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Every witch needs a familiar. Sometimes maybe two…
Morgana is a hedge witch with a problem. Her sisters are conspiring against her and she has a ghost with a fork phobia living in her shoe closet. When the chance comes to crash a party she just knows she should have been invited to comes along, she enlists the aid of her trusty cat Nona to help her cast the spell for the perfect dress. But crashing this party isn't the only thing that’s going to rain on this witch’s parade.
Marcus of Pendleton is a cat shifter in search of his brother. Then a lead at the Warty Frog takes him on an adventure filled with magic and well…zombies. Can the prince find the fair witch and the answer he seeks? And he might just be the familiar she's looking for...
Genre-paranormal romance, fantasy romance, low heat rating, shifters, m/f
Tags-shifter, fantasy, witch, fairy tale twist, ghosts, cats
“He’s been missing for months. How can you not care?” Marcus Pendleton ground out, staring at his father in disbelief. The king sat on his throne gnawing on a turkey leg, grease sliding down his pudgy face.
“Because my boy, Rhys was the younger son. He may have been a prince, but you’re the one who will inherit the throne.”
“So why did you bother searching the kingdom for a princess and having a ball?”
The king narrowed his eyes at his son. “That happened to be for you. Scheduling a dragon-hunting trip for that weekend was in atrocious form. Your mother was highly disappointed.”
“I’ll bet.” Marcus kicked his foot against the dais. He fought down the urge to shift and show his father his extreme displeasure. No doubt the old man would have an apoplectic fit if he found out his son had been bitten and turned into the one animal he despised the most. Not even a beast like a wolf, but merely a cat. His father loathed the animals and forbade having them on the castle grounds.
“You need to focus on finding yourself a princess, not running about the kingdoms slaying beasts and bothering with that fool brother of yours. The last time anyone saw him, he was following some skirt around and blathering on about a missing shoe.” His father shuddered, holding his hand up in disgust. “There were twelve of them. All dressed alike too. The men were talking about it. Prattling, dancing, blonde things with wings.” His wandering eye drifted toward a serving wench with a rather tight bodice.
Marcus couldn’t believe his ears. Twelve of them? That didn’t sound right. Neither did his father’s decision not look for Rhys. It was unthinkable. Right now, if he could have, he would dump his inheritance in his father’s lap and be done with him. The man’s priorities were limited to two things. Food and sleep.
No. Make it three. His father had the wandering eye of a lecherous pig farmer. He didn’t know how his mother stood it. Given the chance, he was surprised she hadn’t chucked him over the palace walls years ago and been done with it.
“Wait, Father. Did you say he was sniffing around a girl with a missing shoe?”
“Yes,” his father chuffed. “What of it?”
“What of it, indeed…” Marcus stalked out of the throne room, an idea forming in his head. Someone else must have seen a shoeless maiden, and he was damn well going to find out what was going on. And twelve girls all dressed the same? How very odd indeed. He wasn’t known as the best tracker in the two kingdoms for naught. If he couldn’t find out something about them, he may as well go sit up in the tower and sew with his mother’s handmaidens.
“Marcus. Come back here. Marcus!”
He shut the door on his father’s ranting, encountering his servant boy on the other side of the door.
“Geoffrey, Saddle my horse. Tonight we ride.”
Texas Twister (Blue Moon Chronicles) by Dana Wright - Romance>Fantasy
Sometimes love finds you in the darkest places.
Magdalay Rousseau is having a bad day. She can't find the charging cable to her laptop, and when she goes into her husband's office to look for it, she discovers he's been cheating on her. She decides to hire a private investigator to dig into her husband's secrets, but what the detective discovers about her turns her world upside-down.
Carter Zusak is a private detective--and a cat shifter. When a new client shows up, he's almost certain she's a flake. What kind of woman writes romance novels and owns a shop selling supplies for witches? He's sure she's got a bat or two loose in her belfry--until he delves deeper into her case. No one in her life is what they seem, and Magdalay has just put herself in danger more insidious than he ever imagined. Something about this witch sets his heart on fire. But he'll have to figure out a way to save her before they both get burned...
All Romance: https://goo.gl/ULjS81
Barnes & Noble: http://goo.gl/hEkooJ
Published By: Etopia Press
Published: Oct 27, 2015
ISBN # 9781944138158
blue moon chronicles, cat shifter, cisgender, dana wright, etopia press, fantasy romance, ghost, heterosexual, magic, male / female, paranormal, paranormal / horror, paranormal romance, private detective, private investigator, shapeshifter, shifters, shifters / cats, shifters / felines, supernatural, witch, wizard / witch / mystic
Magdalay Rousseau stared at her lifeless laptop and groaned. It wouldn’t turn on. Again. So much for a lasting battery. Already irritated from lack of sleep, she pressed the on button one more time and tried to recall where she’d left the charger. It should be in the little plastic bag she usually kept next to her laptop, but it wasn’t.
“Great. I can’t believe this. I ought to just spell you and be done with it.”
She growled and pushed herself up from the small space at the kitchen table. Perhaps it was in her work bag in the foyer. She hated resorting to magic when real world solutions worked just fine. It had been a point of contention with her mother for years. Besides, she wasn’t very good at it. Wish for rain and get a flood in her kitchen. That was her life right now.
Magdalay peered into the bag.
“Oh. This is just getting better and better.”
Magdalay spun on her heel and considered her next move. She had a deadline for her publisher, and today would be her only day off with no distractions until next week. Not that she could focus anyway. Not with the antics Russ was pulling lately. Her mind kept circling him like a dog with a bone.
He’d been out with the boys from the club, but something in the back of her mind kept digging at her. Their poker games didn’t last that long. Neither did their dinners at the club, which she now refused to attend. Not after the last time with his uppity friends and their equally unpleasant wives. She didn’t fit in with the country club scene, and that was more than all right with her.
Russ hadn’t come home—again—by the time her head hit the pillow last night at midnight. It was becoming par for the course. Magdalay couldn’t concentrate on anything and that included leaving her damn charging cable someplace. She could swear it was next to her workstation last night when she went to bed, but she could have been dreaming. She couldn’t remember, and that just pissed her off, making her already foul mood even more noxious.
“Did you wash my pants?” Russ called out from the bedroom, his voice lacking any of the warmth she used to receive from him.
“Yes,” she ground out, barely containing her urge to demand where the hell he’d been all damned night. It didn’t do any good. He never answered her anyway. “They’re folded on the dryer.”
Her husband, Russ, clad in a blue pullover shirt and tighty-whities bolted from their bedroom down the short hall toward the laundry room. The door opened and shut, and she caught a streak of blue out of the corner of her eye but no acknowledgement or thank you.
Next time she ought to let his clothes just pile up and see what happened. Well…she took that back. A week ago, she’d been too busy to keep up with the laundry and he’d shaken her awake after a long day at the shop and writing, demanding to know when she would get around to it. The icy stare was enough to motivate her into preemptive action. She’d never been afraid of her husband before that night, but things had changed between them at an alarming rate.
She poured the water into the coffeepot and flipped on the switch, sighing as the rich aroma of the Columbian blend pervaded the kitchen. It was still early, and she’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and imagining his car wrapped around a pole or worse. The man hadn’t come home until after two. At least that was the last time she recalled on the blinking clock on the nightstand. Russ hadn’t even had the decency to let her know where he was or if he was OK. Magdalay didn’t remember him sneaking in. She’d tried to stay awake so she could talk to him or at least give him a piece of her mind, but she must have drifted off in a wave of jittery exhaustion.
Last night had just been the latest in a long line of whatever was happening in their marriage and fixing it was becoming a pipe dream. He’d grown more and more distant over the past three months and she didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well…except for her working. He hated the hours she spent away from home, but with her mother’s passing, Broomstix had become hers. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A witch who didn’t want to be, or worse yet, was terrible at it.
She thought back to her mother’s last days and the love she had for her trusty cat, Jules. They’d been inseparable.
“You need a familiar, love. Sometimes having someone at your back and by your side is the most powerful magic in the world.”
Magdalay’s lips twisted and she sighed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. Every cat she’d gotten went missing in a matter of days. When she’d gone to Russ about the missing animals, he’d had nothing to say. Frustrating wasn’t even half the word for it. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for animals. Then she thought all she needed was her soul mate. That would have to be enough. She’d always thought Russ was that person, but more and more, she sensed a tremendous gulf between them, and it left her hollow inside.
Last month she’d been at the stitching circle and each of the ladies was practicing poppet magic. The little cloth dolls danced and frolicked in anticipation of whatever task they were intended for. Hers lay there, looking still and unresponsive. It was to be a creative muse for her magic. She figured if she could cast a spell and have a poppet work on some of her overdue plot lines and synopses, she’d be ahead of the game. No such luck.
The stitching circle, full of her mother’s old friends, thought it was hilarious. Now on top of her writing schedule, it was her responsibility to keep Broomstix going. People depended on her, and she was trying to learn as much as she could. Gaining the knowledge she needed wasn't going as smooth as she’d like.
Her gaze raked the cluttered counter where her husband paid bills and recoiled. No way was she touching that. “Not a chance.” Then she remembered Russ had the same model laptop she did. She could borrow his charger and pick hers up tomorrow when she went back into work. Problem solved.
“I’m out. See you tonight,” came the clipped response from the front hallway followed by the slamming of the decorative lead glass door. He hadn’t even come into the kitchen. Not even for coffee.
“Wow.” Now she knew he was avoiding her and likely hiding something. Magdalay shook her head, the bitterness of her new reality sliding down her stomach like a Ping Pong ball. His behavior stung, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She moved down the hall, her linen nightgown floating around her legs. In the Texas heat, it helped to have something comfortable and the Eileen West nightgowns were her guilty pleasure. Goddess knew she needed something.
She paused in the doorway to his office and sighed. Goddess, she hated invading his space. Maybe the charger was right out in the open and she could snap it up and be out before she disturbed anything of importance. Then she saw it. Propped on a pile of paperwork next to his computer was her small, holiday design-covered Ziploc bag with her cord dangling off the desk over the top of it.
“What the heck?” Her lips slid into a frown and she unclenched her hands. He took it. Probably to do the same thing she’d been about to do, but at least she would have replaced his where she found it as soon as she was done. She reached down to pick up the bag and wind up the charging cord, and her hand brushed the mouse on his desk, the darkened screen erupting to life. His e-mail was up. She wouldn’t have stopped save for the name on the screen.
Slowly, Magdalay lowered herself into the chair and began to read. She hadn’t meant to intrude on his privacy. They’d always respected each other enough to be honest. At least she’d always thought so. But with every line she read, the trust she believed her marriage was based on was revealed to be nothing more than a lie.
She hated wives who resorted to sneaking into their husband’s phone records and all of those things to find out what they’d been up to. Now, here she was, and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. What was done was done and couldn’t be taken back. One e-mail turned into two. Two turned into a dozen, and at that point she had to stop, the contents of her stomach churning like wildfire in her gut.
Fuck me. Fuck me like you did in your office.
I want it all.
Tears stung her eyes. There was no other explanation was there? It was all laid out in black and white. The only thing missing was a frigging video of them fornicating. Her stomach lurched.
The lump in her throat threatened to overtake her, and she had to pause and take a deep breath. Her mother’s absence was a raw and gaping wound. Eleanor would have known what to do, but Magdalay was frozen with indecision. Her thoughts turned to the ladies in her stitching circle. They met once a month but it wasn’t scheduled until next week. Goddess, but she sure could use some comfort now. Or at least, a sounding board for her fury. Her fingertips itched to zot the fucker but no…not yet. Not that she was fully capable, but her circle was. She’d seen it time and again.
But the emails…she read the last line again.
I want to run my fingers down your long, long legs and part your… She had to stop. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her once again.
“You cheating bastard,” she whispered. She had to be sure. It was possible it was only emails. In her heart, she knew that was a lie. Magdalay stood, her knees shaking and made her way out of Russ’s office to her work space in the kitchen. She hooked up the laptop to the charger and shoved the plug into the wall.
Magdalay considered her options. She could wait and confront him when he got home. Whenever that would be.
Or she could hex him where he stood and watch as his dick shriveled up and fell off. A tiny smile twitched at the corner of her lips at the idea. If only. With her luck, she’d turn him into an overlarge piece of beef jerky and have to explain that one to the police.
Not a good idea. Her magic was unpredictable at best. She’d hid it from him, not wanting to go there. It wasn’t her fault she was born a witch. It was her choice whether or not to use it. If something needing a spell came up, she waited until her hubby was off doing engineer things or sleeping in front of the television. Proof. She needed more proof. The laptop whirled to life and she pulled up her search engine.
What about a private detective? She had a little mad money put aside for the dress she wanted for the romance writer’s convention in a few months. Magdalay had no idea what the detective would cost, but she had to know. With unblinking eyes she typed, private investigator Spinnaker, Texas then she closed her eyes, rolled the mouse, and clicked on the Blue Moon Detective Agency.
In the shadows of the heart, love is the greatest refuge.
Rachel Winestock is in a bad spot. She needs to get her Nana out of an abysmal assisted living center no ifs, ands, or buts about it. With the help of her demon cat Thickety, she agrees to put her ghost-hunting mettle back to the test after a horrific accident nearly claimed the life of her best friend. Ghosts are drawn to Rachel, and like her Nana says, with any great gift comes a great responsibility.
Matt Rutledge suffers no fool lightly—especially frauds who prey on the weak and grieving. A professional reality show host, he's seen his fair share of bad apples. One look at Rachel has him wondering just which side of the barrel she falls into. He knows there's something bad within the walls of Bremore Asylum. The voices of the past are alive behind the imposing iron gates. Now he just has to prove it.
When Rachel agrees to take the job investigating the disappearance of a fellow ghost hunter at Bremore Asylum, she is totally unprepared for the sexy and stubborn psychic debunker Matt Rutledge to be a part of the package. Can these two opposing forces, with the help of a very cranky demon cat, find the answers behind the asylum's crumbling walls before the asylum's grim history repeats itself?
Genre: ghosts, ghost hunter, demon, cat, paranormal, time travel, psychic, enemies to lovers
Publisher: Etopia Press
All Romance: https://goo.gl/zspohV
Rachel Winestock quietly let herself into the room where her grandmother lay nestled under the sheets, the blankets swallowing her slender frame. Pale and shrunken, she was a frail shadow of what she had been months ago. Rachel smiled at the sound of her steady breathing and light snoring. Nana needed her rest and was stubborn about admitting it. Peering over at her wizened face, her grandmother’s lips appeared chapped.
Damn it. What do these people have against ChapStick?
It wasn’t fair. Nana appeared to be shrinking right before her eyes. Rachel had already lost her parents. She didn’t want to lose Nana too. It was too much. Especially after everything they’d been through over the last year. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she fought against them. She had to be strong.
If Nana woke up and found her crying, there would be hell to pay. Rachel sniffled and forced her emotions in check.
“She needs to get out of here.” Thickety blurted out, his shadowy form hidden in the dimness of the room. His long cat tail flicked his distain, and he edged his head toward Rachel. Red eyes glowed from his smoky black form that could be as solid or transparent as he needed it to be. “The smell is worse than a cat box.”
“Why do you insist on following me? Can’t you just leave well enough alone?” Rachel ground out, trying her hardest not to make eye contact with the demonic cat. He’d been in her life since she could remember and nowhere along the way had it ever been easy. “And I know that. Look at those bruises.”
“Hey. I’m doing you a solid here. You want to know where the missing bracelet is that used to be on her arm? I’d look at that attendant down the hall.”
“The last time I listened to you someone almost died.”
“Don’t you mean ignore? I told you the child was in the house, not to go poking into foundation walls with no structure to hold them up. There’s a difference, sweet cheeks.” Thickety raised his paw and licked at his foot. “Remember I was right. Just because your friend decided to get a little crazy with a mallet and found herself buried was not my fault.”
Rachel sucked in a breath and gritted her teeth. “Look. I came here to see my grandmother. Can we save the arguments for later?”
“Fine.” The cat yawned and crept closer, his eyes focused on Rachel’s Nana. “She used to be livelier than this. What are they feeding her?”
“I don’t know but whatever it is, it’s not enough. She looks terrible.” Weak and more fragile than she had ever seen her, Rachel had to do something to get her out of here. Even if that something was take a job working for Harold Danvers. The past was the past. It was easy to say that until the nightmares came, leaving her shaking in her bed covered in sweat.
About the author:
Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed. She is the author of Asylum, The Invitation and Texas Twister. She is currently working on several children's stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense, short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is a contributing author to the Ghost Sniffer’s CYOA The Haunting of Zephyr Zoo , Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in February 2013 and "Revenge" in October 2013, a contributing author to Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners (upcoming), Wonderstruck, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries, Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media. Dana has also reviewed music for Muzikreviews.com specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the Earth. She currently reviews music at New Age Music Reviews and Write a Music Review.
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