept.”

With a scream threatening to bubble in my throat, I fought to keep my tone calm and measured. “So, what you’re saying is I’m dead? Like, dead-dead?”

“Look at that, she’s finally getting it.”

Eyes narrowing, my mind whirled as I tried to come to terms with the ramifications of what he was suggesting. “Was I cremated or buried?”

“Judging by the rosy hue of your cheeks? I’d guess cremated.”

“Really?”

“No.” Azrael shook his head. “I’m just trying to end this conversation and move on with my day.”

“Can I walk through walls?”

“By all means, take a running start and try.”

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Uncaged Reviews Reaping Wind Orlando Sanchez Urban Fantasy

Mark of the Fallen Eve Archer Fantasy/Occult

You reap what you sow, and when you sow death...vengeance comes to collect.

Billionaire playboy or the devil? A fallen angel can be both.

The Dark Council threatens everything Simon holds dear. They want to erase Monty, kill Peaches and remove Simon’s immortality—permanently. When Michiko goes missing, Simon realizes there is more at stake than he realizes. When Ken, Michiko’s brother asks the Montague & Strong Detective Agency to find her. They must act, before the Dark Council implodes in violence.

Uncaged Review: As we jump back in with Monty, Simon and Peaches, I have to admit, that this was not my favorite of the series, but that’s all relative with this series, it’s still a fantastic series. Lots of things are happening in this book, including kidnapping, a dragon shifter and a crazy Blood Hunter. Things are going to go all kinds of wrong before they go right, and even Peaches is targeted. As promised, we still learn more about Monty and Simon, and the world continues to develop. I can’t pinpoint the exact reason that this wasn’t a favorite in the series, but for some reason, some places felt a bit rushed, and others too slow. I guess this isn’t the easiest to balance out. There is plenty of action and magic, and all the fun banter we’ve come to love from Simon, and this is a worthy addition to the series.

Reviewed by Cyrene

Not only is Dominick Vicario tall, dark, and wickedly attractive, he’s also the head of the world’s most powerful underworld family. And the leader of the Fallen—former heavenly Watchers banished to earth who’ve become wealthy playboys.

Uncaged Review: This is a decent read for the start of a series, and the characters are likeable and the places that are visited in the book are well described.

The leader of the Fallen, Dominick, comes off as a mob boss, and “most” of his businesses are now legitimate and legal. Having been alive forever it seems, he’s amassed quite a fortune. Ella is a down on your luck woman who didn’t get the promotion that she was working so hard for and is in major debt. One thing that bugged me about that debt, is part of it was her own student loan debt, but the other part was the debt her parents had left behind when they died. No one is responsible for their parents debts, whatever is left of any estates or personal holdings is all they get, the child is not obligated to pay anything.

When Ella goes to blow off steam after a party from her company, she goes to a hotel bar that she’s read about. Of course, this is Dominick’s hotel, and as soon as he sees her, he knows that she’s been Angel touched, although Ella has no idea.

This is a good start, but I have a hard time enjoying books that cut off on a major cliffhanger, just as a grab to get a reader to the next book, and this one did that.

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Suspension Claudia Silva Paranormal What will he do with immortality if they won’t let him do his job?

A secret agency turned Dylan Torrence into a vampire decades ago to hunt and kill werewolves.

But Dylan doesn’t play well with humans. One day things go too far and the director of the vampire agency decides to strip him of his gun and badge.

Uncaged Review: This is a short prequel to a series that may have some bite to it. Dylan is a werewolf hunter, who hunts rogue werewolves and he’s one of the best. The catch? Dylan is a vampire and after his last assignment, he’s suspended from the job by the director of the agency, and told he needed to regain some of his humanity that he’s lost, and to choose a partner for when he returns.

Dylan is arrogant and angry, and goes off to the cabin that his director owns to honor his suspension from the force. It’s really hard to like Dylan much in this book, as he’s just a spoiled vampire with too large of an ego. But he slowly starts making progress.

I will say, that I am intrigued by the premise, and will more than likely take the time to find out what happens next. Reviewed by Cyrene

Fallen University, Year One Callie Rose Paranormal Romance Did you know ordinary people can be turned into demons? I sure didn’t. Until it happened to me.

One day, I was a regular college student, working a boring job and studying for finals—and the next, I was transformed into some strange creature of the night.

Uncaged Review: In this world, normal people can be turned into demons, by the fallen that are roaming the streets recruiting for the underworld.

Guardians find newly turned fallen and recruit them into a university to teach them how to protect humanity from the underworld’s demons.

On her way home from breaking up with her cheating boyfriend, Piper feels someone following her, so starts talking to a girl on the sidewalk outside a bar. Both girls get snatched by a monster and when they wake up, they have been transformed into demons. Guardians grab them and teach them to shift into their human form, like a shifter. When they are taken to the university, they are given the option of staying and learning how to protect humanity from the underworld, or be shipped to the underworld themselves.

This is a clever setting for the university books that have flooded the market, but don’t be fooled that it’s a young adult book, this is a fantasy book with hard hitting sex scenes and a reverse harem.

Piper discovers that she’s a succubus and to stay alive, she’ll need her 4 bonded men around her all the time. There is a good mystery pending in this series, and it kept my interest and a quick pace. I would like Piper to go back to being her snarky self, and we will see how that goes in the future editions.

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Uncaged Reviews Divine and Dateless Tara West Paranormal Romance Good girls go to Heaven. Bad girls go all the way...Ash MacLeod has to be a good girl if she wants to trade up her dump in purgatory for a high-rise in heaven. If only she wasn’t tempted by a sexy grim reaper in tight denim.

FIVE REASONS WHY PURGATORY SUCKS! 1. PMS is just as miserable when you’re dead.

2. I can’t unsee my grandpa in that leather thong.

3. My dating options have been reduced to a hydrophobic grim reaper with an aversion to commitment, a guy with a hammer stuck in his cranium, and a sadistic drill sergeant with a big whistle and an even bigger ego.

4. I left my battery-operated-boyfriend back on Earth.

5. Demons want to burn my eyes out.

Uncaged Review: This is a fun book, and it had me laughing in several spots. From Ash killing herself with a blow dryer, to being sent to the top floor, only to find out it was a mistake and she has to go back down a few floors, it was a lot of fun.

Very original, a lot of sexual innuendo and sex itself, and if you don’t like the sex part, this is not a book for you. For me, it was a good time and the side characters are fun and original.

Looking forward to the next book.Reviewed by Cyrene

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Rogue: Planet Athion Debbie Cassidy SciFi Each Victory is another day I get to continue breathing. Each Victory is a reprieve from Death.

Ever since I was betrayed and taken from my home planet, ever since they pumped me with poison and abandoned me on this asteroid to fight or die, I’ve been surviving.

Uncaged Review: This is a good start to a scifi series. Women from Earth are abducted by two races on a planet, the Trads and the Athlon for reasons that they lost their females on their planet from a virus, and the women on Earth may be the only way to continue their races. The Trads used fertility drugs on the women that misfired and turned the women infertile.

Of these infertile women, the lone survivor, Rogue is thrust into battle units, or a fight club – which is for the bigwigs entertainment, and these are fights to the death. The drugs have changed Rogue into almost a Berserker, and is a tough opponent.

I can’t give away too much, as this a shorter story, but the story is a good start to this series. I wasn’t blown away, and depending on my time and TBR pile as to whether I get back to the series. Reviewed by Cyrene

What a Vulgar Viscount Needs Tammy Andresen Historical Regency He’s the worst sort of man…

Wrapped in the most handsome package. The Viscount of Dashlane is the picture of masculine beauty with his flashing blue eyes and his ready smile.

And every word he utters is perfectly timed to make a woman fall in love. There’s only one problem. He’s used his charm on one too many Moorish sisters and Cordelia Moorish isn’t fooled at all. In fact, it’s time this rake learned a lesson…

Uncaged Review: This author has quickly become one of my favorite Historical Romance authors. I can’t remember ever reading even a so-so book from her. Being as prolific of an author as she is, I’ve still not found a book she’s repeated herself in.

In this book, Lord Christopher has never had a problem attracting the ladies. Until Cordelia. When he finds he doesn’t charm her as quickly as usual, he’s dead set on winning her affections. But will they end up falling in love? This is a fun read, and I was glued to the pages. Highly recommended. Reviewed by Cyrene

Wooed in Winter Scarlett Scott Historical Regency The Marquess of Haven has finally decided to do his duty and settle upon a bride, preferably before the new year begins. What better place to find her than a country house party? There’s just one problem. The beautiful widow who once owned his heart is also in attendance.

Surely there’s no harm in indulging in one night of passion with her, just to get her out of his mind.

But Haven is about to discover old habits are hard to break, especially when the consequences last forever…

Uncaged Review: This has been a great series for me, I have enjoyed all the Winter sisters, and even though this is a shorter book, it’s still a nice addition to the series. Hannah, having been married off by her father to an abusive man, is now a widow.

Haven was the man she should have been with, if not for her father. When the two meet back up, the sparks are still there.

The reunion was beautifully written and it was nice to read a book where it wasn’t a young debutante as the heroine for a change. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Fang-Freakin-Tastic Reviews Twisted Nursery Rhymes Various Horror Book 7 of the Thrill of the Hunt Anthology: Twisted Nursery Rhymes. They’ve lulled us to sleep and soothed us when we were children.

They’ve offered teaching points and more. But are they all they seem to be? Are there hidden messages in our Nursery Rhymes. From The Cow Jumped Over the Moon to Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater, these authors take some of our favorite nursery rhymes and twist them into stories you want to run from. Keep the light on and don’t read these to your kids.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: I’m a long-time fan of the Thrill of the Hunt anthologies. Of the 7 books in the series, I think there’s only been one that I didn’t think was great. And it wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t for me. This is not the one I didn’t love. I loved the twist on nursery rhymes and enjoyed each story.

I love how each author takes a nursery rhyme from the past and puts their own spin on it in a way I’d never have expected. The stories are inspired by the nursery rhymes many of us grew up with, so seeing them in this way makes my dark little heart happy. I loved seeing how they manipulated the rhymes to fit the stories in their heads.

They’re interesting and several really got me.

There are several authors who are repeat participants, but I think my favorite is Celeste Kuri.

She’s a younger author, but she’s written some of the best stories I’ve read in this series. Her stories always stick with me and read like someone much older. I’m always excited to see her stories in each book.

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This really is a great series. Each story is just long enough to give you what you need without any extra fluff to fill pages. They’re interesting and dark (at times) and well worth reading. And since each story is fairly short, they’re perfect for when you only have a short time to read but don’t want to start a whole novel.

The Little Dog Laughed Jackie Sonnenberg YA Horror The biggest secret in the Wellington house is not that they are a very wealthy family of vampires.

The biggest secret is what is hiding upstairs... a fresh blood source always ready to be drained.

Before Felicity married Conrad Wellington, she was a struggling teenage mother, and when the family takes her in, she knows they would never do so if they knew of the irresponsible decision she had made. She hides her son Isaac away until she can think of a better solution... until she discovers that Isaac has a rare blood type that the family craves and can never find.

Isaac is AB Negative, and that blood is the most delicious and nutritious of all. She makes the decision to keep Isaac hidden and raise him as a personal blood donor, collecting his blood and putting him on the best kind of diet to make sure he always provides what is good and tasteful.

Yet, there are things brewing inside Isaac that might not be so good.

His own poison spreads faster than anyone could see coming, developing its own taste for destruction to everyone and everything that comes in contact with him. And it feeds a part of him that enjoys it more than anyone else could.

pires. I just wanted Felicity to do the right thing, and she just doesn’t seem to get it. The Wellington family seemed to be legitimately decent people despite being vampires. My heart broke for Isaac on more than one occasion. This story didn’t have to go the way it did, but if it didn’t, it would have been a very very short story. I hate the way it ended, but only because I wanted things to go a different way, not because it was a bad ending.

I wanted to like Felicity so badly, but just couldn’t.

She’s the epitome of everything I hate. Selfish, inconsiderate, and heartless, if nothing else, she makes a great villain.

I know I said it feels a lot like “Flowers in the Attic” I want to make it clear that this is a very different book. Tales of selfishness like this have been around for ages, but I don’t think I’ve read one this different or this good. I’m glad I bought this in print as well as read it in Kindle Unlimited bc I didn’t have to crack the binding on my print.

The Little Dog Laughed really is worth a read. If you like horror and twists on old tales, this book is worth checking out. The way Sonnenberg integrated the old nursery rhyme was flawless, and I love the way she did it. It was dark and twisted, and I loved every minute.

Sometimes good blood can go bad. The more Isaac grows, the more this dangerous side does, and it does not want to remain locked up for long.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: I met this author at the Orlando Reads Books event in August. As soon as she started telling me about this book, I knew it was for me.

I was not disappointed.

The Little Dog Laughed is a great story. I wouldn’t say it’s “fast paced” but it moves along well. It has a “Flowers in the Attic” feel to it with less incest and more vam-

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Fang-Freakin-Tastic Reviews Corpse Queen Stacey Rourke Dark Fantasy/Horror With the king gone, the veil fell.

Thrusting Carnage Crossing into a fresh hell.

A city of the dead. A town built by demise.

Torn apart by the livings’ whim to exorcise.

The lineage was tracked and followed to a royal heir.

The fact she had a pulse a shocking affair.

Whisked through death’s door with grisly splendor, Her reign will begin when ties to the past sever.

Yet secrets slither in with a venomous bite, Threatening to destroy all when they come to light.

Will the truth revealed bring peace to the dead?

Or unleash the Corpse Queen to come for your head?

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: To be perfectly honest, I didn’t love the blurb for this book. While creative and perfectly fine for other people, it just didn’t speak to me. That being said, I’d heard amazing things about this series from others I know, and I’m glad I took their advice.

The Death Diggers Handbook series does not disappoint. The series starts with Corpse Queen where we are introduced to the daughter of Papa Legba’s daughter Thadia. After an unfortunate incident with an Ouija board planchette, she’s plunged into the afterlife in a far different way than she had ever thought.

I won’t recant the entire series here, but know that this book is worth every minute spent reading. It’s funny and oddly insightful. There are positive mes-

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sages hidden within the pages that are more of what the world needs. The characters are creative and unique and I’d be happy to spend my eternity with many of them.

I loved the element of surprise and mystery Rourke brings to the table in this series and I am dying to read the next book.

There are currently only 2 books in the series but there are more planned, and I can’t wait to read them. Both books in the series have plenty of surprises to keep you guessing and on your toes. Rourke’s style brings the humor to the serious, which as someone with a twisted sense of humor, I can definitely appreciate. I was a little upset when I realized there weren’t more books to this series yet, but I’ve been assured they are coming.

Reaper vs Ripper Stacey Rourke Fantasy History knows me by many names. Nyx, the Goddess of Night. Lilith, the Lady of Darkness. Selaphiel, the fifth angel of God. But the course of my life has been determined by my greatest mistake. I opened the gate and allowed Lucifer to fall. Booted from Heaven for my sin, I serve my penance as a reaper. By collecting history’s most twisted souls, I work to one day earn my ticket home.

Case #663 The heinous crimes of Jack the Ripper are known throughout the ages, yet his true identity remains shrouded in mystery. Scythe in hand, it falls to me to claim his soul.

Who he is, I don’t care. What made him this way makes no difference. My lone goal is to ensure that he face final judgment.

Ring the bell and alert the Bobbies. It’s reaper versus Ripper in a battle for the title of the true harbinger of death.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: I’ve fallen in love with books by Stacey Rourke. Her books are always so well-written and interesting. She uses humor in all the right places. Her creativity is out of this world, and I can’t get enough.

Nyx is the kind of character that I admire. She’s strong, she’s smart, she’s funny as hell, and she’s over everyone’s crap. She’s also incredibly loyal, sometimes to a fault. She’s a badass. Her story in this book is different from her typical mythology, but it’s great.

A fallen angel, her punishment is to reap the souls of the worst of the worst. And she does an amazing job of it. She keeps her soul intact so to speak. She shows

humility and kindness when it counts and because it’s the right thing to do, not because she will get something out of it. Her problem is that she trusts those she cares for too easily. Which normally isn’t a bad thing, but when the people you care about are taking advantage of you, it might be time to rethink your friends. One great thing is that you can see how she evolves throughout the series. She’s definitely not the same Nyx at the end as she was when it started.

I love reading anything Jack the Ripper related, so this book combined some of my favorite historical baddies and gave them a bit of attention. The first scene in the book had me laughing out loud and how she handled Blackbeard the pirate. My husband thought I’d finally lost my mind.

Oh and I can’t leave out Nyx’s evil cat. Her name is A-hole. She reminds me of my own cat, Jinx.

They both live up to Nyx’s cat’s name. There is more to A-hole’s story, but I can’t tell you what it is. There’s a bit mentioned in this series, but there’s a short story in Monster’s Ball that gives more detail.

Overall this really is a great series. The ups, the downs, the surprises around every corner, I practically absorbed this book. Seriously, I did nothing but read once I started this series bc I couldn’t put it down. That’s why I’m having to do a series review instead of each individual book bc I can’t tell which thing happened in which book.

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Fang-Freakin-Tastic Reviews Dead America Derek Slanton YA Zombie/Dystopian The first 23 books in the Dead America series, together in one giant collection!

The Texas zombie virus is quickly spreading throughout the nation. As the infected become fast moving flesh eaters, survivors across the country band together to battle against the onslaught of the undead.

Dead America touches on all aspects of the zombie outbreak, from the origins in Texas, to the military response in the Carolinas and the Heartland, to civilians in various regions of the country dealing with threats both living and undead. The action is fast, furious, and never lets up.

The first 23 books in the series includes the 4 book Dead Texas series, as well as all 7 books in the First Week series, and the first 12 books in the Second Week series.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: This book got me through COVID-19. In August, my husband, 2 of my 3 kids and I all caught COVID-19 from a guy at my husband’s job. We were lucky, and it wasn’t as bad for us as it was for others, but we still felt pretty poorly. I didn’t want to move, and I didn’t want to watch tv. The only thing I did was lay there and read Dead America. Let me just tell you that reading a book while you have the plague about a book that starts with a plague that has people coughing and feeling bad before they die and turn into a zombie is something else. To say it made me nervous is an understatement. And as far as I know, this book was written well before COVID-19 was a thing.

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If you are a binge reader like me, this book won’t let you down. Each book individually doesn’t seem very long at all. I’m not sure how long each one actually is, but combined, it’s something like 1400 pages. Don’t let that deter you. I know it can seem intimidating, but once you get reading, especially in the eBook version, you just blow through it. I know there were times I should have been sleeping but was reading until I couldn’t keep my eyes open bc I just had to see what was going to happen next.

One of the main things I liked about this series (since it was a set of all of them, I have a hard time seeing it as a series and not just one big book) is that it starts in the very beginning, the author tells us where the whole thing starts and we are introduced to different groups of people from different parts of the country. It was diverse and true to the local population, diversity wise as well as personality wise. As someone who grew up on a military base in the south, it was nice to see characters who reminded me of some of my dad’s friends from when I was a kid. Some characters reminded me so much of them, it was a bit weird. I loved how Slanton not only had diverse characters, but also avoided stereotypes for the most part and kept the characters true to their local origins. It was honestly nice to see.

I can’t say enough good things about this book. I loved every minute, despite feeling like I was about to join the ranks of the undead at times. There’s some gore (it’s zombies, what do you expect), but it was gore with a purpose, not gratuitous. The personalities and personality clashes were great. The book has both good and bad characters and unfortunately, I can absolutely see some of the bad characters existing in a situation like that. So to me, all of this stuff combined made the stories feel more realistic than most. 100% worth reading if you like zombies and want to immerse yourself fully into a fictional world.

My one negative thing I’ll say is that there are quite a few typos and wrong words used. Normally I would take off stars for that, but I really love this series, and when I reached out to the author to ask if he was aware of the mistakes, he was very receptive to the negative feedback, thanked me for mentioning it (he was aware)

and told me he is working on getting a revised edition out as soon as he can. Because of his receptiveness to the constructive criticism, I’ll leave this book with full stars with the faith that he’s going to be true to his word the correct the mistakes.

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews Bald is Beautiful Carola Schmidt Non-Fiction/Childrens “Bald is Beautiful: A letter for a fabulous girl” is an inspiring and lovely illustrated letter for girls of any age who will go or already are bald. It’s a perfect gift to send love to a powerful girl who needs to be reminded of how beautiful and loved she is. It’s not a book that explains scientific conditions, disease, and treatment. It’s about love, beauty, happiness, and friendship when going through various changes in our lives.

Amy’s Review: Heartwarming and heart fulfilling Schmidt pens a magnificent story in Bald is Beautiful A letter for a fabulous girl. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The illustrations were magnificently placed in the story and added more beauty to the story. This book would be perfect to read to a child or have the child read it back. “Bald is powerful, Bald is feminine, bald is delicate, bald is beautiful, bald is lovely, bald is strong.” It’s a powerful read, and child who suffers from cancer or is in remission, should read this. The story tells children how they can use hats or scarfs, or just be bald, as it is beautiful, and this story tells the truth. If the child needs a rest day, they can read, watch movies and enjoy their favorite meal. This is a very touching story, and I think, no, I know that all children of all ages, should read this. It’s important to show everyone that bald is beautiful.

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The Wheels of Justice Renee Fehr & Brian Whitney Crime/True Story Renee Fehr knew that Gregory Houser killed her sister Sheryl.

There was not a single doubt in her mind. Yet for 27 years Houser walked free.

But Renee wouldn’t rest until he was convicted for murder.

Amy’s Review: Sometimes Justice is extremely slow!

I love a good true crime story, and I have read many.

This one was something I would not forget. I don’t think ever. First, the story itself was heartbreaking, emotional and shows Fehr’s determination. It was written as if the events were playing out in front of me. I always knew that justice didn’t always prevail, and that the justice system may be blind, but it is also slow, but 27? Wow. I hung on every single word, and many times just shook my head in disbelief. I was a victim of domestic violence, and it was only made public because I had to fight with the justice system, just not as long as Renee. The thing about Sheryl’s husband, Greg, was that he didn’t care who saw what he did, but it was worse behind closed doors. Renee writes, “During the process of Sheryl leaving Greg, I felt enormous stress. Every day, Sheryl called and reported to me events and her accomplishments. She slowly started to reveal to me all the horrible things he was doing to her. I gasped silently when I heard the abuse described but tried to remain calm and unemotional so I could be the best help and support to her possible.” An extremely moving, and tear-flowing, un-put-downable story until the end.

Life Remains Niranjan K Urban Fantasy In a world where vampires rule, a group of humans struggle to live their lives.

Mabel whose parents were killed by vampires is forced to be the ward of Frederick, one of the vampire leaders. When her latent powers as a witch is awakened, she becomes a threat to the vampires.

Amy’s Review: Vengeance and secrets Niranjan K pens a chemistry-filled vampires versus hunters story in Life Remains. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were intense and real, and bent on revenge.

Mabel has the best reason to be angry and want revenge against vampires, but it also seems to awaken something inside her. This author brings the story to life. Secrets and vengeance, and powers beyond mere mortals, bring this story to life, but there is a balance between light and dark. This author has a great imagination and I’m glad it’s being shared with stories. The story brings in the believable, even if almost impossible. This is a magnetic story that kept this reader turning the pages. This read is more than just words on a page. Definitely an unpredictable story, my favorite kind! This title is very fitting for this story.

Death Perception Lee Allen Howard Ghost Suspense Kennet Singleton cremates the dead, and then they speak... “Avenge us!”

Nineteen-year-old Kennet Singleton lives with his invalid mother in a personal care facility, but he wants out. He operates the crematory at the local funeral home, where he discovers he can discern the cause of death of those he cremates—by toasting marshmallows over their ashes.

Amy’s Review: A very

unique premise!

Death Perception by Lee Allen Howard is a very interesting story with a unique premise. I haven’t read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were for the most part, dead, but yes, their death was a big part of the story. Kennet was an unforgettable character, and very, well I don’t want to say insane, but his perception of death is very different from others.

I do like how the story unwinds, and Kennet gets placed on a new path. This author brings the story to life. This author has a great imagination and I’m glad it’s being shared with stories. The story brings in the believable, even if almost impossible.

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews Anna’s Prayer Karl Beckstrand Children’s History Discover the 1880s tale of Anna Anderson, a girl living in Sweden with her mother and her sister, Ida. The family is poor but happy. When they change religions, the women are persecuted and Anna’s mother has trouble finding work.

Amy’s Review: Another remarkable book in the Immigrant series Beckstrand pens a poignant story in Anna’s Prayer: The True Story of an Immigrant Girl. I have read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. I also read the other stories in this series, and they are stand alone, but I think all books in a series should be read. It gives the reader insight, especially when the same characters are within the story. Ida and Anna are sent to America by their mother, but the sisters are separated. This is Anna’s story, all alone in a place where she prays to meet someone who speaks her language, and not to be so alone. It’s a wonderful story. It’s emotional and uplifting as well

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Blood Queen SM McCoy Dark Fantasy/Horror A vengeful goddess. A demon army. And a sacrifice that awakens a queen that decides the fate of the supernatural realms.

Monsters are real, and Chrystal is one of them, but everyone is convinced that she’ll be the next sacrifice to save the oracle, and all of Tora Darah.

Amy’s Review: Magic, mystery and divinity!

McCoy pens a magnificent story in Blood Queen.

I am a big fan of this author! Whatever this author writes, I read. I love it when a Legacy author sends me more of their work! I read the two books in the Divine series and enjoyed them. This author brings the story to life. It’s a magnetic vampiric story filled with monsters, demons and one heck of a Queen. Survival is key, and so they must release something that they’re not sure is the right idea, but the only thing they can do. Realms, magic, monsters and vampires, what a combination in this book. Congratulations to the author for this release! This author has a great imagination. Packed with mystic, magic and new worlds and it takes the reader on a superb adventure. The story brings in the believable, even if almost impossible (or is it?) It’s definitely un-put-downable! It is always an honor to read this author’s stories. A very impressively written story

Continuity Jeff Russell Political Fiction

Dawn of Luminance Daniel McMillan SciFi

It was the perfect solar storm, a coronal mass ejection larger than any previously recorded.

The magnetic field destroyed electric power grids and everything connected to them, cutting off communications and bringing about critical shortages of food, fuel, and medical care.

All good things must come to an end...

Amy’s Review: A very “magnetic” story Russell pens a magnificently written story in Continuity. Yes, I have read work from this author before, and I really liked it, but this ... this just blew me away.

Reading it in this time of uncertainty, in this worldwide pandemic, it was something that rang true. We are currently in a world of panic, blight, food insecurity, and the fear of others who don’t take the world seriously. But, back to the story, it’s a world that is definitely on the verge of humanity collapsing, or even being extinct, but it brings the reader in, word by word. This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). The story brings the reader on a superb journey. This is a magnificent story that kept this reader turning the pages. A definite attention grabber, so much I couldn’t put it down. The thrills and intrigue is written clearly, and the characterizations are engrossing. It’s not just survival of the fittest, but survival, period. Definitely an unpredictable story, my favorite kind!

Humanity is all but doomed.

There is no way off the dying Earth unless William Clarke can complete the Teleportal, and it seems that every faction in the world has their sights set on acquiring the unfinished device.

Amy’s Review: Earth shattering survival of the fittest!

McMillan pens a survival of humanity story in Dawn of Luminance. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. First, I love McMillan’s writing style, it’s very clean and precise, and brings the reader right into the story. The war between the Sylvans and the Ascended affects the beings’ relationship with a crumbling world, and a world of death or survival. It’s an exceptional book. This book is wonderfully put together, and there were a lot of twists, and things that were unexpected. Murder and war are two different things, and when an android seems to love to hate and love to rule, and love to kill, you never know what can happen next. Earth is dying.

The Ascended and Sylvan have a new foe. Something about this story shows that people, humankind, can do whatever they set their mind to in order to survive.

It’s not just about coming up with tech to survive or escape but leaving hate behind. Betrayal, twists, and glorified leaders are just some of the players in this grand story. It’s definitely un-put-downable! It is always an honor to read this author’s stories. This author is a great storyteller. The story brings the reader on a superb journey.

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews The Shadow of a Shadow R. H. Dixon Gothic Fiction

Hell Fighters Bil Richardson Horror

HE’LL EAT YOUR HEART, EAT YOUR EYES, DEVOUR YOUR SOUL, THEN YOUR LIES, HE’LL MAKE YOU SCREAM, MAKE YOU CRY, AND WON’T LET UP UNTIL YOU DIE… After her mother’s funeral, Dracula-obsessed Catherine Hall goes to stay at her Aunt Lyrica’s B&B in Whitby, a place she used to visit often as a child.

A terrifying evil wants to enter our world, and Dr. Max Heller and the Hell Fighters are the only ones who can stop it.

Heller is a man of science but when he stumbles upon something that defies all logic, he must put aside his old ways of thinking and plunge into the unknown.

Amy’s Review: Amazingly heart-pumping, terrifying glory!

Dixon has a magic pen, accompanied by imagination, that delves deep into the terrifying horror stories. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it, goosebumps and midnight screams and all. The characters were real, eccentric, and magnificently depicted. This author brings the story to life. Hmm, a horror with secrets, darkness and nightmares, is something that just draws the reader in (if you love a good horror story). It’s not cheesy horror, it’s detailed and believable horror, set off by darkness and fears. Yes, the shadow that is in the shadow, and only lingers when you least need it, when you’re already vulnerable. Catherine and Lyrica are unforgettable characters, but the shadow will stay with the reader for quite some time. And when you read it, every shadow around you makes you jump! That’s how good the writer is at setting the scene and bringing the story into the believable. I mean, who doesn’t believe in spirits and evil?

Amy’s Review: Remarkable Read!

Richardson pens a remarkable story in Hell Fighters.

I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were fun and thrown into a place that was not likely for them. It was a great story, and I loved reading it. I must say that when I first read the line “giant turtles,” I laughed out loud, and then continued on, knowing that I’d be loving this story. Dud and Heller are on quite the journey, that they seem to be looking forward to whatever comes their way. I love this duo, and then the story changed.

Something dramatic and unique happened, and I had to continue. This story was wonderful. Because, there were indeed giant turtles but so much more. The story brings in the believable, even if almost impossible.

This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more).

It’s definitely un-put-downable! It is always an honor to read this author’s stories. This author is a great storyteller. The story brings the reader on a superb journey. This story was very intriguing and unpredictable. Very impressive story telling.

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21st CENTURY LOVECRAFT

Unwitting Deven Greene Medical Thriller Dr. Erica Rosen’s world is turned upside down after a suicide bomber explodes amidst a large crowd entering Oracle Park baseball stadium, near her San Francisco home. Many are killed or injured, and police have no leads in solving the case.

Amy’s Review: Absolutely Magnificent read!

Greene pens a magnificently written story in Unwitting. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. This is the second book in the Erica Rosen MD series. Erica is one straightforward, strong-willed and compassionate person. Dr. Rosen is dragged into a case of a murdered teacher, when one of her students is with the body, and he’s autistic.

First, the story is very well-written, and written with authority and conviction. I love Erica, and she’s real, bringing the reader right into the story. This author has a great imagination and I’m glad it’s being shared with stories. It is always a joy to read this author’s stories. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. This story was intriguing and kept the reader guessing. This story captures the reader’s attention at chapter 1. The author’s technique of raw, magnetic characters and great plotlines is a gift. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. This author’s characters develop and interacts well with the other characters.

Emma’s Tapestry Isobel Blackthorn Historical War Fiction At the dawn of World War Two, German-born nurse Emma Taylor sits by the bedside of a Jewish heiress in London as she reminisces over her dear friend, Oscar Wilde.

As the story of Wilde unravels, so does Emma’s past. What really happened to her husband?

Amy’s Review: A wonderful read

Blackthorn pens a remarkable historical story in Emma’s Tapestry. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. This author brings the story to life. The characters had a lot of depth and were very realistic. This story just takes the reader back in time. The story is about the author’s greatgrandmother, at least her story plus the grand imagination of the author as well. It is a very well-written story, and I just couldn’t put it down. It is always a joy to read this author’s stories. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. This story captures the reader’s attention at chapter 1. This read is so engrossing that it brings you right in the middle of the story.

This read is more than just words on a page. Emma is a magnetic character, and the life that she goes through, not just to survive, but to find out the truth.

She’s one to literally blend in and hide who she is so she can survive and “fit” in. The story her patient’s connection with Oscar Wilde brings out something in her, and then the story continues from there. Triumphs, tragedies and the in-between. Read from cover to cover!

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews Flicker of the Flame Evelyn Puerto YA Fantasy An ancient prophecy, now an outlawed myth. Secrets, long kept, that can kill. A young girl who was never meant to be born. Tereka Sabidur’s life has never been fair. Her brothers always went unpunished while she was mocked and abused. When her mother’s rages escalate into violence, the truth of Tereka’s parentage is revealed, and Tereka and her father end up on the street.

Amy’s Review: A grand fantastical sequel Puerto pens a fantastical story in Flicker of the Flame, the second book in the Outlawed Myth series. The characters were raw and very relatable. This author brings the story to life. The characters, especially, Tereka, had a lot of depth, and were very realistic. Tereka has gone through so much in her life, and it is time for her to make her life her own. Tereka finds out secrets and it shapes how she looks at her life, and her involvement in a magical and cryptic journey to survive.

This author has a great imagination and I’m glad it’s being shared with stories. She tries to fight destiny, and be her true self, and it’s a wonderful journey where the reader can almost engage with Tereka and understand her life. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. This author’s characters develop and interacts well with the other characters.

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Forest Dawn Michael Forester Self Help In this, his second collection of inspirational essays, metaphors and poetry, Michael Forester illuminates the profound that hides in the simple and the eternal that shines through the commonplace.

Amy’s Review: A grand read Forester pens a wonderful collection of essays, poetry and inspirational thoughts in Forest Dawn. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. I was impressed with this author’s collection, and found the words came from the author’s heart. The writing showed passion and an interesting perspective from this author. I found the one title, “Taking Refuge” caught my eye more than once. The words just emoted across the page in despair, “His wife rocked the dead child in mourning while the thieves stole the pennies they scraped...” This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. This read is so engrossing, it brings you right in the middle of each title in this book.

Next Door to a Star Krysten Lindsay Hager YA Fiction A fresh start in a new town and a chance to reinvent herself. But can Hadley handle the popular crowd?

Hadley Daniels is sick of being invisible at school and wants a fresh start. She sees a chance to reinvent herself when she moves to the lake resort town of Grand Haven. There she gets her first taste of popularity when she moves next door to a teen actress who used to be on a popular TV show.

Amy’s Review: For anyone who’s ever been a teenage girl!

Hager pens a very relatable, teenage angst story in Next Door to a Star. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were so realistic, and very cliquey. This author brings the story to life, more like the life that teens live in high school. The characters had a lot of depth and were very realistic. It’s full of backstabbing, jealousy and terrible lies, yes, your typical teens, especially when going against the “popular” girls. I think it’s more about being a teenage girl that stands out, and the whole world turns against her, and trying to fit in.

It is a very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. It’s one of those embraceable stories. Hadley is a remarkable character, and it makes you just want to hug her and tell her things will get better.

The Tritonus Venture Daniel McMillan SciFi When Jack Fuller arrives at the world’s largest artificial island, excited to start his new position with the cutting-edge tech developer, Tritonus Industries, he has no idea what he’s in for.

Amy’s Review: Fast forward to 2066!!!

McMillan pens a wonderfully written story in The Tritonus Venture. I have read work from this author before, and I really like whatever McMillan writes. I was interested in the title, and what exactly it meant, so I looked up Tritonus, and interestingly enough, it means “a musical interval composed of three whole tones.” So, with that in mind, I read the story. I liked being “fast-forwarded” to 2066. I always wondered what life would be like then, and this story led me there, and I’m not sure, with everything on the line for survival, and the past filled with wars, such as the Global commerce war was over, there were options for how to preserve and restore oceans and reefs. Hale is an interesting character, with a lot of depth, and seems to have a lot of intelligence, and knows what he’s doing, at least that is the hope. Hale also seems to be focused, and keeps his emotions in check, almost that he appears cold and stoic. The story had multiple characters, and various levels of plots and subplots, and yet, there was a connection, even if the connection was with the empty nature environment. What I like about McMillan’s stories is that they are unpredictable, just when you think you got it, there is that twist, or perspective of one of the characters, that changes the trajectory of the story. This author has a great imagination and I’m glad it’s being shared with stories.

It’s definitely un-put-downable! This author not only tells the story but shows it with words as well.

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