Uncaged Book Reviews

ISSUE 57 | APRIL 2021

2021

*Made by request for eligible ads

n o te fr o m t h e e d it o r

A

pril 2021 - things are getting accomplished slowly but surely, and you can read about our farm life in the “Life in Motion” column. I’ve shared my Hearty Stuffed Manicotti recipe, and it’s a family favorite, so let me know if you try it.

We are contining with the short story this month, “Ignition Point”

by Jami Gray with part three and we will publish a chapter a month until it’s complete. This novella is a jumping off point for the Arcane Transporter series by Jami Gray. Urban fantasy lovers will love this one.

A new way to promote the feature authors, starting for April, is every author with a Feature in Uncaged Book Reviews that month will be placed on the main front page slider. The website gets a fair amount of traffic on a monthly basis, and this is a new way to promote. This is a FREE promotion along with being a Feature Author.

Uncaged Book Reviews readership is still up dramatically.

New readers are finding the magazine and discovering new authors.

Uncaged will continue to bring the best possible content as usual.

We will be continuing with the “Buy 2, Get 1” promotion we’ve been running. 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. Uncaged is

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supported through advertisements, but the prices will not increase in 2021.

You may now fill out a form on the Requested Reviews Page on the website for your book to be on list for a review. I cannot guarantee a review date for the book, but it will remain on the lists. The tables on the Review page will be revamped in the coming weeks.

If you’d like to be a Feature Author, you can also fill out a form on 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 April 2021 issue of Uncaged Book Reviews.

X cyrene

contents feature authors Melissa Yi 12 medical thriller

Issue 57 | April 2021

FangFreakinTastic

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J.A. Kahn young adult horror

short story

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J. Luke Bennecke techno thriller

68

24

Lainey Cameron

authors and their pets

38

contemporary

Mary Ellen Bramwell

44

Ignition Point, part 3 urban fantasy - Jami Gray

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

contemporary

46

D.A. Henneman

58

Shane Wilson

fantasy romance

A Life in Motion

32

Our Horses Came Home Monthly column chronicling life on a small farm. Monthly recipe for April: Hearty Stuffed Manicotti

magical realism

COVER IMAGE ©Twenty20

74

Liz Arnold

80

Barbara Devlin

90

Anna Markland

western historical romance

victorian historical romance

4 7 110 118 122

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

Uncaged on Instagram

victorian historical romance

Issue 57 | April 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 57 | April 2021 |

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upcomingconventions Starting in October, Uncaged will start listing conventions for 2021 since so many have been canceled or modified for 2020. Uncaged will watch for any cancelations or modifications for the 2021 season.

Book Lovers Con-POSTPONED TO DECEMBER Lori Foster’s Reader & Author Get Together April 8-11, 2021 Orlando, FL (RAGT) https://www.bookloverscon.com/ June 2–5, 2021; West Chester, OH http://readerauthorgettogether.com/

Interracial Romance Author’s Expo April 22 -24, 2021 Daytona Beach, FL https://www.irauthorsexpo.com/

​ oas & Tiaras Afternoon Tea B June 12, 2021; Allen, TX https://www.eventbrite.com/e/boas-tiaras-afternoontea-with-kristan-higgins-tickets-81400355655

Liberty States Fiction Writers Conference April 10, 2021 Clark, NJ http://www.libertystatesfictionwriters.com/conference/ Weekend with the Authors June 17-20, 2021 Nashville, TN http://www.aweekendwiththeauthors.com/

BookCon TBA, New York City, NY https://www.bookcon.com/Home/ 8| uncagedbooks.com |

feature authors

suspense | thriller | contemporary

Melissa Yi

J. Luke Bennecke

Lainey Cameron

MELISSA YI

M

elissa Yi is an emergency physician and awardwinning writer. In her newest crime novel, SCORPION SCHEME, Dr. Hope Sze lands in Cairo and discovers a man with a nail through his skull who might hold the key to millions in buried gold. Previous Hope Sze thrillers were recommended by The Globe and Mail, CBC Books, and The Next Chapter as one of the best Canadian suspense novels.

Yi was shortlisted for the Derringer Award for the world’s best 12 | UncagedBooks.com

short mystery fiction. Under the name Melissa YuanInnes, she also writes medical humour and has won speculative fiction awards.

Stay Connected

melissayuaninnes.com Uncaged welcomes Melissa Yi Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest book, Scorpion Scheme is the eighth book in a medical mystery series featuring your character, Dr. Hope Sze. Can you tell us more about this series? Can these be read as standalones?

Thanks so much for having me. Dr. Hope Sze is a resident doctor who solves murders in her spare time.

After medical school, during what used to be called her internship, she starts her Montréal family medicine residency by finding a dead man in the men’s locker room on her first shift.

recommend that, if you’re more thriller oriented, start with book 4. The first three books are mysteries with character development and have a more leisurely pace.

But if you’re fearless, want an international mystery, and want to see Hope in Cairo, Egypt, pick up SCORPION SCHEME (https://windtreepress.com/ portfolio/scorpion-scheme/). ;) You are also an emergency room Doctor. How hard has the last year been when dealing with the pandemic?

I’m very lucky in that I work in rural Canada, which is not been as hard-hit by COVID-19. We still have sick patients, but we don’t have people coding in the hallways (knock on wood). My heart goes out to everybody on the front line who is done such a stellar job for the past year or more.

I also want to say something special about mental health. A lot of people are finding themselves depressed, anxious, and more short tempered. This is totally normal. In my own family, we’ve had to reach out for counselling and ask for more resources. So please don’t hesitate to ask for help.

What do you have coming up next that you can tell us about?

In every book, she solves a different mystery on a different rotation (psychiatry, palliative care, and so on). So it’s a fun way for me to combine my medical knowledge and flex my imagination by combining medicine and murder.

Because you love animals, please note that last year, I was longlisted for the Staunch Prize for the best feminist thriller story, “My Two Legs.” The protagonist is a dog who trying to find her missing owner.

Yes, these can absolutely be read as standalones.

I have a poker story, “Dead Man’s Hand,” in the current issue [March/April 2021] of Alfred Hitchcock’s mystery Magazine.

Most people like to start at the beginning, CODE BLUES. They like to follow Hope from day 1 (http:// windtreepress.com/portfolio/code-blues).

However, one obstetrician told me that she jumped right into book 4, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME (https://windtreepress.com/portfolio/stockholm-syndrome/), a hostagetaking on the obstetrics ward. I also

In June, TERMINALLY ILL (http://windtreepress. com/portfolio/terminally-ill/), the third Hope Sze novel, will make its theatre debut with an aerialist portraying one of the main characters, Elvis, who is an Elvis impersonator as well as an escape artist.

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What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

I’d like to bring my children to Hawaii. I like to share that the beauty of the mountains, the beaches, the rainbows, the rainforests, and the many special people who live there.

And I’m supposed to take my Fringe play, I AM THE MOST UNFEELING DOCTOR IN THE WORLD (AND OTHER TRUE TALES FROM THE EMERGENCY ROOM) to the Winnipeg Fringe. Fingers crossed for 2022! In the meantime, you can read the book that inspired the play (http:// melissayuaninnes.com/books/the-most-unfeelingdoctor-in-the-world-and-other-true-tales-from-theemergency-room/).

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

Reading, yoga, singing, improv, inline skating, and walking my dog Roxy, who is a rescue Rottweiler mix.

I just got back from skiing with my son. My family plays Stardew Valley together. And I like dancing with 1 Million Dance Studio on YouTube.

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

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

I probably spend between one and five hours a day on my writing. It doesn’t mean that I’m sitting in a chair all the time, but I aim for at least a thousand words a day if I’m not working in the hospital, and 500 words a day if I have to work. I also write short stories and articles. Some of that writing time could be edits or reviewing contracts.

Gosh, I don’t know, but I did really like The Fire Cat, Beverly Cleary, The Bobbsey twins, Encyclopedia Brown, and Anne of Green Gables.

I started dictating to try and be more efficient.

It takes me a year to write a Hope Sze novel, but this series is very intense because I immerse myself in

14 | UncagedBooks.com

researching true crime for inspiration and rework the plot approximately 80 times, or whatever it takes to make it as perfect as possible.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

Are you reading anything now?

All of the above! I buy physical books I truly love. Ebooks are the most convenient. I use audiobooks when I’m walking Roxy or driving.

So right now …

Ebook: I’m reading The Rumrunners by Charles Henry Gervais as research for the next Hope Sze (shhhhh!). I just finished two excellent scripts, Michael J. Himstedt’s A Midnight Clear and Kim’s Convenience by ins Choi. Last night I reread Not Another Family Wedding by Jackie Lau and Me Before You by JoJo Moyes.

Audiobook: Bringing Up Bébé by Pamela Druckerman Paper book: ECGs for the Emergency Physician by Amal Mattu and William Brady.

My book club books are The Genius of Birds and The Dearly Beloved.

So as you can see, I’m always surrounded by books.

They’re my friends!

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

Thank you! It’s lonely to write in a void. I am very grateful for every single reader.

| MELISSA YI |

Enjoy an excerpt from Scorpion Scheme Scorpion Scheme Melissa Yi Medical Thriller

PHARAOHS’ TOMBS. ANCIENT MYTHS. MODERNDAY MURDER Dr. Hope Sze doesn’t need a free trip to Egypt.

She can’t afford the flight to Cairo, or the cruise down the Nile, so she’d keep studying in Canada—except her fiancé, Dr. John Tucker, yearns to patrol the pyramids and confront the curse on King Tutankhamun’s tomb.

So when a company offers them both a free stay in Cairo in exchange for a month’s work in an emergency department, Tucker lobbies for a prehoneymoon in the Valley of Kings and Queens, investigating the windswept temple of Hatshepsut, or scuba diving in the Red Sea. Instead, within 90 minutes of arrival, Hope drops to her knees outside the Grand Egyptian Museum, desperate to save a now-comatose 87-year-old Johannesburg man who’d raved about Kruger and treasure after receiving a nail through his skull.

Tucker fixates on their one chance at the legendary Kruger Millions, a rumoured fortune that many believe lies secretly stowed somewhere in South Africa.

Since their combined student debt load totals half a million dollars, Tucker can’t pass up the possibility of a treasure trove in buried gold.

Hope launches into her first mystery based in a birthplace of human civilization.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Where the evil god Set battled righteous Horus and Isis in an 80-year war.

Where wealth and power clash with political revolution.

Where Antony fell in love with Cleopatra.

Where Hope and Tucker must outwit, or fall prey, to a ruthless criminal mastermind.

Excerpt Ninety minutes before our world screeched to a standstill, I hauled my suitcase outside the Cairo International Airport and squinted as the Egyptian desert wind desiccated my eyeballs and whipped the ends of my black hair into my face.

John Tucker laughed and pushed a strand behind my ear. “You okay?”

“I’m alive.” Hard to believe that we’d landed safely on the opposite side of the world from Canada, near the only remaining seventh wonder of the ancient world. I didn’t want to jinx it.

“I am magnificent!” Tucker spread his arms wide, relishing the mild January afternoon sun. Not to mention his own magnificence.

I leaned back to make sure he didn’t knock off my glasses, but I couldn’t help smiling and shaking my head at the pale skin of his neck and his wheat blond hair. Sometimes, I found it hard to believe that I’d ended up with such a milky dude.

Tucker called up to the wisps of clouds in the blue sky overhead, “We could climb Mount Sinai! We could visit the Valley of Kings and Queens!”

I adjusted the back pack straps digging into my shoulders and double-checked the suitcase between my legs. “We could figure out what happened to Youssef!”

Ms. Isabelle Antoun had assured us that a guide named Youssef would meet us at the airport and that our one month medical elective would be perfectly arranged by Sarquet Industries, a health care software corporation. What on earth had happened to him, or them? I slipped my iPhone out of my 16 | UncagedBooks.com

pocket, checked my blank notifications, and called Youssef. Again.

Then I left a voice mail. Again.

“Tucker.” I waved my hand in front of his face before he started to hee haw too much at the soggy plastic bag tied to my suitcase. “If we can’t connect with Isabelle, Youssef, or Sarquet Industries, we’d better come up with a Plan B.” “That’s true.” He grinned at me. “Good thing I’ve got one. My friend Reza came through. His grandmother lives in Giza. He said we could stay with her tonight.”

“So we’ll take a taxi? I’ve always wanted to see the Pyramids. Not sure if it’s near the zoo, but … “ Tucker rolled his suitcase to the left. “The buses should be over here. And buses are cheap!”

That made me laugh. At least he’d snagged one with air conditioning as a concession to my tender sensibilities. It was weird that they’d left the transparent plastic covers on the seats—you know how they cover sofas when you buy them? Like that, only thin, ripped plastic.

The driver, a man with greying curls and small, wirerimmed glasses, waved me toward the seats.

Tucker spoke to him and told me, “Oh. We’re supposed to sit down first and then pay.”

Huh? “I think it’s so that we don’t slow down boarding.”

Too late for that, but when in Cairo. I shoved my suitcase into the first empty two-seater and swung myself beside it, my legs twisted askew. Although Tucker’s legs ended up blocking the aisle, men carefully stepped over them, smiling. No threatening vibe at all, even though I was the only woman on the bus.

Passengers passed money up to the bus driver, who managed to drive and make change as he looped out of the parking lot.

Once we left the airport grounds, he turned on Arabic music, and several men bobbed their heads in time. I cautiously joined them.

As we oozed through traffic toward Giza, Tucker drummed on the empty back of the seat in front of us.

I stayed pretzeled into even less space than on the airplane, thanks to our luggage. But Tucker smelled good, more yeasty than usual, as I nodded off.

“Babe. Hope.”

| MELISSA YI | I murmured in protest.

“This bus ends at the Hotel of Horus. We have to walk to Abdul Munir Riad Square and change buses.”

All I understood was “bus ends.” I whimpered, but I shook myself awake like it was yet another night on call.

I trusted Tucker to lead me off the bus to the next stop.

The Hotel of Horus looked like your typical extra-tall white skyscraper. A few brave palm trees lined the busy street. Three women in head scarves chattered and crossed the street away from the hotel and toward—was it, could it be— “I think that’s the Nile.” Tucker pointed in the distance.

“Holy crap! The Nile River!” I couldn’t see much besides cars zooming on a bridge and men talking on their cell phones, but still. I’d read Death on the Nile on the plane.

We bumped our luggage toward a bus station with a bright yellow and blue sign featuring a fit, bearded man grinning in front of a bus. People passed us, chatting on their cell phones. Cairo appeared not so different from Montreal at first glance, except the Egyptian flags adorning a smaller hotel’s columned second floor.

Two young people in jeans and T-shirts listened to hip hop, judging from the music leaking out of their headphones, but more than half the women covered their heads, and a man with a long beard wore a full-length grey tunic. Cool.

The wheels on my suitcase seemed to be clogged with dirt and hair, which made it harder to roll over the paving stones under our feet and onto a second bus. All the seats at the front were full. I nodded at a woman with four children. A grandmotherly type with a head scarf spoke impatiently on her cell phone. At least four elderly men dominated the front benches, their heads bent in intense conversation.

Tucker and I found seats near the back, but we had to shove our suitcases most of the way in and rest our legs on top of them. My feet practically rested in my mouth. “How much further?” I asked Tucker.

“Not far, not far.”

Someone’s phone rang. I didn’t recognize it as Tucker’s until he contorted himself to pull it out of his jeans pocket. “Oh, hi, Youssef. What? You’re at baggage claim? We missed you, maybe because Hope got

sprayed by a toilet--” I straightened up, my eyes now open and accusing.

Tucker ditched his smile fast. “Um, Dr. Sze had trouble with the airport plumbing, and we couldn’t get a hold of you, so we’re taking a bus to Giza—oh, you want us to get off? Where?” He craned his neck. “I’m not sure exactly where we are. We changed buses at the Abdul Munir Riad Square. I think we’re coming up on the Egyptian Museum. Hang on, I’ll open a map—” I reached for my own phone. Wow, Youssef! We finally got a hold of Youssef. He could drive us to the hotel.

I glanced out the window at the setting sun. No Pyramids in sight. I pressed the home button on my phone to bring up a map.

And I felt, as much as heard, a boom that rocked the bus and punched my eardrums.

DON’T MISS THESE TITLES:

Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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j . lu k e be n n ec k e

J

. Luke Bennecke is a native Californian and veteran civil engineer who has spent his career helping people by improving Southern California roadways. In addition to his first book, Civil Terror: Gridlock, which became an Amazon Bestseller, Bennecke has written several novels and screenplays, a creative process he thoroughly enjoys.

Bennecke has a BS in civil 18 | UncagedBooks.com engineering from Cal Poly

Pomona, an MBA from Cal State San Bernardino, a private pilot’s certificate, and is a partner in an engineering firm. As a philanthropist, he awards scholarships annually to high school seniors at his alma mater.

The author resides in Southern California with his wife of 30 years, whom he enjoys traveling with, and three spunky cats. He spends his leisure time flying, learning about innovative tech, playing golf, and catching up with his grown daughters.

Bennecke is a member of International Thriller Writers and looks forward to attending ThrillerFest every year in New York.

Stay Connected

Your first book in the series, Gridlock is a thriller about self-driving cars and transportation. You are a civil engineer in California trying to improve the roadway systems. Is that where you got the inspiration for Gridlock?

I was stuck in traffic one day on the 210 freeway and it hit me: Why are we, as a society, still tolerating traffic congestion in the 21st century? All of the tech is available to eliminate it, but at what cost? At the time, self-driving cars wasn’t even a term yet, but I wondered what would happen if the bad guys got ahold of a bunch of the vehicles with the intention of inciting fear. Like Waterborne, Gridlock is a cautionary tale rooted in real-world technologies.

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

jlukebennecke.com Uncaged welcomes J. Luke Bennecke Welcome to Uncaged! Waterborne will release on April 22, and it’s the 2nd book in the Jake Bendel thriller series. The synopsis of this book is actually a bit terrifying on how this could become true in the near future. Can you tell readers more about this series and this book?

At the core of each of the four Jake Bendel books is a real-world problem. I’ve done my best to weave in one possible engineering solution to each of these problems, while wrapping it all up in a thrilling tale that takes the reader on an extraordinary adventure. Waterborne presents us with the possibility of terrorists contaminating our water supply. Unfortunately, these types of scenarios have already started to unfold in real life, so my hope is that this book will help shed some light on the problem which, in turn, might nudge our leaders towards taking appropriate preventative actions.

At the core of the third book in the Jake Bendel world—already written/edited—is our ailing power grid at its core as the real-world problem (tentative title: Black Out). I’ve included several (hopefully) unique ways to turn our tech against ourselves with the intention, again, of bringing these potentialities to light in order to take preventative action. After that, I might release another book I’ve written/edited in the supernatural suspense genre that will force readers to question their own reality about what happens after we die. I’ve also written a sci-fi suspense screenplay that I plan to reverse-screen-adapt into a full novel tentatively entitled: Time Goggles. After that, I’ll write the fourth Jake Bendel book, where I’ll explore the structural engineering components embedded in various conspiracy theories of the 9/11 attacks.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Traveling! Last February, my wife and I had monthly 2020 trips planned to various places across our great country…all cancelled. I’m also a hugger and miss giving/getting hugs with my family and friends.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

The Kill Switch by James Rollins and Grant Blackwood made me cry. They did an amazing job of connecting me as the reader to the military dog.

In one of the scenes, I found myself completely and emotionally engulfed in the story. That type of reader-character connection is something that inspired me to study my craft even harder.

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

Honestly, writing helps me relax and unwind.

Sometimes, writing is like reading a good book, where you’re lost in the scene, but 10x more intense. I also play the drums, jogging/swimming, and enjoy curling up with my wife on movie night.

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

I’m definitely a morning writer and stick to a strict regimen. I wake up at 5:30, pur a cup of piping hot coffee, and pick up where I left off the day before.

Sometimes I only write for a half hour, sometimes eight straight hours, depending on where I’m at in the process. Once I have my rough outline of the plot, I write at least 1,000 words per day (more if I really get on a roll). I give myself the freedom to deviate from the plot if different scenes/ideas pop into my head.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

Physical books! Always! :) I haven’t been able to get into ebooks, but that’s all my wife reads. Are you reading anything now?

I’m just finishing a terrific book by J.D. Barker (The Coast-To-Coast Murders) and James Patterson.

Next up is Barker’s latest book: A Caller’s Game.

His writing is pure genius and I find it inspirational.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can 20 | UncagedBooks.com

| J.LUKE BENNECKE | they follow you?

I write for you! Hopefully you enjoy my stories and they have an positive impact on the way you see the world. I’m on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram and am growing my mailing list, so please visit my website at www.jlukebennecke.com and subscribe.

Enjoy an excerpt from Waterborne Waterborne J. Luke Bennecke Techno Thriller A thought-provoking thriller about a very real threat to the essence of life: water. You’ll be forced to consider how you’d react if you were cornered and trapped in a terrifying, lifethreatening situation.

Jake Bendel and a cunning team of experts create a five-plant desalination system - all powered by environmentally friendly molten salt reactors - providing clean, healthy drinking water to millions of thirsty Californians. But the dark side of humanity sees this as a chance for revenge against the United States. A genius weaponizes the system, threatening to kill more Americans than all of World War II. The clock is ticking. Can Jake and the FBI stop the terrorists before more innocent people are murdered in the name of the Jihad? WATERBORNE will grab you by the throat and pull you into a vicious struggle that will define the fate of the world for generations to come.

Excerpt

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August 1st – Stockton, California 11:15 p.m.

Mass murder can be complicated. But profitable.

From a vacant corner of the Chili’s parking lot, behind a four-foot-high wall of cropped manzanita shrubs, Gunther Pertile scanned the area for civilians. Not a soul in sight. He whipped out his Glock 9mm—with suppressor—aimed at each of the two main overhead lights and squeezed off two muffled rounds. Glass shattered, falling to the ground as the entire scene went dark.

He dismounted his jet-black Harley, then slid off his helmet to reveal the short, curly hair he’d recently bleached to no longer be the dark-haired, dark-eyed killer on the FBI’s most wanted list.

Running his fingertips along each of the four loaded mags inside the pocket of his leather jacket, he calculated the time to empty all sixty rounds. At three rounds per second and another three seconds to swap each mag, he could finish in just over half a minute.

One dead every half second.

Not bad.

But he tossed aside his mass shooting fantasy, forced himself back to reality, drew a deep breath and relished the security of his weapon. After two decades as a sniper, he knew tonight’s assignment—his actual job—would succeed.

Piece of cake.

His weapon holstered, he glided through the front door of the restaurant and took a window seat.

A flash of blue pulled into the parking lot. The target—a civil engineer named Jake Bendel—wore a gray fedora hat, jeans, a light blue dress shirt and plaid charcoal sport coat as he exited a Tesla and strolled toward Chili’s carrying a laptop, several rolls of paper, and a three-ring binder. Inside, the hostess escorted him to a booth on the room’s op22 | UncagedBooks.com

posite side. Physically, the target’s height and weight matched the profile the boss had provided. At a height of just above six-one, maybe two hundred pounds, Gunther evaluated the level of effort to accomplish the abduction.

Within tolerance.

After Bendel sat, he ordered dinner and worked, checking his Apple Watch every few minutes.

Gunther took a slow sip of ice water, studying the mostly vacant dining room of the restaurant.

Eventually, the target’s food came and he ate—still checking his watch. Gunther smiled.

The other members of the assault team had already taken care of Jake’s friend, Dave, who most definitely would not be dining at Chili’s tonight.

Or anywhere ever again, for that matter.

Gunther finished his water and set the glass on the table.

His Android read 11:55 p.m.

Perfect.

He dug a hand into his pants pocket and wrapped his fingers around a syringe filled with enough Trihypnol to subdue a professional wrestler. With the quarterinch-long needle capped at the tip, he’d avoid accidentally injecting himself with the hypnotic drug.

Trihypnol was the perfect concoction for tonight’s events. Once administered, the victim would remain fully awake, but in a highly suggestible and altered state of consciousness—alert and fully mobile for up to four hours. The famous Dr. Jake Bendel would later crash like a pelted pigeon and sleep for half a day, with zero memory of the evening’s activities.

Bendel stuffed the last piece of halibut into his mouth, chewed, and washed it down with a final swig of beer.

Game time.

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lai n ey camer o n

L

ainey Cameron is a digital nomad and author of women’s fiction. A recovering tech industry executive, her award-winning novel, The Exit Strategy, was inspired by a decade of being the only woman in the corporate boardroom. It tells the story of a Silicon Valley investor who first meets her husband’s mistress across the negotiating table.

A digital nomad—meaning she picks locations around the world to live (and write) for months at a time—Lainey is an avid instagrammer. She’s currently riding out the pandemic in San Miguel de Allende, in 24 | UncagedBooks.com

Mexico.

She’s the founder and host of The Best of Women’s Fiction interview series and podcast, proud member and volunteer with Women’s Fiction Writers Association, and believes community makes the author’s life worthwhile.

Originally from Scotland, Lainey has a soft spot for kilts and good malt whisky, and hanging out with anything equine (donkeys rock!).

Stay Connected

laineycameron.com

putdownable”, “uplifting” and “a rallying call for women to believe in themselves and join together”.

It also just won its fourth fiction award; the most a debut author like me could dream!

You talk about how you choose somewhere in the world to live for a time as you write. Can you tell us where have been some of the most influential places you’ve been?

During the five years this book took from start through revisions and copy edits, I worked at desks in 10+ countries and at least 30 unique cities; Mexico, France, Scotland, across US Western states in an RV, a lake house in Quebec, and Cartagena, Colombia.

Every location inspires in a different way. But I will share that visiting the calcified waterfalls in Oaxaca in part inspired the cliff-top opening scene in my second book (my work in progress).

Uncaged Welcomes Lainey Cameron

Where do you find your inspiration for the next novel?

Welcome to Uncaged! The Exit Strategy is your debut novel. Can you tell us more about this contemporary novel?

I believe those who say the best inspiration is to get out there and live an interesting life, so that’s what I try and do!

The story revolves around two women, placed in an impossible situation. The main character, Ryn Brennan, is a Silicon Valley venture capitalist, meaning she invests in start-ups for a living. She believes she has a happy marriage and she’s just bet everything on a deal that will make her career. What she didn’t imagine is facing Carly, her husband’s mistress, across the negotiating table.

Meanwhile, Carly is a CEO and single mom with a big dose of imposter syndrome. The last thing she wants— now she’s learned her fiancé has a wife—is being forced to work with her!

Overall, the book is a tale of sexism and the power of female friendship. I’m thrilled that it’s become a bestseller in feminist fiction and has been called a “un-

What do you have coming up next that you can tell us about?

I’ve completed the first draft and am revising my second novel, which draws inspiration from my travels and life as a digital nomad. It’s about an adventure travel instagrammer (the type you see in spectacular photos hanging off the cliff by their finger nails!).

My heroine is living under a new name to hide her traumatic past. Given her newfound fame, she fears her identity will be exposed and she’ll be forced to face a life she’s fought valiantly to escape.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

I believe those who say the best inspiration is to get out there and live an interesting life, so that’s what I try and do!

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What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

This one is easy – travel! My husband and I have been stable in one location since the start of the pandemic; our house in San Miguel de Allende in the central mountains of Mexico. It’s a gorgeous location and lifestyle (my wheels here are an open top quad and I write with a fabulous rooftop view).

But I’m ready to explore the world again!

High on our list is the very Southern tip of South America; Chile, Argentina, and the town of Ushuaia. Perhaps in 2022?

I enjoy sharing my travels as I go on my Instagram.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/or cry?

Pretty far from my top reads today which tend to be women’s fiction: As a teenager I enjoyed Terry Pratchett’s novels. In particular, the Discworld series, where death is a character and the world rides through space on the back of a turtle. I remember utterly ignoring the TV in my room and sneaking under the covers to immerse myself for hours in the series.

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

I try to hold my mornings for writing and push other activities into the afternoon.

My first novel, The Exit Strategy, took me almost five years and many revisions, because I was learning the craft of writing and revising a page-turner.

I’m hoping the next one will be faster, but it’s hard to know for sure. My goal would be to complete revisions this year and release in 2022, however I’m still learning every day. I won’t release the novel until I know I can feel proud. So maybe ask me again in six months?

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

Given a choice, I’m a fan of old-school physical books (paperback), but as a nomad who often lives out of a suitcase, I’ve learned to read ebooks. That works especially well for ARCs (Advance Review Copies), as I’m often reading other authors work pre-release before I interview them for my podcast.

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

I’ve had lovely feedback about the extras on my website (Book club questions, Nutella recipes, and Ryn’s music playlist). Several readers also wrote to say they related to the book’s scenario of being the only woman in a male-dominated industry.

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

I’m grateful to any reader who takes time to send me a note, or review the book, or join my newsletter.

I’m originally Scottish and a big fan of good malt whisky and rooftop bars. Also, horse riding and reading great fiction. I produce and host a podcast called The Best of Women’s Fiction, where I interview best-selling and debut authors I admire.

Writing is hard and revising a novel can be a long process. So, don’t underestimate that those small things can be just the motivation your favorite author needs to keep going on her next book!

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

Enjoy an excerpt from The Exit Strategy The Exit Strategy Lainey Cameron Contemporary

Tech executive Carly can’t wait to marry the man of her dreams.

But her world is turned upside down when she discovers her fiancé is already wed to Ryn — her company’s top investor!

Can the two women overcome heartbreak together?

Silicon Valley investor Ryn Brennan is on the verge of achieving everything she dreamed. She’s succeeded in the sexist venture capital world, has a supportive husband, and is about to close the deal of her career. Everything is going exactly as planned, until she meets her husband’s mistress, across the negotiating table.

Carly clawed her way back from being a teenage runaway to become an accomplished scientist, caring single mom, and co-founder of her startup.

Once she marries her loving fiancé, she’ll secure the complete family she craves. But she’s blindsided to discover her not so perfect fiancé is already married.

In an industry full of not-so-subtle sexism, can the two women rise above, and work together to overcome heartbreak, and ensure their success?

Excerpt Ryn scrawled seething on a scrap of paper and crammed it into the Feelings Jar on her desk. She winced at the glare bouncing off the adjacent skyscrapers, streaming through the wall of windows into her office. The San Francisco weather gods apparently didn’t get the memo. Dismal fog was the appropriate backdrop to discovering her husband’s affair. Not sparkly damn sunshine.

28 | UncagedBooks.com

She opened her valuation spreadsheet. Perhaps a focus on the data would calm the shit-storm rumbling inside her head. Pops’ technique of stuffing unwanted emotions in a jar usually worked. But not this morning, and the meeting with BioLarge started in ten minutes. The promotion she’d been denied for two years depended on closing this deal. She refused to blow it because of an infidelity brain scramble.

The rows of numbers blurred, and she struggled to recall her negotiation points, as dozens of memories demanded re-examination.

Todd’s golf trip last month. With Her. His mistress.

Two weeks ago, when his apartment development project required an extended stay in Nevada through the weekend. With Her. Those loving texts when Ryn was out of town.

—I can’t manage one more hour without you. What time do you land?— Not so loving now. Just measuring how much longer he had. With Her. She didn’t know which hurt more, Todd lying or him finding this other woman—this Carly—so special she was worth risking a perfect partnership.

Ryn stood and shook out her hands. If more time remained, she’d redo her analysis, but her brain had been buzzing like this since yesterday. Thousands of micro-deceptions like memory popcorn, every burst a new realization of betrayal.

Keep it together, Ryn. She focused on the faded poster of John Wayne on a rearing horse opposite her desk, a gift from her oldest brother Jack, and tried to summon a happy memory of childhood on the ranch in Montana.

Eyes closed, she imagined the morning scent of impatient cattle trampling soggy grass. From horseback, she leaned and opened the barn gate for the squad of grumbling cows who blocked her way, nudging her stirrups with their wet noses. Behind them, Jack and Mom trotted across a field dotted with wild roses to catch up, Mom’s head tilted back in laughter, her everyday teal and purple headscarf rippling.

Ryn opened her eyes and dug her teeth into her bottom lip. She couldn’t even summon a real memory instead of wishful thinking. Life had never delivered sunshine and wildflowers. Before she became old

| LAINEY CAMERON | enough to ride the morning cattle rounds, Mom died from that soul-sucker cancer, and Ryn had been exiled to live with Aunt Dusty.

She closed her laptop, giving up on any hope of adjusting her mood. At least here at Sentra Ventures she was indispensable, and the BioLarge team would arrive any minute.

Ryn opened her prep folder. With the remaining time she’d review the background of the last executive she asked to meet today. So far her negotiations were with Paul Alexander, this company’s CEO, but funding a startup without evaluating the technical founder would be bad business. Annoying that, despite asking him twice, Paul claimed his co-owner was too busy with clinical trials to join their prior meetings.

Her fingers flipped to the section of the folder with management biographies.

A photo of Carly Santos, BioLarge’s cofounder and chief scientist, smiled next to a biography full of patents and achievements.

Carly.

Ryn’s skin prickled. Prickled like the moment you notice inconsistencies in a company’s accounts. Or at night when you cross the road to avoid the man with the neck tattoo, and he follows you.

She studied the photo. Carly was a common enough name. There must be hundreds, thousands of women named Carly in the Bay Area.

Big doe eyes stared at her with a warmth that never showed in her photos. Ryn’s steely pose in leadership shots had become an office joke, with the other partners pushing her to smile just this once. But grinning on demand wasn’t how a woman got taken seriously in a world where testosterone dripped down the walls.

Ryn ran her finger along Carly’s waves of chestnut brown hair and studied the dimples in her smile. Ms. Santos was gorgeous in an unassuming, wouldn’tsteal- your-husband kind of way.

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A Life in Motion Life in rural Wisconsin is always

A Life in Motion.

A snippet of life on the farm with Cyrene.

| A LIFE IN MOTION COLUMN |

A Life in Motion –March 2021 Our Horses Came Home Each month I’ll share part of my life on this small farm. Some fun, some serious, but always in motion. I’ll share my tips for gardening, show you my gardens and harvests, fixing and rebuilding areas in the barn, the new baby chicks that will arrive in the spring, adventures with my goats and horses and since I’m always cooking and trying new things, I’ll post a recipe that I thought worked out well each month with pictures. Hope you enjoy the column and get a glimpse of what life is like for us here in the country.

As we began March here on the farm, the weather was improving to start fixing everything that winter messed up. When it comes to the fallen roof on the barn; that will be cleared out this summer when the weather is permitting. Right now, spring in Wisconsin is more about rain and mud and trying to work in between the wet weather days. One of our main priorities was to bring the horses home. So instead of getting the one large wood shelter, we bought two ShelterLogic shelters and will put them up, side by side.

With the improvements in the weather, we brought the horses home. And they seemed much more relaxed once they got outside in their own well known pasture. They don’t seem to miss going in the stalls 32 | UncagedBooks.com

or the barn. I’ll keep their blankets on during our colder nights during the spring. I’ve reseeded the front pasture and hoping they will be able to go out to that pasture in mid – April like last year.

I’ve also purchased the slow feed hay nets, and will mount them inside the two shelters when we finish them.

I’ve also purchased a shelter for our hay storage, which I think should hold 100 bales easily, along with our grain bins and main lawn tractors.

Next, we put up a Suncast Shed to store the most used parts of our horse gear. This will save us a lot of time and energy by not having to drag it out from the house, since the barn is not safe yet. And besides, I think this will keep the birds and mice away from our stuff (the mice used to like burrowing under saddle pads in the barn and we had to keep the saddles covered to protect them from birds).

| CYRENE OLSON |

While we were at it, one of the most used things on this property is, believe it or not, the riding arena. There were a lot of boards that needed replacing, and we replaced 45 out of 90 and one post, but with lumber and steel prices skyrocketing during the pandemic, I hope to replace the other 45 boards in the near future. I also plan on staining/weatherproofing the new boards, adding solar fairy lights and eventually adding some type of shade to the arena, may be in the form of sail shades – but of course I’ll get pics of the project once it’s ongoing.

As for the gardens, I’ve decided that we will have a minimal vegetable garden this year with all that’s going on here, and I’ll still put together my fairy garden when the weather warms for planting.

As for TV streaming, I’ve slowed a bit this month with the work here. It’s hard to watch more than an hour or so of TV before I’m too exhausted from working all day. I am back to my normal reading again, with the immediate stress of the horses safety now straightened out, things are getting back to a new normal. Until next month...

Other good news, I will be fully vaccinated against COVID-19 by the end of April, with my first appointment on April 2, three days before my birthday. A welcome gift.

My recipe this month is a my famous Hearty Stuffed Manicotti. My daughter asks for this recipe a few times a year and I finally got busy and made it. I hope you’ll share if you make any of the recipes I share. ©Copyright 2021 Cyrene Olson www.uncagedbooks.com Cyrene@UncagedBooks.com Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| A LIFE IN MOTION COLUMN |

Hearty Stuffed Manicotti

Ingredients: 1 lb. manicotti noodles 5 cups spaghetti sauce of your choice - this can be anything that you like and normally use. One day I’ll share our family spaghetti sauce recipe that was taught to us by an Italian neighbor years ago.

1 lg container ricotta cheese 8 oz. shredded mozzarella cheese 4 oz. shredded mozzarella and provolone cheese mix 1 cup shredded fresh parmesan cheese 1 tsp. basil 1 1/2 TB parsley (fresh works best) 1 tsp. salt 2 TB sugar 1) Cook the manicotti noodles per package, and add a tablespoon of oil to the water to prevent the noodles from sticking to each other or the pan.

2) After they are cooked, drain and lay the noodles out on some wax paper.

me how I know this. :)

4) If you don’t have a frosting bag, (which I don’t) you can spoon the ricotta cheese mix into a ziploc baggie and cut a half inch hole in the corner. Squeeze the mixture into the shells until full. Fill all the shells, if you fill them like I do, you may have one shell left over.

5) Spread 2 cups of spaghetti sauce in the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish. If you have to, spray or treat the bottom of the pan first.

6) Lay out the noodles next to each other and even longwise to get them all in the pan. Don’t worry about overcrowding them, that won’t bother anything.

7) Spoon the remaining spaghetti sauce over the top of the noodles and spread to cover.

8) Add the shredded mozzarella/provolone cheese mix and the parmesan cheese to the top.

3) While the manicotti is cooking, mix together ricotta, 8 oz mozzarella, parsley, basil, salt and sugar. Mix until creamy and don’t forget to taste test.

Ricotta is a great cheese to cook with (and freeze), but it needs help in the flavor dept. You may need to add a bit more salt or sugar to your liking. Do not put this in blender or mixer, you need the stiffness when filling the shells so mix by hand. Don’t ask 34 | UncagedBooks.com

5) Cover with foil and bake for 45 minutes at 375°.

Serve with a salad and hot bread. This will feed 6 easily.

Manicotti will freeze very well, so this is a great dish even for a couple people as you can freeze and have it on a day you don’t feel like cooking.

This is a well-loved recipe at our house. I’ve served it to family and guests with great success. Let me know if you try it!

Until next month:

Happy Cooking!

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feature authors

contemporary | fantasy

Mary Ellen Bramwell

D.A. Henneman

Shane Wilson

mary elle n bramwell

M

ary Ellen Bramwell, an award-winning and best-selling author, has been writing short stories since she was ten. Other than writing, her favorite accomplishments are being a mother and running the Cleveland Area Chapter of Project Linus, a charity that provides homemade blankets to children who are ill or traumatized. She is the mother of five and currently lives with her youngest son and her husband of over 35 years in the Mountain West.

S t ay C onnec t ed

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maryellenbramwell.com

Welcome to Mary Ellen Bramwell Welcome to Uncaged! Your newest book, In Search of Sisters will release on April 15th. Can you tell readers more about this book and what inspired it?

The book is about the need we all have to connect with other people. It focuses on one woman, Mira, and her discovery of herself through connecting with others.

I grew up with three older brothers and have sought surrogate sisters my whole life. But, honestly, I’d never thought of writing such a book until I considered a trip to Europe. The thought of people everywhere each living their lives, having ups and downs, needs and concerns struck me. We are more alike than we are different. Could I connect (in a book) with all those other humans?

Where the Red Fern Grows made me cry. But, honestly, the first book that brought me joy was Go, Dog, Go. I loved the words and the pictures. Clearly, I’ve been reading books since I was small.

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

I jot down ideas when they come – on a walk, in the shower, from a dream. I’d love to say I have a formula for coming up with the next book, but the truth is the ideas come to me whenever they feel like it.

I love playing games – board games, card games, strategy games, cooperative games. I’m always on the lookout for a new game. Also, I find putting together jigsaw puzzles a great way to unwind. Both games and puzzles are things I do with my family, which makes them even better. And baking!

Who could forget baking!

What do you have coming up next that you can tell us about?

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

I’m really excited to have a sequel to my first book, The Apple of My Eye, coming out in October 2021. It takes place a dozen years later and follows the lives of a mother and her teenage son. Titled The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far, It’s rich with real-life struggles.

I probably write eight or nine hours a day, six days a week, but this can vary. When I have a burst of ideas, I might write so much, so fast that I get burned out after four hours yet have been more productive than most days. My last two novels took about six months each (a much faster rate than the first three).

Where do you find your inspiration for the next novel?

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Traveling and spending more time with my family.

Once the fear of contracting or spreading the virus is diminished, I think the real joy will come from having choices again.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/or cry?

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

I prefer physical books, but I will read ebooks. I just finished reading Poet X, I’m currently reading an advance copy of Landscape of a Marriage, and I have a rereading of Tess of the d’Urbervilles lined up next.

Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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

Above all, I hope my readers find hope within my books and that they know they can find hope in their lives.

Enjoy an excerpt from In Search of Sisters In Search of Sisters Mary Ellen Bramwell Contemporary Releases April 15 Mesmerized, Mira watched the two women. They had a bond, a history, a connection that couldn’t be broken by distance or time. They would always be sisters.

Only Mira didn’t have that.

Maybe sisters fought or held grudges, but maybe they listened, cried when you cried, laughed when you laughed. Maybe they made difficult times bearable. Warren couldn’t understand that—nor her desperate need for those sister-like bonds. But he could encourage her to go searching for them.

Embarking on a daunting trip alone, Mira meets Kailani, a young girl with a troubling homelife, Cordelia, energetic but haunted, Dylan, Aissa and others. But how can she get to know anyone when she doesn’t know herself? And once she does, might they need her more than she needs them?

Excerpt Chapter 2 Mira moved through security faster than she’d expected. Usually that was a good thing, but not for Mira, not today. Warren had kissed her when she entered the cordoned-off security line, but he hadn’t left. Time was adding up in parking fees, 40 | UncagedBooks.com

but he didn’t budge from his spot. Turning every few minutes to see if he was still there, she often caught him off guard, and he would quickly exchange his forlorn, lost expression with a huge grin. Then he’d run a hand through his rusty-brown hair in that characteristic, nervous habit of his.

He was too far away to hear her voice above the airport noise, but she texted him, “Don’t worry. I’m coming back.”

“I know,” he texted back. “But seeing your face always lights my world.”

She couldn’t turn to look anymore. The tears pooling in the corners of her eyes would flood her face, and he’d see them, even from a distance. She couldn’t do that to him, and it was not an emotion she wanted to admit to herself. As discreetly as possible, she wiped them away, put on a brave face, and turned one last time. He was still standing there, getting harder to see through the crush of people, but he was still there.

Standing on tiptoes to be above the heads of those around her, she mouthed, “I love you.” He answered by blowing a kiss then running his hand through his hair once again.

It had been a whirlwind month filled with more emotions than she thought possible. Once she’d recovered from her fever and been able to form a coherent sentence, Warren sat down at her bedside and said, “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Mira said, although she knew playing dumb wouldn’t work.

“What happened to you? You disappeared inside yourself, and I don’t even know why.”

Mira sat up on the bed, touching the hand of this man she loved more than life itself. He was her everything. But in ways she didn’t understand, that wasn’t enough. Without realizing it, she laid her free hand on her flat belly. “Do you remember that day in the park?” He nodded. She didn’t need to clarify further.

“I know we both want children.”

“Yes, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of that, babe. We haven’t started infertility treatments yet, but we’re saving for them. We have lots of options still.

The doctor said—” She gently lifted a hand, covering his lips. “I know. I know. Just listen to me for a minute, because it isn’t

| MARY ELLEN BRAMWELL | about that, or not exactly about that.” She slowly lowered her hand, waiting to see if he was ready to listen instead of talk. His mouth remained closed, and he stayed still, allowing her to continue. “As I said, I know we both want children, but I realized it hits you differently than it does me. It never leaves me. I listen to my body every day. Am I feeling ill, tired, … different? That day in the park … It wasn’t the last straw, but it was a straw nonetheless. Yes, the sight of the children was a reminder, but I saw your face. The hurt it caused you was fleeting. It passed.”

“But you know I want—” “Please, Warren, let me finish. I’m not angry with you.

I’m not even disappointed. It’s not about a baby, not really. That’s simply a context. There’s plenty of time still for children. I know there are things we can do that we haven’t begun to tap yet, things we’ve talked about with the doctor, and like you said, we’re saving for them. But I don’t think you understand how this hits me. It says that something is wrong with me, or us. It says I’ve somehow failed.”

He opened his mouth, surely to contradict her, but Mira again gently put a hand on his lips. “I’m not saying my thinking is correct or even rational. It’s just my thinking. You are the kindest, sweetest man I have ever met.” She took a deep breath before fully diving in. “You just don’t understand how this rips me up inside, and I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it.”

“What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

“Exactly.” Then she blurted out what she’d been holding in since that day. “I wish I had a sister.”

“A sister?” He furrowed his brow, becoming more confused by the moment.

“Warren, I need to be able to talk about things with another female, someone who deals with the same hormones that I do, someone who can see it from my perspective. I need that connection to make this connection,” she indicated the two of them, “function how it should.” When he said nothing, she continued. “The baby thing isn’t the real problem, Warren. It’s that I’ve been shutting up emotions that are fighting to come out. I know you would listen to them, happily even, and comfort me and encourage me, but you will never fully understand them.”

He sheepishly said, “How about a good therapist?”

Mira laughed. “Yes, that would work on some level. But the long-term issue would still exist. I need connections that I’m not paying for.”

He was hurt, but she couldn’t stop until he understood this need, this longing. “I haven’t told you what brought on the fever or why I left the car.”

“No, you haven’t. I just assumed … I mean, you know?” She could hear the hurt in his voice that she hadn’t shared this with him yet.

“I barely figured it out myself. I knew what triggered it, but I didn’t know why. Lying in bed recovering from a fever gives one time to process things. I think it finally makes sense to me.” She had been fidgeting, staring more at her hands than at Warren, but she forced herself to look up into his eyes. “Warren, I saw two women who were obviously sisters. They were walking in unison, and their mouths were moving so much it was impossible to tell which one was talking at any given moment. They had each other, and they could talk about anything. I need that. I saw those sisters a few days after our walk in the park. It made me realize I need another female to talk to, someone who sees the world through the same set of glasses I do.

“You,” she reached for his hand, “you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I can talk to you and tell you anything and everything, but some things just don’t register. It’s like I don’t understand your fascination with all things sports, or belching, or the humor in bodily emanations.

I appreciate that you appreciate those things.”

She stopped when she saw his raised eyebrows and had to laugh. “Okay, maybe appreciate is the wrong word, but you get my point. They just don’t mean the same thing to me. It’s like a chick flick doesn’t hit you the way it does me. There is, after all, a reason they call it a chick flick.”

He shrugged slightly. “I suppose I can see what you’re getting at. But all kinds of women don’t have sisters, and they don’t … they don’t …”

“Fall apart?” He nodded. “I know. And it’s not as if I can suddenly have sisters. That ship sailed Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | a long time ago. I have a brother, whom I love, but it’s not the same. Maybe it wouldn’t matter so much if my mom was still alive, but she isn’t, so I’ll never know.

“Warren, I’m not sure what to do at this point. I just know I need a healthy outlet for what I feel.

I need someone who understands how different things affect me without having to explain them.

Women need other women. Most of the people in my office are men. You’re a man, obviously. I’m missing something that will make me whole, but I don’t know what to do about it.” She’d started to cry at that moment. She hadn’t wanted to, but the ache for what was missing was more than she could hold in.

Warren was quiet for a long time. He didn’t try to wipe away her tears as he often did. He let them flow. But he held tightly to her hands, never taking his eyes off her. Eventually his tears joined hers and they touched their foreheads together, silently weeping in unison.

“Mira.” The sound was so quiet yet bright that she wasn’t sure she’d heard it. “Mira,” now brighter and stronger, “I know what to do.”

She pulled back to look at him. “What? What can you do?”

“No, I mean, I know what you can do. Write, babe. Just write. Quit your job, or take a leave of absence, and write!”

“How will that help?” But she was beginning to understand why it would.

“You’ve been writing for as long as I’ve known you, until recently anyway. Your emotions, your feelings, they spill out onto the page. I know the page doesn’t speak back, but it helps you understand them.” She paused, considering his words.

“Why do you think you haven’t written much lately?”

“Well, I haven’t had much to—” His raised eyebrow stopped her. “No,” she finally said, “it’s not the lack of material to write about, is it? I suppose the feelings are just too raw. It’s easier to bury them than acknowledge them.”

42 | UncagedBooks.com

“Mira, consider something for me. I have an idea, but you need to promise me you’ll think about it, not reject it out of hand.”

“What is it?” she said, but Warren raised his eyebrows.

It wasn’t enough. “All right, I promise.”

He squeezed her hands. “Babe, I want you to go away somewhere. Meet people. Meet other women. Talk to them, and write about it. Write about them. Write about your feelings and their feelings. Fill a book.

Maybe you’ll publish it, maybe you won’t. But write a book full of feelings and thoughts, a book that you’ll always have—filled with sisters you can visit within its pages anytime you want, for the rest of your life.”

“But—” “You promised.”

“Okay, but let me ask how in the world we’d pay for such a thing. We can live on your salary, but how would we pay for a trip, especially for the length of time you’re implying?”

“Our baby savings, the savings for infertility treatments. I know that’s one of the issues we’ve just been talking about. But—” “But … I’ll need those other voices, other women, even more when I’m a mom,” she finished before he had a chance to. “First things first.” “Yes. We can keep saving. It will delay it but not stop it.”

It made sense, maybe the first thing that had made sense in a long time.

“But, babe, you have to promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“That you’ll call me every day you’re gone, or text me, or message me, or something. You’re my everything, and I will miss you more than I can say.” And this time, she was wiping away his tears as well as her own.

MELISSA YI & Roxy

This is Roxy. We adopted her from the SPCA. Nobody had chosen her for a month, presumably because she was a Rottweiler mix, but as soon as she came up and licked, licked, licked my hand, I could tell how gentle she was. She would never hurt me or my children, and I said, this is the one. She has grown up with our children, and we love her very much. She helps save our sanity during the pandemic, and I will love Roxy forever.

Bonus: A fictional Roxy plays a pivotal role in HUMAN REMAINS (Hope Sze #5). You can see the real Roxy in the book trailer https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCoqpfaX-k4

LIZ ARNOLD & Ronen & Ruby

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D.A. HENNEMAN & Bubba I don’t have a pet of my own but I do share a stray my daughter adopted, who made himself at home pretty quickly.

Bubba is about a year old and loves to pretend he is pouncing on prey from behind anything nonmoving object he can find. He likes belly rubs and walks outside, which we now do with a harness since he is being acclimated to the indoors. He’s spoiled and tolerates all sorts of embarrassments as you can see from his photo. For a feral cat, he is pretty chill, and we love having him around.

SHANE WILSON & Ivy This is Ivy! We rescued her a few years ago.

She is named after Poison Ivy from the Batman comics, but she is so far from villainous it’s ridiculous. She is timid and shy and prefers whining to barking. She likes to wear sweaters and lay on heating pads, probably because I keep the apartment too cold. She wants to always be in someone’s lap, but she will settle for a wadded-up blanket next to me if I’m working.

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.

BARBARA DEVLIN & Rufus Fifteen years ago, my husband was searching for a rough-tough bird dog. He bought into a litter, and we anxiously awaited the arrival of the pups. The breeder contacted us to say there were only two pups, a female and a male. A wellknown trainer got first pick, and he chose the female. A day later, the breeder called to say the male had an imperfection, and we could get a refund if we wanted. It turned out he had a little outie for a belly button. To me, that sealed the deal that he was meant to be ours. I

named him Rufus, and he was not at all what my husband planned. Roo-Dawg, as he is primarily known, turned out to be the softest, sweetest little mama’s boy, and he’s always by my side. He celebrated his 15th birthday on March 15, and he’s partially blind and hard of hearing. But he still has the sweetest disposition, and we’re so grateful for the love and joy he brought into our home

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d.a. h e n n ema n

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areers for D.A. Henneman have run the gamut between Customer Service and Floral Design, but the one thing that she always comes back to, are the stories that keep her up at night. During a girl’s weekend at an undisclosed location, an idea for a series about 4 women with Elemental Powers was born. Infused with Fantasy, Romance, and the occasional Werewolf, her stories take the reader on a magical journey where things aren’t always 46 | UncagedBooks.com

as they seem.

D.A. loves to hear from her readers and the best place to pin her down is www.dahenneman.com. Be sure to sign up for updates on future projects while you’re there!

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talked about our ideals in a Hero, sort of “wish list” qualities. One thing led to another, and the ideas were flying so fast that I ended up with plans for four books by the time we came home from that trip. I decided there was just no other way to tell the story in anything less than four books and ended up with a total of six stories and counting. I have always found inspiration all around me, and I would have to say that pretty much anything interesting that I see or hear winds up coming through my fingers in some way, shape, or form.

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

dahenneman.com Uncaged welcomes D.A. Henneman Welcome to Uncaged! You’ve recently re-released your series, The Power of Four. Can you tell readers more about this series? Are you planning on continuing this series or is it complete?

Thank you for having me, I am excited to be here!

Yes, I decided before launching the final book in my Power of Four series, that a relaunch was something I needed to do. Sea of Dreams was my debut, and I am a different writer now, so I felt it was important to tighten up Book 1. I also went through some author rebranding, so decided it would be a good idea to have all of the covers updated as well. The series is complete, including a prequel, and a novelette which I give away free to my newsletter subscribers. That’s not to say I won’t ever write in this world again though, I loved all these characters and could be easily tempted to write a few more things. I may have left a little space for future stories or perhaps even a spin-off series… only time will tell.

What gives you inspiration for your stories?

My first series was inspired by one of my annual girls’ trips, of all things. I had been thinking long and hard about writing a book, and during a chat over drinks we

I am currently working on two projects that I am trying to give equal time to. The first is a paranormal mystery series based loosely on my time as a flower shop owner in a small town. The owner helps customers, living and dead, solve mysteries that come their way. I describe it as a cross between Practical Magic and Ghost Whisperer, and I am having a blast writing it! I am currently querying that series with the hopes of publishing traditionally.

The other project is my Goddesses In Love series, which I will be indie publishing as the books are completed. Book 1, Love For All Seasons, is out now and is my take on the Hades and Persephone myth. It features the goddess of witchcraft, Hecate, and the messenger of the gods, Hermes, who can’t help but dabble in Hades’ love life. It was just launched and can be found on all the places that carry my fantasy series. Book 2 features Medusa, and I am working on her happily-ever-after now. So many fun twists in this story, I can’t wait to share!

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Travel!!! I have missed book signings, in-person conferences, and relaxing on the beach with a good book. As things open up, I am trying to squeeze some of those things in, but I would imagine it won’t be until sometime next year that I am back to my regular schedule. Believe it or not, it is hard to write without getting out and experiencing things. I Issue 57 | April 2021 | 47

| FEATURE AUTHOR | refer to that as “filling my well” and I have to say after a year of being stuck at home, my creative well is running pretty dry.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

I have been a reader for longer than I would care to admit, so there have been countless books that have moved me. A few that come to mind as having a lasting impact on me are: The Stand, by Stephen King, Circe, by Madeline Miller, The Five People You Meet In Heaven, by Mitch Albom, and Maggie’s Way, by Linda Bradley. They touched me for different reasons, and in different stages of my life, but the one that moved me to tears was Sea of Dreams. The first time I held a copy of my own words and two years of my life in my hands, I cried like a baby. It was such an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, one that almost dropped me to my knees.

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

I love gardening, although I don’t make nearly enough time for it which I plan on correcting this year. There is something therapeutic about putting your hands in the dirt and watching the flowers grow. Since I’m a former florist, I also love floral design and often arrange flowers for those who ask me. I most recently did my daughter’s wedding bouquets which came out stunning!

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

I wish I could say I write every day, but I’m more of a binge writer. I have a full-time job currently, so writing is often done in spurts on the weekend or in the wee hours of the morning (not nearly as often for that). I have been releasing a book a year since Sea of Dreams came out, so I’m on a rolling cycle of about 1.5 years to produce a novel, and less time for shorter works. My fantasy romance novels were about the 95,000 word range, however, I am finding 50 | UncagedBooks.com

| D.A. HENNEMAN | the newer genre I’m writing in the books don’t need to be as long, which means I will be able to write more of them. That makes me happy, I love when I’m able to create. There is no feeling quite like it.

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

I love them all, but I tend to read physical books for non-fiction, ebooks for fiction, and audio is saved for podcasts and learning new things. I am reading no less than three books at any given time, and currently I’m reading: Lore, by Alexandra Bracken, Magical Midlife Madness, by K.F. Breene, and Murder At The Beacon Bakeshop, by Darci Hannah.

There are also some non-fiction books on my TBR that I will be using for research, some of which have compelling titles, Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs, by Caitlin Doughty is one that comes to mind. Now that I am writing paranormal mystery, my Google search history and non-fiction book list is pretty interesting.

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

I would like to say that my promise to readers is that my heroines will always be empowered, even if they don’t always start out that way, and that there will be a little bit of magick in everything I write. If you haven’t read one of my books, please consider giving me a try. You can download a free copy of The Jinni’s Wish at: https://BookHip.com/TWLTXJ. I would love to hear what you think! Also, if you are a fellow writer, I post pretty regularly about my writing journey and what I’ve learned, which you can find on my blog at https://dahenneman.com/.

I have a ton of different ways to follow me, and the best place to find all those links is: https:// dahenneman.com/welcome/how-about-a-follow/.

Thank you so much for having me today, and remember to always embrace the journey!

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

Enjoy an excerpt from Sea of Dreams Sea of Dreams D.A. Henneman Fantasy Romance In a land that parallels ours, a great evil lies in wait. To defeat it, Brooke must face her worst nightmare.

Just when Brooke Fisher thought she had a handle on her anxiety, strange things start to happen. In addition to her hair turning green, she has had nothing but cold showers and iced coffee for weeks. When the man starring in her nightmares walks into her reality, she struggles to make sense of her undeniable attraction to him.

The beautiful woman Will Engel has met is complicated in a way that speaks to him. As he helps her unravel the clues in a mysterious journal, he finds that their pasts are intertwined in a way that defies all logic. As an illusionist, he struggles to make sense of the magick that surrounds him.

The threat of the Shadowman from Brooke’s dreams grows stronger, and their journey takes them to a magical land that parallels their own.

What they find confirms Brooke’s destiny as the element of Water, and cements Will’s role in a land he never knew existed. The fate of both worlds is now tied to their choices, but the universe has plans of its own.

Excerpt Chapter 3:

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The Witch’s Brew was by far Brooke’s favorite local coffee shop. After her morning swim classes, she popped in on her way to the book shop. Her latest potion of choice was the pumpkin spice java, topped with a vanilla whip and served with a gingersnap cookie. She had visions of the concoction dancing through her head all morning and instantly relaxed when she walked in the door, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee hit her full force.

She loved the Brew, with its year ‘round Halloween décor. She supposed it was because it reminded her of a cool, crisp autumn, which she didn’t get to see much now that she lived in Florida. Even though the area was a great place for someone who liked to scuba dive, she missed the fall.

The Brew also happened to be the only place that served a real English style tea, which brought back fond memories of Devonshire. She didn’t get back home often enough. When she missed her brother, she would pop into the small coffee house, order an entire pot of tea, and ensconce herself in the corner to video chat with him.

Although Brooke was raised in England, her voice didn’t generally hint at her heritage. Since moving to America, her crisp, cultured tones had been quickly replaced with a lazier and less formal American dialect. Hints of her accent came back after talking to James or having a few cocktails. It was also prominent when she was really worked up – she couldn’t help it.

She had about an hour before starting her shift at the bookstore, which wasn’t far from the Witch’s Brew and located just a stone’s throw from her flat. There was just enough time to do a bit of research.

Brooke parked herself at a corner booth and fired up her laptop. There were dive destinations she was researching, and she was anxious to narrow her choice down. She had finally saved enough to book her trip.

Absently, she stirred the coffee she had been cooling.

The first sip caused her to scrunch her brow since it wasn’t what she expected at all.

“Damn this coffee is cold as ice,” she muttered to herself. “Really unlike this place.”

She walked back to the counter and asked the barista

| D.A. HENNEMAN | for a new cup, thinking perhaps the burner had been shut off, and the coffee allowed to cool. The woman apologized for the inconvenience, handed Brooke a new steaming cup, and tossed in a streusel pumpkin muffin at no charge. Brooke thanked her with a smile and walked back to her table, looking forward to munching on the muffin as she researched her trip.

Paying more attention to what was on her laptop than the drink she held in her hand, she absently blew on the liquid to cool it before attempting a swallow. She took a sip and almost spit it out on her laptop. Cold!

Ice Cold! She was confused. She knew for a fact she had seen the barista pour steaming coffee into the cup right out of the pot. Yet here she was, with a drink that might as well be frozen.

Baffled, she stood and shook her head. “When life gives you lemons,” she said under her breath as she wandered up to the counter to ask for a cup of ice.

There was no way she was asking for another cup of hot coffee at this point. She paid no attention to the strange look on the barista’s face, merely thanked her and pulled a straw and lid from the basket on the self-serve counter.

Back at the table, she poured her coffee over the ice, put on the lid, and popped in the straw. Picking up where she left off on the travel site for Hawaii, she gave a swish to the drink in her cup.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed it was getting darker. A glance outside told her a storm was coming, confirmed by the black clouds rolling in off the coast. They looked like laundry tumbling in a dryer. She was glad she remembered her umbrella, although she didn’t have far to go. While mulling over the best dive sites in Maui, she took her first sip of drink number three.

The warmth of the coffee that came through the straw shocked her tongue, a tongue that proceeded to blat out a very colorful expression as she lowered the cup to the table. The barista glanced over at Brooke. Confusion wrinkled her brows as she wiped the counter and shook her head. Brooke was stunned as she watched the steam rise through the straw like a tiny chimney.

She was aware of the fear and irritation creeping into

her mind, increasing her pulse. The other mishaps from the week bled into that moment, affecting her mood. Her hair was tolerable, she accepted that, and she could even accept her new leather jacket being dowsed last week by the sprinkler system in the hallway outside her flat. Accidents happened. But cold showers for the last couple of days, and now coffee that changed from hot to cold for no reason?

Much as she tried to make light of the situation in her mind, she couldn’t. She wanted to believe they were all coincidences, but she didn’t.

Inevitably, her overactive imagination started making connections between what was happening and the dreams she’d been having. Her worries splintered her mind, fracturing the thin wall she had built years ago to separate dreams from reality. What if the frequent nightmares and the strange things happening to her were related?

What if they were real?

The fear that she would once again become obsessed took root. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, and her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird in a cage. She decided immediately and without question that she had to leave. It wasn’t a thought as much as it was an overwhelming urge. While she packed her laptop, her managed irritation quickly changed to uncontrolled edginess when she felt the temperature in the room drop. A thick blanket of menace covered the typically quaint atmosphere.

Her hands shook, and a chill crept up her spine as she picked up the coffee, which only moments before had been steaming, and watched in confusion and fear as it froze solid. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she looked around the room, her mind frantically trying to make sense of what was happening. In a split second, she processed that she was the only person seeing what she was seeing.

Quickly gathering her things, she moved toward the door. She was on the verge of a major panic attack or delusional meltdown; they were the only explanations that made sense.

As she walked out, every patron she hurried past was in their own world, chatting to friends, Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | texting on phones, and surfing the web. None of them gave the impression they heard or felt anything strange.

It must be me. These sleepless nights are taking their toll. That must be it. Or is it caffeine deprivation? Lord, maybe I do need to make an appointment with Dr. Matthews.

She stepped onto Main Street, pushed the button of her umbrella, and opened it with a whoosh against the darkened skies. With each step, she repeated her mantra, taking deep cleansing breaths as she willed the words to slow her racing heart.

Even though the weather was less than stellar, overcast and drizzly in the sunshine state, she didn’t mind the short walk to her second job, especially since she knew the fresh air would help calm her nerves. By the time she rounded the corner, she was well on her way to rationalizing the strange things that were happening to her.

She had always had a wild imagination, anyone who read as incessantly as she did would. And she knew sleep deprivation took its toll on people in all sorts of bizarre ways. She made a conscious decision to treat what was happening to her like a puzzle she needed to work through – logically and methodically. That decision calmed her more effectively than any drug could. She had found it was control, or at the very least having a plan, that allowed her to squelch her panic when it reared its ugly head.

The wind picked up, pulling and tugging at the edges of the umbrella during her brief walk. Everything was secured in her backpack, so she was able to hang on to it with both hands, keeping herself tucked up under and away from the increasingly steady drizzle.

She was feeling more herself the further away she got from the coffee shop and the closer she got to her destination. To keep her mind occupied, she ran through a mental list of things she needed to get done before the day was through.

The temperature dropped again noticeably. A major storm was brewing, and she pulled up the collar on her fleece jacket to keep the wind from 54 | UncagedBooks.com

blowing down her neck. The streets were void of people, all of whom had likely gone inside to weather the storm. Storms were common this time of year, typically blowing in and out within a thirty-minute window. But this one felt more ominous.

As she walked, a tingling started on the back of her neck that graduated to a creeping, spider-like sensation, moving its way down her spine. Not again, she thought to herself, as she prepared for the next wave of panic and dread to fill her body.

Even with her earlier thoughts of control, she couldn’t shake the feeling she had. It reverberated in her back, crept around her sides, and tangled in her stomach in a quivering mass of nerves. Brooke described it to her therapist once as the “wet blanket,” a suffocating feeling of dread that triggered a full-blown panic attack. In addition to this phenomenon, she had the unmistakable feeling of being watched. But when she looked up the street and down the alleyways, there was no one to be seen.

She breathed through it, once again telling herself it was all in her mind. Picking up the pace, her hurried footsteps sounded on the pavement like the steady beat of a drum. She made it to the Book Nook, just in time for the clouds to let loose, and shut the door firmly behind her, taking a moment to breathe deeply. Brooke knew she needed to get a handle on her nerves. The dream the night before must have affected her more than she realized.

The tall dark figure had been following the beautiful woman with the green hair and bewitching eyes. He had been close enough to touch her, close enough to smell the perfume on her skin, to see the soft curve of her neck, and it pleased him. He had made much progress and was gaining more control each day. Soon, he would be able to take back what belonged to him, take back the item that would find its way to her. Her ignorance would be her undoing.

He watched her with greedy eyes from his vantage point. She ducked into a shop and spoke to a young

| D.A. HENNEMAN | lady inside. He could see the power that surrounded her, a bright blue and green aura, and sensed he did not have much time before she understood the changes she was undergoing.

She was much more perceptive than he had counted on and had missed seeing his presence by mere seconds as he followed her from the café. While he had been quick, hiding in the alleyways or fading into the shadows, he wasn’t quick enough. She seemed to know he was there and that she was being followed.

The thought excited him, this game of cat and mouse as it were. But at the same time, he was fearful. She was already showing signs of her abilities, which might prove to be more of a challenge than he anticipated.

With her growing powers and his talisman nearby, he knew he was running out of time. The journal had not yet made its way to her, but it would happen soon. He felt the book’s waves of energy calling like a siren’s song, and he ached to answer it himself.

As much as it pained him, he refrained from reaching toward the power the book expelled - afraid that if he grasped it, it might disappear again. He was especially fearful of reaching for it in his current fractured state. He knew she was his key to getting it back, to making himself whole. His patience would soon be rewarded.

As he watched her through the window of the store, he considered for a moment what he might do with her once the book was in his possession and the way was unbound. She had the potential to be an immensely powerful sorceress, and there could be many benefits to converting her. He allowed himself to consider all the possibilities, smiling as he made his plans to capture her… and the journal.

Brooke tucked her backpack into the employee area and looked longingly at the half-full coffee pot that was there. The coffee debacle at the Brew was still fresh in her mind, and after careful consideration, she decided it wasn’t worth the attempt. Normally,

she loved the fact that The Book Nook was a small, family-owned store, specializing in antique books and writings. But Alfred McGregor, the store’s owner, was rarely in, which normally suited her fine, but tonight had her frazzled. She wasn’t looking forward to the closing shift alone.

She threw some change into the vending machine instead, pushing for a diet soda and hoping it would at least be cold. She knew the boss didn’t like drinks out by the books, but she was thirsty and really needed some caffeine - her nerves were shot. After a quick reasoning session with herself, she went out to the front counter, greeting Nita who was finishing up her shift.

After commenting that she liked Brooke’s hair, Nita looked at her with concern. “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”

Brooke shook her head and put on a smile. “I’m fine, Nita, thanks. Just edgy today. Didn’t sleep well last night. So, what’s pending?”

Nita accepted Brooke’s explanation and filled her in on the orders she had taken, which didn’t take long as they hadn’t been terribly busy. Brooke explained why her hair was a bit on the funky side, and they both had a good laugh.

“I actually like it. I think it’s adorable the kids thought you would sprout a mermaid tail.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight,” Brooke chuckled as Nita pulled her purse out from under the counter.

“I’d better go. Looks like it’s getting really nasty out there.”

“It is, so be careful driving home. Maybe give me a double ring when you get in, just so I know you’re okay?”

“Sure will. Two rings then hang-up like usual,” Nita agreed. She waved at Brooke while simultaneously pushing her way out the front door and opening her bright yellow umbrella against Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | the storm. It looked like a small bit of sunshine against the darkened skies. Since she was still edgy from her earlier walk to work, Brooke stood in the front window and kept an eye on her coworker until she made it to her car and drove off.

The building was old, weathered like most buildings in coastal towns. The creaks and groans always left her a bit on the uneasy side. The storefront was quiet, and Brooke reached under the counter to turn on the radio as she often did when alone. The oldies station played songs that reminded her of her parents. Then she started on the stack of new arrivals Nita had been working on when she first arrived.

Most of the books she needed to price were on the Top Ten Bestsellers list. She flipped a few of them over, quickly skimming the back to see if they were something she’d be interested in reading. The latest novel by a hot new author caught her eye, and she set it aside to take home.

The books on the bottom of the stack were older, which wasn’t surprising, since the store specialized in hard-to-find, unique, and used books. Interested in seeing what Alfred found this time, she slid the paperbacks from the top to get a better look. She was so absorbed in peeking through the stack, she hadn’t noticed the bell on the door go off until the person who had come through it was standing right in front of her.

A dark shadow crept over the counter toward her, which startled her completely, her arm arching of its own accord from her cringing shoulders.

With a small scream and bounce, she knocked the books from the pile she had been working on and watched helplessly as they sprayed outward, scattering haphazardly across the lobby floor.

The dripping figure turned, the hollow clunk of his leather shoes vibrating from the old wooden floor as he took two steps into the lobby and hunched over the books that had fallen.

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imaginings get the best of her, Brooke came around the service desk and addressed the stranger before he felt obligated to pick up the mess for her.

She apologized without looking at him, her words sounding more like nervous rambling. The man straightened and turned toward her, the shadows falling from his face. As she lifted her head to thank him, their eyes connected, and in a single heartbeat, the queasy feeling she had shaken earlier returned to the pit of her stomach. It can’t be. He can’t be real!

Her hands shook, and her breathing quickened to match her already racing heart. His eyes…the eyes she had seen in her dreams practically her entire life were staring back at her with an intensity that looked right into her soul – and it crippled her.

Fear clawed at her mind, threatening to tear it to shreds as she stared back into his clear, compelling gaze. Paralyzed, her mind raced to fit all the pieces of the mystery together.

Her terror was all consuming as though someone pushed a pillow down over her face but still expected her to breathe. She tried to catch her breath, to fill her lungs and slow her heart rate, but she couldn’t calm herself down. The panic was suffocating her.

Her mind instantly made connections that were impossible, that defied all logic, and she was tired of trying to rationalize it away. The part of her that she had squelched all those years came forward – the part that believed in magic – the part that recognized the man standing before her. “It’s you,” she whispered.

She realized with dismay she was starting to lose consciousness, and through the glittering sparkles, she saw the stranger’s hands reach out. When he reached touched her, Brooke did something she had never done before, something her controlling personality would never allow. She blacked out.

shane wils o n

S

hane Wilson is a storyteller. No matter the medium, the emphasis of his work is on the magical act of the story, and how the stories we tell immortalize us and give voice to the abstractions of human experience.

His first two contemporary fantasy novels, set in his World of Muses universe, are currently available.

Born in Alabama and raised in Georgia, Shane is a child of the southeastern United States where he feels simultaneously at-home and out-of-place. He graduated from Valdosta State University in south Georgia with a Masters in English. He taught college English in Georgia for four years before moving to North Carolina in 2013.

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Shane plays guitar and writes songs with his twoman-band, Sequoia Rising. He writes songs as he writes stories--with an emphasis on the magic of human experience. He tends to chase the day with a whiskey (Wild Turkey 101) and a re-run of The Office.

Shane’s novels are A Year Since the Rain (Snow Leopard Publishing, 2016) and The Smoke in His Eyes (GenZ Publishing, 2018). Shane’s short story, “The Boy Who Kissed the Rain” was the 2017 Rilla Askew Short Fiction Prize winner and was nominated for a 2018 Pushcart Prize.

Shane is currently at work on a new novel.

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shanewilsonauthor.com Uncaged welcomes Shane Wilson Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest book came out in January, The Boy Who Kissed the Rain. Can you tell us more about this book and can you explain why it’s a Stage Play?

Thanks for having me! The Boy Who Kissed the Rain is the story of Lance, a young man who lives at the edge of a colonial settlement. The members of this colony have struck a deal with the magical creatures of the forest, called Little Thunders, who bring the rain. This deal is basically over the boundaries of the settlement and the land that the Little Thunders are allowed to occupy without human interference. Lance considers these stories to be a farce, and he encroaches on the border between the two groups. This is where he meets Luna, a Little Thunder. The two fall in love and attempt a romantic relationship all the while knowing that their love is doomed from the start.

The Boy Who Kissed the Rain was actually a short story before it was ever a stage play. I wrote this story a number of years ago, and I initially struggled to find a home for it. The story was a little saccharine and sentimental compared to what I normally write—it’s really borderline romance.

Regardless, I continued to submit the story because I believed in it, and it eventually found a home in Conclave: A Journal of Character where it won the Rilla Askew Short Fiction Prize. I was thrilled.

Now, its journey to the stage is a bit more involved.

I was a theater kid growing up. I was a theater major for a while in college. I love live performance and I think live theater is a magical experience. I decided on a whim that I wanted to try my hand at writing as stage play, and I settled on adapting this short story for the stage because I think there are compelling characters and opportunities for interesting visuals. So, I wrote the adaptation, turning this short story into a full two act stage play, and the rest, I suppose, is history.

You also are a musician and have intertwined storytelling and music. Can you tell us more about this creative melting of mediums that you do?

This “creative melting” (a term I like, by the way) really started with my second novel, The Smoke in His Eyes. I was interested in exploring the creative impulse and the myriad of reasons why artists pursue their art. I decided this could be explored in interesting ways through musicians, but I didn’t play an instrument. I also didn’t want to write about musicians making music without some foundational understanding of what that would be like. So, I bought a cheap guitar and taught myself to play.

When I first strung together a handful of chords and played a song that I had listened to a million times, it was like unlocking a magic trick. I’ve always had a passion for music, and finding the ability to play it myself was the only nudge I needed to move forward with that.

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I have missed playing live music and discussing my books at readings and conventions. I can’t wait to get back to that stuff.

| FEATURE AUTHOR | story even more texture. That song, called “Before We Fade Away” is featured on my band’s new album, Of All the Things I’ve Ever Said, I Mean This the Most.

Where do you find your inspiration for the next novel?

Oh man—what a great question. I wish I knew, honestly. I guess some real-life event has triggered all of the stories I’ve written so far, but the way they come out on the page never really mirrors the real story in a literal way. The stories all become allegories of a sort—extended metaphors that speak to the original inspiration without ever really touching it. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but there it is.

What do you have coming up next that you can tell us about?

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my band, Sequoia Rising, and our new album once again.

You can stream that anywhere you stream music.

It’s singer-songwritery/ acoustic goodness that is perfect for crawling into your feelings on a rainy day.

Otherwise, I am getting ready to send my third novel off to the publisher so we can start prepping for a release sometime next year.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

On a professional creative level—live events! I have missed playing live music and discussing my books at readings and conventions. I can’t wait to get back to that stuff.

On a personal level—concerts! I miss going to see shows. I have tickets for a show that was supposed to be last April, and I think I might finally get to go to the re-re-rescheduled date in October.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

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I remember having very emotional reactions to Where the Red Fern Grows and Tuck Everlasting as a child.

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

You mentioned the pandemic a couple of questions back, and I’ll tell you that when the shutdown first started last year, I was faced with a lot of time in the apartment. I was teaching online, and I was abiding by the stay-at-home orders. We couldn’t have friends over.

We all remember what it was like. It’s still happening.

So, anyway, in the early days of the pandemic, I downloaded the videogame, Fortnite just to give it a go, and I became immediately enthralled with it. It probably seems silly, and I always thought it was just a kid’s game. But I have so much fun, and there is something immediately relaxing about the game. I don’t know, but I play a little Fortnite just about every day.

Add in a glass of whiskey and finish it off with a re-run

of The Office, and that’s a perfect way to unwind after grading papers all day.

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

I might catch some flak for this, but I do not write every day. I teach college English, and I have somewhere north of 100 students every semester. I am constantly reading and grading those essays during the school year, and that is mentally taxing. If I work on my own writing during the schoolyear, I’m editing because my brain is already tuned in to edit mode.

I do most of my writing over the summer break, and during the summer, I treat writing like my job. There are days that I’ll write for 6-8 hours. I’m putting down 3,000-6,000 words a day over the summer. I can get a first draft done in 2-3 months at that pace.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

| SHANE WILSON | Are you reading anything now?

I prefer physical books. I think my relationship with the story feels deeper if I’m holding the pages. I don’t know that I understand it on a psychological level. I’ve read books on ereaders, but I just don’t have a connection with the Kindle like I do a physical copy.

Audiobooks have never been my thing. I’m glad they exist for people who enjoy consuming stories that way, but it’s not for me.

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

I’m always a little weirded out by the word “fans.”

We’re all friends here. If you’re reading or listening and you’re able to find something you enjoy, I appreciate that.

Enjoy an excerpt from The Boy Who Kissed the Rain The Boy Who Kissed the Rain Shane Wilson Magic Realism The forest outside of Wasser is filled with magic.

When the rains fall over the land, it is because of the dances of mystical beings called Little Thunders. Long ago, the people of Wasser agreed not to explore the wilderness beyond the river. That land belonged to the Thunders. In exchange, the Thunders would continue to bring rain to Wasser if the people there respected the boundaries and rules.

All was well until Lance ventured beyond those Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | boundaries and met Luna, a Little Thunder. From Shane Wilson and his World of Muses, “The Boy Who Kissed the Rain” is a story of forbidden desire, impossible choices, and parents’ love for their children. Read the original, 2017 Rilla Askew Short Fiction Prize-winning story and the stage adaptation here, collected for the first time in a single volume.

could feel the spray of the water on the skin of his face. Enraptured by the river, he sat by its side for many hours failing to take notice of the dark clouds gathering above him. Soon, the rains came and the water was falling hard. The rains came often in those days, so he was used to rain-dampened skin and drops of water catching on the sprigs of hair that fell over his forehead.

Excerpt

He loved the rain. He thought back to those days as a child when he would watch the sky through his window. When he heard drops on the roof of the house, he always made a dash for the door—little clumsy feet made deliberate by a finite goal. As a child he couldn’t explain it, but there was something about feeling the water on his skin that connected him to nature—made him feel like he finally belonged where he lived. Even when he was a little older and learned the art of sneaking, he more often than not failed to sneak past his mother’s watchful eye and into the falling water. “How many times do I have to tell you?” she would ask. “We don’t go outside when it rains.”

His mother’s memories of those early years were of a crooked and hurting back, blistered fingers, and the sound of little feet on hardwood and young laughter echoing down empty halls. They were memories of trying her best to keep Lance out of the rain. “We don’t go outside when it rains,” she would say. “There is something different about the rain here. Something we don’t understand.”

Soon those memories would pass from her into the child, and as Lance ran over hills and through pastures with the other children of Wasser, he became a teenager—all arms and legs and dark hair.

He grew up running through the wilderness, exploring the depths of the forests around Wasser.

And every day for him in that place was the same until it wasn’t.

As he aged, he pushed further into the wilderness until the day he found where the forest met the river. He had never trusted the older people in town when they told him that Wasser was surrounded on three sides by water. The town’s center was near the waterfront facing west, but he had never seen the river to the east, and he was the type to not believe in something unless he could prove it empirically.

He stood on the bank, mesmerized by the movement of the water. The rapids here were much more violent than in town, and as children are typically unaware of the general vulnerability of the human body, it was the first time he felt mortal.

Lance sat on the grass near the beast where he 64 | UncagedBooks.com

So on that day as a very young adult, when the rain began to fall, he did not scramble to stand up and run back to town. Instead he sat, his arms wrapped around his knees. He watched the river and felt the rain puddle and run on his skin—small tributaries on an earth of flesh. He was finally out of the house when the rains came. His mother could not scoop him up and warn him of the mysteries of the rain.

Even when night fell, he couldn’t leave the river’s edge. Lance was soaked, and even if he couldn’t see it for the clouds, he knew the sun had set. The rain had continued to fall well into the night’s darkness, but the river’s spell still held on to him. He ran his hand over his face—a mere formality at that point. Running a wet hand over wet skin would only redistribute the moisture, especially in still-falling rain.

He stood—clothes soaked—and turned to make his way back home when something that seemed out of place caught his eye. In the darkness of the night and cloud-cover, he could see a soft light in the trees

| SHANE WILSON | across the rapids from where he stood—on the other side of the river. He continued to stand as if frozen in place. At first, it was a soft glow, barely noticeable even by night. But as he watched, the light from the trees across the rushing water began to intensify, as if its source was moving toward him.

His vision was blurred by the falling rain—the occasional drop of which would land near enough his eye to splash in and make him blink. He held a hand up over his eyes to try to keep the water out, but as the light grew brighter, the rain fell harder. In his chest, he felt the pounding of his heart grow harder and faster, like it wanted to break out. Even though he was afraid, he would tell himself he was anxious, but he couldn’t turn away. Through the thick trees, he saw a more distinctive shape—something that looked like a person cloaked in glow of lightening. His gazed was unblinking—his fear of seeing equal only to his fear of looking away.

water, floating just above its violent surface. She came closer and closer to him, bringing a wind that blew the rain sideways. As her body cleared the river, her feet touched softly down upon the grass only a few feet away from him. The wind stopped blowing. She raised her arms slightly, palms down, and the rain calmed to a drizzle.

Don’t miss these titles:

And then, there she was—a woman wearing light.

It couldn’t have been that she was glowing herself.

That wouldn’t have made even as much sense as the alternative which was that she had discovered in the forest some way to manufacture fabric made, not of the source of light, but of the intangible light itself.

He wanted to see, but he didn’t want to see. He wanted to believe what he saw, but he wasn’t sure he could.

Without realizing it, he had moved to crouch behind a tree. On any other day of his life, he would have been so brave. His childhood had been spent volunteering to be the seeker—never wanting to be the hider.

The powers of Lance’s mind were being challenged.

He couldn’t seem to navigate the information that his eyes were delivering his mind. This challenge to his mind only grew when he saw that this woman— this being—was floating just above the ground. The parts of her body that he could see through the light, her legs and arms and face, were bare, and the trees’ branches seemed to part for her as she moved—like her body was made of wind. She was surrounded by the blue light, and she moved to the edge of the river where she did not stop. She moved across the rushing Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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shortstory Pt. 2

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

Ignition Point

by Jami Gray Keeping the car between us and whatever was happening on the other side, I pulled the boy along as I made an awkward dash across an empty parking lot toward the buildings squatting alongside the road.

The sounds of fighting chased us, along with the nose-curling sharp scent of ozone, a sign that lethal amounts of magic were being flung around. Since I didn’t want to get caught by whoever was generating that kind of power, I intended to put as much distance between us as possible.

tered offices lined three of the four edges like a U, each protected by overhead lights. One more building shared by two offices sat in the middle of the only two entry points.

We were as protected as we could get.

I kept an eye on the two shadowed walkways as I crouched in front of the boy. There was just enough light to make out his pale face and wide eyes. The poor kid was freaked, and I couldn’t blame him. I put my hands on his knees and he stiffened but I could feel the tremors coursing through him. I let go and pulled my hands back, trying not to make things worse. “It’ll be okay.” I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to reassure at this point, but since I was the adult, I figured it was best to fake it until we made it out of there. “What’s your name?”

When the boy stumbled, I wrapped my arm around his waist. Together, we managed a stumbling lope as we headed to the questionable protection of the nearby buildings. Everything was dark and closed up tight, so there was little chance of finding shelter inside, but maybe we could hide in the maze of narrow walkways in between. It wasn’t much, but I just needed a few minutes to figure out how to get us out of this.

His lips worked, trying to form a name, but all that came out was an unintelligible grunt. I didn’t need the color that washed under his skin or his fierce frown as he grabbed his throat to put two and two together.

A dark thought struck me, joining the circling suspicions that formed while we made our retreat from the wreck. “Muting spell?”

Behind me, the night lit up again with an unnatural glow. A pained screech ripped through the air, and the light flickered out, darkness taking control again.

Anger burned through my anxiety as my suspicions morphed into uncomfortable certainty, leaving my vow of professional neutrality in ashes. “Mr. Jones?”

Heh, guess I wasn’t the only one not having a good night. Anxiety gave my thoughts a borderline hysterical edge. I spotted a narrow opening between the buildings and darted toward it, dragging the boy along. For shits and giggles, I tried the doors as we passed. Locked, locked, locked. I finally gave up and took random turns until we were deep inside the maze of walkways where the darkness draped everything in thick shadows. I slowed, skirting the occasional pool of illumination cast by the security lights. Another left dropped us into a neatly contained courtyard where two metal benches faced off. I tugged the boy over to one of the benches. “Sit for a second and catch your breath.”

Fortunately, he didn’t argue but dropped onto the bench. I stood in front of him, surveying the small green space as I tried to slow my racing pulse. Shut68 | UncagedBooks.com

He gave a sharp nod.

Another nod.

Mr. Jones was an utter bastard. I kept my opinion silent. “Right. Okay, since he’s dead…” I ignored the kid’s jerk and wide eyes and kept going. “The spell should fade on its own, which means we’ll have to make do. That work for you?” I waited for his agreement before continuing. “Let’s start with your name and see how well I can read lips. Ever play charades?”

His wariness held fast, but he eventually gave me a nod.

“Good. So first, how many syllables?”

He held up three shaky fingers.

| JAMI GRAY | “Got it. The first one sounds like?”

His lips pulled back, revealing braces, and he puffed out a silent sound.

I watched closely and began working my way through possibilities. “E? H? J?” At his excited nod, I went through more specific options. “Johnathan? Julian?

Jeremy?”

He grabbed my face, his fingers digging in deep, and nodded.

After covering his hands, I pulled them down to his lap and squeezed them gently. “Hey, Jeremy, nice to meet you. I’m Rory.” Now that he had given me his name, it was time to figure out how big of a mess I’d stepped into. It would be so much easier if Jeremy could talk, but until the muting spell faded, I was out of luck. “Did you know Mr. Jones?”

He shook his head furiously.

Yeah, I’d kind of figured that one out, but I still had to ask. Considering the cloak and dagger of this whole shitshow, I went for the worst-case scenario. “Did he kidnap you?” Jeremy’s nod and the fear on his face sent a chill down my spine. “So, you don’t know where he was taking you?”

Another headshake.

There were a million and one reasons someone would kidnap a kid, and none were good. Taking him to the address Mr. Jones gave me was definitely out now. I wasn’t keen about delivering this boy to an unknown party to endure whatever the hell waited for him. That was so far beyond my personal lines I’d never be able to live with it. My best bet was to take him back to the Guild offices and find out who he belonged to. Kissing my impressive paycheck and future plans good-bye, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and rose. “Can you stick with me for just a little bit longer?”

He studied my face then slowly dipped his chin in agreement.

Asking him to trust a stranger after he’d just been kidnapped was huge, but Jeremy had a depth of

strength that boded well for his future. First up, we needed to get the hell out of here. Time to call in Lena. I dug into my pocket, searching for my phone.

“What do we have here?”

At the sound of a mocking male voice, I spun around and took a protective stance, keeping Jeremy behind me.

Sauntering out of the shadows, a wiry male walked toward us and stopped at the edge of the sidewalk.

But he wasn’t alone. A woman, tall and broad shouldered, stepped out of the second walkway. With both entry points blocked, we were trapped.

A litany of foul words ran through my head as I desperately searched for an exit strategy. The man took a few more steps forward, crossing through the illumination cast by the security light. It was just enough to identify a familiar utility belt wrapped around his waist, indicating he was a casting mage, someone who relied on ritualistic spells to assist with his dirty work. The woman mimicked him, gaining a few more feet. A quick scan showed she carried no visible weapons, but I wasn’t fooled. Like Mr. Jones, her magic swept before her, brushing along the edges of mine with a familiar intensity. Great, just what we needed, a pair of mercenary mages. If it was just me, I’d go on the attack, but I had to keep Jeremy safe.

The only offensive weapon I had was the gun tucked along my ribs inside my jacket. I could take out one threat, but while I did so, the other would try to take me down.

This sucked.

“Give us the boy and walk away.” The woman’s voice was surprisingly beautiful—mesmerizing, in fact— so much so that the sound of it set my magical teeth on edge. The hair along my skin rose in warning.

Behind me, Jeremy moved as if drawn forward by her voice. I stepped back, crowding his slight frame. I released the tight hold on my magic, letting it thicken around me, and tried to spread it out to cover him. I had no idea what I was doing, but it wasn’t like I had a lot of options here. Luckily, the boy stopped moving.

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| SHORT STORY | “Can’t do that.”

The man moved forward, pulling my attention to the right. “Sure you can. We’ll make sure he gets delivered.” Jeremy’s knuckles brushed my spine as he clutched at my jacket. Not wanting him to reveal the holster under my jacket, I reached back to stop him, but I froze when the woman to my left said, “Uh-uh.

Keep your hands where we can see them, please.”

My thoughts went fuzzy for a second, but I kept my hands at my side and turned my palms up, a clear sign I was unarmed. Wow, a polite attacker. How refreshing.

My weirdly removed thought collided with the realization that the woman facing me was a Harmonizer.

Sound wielded by an air mage was an intimidating weapon. Hit the right frequency and a Harmonizer could liquify your heart or create long-lasting brain damage. Recognizing the inherent threat she posed, my magic hummed, deepening its invisible protective shell. The strange mental fuzziness lifted, and I thought fast. “My contract states I stay with the package until delivery is secured.” If I could convince them Jeremy and I were a package deal, I might be able to work this mess to my advantage.

“Yeah, that doesn’t work for us.” The man raised a fist, opened it, and blew across his open palm.

I couldn’t see the spell, but I sure as hell felt it. Damn casting mage. My hands dropped, and I bent over as his magic hit like an invisible fist sinking brutally into my stomach. Invisible chains snapped around my legs, trying to hold me in place as they inexorably wound their way up to my hips and tightened with each coil. The fragmentation spell, which normally shattered bone, hit the protective shield of my magic like a deafening hammer, sending reverberations along my skin. As his spell battered at my power, he stood there and smirked, evidently prepared to enjoy the show.

Taking advantage of his belief that his magic would trump any defense I could mount, I used my pained position to conceal my movements. I pulled my gun free of the holster as I straightened. I barely registered his smirk shifting to a look of shock as I brought the gun up and fired. The shot reverberated through the night and left my ears ringing. The 70 | UncagedBooks.com

Caster stumbled back, clutching his left side, but didn’t go down.

Dammit.

I adjusted my aim and began to pull the trigger back when the woman opened her mouth and hummed a single, sustained note. Three things happened at once.

My second shot dropped the Caster. The wave of sound slammed into me with enough force that I dropped my gun and stumbled back into Jeremy. A shadow dropped from seemingly nowhere with an ear-piercing shriek and attacked the Harmonizer, turning her lethal note into pained screams, disrupting her magic.

A figure strode out of the darkness and loomed behind the woman. A black-gloved hand caught her forehead and jerked it back, exposing her throat. Light glinted off the blade in his other hand. Understanding what was about to happen, I spun around and did my best to block Jeremy’s view of the impending violence. His night was bad enough without adding this particular nightmare to his repertoire.

Unfortunately, I could do nothing to cover the wet gurgle that signaled that the Harmonizer was permanently out of commission. I craned my neck to look over my shoulder just in time to watch her collapse into a lifeless heap at the foot of the assassin. My relief was short-lived.

Magic slammed into me, hitting my protective shield like shotgun pellets and leaving behind a stinging sensation as if I were being whipped with nettles. I turned to find the Caster propped up on one hand, his furious gaze on me as his mouth worked, muttering the incantation for his next attack. My magic flared, and I watched in horror as cut after cut opened over every exposed inch of his body. He began to scream, but the sound was cut short by a black-handled blade that sank into his throat. His frantic gaze left me and turned to the nightmare stalking his way with lethal purpose. I lost sight of the Caster as our questionable savior stepped in front of him.

Locked in place by a nauseating mix of adrenalinelaced fear and protective fury, I missed my chance to get the hell out of there while the assassin’s back was turned. By the time my brain was tracking, I’d man-

aged to pick up my gun and herd Jeremy back a few feet.

The assassin turned, shadows playing over a face that epitomized menace, and took a step toward us.

“Stop.” To emphasize my point, I lifted my gun and aimed at his chest. It was a wide enough target for me to hit. I kept Jeremy behind me, my fingers curled around his wrist.

The man stopped and cocked his head. “What? No thank you?”

“Thank you,” I repeated back inanely. “We appreciate the help, but it’s past the kid’s bedtime, and he needs to get home.” For a moment I wondered if the Harmonizer’s attack had left me brain damaged.

What in the hell was I doing?

“Going to be a little difficult getting home by curfew if you don’t know where he lives, isn’t it?” He took a couple of steps forward, coming out of the shadows.

Dark hair and dark eyes were joined by a closecropped beard covering an angled jaw. Add in the imposing height and wide shoulders, and I knew I was way the hell out of my league. If it was just me, I’d turn tail and haul ass, but I couldn’t leave the kid behind. “I’ve got it under control.” I tried not to wince at the obvious lie.

White teeth flashed briefly, but Jeremy chose that moment to pry my fingers off his wrist. Unable to keep hold of him and maintain my aim, I turned, lowering my arm to stop him. With my attention split between the assassin and Jeremy, I wasn’t prepared for the silent attack from the air that sliced wicked fire along my extended arm. My vision filled with flashes of a sharp beak and malevolent eyes as I batted away the storm of feathers with my free hand. My fingers spasmed, dropping the gun to the ground a-fuckinggain. A sharp one-two note sounded, and the flurry of the attacking raptor cleared, just in time for me to see Jeremy darting around me. Heart lodged in my throat, I lunged for him and missed.

“Uncle Zev!” His voice and the words it formed caught me up short.

| JAMI GRAY | had finally worn off, but “uncle”? I regained my balance as Jeremy hit the assassin full-on with no noticeable impact.

“I knew you’d come.”

At Jeremy’s muffled pronouncement, I stifled a wince and slowly straightened, trying to ignore the temptation of my gun lying just out of reach. Great. I was the only one still standing after this cluster of a kidnapping, and I was unarmed. My night was looking particularly daunting. Determined not to give Uncle Grim any further reason to sic his pet attack avian on me, I held my position and kept my hands visible.

Dark eyes pinned me as he cupped the back of Jeremy’s head while it burrowed into his stomach. There was something arresting about his silent reassurance to his nephew that made the brainless emo part of me go, “Aww, cute” for all of a millisecond. What he said next shut that voice up quick.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave you with the rest of the garbage.” The whip of contempt in his voice was barely concealed by his soft tone.

Not keen on joining the recently killed, I opened my mouth to answer, but Jeremy beat me to it. “That’s Rory. She got me out of the car when we wrecked.”

Uncle Zev looked far from impressed. I slowly raised my hands, palms forward. “If it helps any, I was hired by a private anonymous party to drive a package to an undisclosed location. When I arrived to pick up the car, I was further informed that Mr. Jones would accompany me on the delivery run. I didn’t realize Jeremy was the package until I was already behind the wheel.” Damn, repeating the job details out loud sounded bad even to me.

The End, Pt.3

© Copyright 2020 Jami Gray All rights reserved.

Published with permission.

Not only did it appear that Mr. Jones’s muting spell Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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feature authors

Liz Arnold

Barbara Devlin

historical romance

Anna Markland

li z ar n o l d

L

iz Arnold remembers writing her first drama around age ten in which a romance plot figured prominently. It was a western about a young woman whose father had been killed by bandits, and the local town banker offered to marry her to “save the ranch.” What the heroine didn’t know was that the banker had paid the bandits to kill her father so the bank could foreclose on the prosperous ranch. Today, Liz’s heroines make their own choices with a strong, yet flawed hero alongside who works to quell his own demons. Together they learn that love conquers many problems all while being set against the backdrop of exciting times in American history.

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Her first historical Message to Love was published by The Wild Rose Press in 2010.

In 2019, she completed a Master of Fine Arts (MFA) in Writing Popular Fiction at Seton Hill

University which was one of the best professional decisions she ever made. She is currently working on a trilogy of historical romance novels set in the Northwest Territory of the late 1700’s before Ohio became a state.

Liz is a member of Romance Writers of America, Northeast Ohio RWA, RWA Online, and teaches English part-time online. She is a frequent guest speaker for writers’ groups and loves yoga, meditation, and herb gardening.

Liz’s motto: Live today. Laugh at yesterday. Love the promise of tomorrow.

Stay Co n n e c te d

tured by a Shawnee Indian clan who happen to be suffering from an epidemic of smallpox. Regardless of the condition, Molly Hilliard selflessly tends to those who need help because it’s her calling to be a healer. Her steadfast dedication to being a physician is challenged by the existence of a man she meets on her way to the frontier. Romney Applewood. He’s got his own demons to overcome and find the right doctor to help his fourteen-year-old sister who he rescued from an abusive situation. She’s mute but otherwise seems healthy. Dr. Molly wants Romney to help get her down the Ohio River to a town called Marietta, but he is going the opposite direction.

There is a bounty on his head because he is suspected of being a traitor. Molly and Romney discover that it takes love and respect for all people to blaze a trail together on the frontier.

What inspires you to write in the historical genre?

Do you have a lot of research?

Uncaged welcomes Liz Arnold Welcome to Uncaged! A Healing Touch released in August and is a historical western romance featuring a medicine woman. Can you tell readers more about this book?

Hello and thank you for this opportunity to talk to Uncaged Book Reviews! A Healing Touch started out as my second historical novel project. The first one (Message to Love) was inspired by a dream and ended up being set in a difficult place (Cuba!) for me to reach as far as research, but I did my best. I wanted to write something closer to home. I love the Ohio Valley and its rich history and superb resources.

The story is about a young female herbal healer in 1796 Baltimore with a desire to be doctor, but women aren’t offered that kind of education or opportunity at the time. Her family has previously moved to the Northwest Territory (now the state of Ohio) so she decides to join them and start her own practice there. It turns out to be an arduous journey. She encounters everything from a near-drowning in the Ohio River to being cap-

I’ve always been a fan of historical fiction because I have this continuous curiosity that makes me ask a lot of questions. One of my favorites is how did someone do something yesterday that I’m doing today? As far as research, I love that part and can be my own worst enemy by going way too far down rabbit holes. However, that tendency always leads me to some interesting facts that I sprinkle throughout my books. I also get a major thrill out of finding and working with primary sources like actual letters and journals from a time period. They provide my stories with authentic tone and allow me to include snippets of things that readers of historical fiction appreciate. For instance, the character Romney wears a crescent-shaped “earbob” made from silver which is something I came across in my research.

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

I saw an intriguing request by an agent on Twitter asking for a story based on a historical event that took place in Charleston, South Carolina during the Reconstruction period after the Civil War. Because it involves a mermaid, I’m writing a young adult Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | historical fantasy novel that has been a pleasure to research and write even though fantasy isn’t my normal genre.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Actually, I’ve kinda enjoyed being home. Something about being a reclusive writer and a Scorpio has allowed me to feel okay with being home all the time. That said, I’m anxious to get back to yoga class in a studio and not in my home workout space seven days a week.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

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The Wizard of Oz by Frank L. Baum because it’s the quintessential heroine’s journey story and the characters are so metaphorical. I love double-duty characters who tell the story as well have a deeper meaning to their existence.

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

Yoga, meditation, and herb gardening are my saviors.

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

I write about four hours a day five to six days a week.

Because I teach online and it pays the bills, I have to devote time to that as well.

From the first time the pen hits the notebook paper and I start writing down the plot to the last revision session takes six months.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books?

Are you reading anything now?

I have learned to appreciate ebooks, but I hands-down prefer physical books. Right now I’m reading: The Heroine’s Journey: For Writers, Readers, and Fans of Pop Culture by Gail Carriger Romance in Season by Barbara Jean Miller My Last Duchess by Eloisa James and Dracula by Bram Stoker (I read it once a year because I’m fascinated by the many contemporary issues we face that it addresses such as patriarchy, gender, wealth and status, and it’s epistolary in format, which I love.)

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

Liz’s motto: Live today. Laugh at yesterday. Love the promise of tomorrow.

Enjoy an excerpt from A Healing Touch A Healing Touch Liz Arnold Western Historical Romance

lems of the heart.

Doctor Hilliard: Medicine Woman. Snakebites or smallpox, saving people, including herself, is what Molly Hilliard does best, and she intends on being a doctor in the Northwest Territory, except he guide is causing all sorts of prob-

| LIZ ARNOLD | In post-revolutionary America, Molly Hilliard wants to be more than an herbal healer, and she answers the lure of adventure on the Ohio River and journeys to the Northwest Territory seeking the freedom to set up a medical practice. Along the way, she tries to hire Romney Applewood as a guide, but he is going the opposite direction. After ten years as a captive of the Delaware Indians, Romney wants to get as far east as possible to forget his past and avoid the bounty on his head for taking part in raids upon settlers’ homes.

Something about the way she sacrifices herself to heal others, and something about the way he endures the difficulties he encounters because of his tormented past, links them in more than their quest as they blaze new trails in their lives and on America’s frontier.

Excerpt The rushing water snatched them, and they floated fast to the joint of the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers. Romney watched as Molly gripped the canoe sides while cool air from the fresh mountain melts whipped the hair back from her face. Another paddle lay in the bottom of the boat, but she didn’t move to pick it up.

Romney paddled with the current. Dip. Pull. Lift.

Dip. Pull. Lift. He didn’t speak, but his rhythmic breathing echoed over the plow of his oar shoving the waves behind them.

He kept one eye on the waterway stretching out in front of them and the other eye on Molly’s quiet presence in the canoe. Mud stained the hem of her skirt as it lay gathered at her feet. The fact that she didn’t appear concerned about the dirt on her clothes made him wonder if he had misjudged her.

Most women would be in a tizzy over the damage to their skirts. Molly looked steadfast and determined.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | as she inhaled a deep breath. The songs of afternoon birds filled the air, trees whipped by on the banks, and a crow screeched its distinct call to the others in his murder. Romney sent up a prayer to The Great Spirit that the call of the crow was a good sign and this would be a successful hunt.

Romney stopped the steady drag of the paddle and held it in the water as they sailed along with the rapid flow.

“Do you need me to help?” she asked without turning around.

“We cannot afford to lose the paddle,” Romney answered stiffly.

“I can hold on to a canoe paddle, thank you. Perhaps as well as you.”

“It is not necessary. When the current slows, you can help.”

“How long before we reach Fort McIntosh?”

Romney did not answer. She repeated, “How long—” “It depends on the way of the sipo.” He paused.

“The speed of the river.”

As they neared the waters’ apex, multiple canoes and flatboats of all sizes came into view.

“Is that the Ohio?” she asked pointing up ahead.

“It is,” Romney replied, his eyes steady on the crowded waterway ahead.

Several vessels crowded together and stretched across almost the entire width of the river from the east to the west bank.

“I didn’t realize how many people would be on the river today,” Molly said, picking up her paddle and dipping it into the water.

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Snow on the mountains had finally melted due to the spring thaw, and the river’s pace had intensified as a result. Anxious, eager settlers had waited for months for the ice on the river to break apart. They had lived out the winter on their dry-docked boats or in wagons, some in make-shift dwellings, praying for the cold to give way soon.

The first early morning crack of the frozen chunks was heard a little more than a week ago, and it stirred everyone into action. Romney noted one particular flatboat ahead that had a wagon lashed to the top of the cabin with a woman perched on the seat surveying the scene. She did not appear worried about the precariousness of her position.

“What if that woman on the wagon falls into the river?” Molly asked to no one in particular. “These aren’t the calmest waters I’ve ever seen.” She leaned her body forward then back in rhythm with the stroke of her paddle.

Romney struggled to keep his eyes on the congestion ahead and not on Molly’s tiny figure swaying in time with her oar.

Without warning, the current slowed, and Molly matched her strokes to the sounds of Romney’s paddle as it dipped and pulled on the other side. Together they created a single, unified motion propelling them evenly through the water, bringing them closer to the array of boats clustered at the point. However, they were still relatively close to the Pittsburgh side of the Allegheny River.

Romney reversed his paddling action to slow them down, but some other people didn’t seem to heed the dangers of so many boats in one small area. Romney struggled against the pull of the strong current to avoid running into the other boats, but they passed by as if it were a race.

Yelling, whistling, fiddle music, and a general cacophony filled the air as the excited pioneers mixed their voices with the river’s frantic, splashing water.

| LIZ ARNOLD | Molly held her paddle firmly below the waterline as Romney guided them forward toward a group of larger boats stalled in the water. How could the river be rushing past them and these boats be motionless?

Soon the cause of the commotion made itself visible.

Three flatboats had jammed against each other and were turned in dangerous opposition to the current.

“We need to hold back,” Molly yelled over her shoulder.

Romney held his paddle firmly straight up and down in the water, but they headed for the melee in spite of his efforts.

Suddenly women screamed and men worked with increased, frantic speed to separate the connections while some attempted to keep them steady. Another boat floated up fast and slammed into one of the stalled vessels with a violent crash. Wood splintered in every direction, sending flailing people haphazardly into the cold water.

Boats, wagons, animals, goods, and people spilled into the river. Boxes and trunks smashed into some of the chunks of ice floating aimlessly on the surface.

Livestock splashed into the water now rippling with violent waves. In no time, the chaos reached from one side of the river to the other.

Wave after wave of water folded back from the disaster, splashing against the sides of Romney and Molly’s canoe. Then a strong jolt from behind, as if they had been hit by another boat, tipped them into the erratic depths with everyone and everything else.

As soon as he felt the bump, Romney dropped the oar and grabbed for Molly, catching her by the shoulders as they submerged.

the deep waves with outstretched arms. Debris washed over them and slowed down their progress. He fanned his strong legs again and again until they were near the water’s edge.

Soon, they crawled up on the riverbank. Struggling for breath and pushing the hair out of their eyes, they sat on the sand and viewed the devastation. Their canoe had vanished, and rapid waves rippled in at their feet. People yelled and flapped their arms frantically while boxes and debris bobbed around them. Survivors hung desperately onto things floating in the river as they called for help.

“We…” Molly began, gasping for air, water dripping from her face. “How c-can we h-help them?”

Romney focused on the chaos. The crying, screaming, and confusion sounded to him like the fighting he had known as a Delaware. The sense of panic stretching up and down the river forced old habits to rise in his consciousness. He calmed his mind and steadied his body with a deep breath.

“Are you safe?” he asked.

Molly nodded. “Can you help them?”

He stood up and walked to the water as his eyes scanned the scene while deciding which direction to go. Romney stretched his arms out in front of his chest and dove back into the violent, swelling current.

In seconds, ice-cold blackness sucked on Romney’s body. He kicked his legs and erupted through the surface, Molly in his arms. Her heavy, wet skirts swirled around his legs, but he kicked harder, propelling them toward the riverbank. He held Molly tightly with one arm wrapped at her waist. Water sputtered from her mouth as she fought against the powerful pull of Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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BARBARA DEVLIN

A

proud Latina, USA Today bestselling, Amazon All-Star author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, Delaware that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite.

Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature not so perfect heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero before they find their happily ever after.

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Barbara is a disabled-in-the-line-of-duty retired police officer. She earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.

Stay Connected

barbaradevlin.com Uncaged welcomes Barbara Devlin Welcome to Uncaged! The Accidental Duke will release on April 14th, and is the first book in a series.

Can you tell readers more about this book and series?

How many books are initially planned for the series?

My new series features disabled heroes from the battle of Waterloo, and the topic is especially close to my heart, given I am disabled. Actually, it’s safe to say this book isn’t just close to my heart. In some ways it is my heart. The Accidental Duke positions disability at the center of the conflict. The story also details PTSD, which was known as nostalgia or irritable heart, at the time. And this is a story about a hero with a disability written by an author with a disability. It’s authentic and deeply personal. But I also wanted to attack some of the stigma associated with disability. While anyone can research and write about disability, I think only someone who lives with disability can truly convey the impact of a life-altering injury. I’ve had so many people tell me to move on or get over what happened to me.

Therein lies the greatest misunderstanding. I’ll never get over the line-of-duty accident that ended my law enforcement career, my marathon running, and put me in rehab for three years. I may be alive, and I may be finding success in other ventures, but what I have today

will never be normal for me. Normal was what I had prior to the accident. And the accident didn’t happen that one time, the morning of December 23, 1998.

I relive the trauma every day, over and over again, as manifested in all the things I can no longer do for myself. No matter how good things are now, there’s always the nagging temptation to look back to the past, to remember what I was once. The memory of my former self, hale and whole, will haunt me until I die. That’s what I hope the reader sees in my book.

As for the series, the first contract with Dragonblade is for three books, but there are another three in the works.

You’ve written a lot of historical romances. How do you find inspiration for a new story and characters that you haven’t already written?

My characters and stories are inspired by my research. There’s always some kernel of truth at the center of my plots. Whether it’s Napoleon’s code, from My Lady, the Spy, or Dr. Larrey’s medical papers on PTSD, I build my worlds around facts. To me, that gives the books some credibility as well as believability.

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

As of this moment, I am working on the second book in my Mad Matchmakers of Waterloo series, The Accidental Groom. I’m also plotting a trilogy of books based on a descendent of royal lineage that connects Spanish royalty to the Aztec Emperor Moctezuma II. What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

I am anxious to restart the reader conferences. I miss connecting not only with my author friends but also with my readers. While conferences are great for networking, it is the interaction with readers that most draws my interest. My readers know some of the most intimate details of my life. I love the ambiguity and verbal texture of fiction that allows Issue 57 | April 2021 | 81

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I miss connecting not only with my author friends but also with my readers.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | me to share so much personal information about myself with my readers. They don’t know which parts reflect my identity or experiences, but they still see me. They just don’t realize it. In a way, my life is validated through their reading of my work.

It’s an incredibly humbling and inspiring relationship between author and reader. Conferences take that relationship a step further, by allowing me to speak face to face to my audience. The stories they share with me foster a bond that’s priceless, and I miss that relationship.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

Stephen King’s The Green Mile. I must’ve read that book a hundred times, and it still moves me to tears.

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

My husband and I have been on a documentary kick lately. I can’t begin to count how many documentaries we’ve watched on Netflix and Disney+. Lately, we’ve been on a Mt. Everest kick.

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

My writing schedule used to be 8-10 hours a day.

I say it used to be, because a recent diagnosis of a hereditary blood disorder and associated leukemia changed everything. Since I take treatment every Wednesday, and recover through Thursday, and my energy levels are depleted, I try to write 5-6 hours a day when I get to write. It could take anywhere from 3-6 months to complete a novel, at this point.

Uncaged Follow-up: So very sorry to hear. I wish you peace and a path back to health soon.

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

I am an ebook fanatic. I love that I can carry hundreds of books on my iPad, instead of lugging 84 | UncagedBooks.com

maybe three or four paperbacks. Right now, I’m reading Washington’s Spies by Alexander Rose.

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

I would like my fans to know how much I love and miss them. I’ve told them before that I need them more than they need me, and the pandemic has truly emphasized that. I miss our interaction. Our conversations in the bar. Our exchanges at book signings and panel discussions. I just miss being with them.

Enjoy an excerpt from The Accidental Duke The Accidental Duke Barbara Devlin Victorian Historical Romance Releases April 14 THE MAD MATCHMAKERS OF WATERLOO A group of dashing wounded warriors. Ladies of incomparable spirit. Their amorous pursuits are legendary in the ballrooms of Regency London. What happens when the Mad Matchmakers of Waterloo join forces to find wives for each other? Delectable chaos. And no woman in London is safe.

A WOUNDED WARRIOR British Army Major Anthony Erasmus Hildebrand Bartlett, 7th Marquess of Rockingham, returns to London a tortured soul after losing an arm at Waterloo. Suffering incomprehensible terror from his wartime experiences, or what is referred to as nostalgia, Anthony is now the sole heir to a dukedom and a betrothal he doesn’t want. He wishes he died on the front lines with his elder brother, and the last thing he needs is a wife. Can Anthony find the will to live

| BARBARA DEVLIN | again?

A RELUCTANT DEBUTANTE Lady Arabella is not so sanguine about her prospects, because she doesn’t want to marry anyone.

That Anthony is injured and may be mad is the least of her concerns. Smart and perceptive, she sees through the tormented soldier’s pain, offering comfort and support that reaches through the fog to awaken him, and she is drawn to her fiancé. When the duke imprisons Anthony in an asylum, Arabella must rely on her wit and wisdom to free the man she loves.

Excerpt Surprise often functioned as a double-edged sword for the intended recipient, because the rude awakening could inspire either joy or panic. It was the latter response Arabella endured, when her parents revealed they would host an impromptu dinner party for fifty of their closest friends and connections that very evening. Her parents were anything but spontaneous.

Regardless of her mother’s assurances, Arabella suspected there were games afoot.

Standing before the long mirror, she toyed with the seed pearls trimming the bodice of her pale green eau di nil silk gown and scrutinized her coif. In usual circumstances, she paid little attention to her appearance, other than to ensure she wore sufficient cover and caused no embarrassment. Since her reputation remained inextricably intertwined with Anthony’s, she resolved to put her best foot forward.

“My dear, your fiancé and your in-laws just arrived, and we would form the receiving line to present a united front when we welcome our guests.” Mama snapped her fingers. “Come along, Arabella. We do not want to keep His Grace waiting.”

“Of course not.” Yes, her tone carried more than a bit of sarcasm, because she cared not for Anthony’s father in light of his scheme. Why did he not take an interest in Anthony’s wellbeing? After four days of reading, she suspected she knew her fiancé better than those closest to him, and that saddened her. As she descended the stairs, she vowed to protect him.

“Lady Arabella, you are a vision.” His Grace dipped his chin and scrutinized her from top to toe.

Suddenly, she reconsidered the fashionable gown, with its low-cut bodice. “Is your fiancée not lovely, Anthony?”

“As always.” Devastatingly handsome in his polished ensemble, the centerpiece of which was a black coat trimmed in old gold, Anthony adjusted his cravat and bowed. “Good evening, Lady Arabella.”

“Lord Rockingham.” She curtseyed and studied him for any signs of distress. “Shall we assume our respective positions, since I believe our first arrivals approach the threshold?”

A series of hushed whispers preceded the tour of the receiving line, when the invitees noted the significance of the arrangement, which included a rare sighting of Her Grace, and Mama gushed like a giddy debutante, while inside Arabella wept.

Would it not have been easier and much less trouble to hire a herald?

“I contacted my solicitor about converting my assets into usable resources.” Anthony paused to acknowledge another guest. Then he bent his head and said, in a low voice, “It could take a sennight, or more, to sell my properties, so I instructed him to begin the process, posthaste.”

“Are you sure that is wise?” With a fake smile, she welcomed another interloper. “Our parents conspire against us, and this spontaneous celebration does not bode well for our plans.”

“Then we must delay, by any means.” He stiffened his spine, and she noted the fine sheen of perspiration on his brow and the subtle but growing pants as he fought to draw breath. Recalling their discussion at Gunter’s, and what he braved at war, she pledged to support him in all enterprises. “Feign illness, if necessary.”

“It will be fine, Lord Rockingham.” As he fidgeted with his cravat, she recalled Dr. Larrey’s advice and sought a distraction. “Cook serves delicious pork ribs, and there are four courses, including a mouthwatering cheesecake, so I hope you brought your appetite.”

“I am not hungry,” he replied with a frown.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | All right, she required another diversion.

“Papa purchased an expensive box of cigars for the occasion.” Grasping at threads, she employed pedestrian bits of minutiae to avoid disaster. According to Dr. Larrey, anxiety would only increase Anthony’s torment, causing him to act in a disturbing manner, which would not aid their cause. If possible, she would spare him further shame and a trip to an asylum. “And there is fine Spanish brandy, too.”

“I prefer French.” Little by little, he calmed while they conversed. “But I will drink whatever the host provides.”

“Perhaps the Shrewsbury cakes are more to your liking?” Her mind raced, when he offered a slight smile, and Arabella aimed to keep it there for the remains of the evening and beyond. “Or should I send a footman to Gunter’s for a vast deal more than decent portion of the neige de pistachio you favor, because you all but licked the dish?”

“Now you have my attention.” Ah, the boyish demeanor emerged, and Anthony winked. “How I enjoyed that afternoon in your company.”

“Oh, I echo your sentiments, because I delight in talking to you.” Indeed, she loved talking to him, because he treated her like an adult. Their parents followed the last of the guests into the grand dining room, which adjoined the ballroom and featured two long tables, and Papa waved a summons. “I suppose we must do our duty, Lord Rockingham.”

She settled her palm in the crook of his arm. “Shall we join the party?”

“I would rather surrender my other limb.” When she gave him a nudge, he met her stare, and his unutterable helplessness called to her on some basic level which she could not ignore. “Will you stay with me?”

Something inside her melted.

“Boney, himself, could not drag me from your side.” For a scarce second, Anthony simply stood there, and Arabella desperately wanted to hold him, to console him, to reassure him that she would allow no one to harm him. “And whatever happens, we will face it, together.”

“Perhaps you should escape to the Continent with 86 | UncagedBooks.com

me?” He chuckled, even as she considered the offer.

“I can compose a suitable story to satisfy the ton’s thirst for gossip, shouldering the blame, because my family can bear the brunt of the scandal. What say you, Lady Arabella? Fancy a sail?”

“I would love nothing more, Lord Rockingham, but I cannot abandon my parents.” In the dining room, she was shocked to discover the seating arrangements conflicted with social edicts, because she had been assigned a position of prominence to the left of His Grace, and Anthony occupied the chair beside her.

Per the rules of polite decorum, her fiancé should have been placed opposite her, and she should have been located near the center of the table. Gooseflesh covered her. Leaning close, she whispered, “Anthony, I think we are in trouble, because our parents appear euphoric, and I can only guess at the reason.”

“I would wager you are correct.” He paled and flinched, when the butler opened a bottle of champagne, the first in a series. “It looks as if your father’s domestics prepare for a toast.”

“Oh, no.” Along with the Sèvres porcelain and polished silver settings, Mama deployed the Baccarat crystal, and the walls seemed to collapse on Arabella.

“Anthony, promise me something.”

“Anything, my lady.” Shielded by the expensive linens, he clasped her hand. “What is it, Arabella?”

Strange, he actually tried to comfort her, and she glanced at the tray of glasses filled with the bubbly intoxicant. “Whatever happens, you will pay attention to me, to my eyes, to the sound of my voice, as we proceed through the evening.”

“Why?” The butler uncorked another bottle, and Anthony started.

“Because we can survive the awkward affair if we rely on each other and present a united front.” To her relief, no one noticed his blanched complexion, the lines of stress etched about the corner of his eyes, or the rigid set of his lips. “Agreed?”

In that moment, Their Graces stood, and the crowd quieted. In silence, Anthony indicated the affirmative with a nod.

“My honored guests, it is my distinct pleasure to welcome you to this informal dinner, and I must begin the festivities by expressing my thanks to Lord Ains-

| BARBARA DEVLIN | worth, my longtime friend, for temporarily ceding hosting duties that I might share the reason for this little gathering and allay your curiosity.” The duke stared at Arabella and Anthony, and she shifted, as she would wager her most cherished book she could recite the forthcoming report. “Her Grace and I are proud to announce the engagement of our son Anthony, the Marquess of Rockingham, to Lady Arabella Hortence Gibbs, daughter of Lord and Lady Ainsworth, in nuptials to be officiated by the Archbishop, at my home, eleven days hence.”

The room erupted with applause, and she teetered on the brink of hysteria but mustered a glance of adoration at Anthony. “Smile.”

Not for a minute did he fool her, because he offered what could best be described as a brittle, lopsided grin. Exposed and vulnerable, he cast a silent plea, and she prayed he didn’t swoon or scream. It was at that very instant she lifted her glass, if only to break the grip of fear clawing at her throat, and the duke called to order the group.

“To Anthony and Arabella.” Oblivious to the unrest he inflicted on his son, His Grace faced her. “May they be blessed with many strong sons.”

Her knees tingled, and she gulped the champagne, while Anthony drained his glass and signaled for a refill. Despite their plan, she surmised they enjoyed no escape, and she reclaimed her seat as resignation set in with a vengeance, because the announcement was tantamount to a marriage, barring a massive scandal.

As far as society was concerned, the ceremony was but a formality.

And so the meal commenced, but it passed in a blur, as an army of servants delivered course after course, yet she hardly tasted the food. Although numerous guests extended congratulations, the words did not penetrate the imaginary but impermeable fog that enveloped her in a cold and lonely prison, and Anthony, her unfortunate cellmate, fared no better.

Every time he carried his fork to his mouth, his hand shook, and more than once he dropped a morsel in his lap. The strain manifested in his jerky movements and habitual coughing, and she expected him to vomit at any minute. When the footman cleared the dishes, and the butler rolled in a trolley, bearing brandy and

her father’s cigar box, Papa stood.

“Gentlemen, let us bid farewell to our ladies, that they might enjoy their tea and gossip in the drawing room.” Papa assumed an air of superiority.

“And we shall remain here, to discuss the latest news from Parliament.”

“Please, do not leave me,” Anthony whispered.

“Without you, I am lost.”

“But I must.” Numb, yet fighting her own demons, Arabella pushed from the table. Drawing on Dr. Larrey’s expertise, she composed a suitable response to reassure him. “However, you are safe. And what of your friends? Whatever they discuss, keep reminding yourself that you sit in my home, in London, and I am just down the hall.”

“All right.” His strained expression did not inspire confidence. “I can do that. Although I suspect my fellow veterans will only make things worse.”

Reluctant to part from her fiancé, because he needed her, and she feared His Grace might commit Anthony sooner than later, she dragged her feet and followed the women. In the drawing room, the requisite hounding almost drove her over the edge, until a familiar and much welcomed face beckoned.

“Arabella, it has been too long since our last luncheon.” Patience Wallace, Arabella’s longtime friend and co-conspirator in women’s causes, provided much-appreciated succor in a hug and a reliable shoulder. With blonde hair and green eyes, Patience commanded a small army of admirers, but none paid suit given her father was but a general in the army, sans noble rank. Still, Arabella promised to help her trustworthy chum secure a good match. But first, she needed to save Anthony from his father. “And why did you not write me of your impending wedding? I should be angry with you, because we never keep secrets from each other. So, tell me about the tragic but inexpressibly beautiful Lord Rockingham, because he reminds me of one of Shakespeare’s doomed heroes.”

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | was thinking more of Odysseus. And all of this happened so suddenly that I had no time to write you, but I planned to visit and strategize, tomorrow. Believe me, I require your wise counsel.”

“Oh, no. I supposed the previous Lord Rockingham’s demise ended the contract between your family and His Grace.” Patience wrinkled her nose and clasped Arabella’s hand. “And the marquess is far too elegant for Homer.”

In concert, they giggled.

“Oh, Patience, if I confessed everything, I should turn your hair white, but you are the only one I can trust with the entire ugly truth.” With a sigh of relief, Arabella related the details, withholding naught from her closest confidante. “So, you see, it is not necessarily a match made in heaven.”

“But you are contracted, thus love never entered the arrangement. Given your partiality for reason and logic, which I know well, I don’t understand your reticence.” Patience claimed the chaise and patted the spot beside her. As usual, she reduced the situation to bare facts bereft of emotion.

“Your mother appears overjoyed.”

“Indeed, she is thrilled and thrives on the attention.” In the center of the room, Mama held court, and Arabella frowned. “But I cannot stop thinking of the duke’s plot, and I don’t get your meaning.”

“The answer is simple.” Patience shrugged. “If Lord Rockingham is as emotionally unbalanced as you describe, I do not presume His Grace has any other option, so why do you not give him a choice or an alternate solution? You are an intelligent and enterprising sort, and I know you can devise another course of action that suits your purpose.” She wagged a finger. “But I caution you to remember His Grace must protect the future heir to the dukedom, even if that requires commitment to a mental institution, and the law supports him.”

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the enemy. “In moments of clarity, he is the kindest, gentlest man blessed with an enormous heart. Indeed, he is not mad. He is simply misunderstood, and if anyone tries to harm Lord Rockingham, there will be quite the wake in this house.”

“Of that I have no doubt, but I would wager on you, every day of the sennight and twice on Sunday, and I am with you, come what may. Remember, together we are invincible, and I am always in your corner. Woe the poor soul that challenges us.” Patience laughed and then sobered. “Oh, dear. I believe you are summoned.”

Trailing her friend’s gaze, Arabella discovered Anthony looming in the hall, just beyond the doorway.

The raw terror in his eyes provoked an intense desire to protect him, and she acknowledged him with a surreptitious nod, checking to ensure no one else noted his presence, before he turned and trod toward the study.

“Walk with me.” Adopting an air of calm, Arabella moved with purpose. “And follow my lead.”

Strolling at a relaxed pace, with nary a hint of urgency, Arabella and Patience embarked on a well-played ruse, as if they shared the enthusiasm in regard to the forthcoming marriage.

“You know, I find it remarkable that you resist the union with Lord Rockingham, because you are always so quick to identify adventitious circumstances, which is one of the many reasons I hold you in high regard,” Patience declared studiously and waved a greeting to Lady Breckham. “Hear me, my friend. If you employ the common sense for which you are renowned, you will admit he is your perfect match, because he already relies on your strength. The balance of power in your relationship shifts in your favor, which is what you have always wanted, is it not?”

Arabella came to a halt and then resumed her tour about the room.

“I never thought of it like that.” Mulling the prospects, which had eluded her to that point, Arabella approached the entry, with a new attitude, and stopped.

“But you make an excellent argument, as always.

| BARBARA DEVLIN | How could I not have seen the obvious?”

“You are too close to the situation, and you fail to recognize he is just the mate for you, given you must marry.” Patience gave her attention to the guests, as Arabella occupied a position behind her friend. “Go, now.”

As Arabella crossed the foyer, a booming crescendo of laughter echoed from the dining room, where the men remained, and she jumped. In seconds, she navigated the corridor that led to Papa’s study. At the door, she glanced left and then right before entering the dimly lit chamber.

A fire in the hearth bathed the relatively small space in a soft saffron glow, and she secured the oak panel and set the bolt. Slumped forward, cradling his face in his hand, Anthony emitted a groan, and she rushed to provide aid.

“My lord, what is wrong?” Framing his jaw, she lifted his head, and a tear streamed down his cheek.

“Oh, Anthony, it is all right. I’m here.”

“Help me. Make it stop.” He winced and jolted her.

“The cannons—we are too close. Too close.”

He revisited the battlefield.

“No, my lord, we are not too close.” With her thumbs, she caressed his heated flesh, and she recounted Dr. Larrey’s counsel. “You are with me, in London, and you are safe. Do you hear me?” Pinning him with her gaze, she swallowed hard. “It is Arabella, and you are unharmed, because there are no cannons here.”

“But I heard them.” Closing his eyes, he shivered.

“Even now, the piercing salvo echoes in my ears.”

“No, my lord. You are mistaken.” Her mind raced, as she sifted through the knowledge from Larrey’s book, until it dawned on her what may have instigated her fiancé’s unrest. “Look at me, Anthony. It was the champagne bottle and naught more. I swear, there are no guns in this house.”

In a flash, he growled and charged, pushing her against the wall, grinding his hips to hers, and then he grabbed her at the nape of the neck and covered

her mouth with his. Frenzied at the onset, he besieged her flesh in a punishing slip and slide that stole the breath from her lungs as she tried to keep pace.

Thus was Arabella’s first kiss.

On the heels of the deed, the sensations, so many, lured her into the mesmerizing storm, and she plummeted, headlong, to her fate. Delicious heat seared her veins, and a deep-seated hunger unfurled in the pit of her belly, beckoning her to answer his call. A shiver of excitement sashayed over her flesh, suffused her nerves, and pulsed in her heart. When he plunged his tongue into her mouth, she welcomed the tender invasion and mimicked his movements, as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

Slowly, the tension eased, and he loosened his grip. To her shock, he skimmed her back and drew her from the wall. With his one arm, he hugged her about the waist. Angling his head, his ensuing exchange enticed her with his characteristic gentle tenor.

A thousand times more provocative than the prior clumsy, groping, urgent experience, he seduced her with playful nips and suckles that nurtured and intensified her appetite. In those treasured moments, she realized she was seeing him, the true Anthony, for the first time, and she yielded, of her own free will, to her scarred hero. Just as she gained her feet, everything halted.

Then he ended the tryst and retreated.

For a few minutes, they simply stood there and stared at each other, and she ached to hold him.

“I have taken liberties.” Grazing her bottom lip with his thumb, he sighed. “I apologize, Arabella, and I promise it will not happen again.”

“Don’t bother.” She closed the distance and perched on tiptoes. Winding her arms about his neck, she kissed him with all she had and for all she was worth.

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anna mar k la n d

I

was born in England, but I’ve lived most of my life in Canada.

Education, business and disaster relief provided three interesting careers before I became a full-time writer.

Genealogy is a long-time hobby (aka addiction) that has had a tremendous influence on my stories. My romances are tales of family honor, ancestry, and roots.

I am a firm believer in love at first sight. My heroes and heroines may initially deny the attraction between them, but eventually the alchemy wins out.

My novels are intimate stories filled with passion, intrigue, adventure and suspense.

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Writing provides an escape into another world and time where I lose myself in the characters’ lives, confident they will triumph in the end and find love.

I enjoy ferreting out bits of historical trivia in order to provide the reader with an authentic experience.

I hope you come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.

Stay Connected

annamarkland.com Uncaged welcomes Anna Markland Welcome back to Uncaged! Every Earl has a Silver Lining releases on March 25th. This is a first book in a series for Dragonblade Publishing. Can you tell us more about this book? What will tie the series together?

This is Book One of a series entitled Earls Are Wild. I have published more than 60 novels and novellas, but this is my first full length Regency novel. It’s also the first story I have set in my native Lancashire. While many Regency stories focus on London and the surrounding area, I wanted to give readers a fresh perspective of nineteenth century life in a very different part of England. I took the opportunity to use the names of streets and areas that I remember from growing up in the north where the industrial revolution really began.

The three stories feature the members of the family associated with the (fictitious) Earldom of Farnworth.

They are set in the aftermath of Waterloo. Silver Lining features a lieutenant colonel in the British army who is content with his army life. However, he unexpectedly finds himself the heir to an earldom. He faces a daunting challenge, and his first misstep is to fall in love with the widow of the distant cousin from whom he inherits

the title.

Book Two, Wild Earl Chase features a bluestocking heroine and a rogue of an earl. Thoroughbred horse racing plays a large part in the plot structure.

Slow and Steady Wins the Earl (Book 3) is the love story of the unconventional and adventurous daughter of the family and her pursuit of an earl who has no vices (that we know of). Patsy Crompton will actually get a London season during which she will encounter the kind of south vs north prejudices that were (and sometimes still are) all too prevalent in England.

You also have an independent release on April 2nd, Highland Swan which is the 5th book in the House of Pendray series. Can you tell us more about this series?

This series is set in Scotland, beginning with Cromwell’s attempts to bring Scotland into his Commonwealth in the seventeenth century. Books 2, 3 and 4 feature the children of the hero and heroine of Highland Betrayal. Set in the immediate aftermath of the failed 1715 Jacobite uprising, Book Five is their grandson’s story. He is a newly qualified surgeon who finds himself called upon to treat wounded rebels who are also fugitives from government troops.

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

I’m working hard on the first draft of Wild Earl Chase. I’m also about halfway done Roland, Book Two of The Montbryce Dynasty series. The Montbryces are my “signature” medieval family. The 12 books of The Montbryce Legacy series follow successive generations of the family from the Norman Conquest in 1066AD to the assassination of Archbishop Thomas Becket in 1170AD. This second series begins in 1204. The historical background for Book One (“Becket”—the hero named for the slain archbishop) is the loss of Normandy to France during the reign of King John. Roland (Book Two) is Becket’s brother. He falls in love with a woman he’s never met!

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It’s amazing how often a reader will reach out with a morale booster just when I’m wondering if I should continue writing.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | I’m also working on a short ghost story for Dragonblade’s “Upon a Midnight Dreary” Halloween collection. It’s entitled Blind Faith and ties into the Earls Are Wild series.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Eat in restaurants. Get together with friends.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. I cried buckets.

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

I’m a keen family tree researcher (or I used to be until writing became an addiction). I love cryptic crosswords and jigsaw puzzles.

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

Some days I write for an hour or two. Other days I can write for five or six hours. I like to aim for a minimum 1000 words a day, which isn’t a lot compared to some, but I like to make sure they are good words that don’t need a lot of editing. I would say three months is an average time to complete a novel. I have slowed down considerably since I began publishing in 2011. However, I tend now to work on more than one project at a time!

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

I much prefer ebooks. Easier on the eyes. When I first purchased my kindle, I used to categorize books into collections. (Very Good, Good, Fair, Dump, etc.) Then I got lazy! So now I have several hundred romances which are uncategorized. I am re-reading them and fixing that! I’ve particularly enjoyed the writing of Kimberly Cates.

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

Readers are a great source of inspiration and encouragement. It’s amazing how often a reader will reach out with a morale booster just when I’m wondering if I should continue writing. That has been particularly true this past year.

Enjoy an excerpt from Every Earl has a Silver Lining Every Earl has a Silver Lining Anna Markland Victorian Historical Romance He was content as a soldier; now, unexpectedly, he’s an earl Can a career soldier, an officer in the British Army with the humble surname of Smith, successfully manage a prosperous earldom he unexpectedly inherits?

Gabriel makes his first mistake when he falls in love with his predecessor’s beautiful young widow, Lady Emma Crompton. He faces a second hurdle—he is slowly being poisoned with arsenic.

A double mystery unfolds when it comes to light Lady Emma’s deceased husband was also suffering from arsenic poisoning.

Is there a curse on the Earls of Farnworth or are there other forces at work that will rob Gabe and Emma of their chance to find true love?

Excerpt TWIST OF FATE Island of Saint Helena, 1816 “My cousin’s death has sealed my fate,” LieutenIssue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | ant Colonel Gabriel Smith reluctantly confessed to his batman.

Standing beside him on the windswept clifftop, Corporal Bradley remained silent, though the faithful servant must be hoping he would be sent back to England with his master. What career soldier wouldn’t want to escape the thankless duty of playing nursemaid to Napoleon Bonaparte on a godforsaken rock in the middle of the South Atlantic?

“The regimental commander has always resented the respect I’ve earned from the men. He’s been looking for an excuse to send me home, though I trust he doesn’t know about the convulsions.”

Bradley grimaced. “Sir, I hope you don’t think…”

Gabe held up a hand. “No. I know your loyalty.

In any case, my unexpectedly inheriting an earldom means he can be rid of me without jumping through military hoops.”

His batman squared his always-rigid shoulders.

“I’ll have to get used to addressing you as my lord, sir.”

“S’truth, man,” he replied. “A title is something I never aspired to. The Earldom of Farnworth has been in the Crompton family since the twelfth century. It’s incredible I’ve inherited the title, and I’m not sure I want it. I’m a second cousin twice removed, for heaven’s sake.

“I’ve never even been to the estate in Lancashire.

The original castle is apparently a ruin and the manor house was built hundreds of years ago. It’s probably crumbling and will likely need a tremendous amount of capital investment.”

“Still, sir, er…my lord…you’re better off getting away from here,” Bradley replied. “This climate will kill the best of men.”

Looking out at endless miles of gray ocean in every direction, Gabe doubted moving to a drafty old house in northern England was the solution to the deteriorating state of his health. He had a deepseated suspicion his worsening malady had nothing to do with the weather. “I’m not dead yet, old chap.”

Bradley studied his feet. “What I meant, sir, is you’ll feel better once you’re back in Blighty, es96 | UncagedBooks.com

pecially now the war’s over and we’ve got the Little Corporal wrapped up nice and tight here.”

Gabriel inhaled the salty air, hoping to ward off a premonition that another embarrassing fainting spell was imminent. Unlike the men in his battalion, he’d initially welcomed the stark beauty and isolation of the island of Saint Helena. It was a place to forget his fiancée’s betrayal with his best friend. But his heart was still as barren and bleak as the rock on which he stood.

What little news filtered through from England spoke of thousands being thrown out of work now that Napoleon was no longer a threat. The victory at Waterloo had brought an end to the war effort. “One thing about a war,” he mused aloud, “it’s good for the economy.”

Bradley didn’t react, probably used to his commanding officer’s nonsensical outbursts by now.

Gabe gripped the hilt of his sword. It was time to face reality. “Jackson has already appointed a new battalion commander as my replacement.”

“I’ll get started packing then, shall I, sir?”

“Yes, although, who knows when the next navy ship will put in.”

“Expected in a fortnight, sir.”

Gabe chuckled. Bradley had clearly been anticipating their departure but he would never ask for any favors.

He was too proud, too much of a stickler for form. “By the by, I’ve requested you be allowed to accompany me, since I don’t intend to resign my commission just yet.”

His batman drew himself up to his full five-foot-nothing height and saluted. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get cracking.”

Left alone on the chilly hilltop, Gabe took a last look at the sparse trees clinging to the cliffs, all bent to the will of the relentless wind. “Earl Gabriel Smith,” he muttered. “Ridiculous.”

At the age of twenty-six, he’d spent ten years in the army. It was the only world he knew. The prospect of taking on the responsibilities a title brought with it churned his gut. However, an inner voice whispered it was of little consequence—the mysterious ailment that had taken hold of his body would likely kill him before the year was out.

fang-FREAKIN-tastic reviews

feature author

J.A. KAHN

that, most of the positive reviews of his books have come from people in his age group (or so he thinks) so perhaps he’s actually writing for slightly older than your typical teen. :) And because of the age group he thinks he’s writing for, he always endeavours to keep his writing clean. He purposefully avoids profanities and obscenities - apologies to fellow Stephen King fans. He’s never liked foul language, gore, and violence just for the sake of it. There’s enough obscenity and vileness in the world already without the need for him to add to it. So, he chooses not to. He grew up in an age when kids never dared speak up to adults, well, not unless they had a good head start or were well out of earshot. He loved that time. So his young protagonists are like those kids back in the good old days, only equipped with slang and cell phones, of course.

By the way, in case you haven’t already guessed, he uses British English spelling in all his writing - this is for ease and consistency.

M

ultiple times NYT and USA Today bestselling author, and selected for Oprah’s Book Club, are just some of the accolades JA Kahn hasn’t won but is waiting to see alongside his name someday.

Kahn is a British author of teen/YA comedy horror novels. He was born and partly raised in north London and now lives near the New Forest in Hampshire. He is an Arsenal FC (soccer) fan, an allegiance that comes with plenty of heartbreak and disappointment all of its own. But that’s another story.

If you’ve looked at his author photo above, you’ll see he’s no George Clooney or Brad Pitt. Admittedly, this is an image of an old oil painting, but his wife and kids tell him the resemblance is uncanny.

Khan writes for the teen and young adult market partly because he enjoys those books, and partly because at heart he’s a big kid, albeit an overweight, 50+ something, balding one. Having said 98 | UncagedBooks.com

S t ay C onnec t ed

jakahn.com Why have you not included a real photo of yourself?

Something I love about reading and writing is the dependence you’re your own imagination to make the process work. So, just as with my stories, readers can create their own image of how they think I should look based upon my works.

Another reason I’m not giving my real photo is that every time I have one taken, it doesn’t matter how good the lighting or skilful the photographer, for some strange reason I always come out looking a lot older and balder than I truly am. In fact, it is not uncommon for people to make comments such as I look like a

grumpy, older version of Santa Claus. It’s not my fault.

I’m just not as photogenic as some.

When did you first start writing?

I have always loved dabbling in wordsmithery. In fact, I was a young teen when I wrote two chapters of my first ever attempt at a novel. Sadly, it was never completed, but all these decades later, and there have been many decades since that tender age, I still remember the premise. Picture the scene, a tumultuous ocean on a stormy night just off the coast of North America, and we are introduced to a giant pregnant female squid. The creature has been exposed to radioactive waste dumped in the waters – yes, very original, I know. She is swimming haphazardly as she enters the throes of labour. I had no idea back then, and still don’t now, how squids deliver their young or if it’s a painful process, but for the purposes of our tale it was sheer agony and the poor girl was maddened by the pain. She repeatedly whacks herself into a conveniently sited oil rig in a desperate attempt to ease her insufferable pains. Anyway, to cut a long story short, her live young put her out of her suffering when they rip her apart, tearing through her belly to get out (very much like what happened to John Hurt aboard the Nostromo). And then begins a monumental struggle between man and squid for domination of the seas – or it would have had I finished the book.

As I say, I only got as far as the second chapter but I was so confident in my ability and the quality of my writing that I had already imagined the movie trailer and the tagline - something I guess I might have ripped off the first Alien movie, you know the one which goes, ‘In space no one can hear you scream.’ My take on this was, ‘In the depths of the ocean there’s nowhere to run!’ I thought it was genius – nowhere to run... under water, get it – impressive, huh?

There then followed a long hiatus before I restarted writing again.

What inspired you to start writing your own books?

After the long hiatus (mentioned above), I was challenged by a friend to write a single scary paragraph. I took up the challenge, wrote the paragraph, and then had lots of positive feedback about it. My two eldest children, both avid readers, were intrigued and wanted

to know what happened next. From that one paragraph began my first novel entitled Jake Walton and the Tree of Souls.

By the way, that book took me a whopping six years to complete and was originally over 864,000 words - I do love my adjectives, oh yes! Over half a dozen edits and rewrites later, I managed to cut it down to half the size, and there it was, my first ever completed novel.

Do you agree you have to read a lot to be a writer?

Yes I do, but having said that I have a confession to make. Unlike most authors who are voracious readers, I was not. Sad to say, but as a kid I hated reading. I was poorly taught at school, and nobody encouraged a passion for books in the illiterate young Kahn. That, and the fact my family moved around so much I ended up attending eight different primary schools – not a good start for a stable education.

When at last my family settled down, I learned to read, and then things changed. Much to my astonishment, I went through a reading frenzy, where, with no direction, I fell in love with horror. My foray into grown-up fiction started with James Herbert’s The Rats, a book I still highly rate and recommend. Then of course came Stoker’s Dracula, and several Stephen King novels.

The reading bug had finally bitten me, albeit late.

Most people take reading for granted but if you haven’t read as much as you think you should have you’ll feel deprived and cheated. So many fantasy worlds and so much imagination that I never ventured into. What a waste.

Where do you get your book ideas?

I try not to think about fishing for ideas, or at least I don’t actively pursue them. Usually, when I’m out on a walk, I will suddenly have an idea pop into my head and then I’m on my smartphone typing away in my Notebook app. Sometimes, I’ll wake in the middle of the night with an idea. I never write or record those ones – for some reason they stay in my mind till the next morning when I do note them down.

How do you unwind between writing?

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| FANGFREAKINTASTIC | When I’m not at my desk writing away, I look after our family cat and our twelve hens. I also tend to a small wildlife pond. I enjoy taking long walks in the parks near my home accompanied by my wife.

There’s good evidence for the therapeutic benefits of walking, for both mind and body. It is also when I get a lot of my book ideas. I love dragonflies and ants - weird, but that’s how it is with me. So expect the unexpected!

How do you unwind between writing?

When I’m not at my desk writing away, I look after our family cat and our twelve hens. I also tend to a small wildlife pond. I enjoy taking long walks in the parks near my home accompanied by my wife. There’s good evidence for the therapeutic benefits of walking, for both mind and body. It is also when I get a lot of my book ideas. I love dragonflies and ants - weird, but that’s how it is with me. So expect the unexpected!

clever. I honestly think every established and wannabe author should read this book because it is a masterclass in witty dialogue. The humour is both subtle and razorsharp. Well worth a read.

What was your favourite book when you were growing up?

That would have to be Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl, and Smith by Leon Garfield. They were both such fun reads. I read them both a longtime ago, well before I knew heroes always survive (unless they happen to be in a GRR Martin novel), so I found both filled with mischief and tension. Humorous tension in the case of Fantastic Mr. Fox, and nerve-jangling tension in Smith – I had no idea they would getaway. I think a part of me wouldn’t have minded living in Mr. Fox’s family den. It sounded so snug until the bulldozers came...

Are you on social media and can your readers interact with you?

Yes, absolutely. I love reader comments and feedback and always respond. I can be contacted on my author website, Facebook, Amazon author page, Instagram, Twitter, or Pinterest.

Enjoy an excerpt from: The Nightwalker

How do you avoid writer’s block?

I used to be afflicted with writer’s block on a near chapter-by-chapter basis. It was really frustrating because my writing ground to a halt. But I am happy to report I found a way round the problem that works for me. Now, if I get stuck on a book, I simply start working on a different book until the block goes away. For that reason, I have two or three titles simmering at the same time and can happily jump from one to the other. Unlike most other men, I can comfortably multitask.

What are you reading now?

I’m currently reading Night Watch by Terry Pratchett. It’s absolutely brilliant, so funny, and extremely 100 | UncagedBooks.com

The Nightwalkers J.A. Kahn YA Horror Murder, mystery, and supernatural mayhem.

A spate of horrific murders has left residents of Lyndhurst village terrified. The police are chasing shadows.

Each kill site is clean, with not a drop of blood anywhere in sight. There’s not even a finger or footprint to follow. But one thing is clear, a serial killer is on the loose.

| J.A. KAHN | Desperate for fame and to outdo the local constabulary, a group of kids blunders in on the scene. But their hopes of catching the killer red-handed quickly turn to dust when they witness one of the gruesome murders firsthand. Worse still, far from upstaging the police, the kids unwittingly become prime suspects.

And they have just one other problem - they suspect they’re going to be the next bloodless corpses.

Excerpt Chapter 32 The Bystander Whellworne Nursing Home was a shabby, foul smelling establishment, the perfect setting for the derelict of mind and body. Mahoy looked at the grimy exterior of the building. It looked grey in the cold, early morning light. Part of the gutter hung off its bracket and rainwater cascaded over the edge, splashing into an overflowing bucket positioned a few feet away from the main door. The old signage had seen better days, as had the once brilliant white exterior masonry paint, now grey and flaked. Weeds poked through cracks in the tarmac, and dense, dark green ivy covered a stack of rotting wooden crates discarded and long since forgotten to the side of the premises.

Mahoy had decided to meet the former butler alone.

He felt the man who had long since been discarded by society, friends and family, would probably prefer minimal contact with outsiders.

Mahoy stepped inside the building, forcing open the door with its creaky, stiff hinges. Inside, the corridor leading from the entrance was dimly lit and reeked of urine and bleach. The reception desk at the end of the corridor was unmanned so Mahoy peered into several nearby residents’ rooms looking for a member of staff.

The sights and smells in each room were stomachchurning and he felt ready to throw up.

Wailing and incessant screaming from several quarters of the huge Victorian detached property gave the institution an asylum air.

Suddenly, a blast of stiflingly unpalatable cabbage wafted through the corridor like an invisible vapour cloud and permeated through the open doors into each bedroom.

Overcome by the depressing atmosphere, Mahoy was ready to turn back and leave when he spotted a nursing assistant trundle over to the desk. Mahoy went over and introduced himself to the woman who looked ex-

hausted and overworked. Her red, bloodshot eyes darted to his ID card and then she wearily asked how she could help him.

“I’m looking for this man,” and he shoved an old photo before her face. “Does he look familiar?

Obviously, he will have changed; this was taken in his younger adult life. Does he resemble anybody on your books? Our records show he was a resident here.”

The woman looked keenly at the black and white face and scrutinised it for any features she recognised.

“I’m not certain but it does look vaguely like Mr. Saunders.”

“Saunders? Don’t you mean Watkins?” Mahoy asked, both excited and concerned this may or may not be the man he was seeking.

“Yes, Saunders, and he’s here. I think he’s in the orangery. The nurse took his breakfast there a short while ago.” And she pointed to the back of the building. “Strange fellow,” she said mysteriously, just loud enough for Mahoy to hear.

“Oh, how so?”

“Well, he’s so much younger than all our other residents but looks so much older. And he’s like a bat.”

Mahoy looked at her perplexed.

“I know it’s confidential and I shouldn’t say this but you are the police, so I guess it’s okay,” the woman said more to reassure herself than explain to Mahoy. “You see he spends every night wideawake, drinking coffee after coffee, rocking in his chair like a madman with the lights on and muttering prayers the whole night through. Then he naps by day. He has to have sleeping pills to help him drift off.”

She looked at Mahoy with mock anguish and empathy, and then continued, “He’s an unusual fellow that’s for sure. Most of our residents here are in their late eighties and nineties. Those few that aren’t are here because they suffer some seriously debilitating illness and so they need constant nursing support. But not your Mr. Saunders though.

He’s in his late sixties and otherwise well, except for the crying and wailing in his sleep. Poor chap seems to be in a state of perpetual fear and anguish.”

Mahoy thanked her for sharing her thoughts. The orangery, he thought, how very surprising. But just as he expected, the name was far grander than the actuality. A cheaply built lean-to with PVC walls Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FANGFREAKINTASTIC | and roof, the room was draughty and leaked at various places as the rain found its way through.

Over twenty elderly and infirm individuals sat shivering in the room. Some rocked in their chairs, others sat with vacant expressions, eyes rolled upwards, saliva drooling from their gaping mouths. A few occasionally screamed out unexpectedly, sending the hairs on Mahoy’s neck standing up on end.

A couple of staff members had one elderly lady pinned in her chair, restraining her as they forced spoonful after spoonful of mush down her parched throat. She gagged, coughed, and spluttered, her only form of resistance that the staff couldn’t stifle.

Another staff member with watery eyes and a runny, red nose ambled towards Mahoy. “Are you the doctor? Mrs. Cummings had another one of her funny turns. She’s no better, still coughing and now we think she’s got a urine infection.”

“No, I’m not the doctor.” Mahoy pulled out his ID badge again.

The woman looked startled.

“I’m looking for an inmate, Mr. Watkins,” he said in a cool, commanding voice. “Can you point him out to me!”

The woman shrugged. “We don’t have nobody by that name here. And they’re clients, not inmates.”

“Okay, show me where client Saunders is sitting!” Mahoy said.

The woman obeyed and pointed to a frail, haggard, old man sitting on a wooden stool by the window. He was wrapped in a filthy, tatty brown blanket and held a half-eaten biscuit in one hand, a coiled empty foil wrapper of diazepam pills lay on the table before him and glistened as Mahoy headed his way. The man’s eyes were bloodshot and cloudy as he gazed drowsily out onto the rain-sodden concrete garden and the plastic shrub that stood alone as the sole piece of greenery. It was hard to believe the man was in his early sixties. He looked older than all the other residents.

“Mr. Watkins, Travis Watkins?” Mahoy said as he stood beside the old butler.

The old man sat motionless.

Mahoy placed a hand on the old man’s bony shoulder and gave him a gentle prod. It was then he noticed just how emaciated he was.

Still no response.

Mahoy gave a harder prod, and suddenly the man jolted upright, woken from his semi-slumber. He 102 | UncagedBooks.com

looked dazed and terrified as he cowered in his seat.

“Mr. Watkins? My name is Rupert, Rupert Mahoy, son of Lord Cedric. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were sleeping, your eyes were open.”

The retired butler looked startled but then came to his senses. He gazed up at him at once, his eyes filled with fear.

“Master Rupert…you have come for…vengeance at last I dare say,” his voice wavered, and slurred slightly. “I beg you, I had no choice.” And he put his face in his hands and started sobbing.

Mahoy was taken aback. What is he on about?

He turned to the staff member for a clue but she simply rolled here eyes and made a circular motion with an index finger to her own head.

Mahoy nodded and turned back to the old man again.

“I need to speak with you. Please don’t be frightened, but it’s very important you answer my questions.”

Travis Watkins looked up at him as though resigned to his fate. He made little fuss as Mahoy transferred him from the stool to a nearby wheelchair and then wheeled him away to his room under the guidance of the staff member.

Once inside Mr. Watkins bedroom, Mahoy closed the door and then sat opposite his trembling hostage.

The room was filthy. The floor, littered with empty cans of Red Bull, and the table and rug beside the bed were stacked with an assortment of empty, chipped, coffee-stained cups and mugs. The fluorescent lighting was flickering, the tube on its last legs, and the curtains were open, exposing grim covered glass with mould along the beading. The taps on the lime scaled sink in the far corner dripped loudly and out of sync.

Looking about him Mahoy felt queasy again, a sensation not helped by yet another wave of boiled cabbage odour navigating its way around the building, and oozing under the door to fill Watkins’ room.

“I need your help, Mr. Watkins,” and he pulled out a notepad and pencil. “The quicker you can help me, the quicker I can leave you in peace and get back to my work. I’m sure you’ve heard about the recent spate of killings in the New Forest, I’m investigating them and so want to be back at the station doing some…more investigating.” He looked at the man.

“Strictly confidentially,” and he whispered into the man’s ear, “we had another attack. I think you know the victim.” He looked for a reaction. He got it, the man stared at him in dreadful anticipation.

“One of the former domestics at my father’s estate was attacked last night. She lived just long enough to pass me your name and told me you knew about

| J.A. KAHN | guests at the estate, something about my mother, and my birth. What did she mean by all that, Mr. Watkins?

What’s my family estate got to do with all this?”

The old man shuddered as if an ice-cold droplet of water had fallen between his shoulder blades. “It’s them, they’ve reawakened, they’re back,” he said in a soft, gravelly voice. “It’s how it was the last time.”

Mahoy looked at him confused. “Come again, Mr. Watkins!”

But the old man ignored the request. He simply curled himself up into a ball and rocked back and forth, mumbling, “They’ll be after me, it was only a matter of time,” he sniffled, regret filling his slurring voice. “Who was she, the victim?”

“I can’t recall her name right now, but she served my family for a long time. Forty odd years if I’m not mistaken. She told me to look after her Percy. Do you know who he might be?” Mahoy felt embarrassed by the admission. “Anyway, about whom were you talking? Who is after you? And who is back?” Mahoy asked eagerly.

Again the old man ignored the questions.

Mahoy looked keenly at the man who now tilted his head down and stared at the dappled, stained carpet.

Suddenly he spoke. His voice soft and dreamy, “I know the lady you are talking about. Mrs. Mavis Belington was her name,” he was close to nodding off and spoke with his eyes shut most of the time. “She kept a small dog called Percy, that’s who she was talking about.”

“I see, I didn’t realise. So, what happened the day I was born?” Mahoy asked hopefully.

The old man shook his head slowly as he remembered the poor spinster who worked alongside him so many years ago.

“The night you were born,” the old man corrected him softly. “That was when I realised just how close they were!”

“What do you mean? How close who were?” Mahoy asked.

The old man yawned and then raised his head. He opened his watery eyes and tears started to flow in big drops down his cheeks. He shook his head apologetically. “Please,” he croaked, “leave me be. Look at me, haven’t I suffered enough for my sins?”

Mahoy got up and paced about the room to help him think. The carpet squelched under his shoes, sticking to his soles with each step. He stood by the window looking out onto the dripping rooftops and that grim, lifeless, concrete garden. “I need to know about my mother. Apparently, she is the key, but the key

to what, Travis? The domestic said you would know.”

The old man shook his head as if trying to dislodge the memory. “I can’t, please don’t make me go through it again!”

Mahoy stood unmoved. “Tell me what I need to hear Watkins!”

Finally, after many minutes of mumbling to himself, the old man relented. “Please don’t think I wanted to be involved in what we did,” he trembled uncontrollably as he spoke. “I was much younger then, foolish, and I was in your father’s employ, I couldn’t say no, I would have been fired.” And he hid his face in his hands, partly out of shame and partly to hide the drowsiness that had descended over him again. The five diazepam tablets he had taken earlier were taking effect and beginning to overwhelm him.

Mahoy watched on impassively, wondering what it was he had done. “Did you…kill my mother?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

The decrepit old man looked up at him with eyes filled with tears and horror. His lips were quivering. Finally, he managed to answer quietly, “As good as!”

Mahoy swallowed hard and wanted to lash out at him. All these years he had hated his mother, blamed her for abandoning him to the cold, loveless world. And now, here it was. She had been murdered.

“Why? Why did you do it?”

“I had no choice,” Travis sobbed. “But I merely did what I was ordered to do.” He shook his head trying to chase the sleep and guilt away. He wiped the tears from his eyes and coughed to clear his throat. “I didn’t see the end,” his words filled with remorse. “I couldn’t bare to watch when they came for her.”

“What are you talking about? Who came for her?

Where was my father? What did they do?” Mahoy was dazed and shaken, dreading the answers to his questions, trembling with simmering rage.

Mr. Watkins took a deep breath but it did not avert the huge yawn that followed. He turned towards the young man and began to explain.

“Your mother was an angel. A beautiful, delicate, fresh flower. Always kind to me, always gentle and generous.” He wiped away a tear. “But then everything went wrong. She fell ill. She was at death’s door when you were born. Your father couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.” Watkins Issue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FANGFREAKINTASTIC | shook his head as he remembered the scene.

“He was going mad with panic, desperate for any help. The doctors had failed him so he turned to help from…from the devil.” Suddenly, Watkins looked more pathetic as he appeared to yearn the young man’s forgiveness, his understanding.

“What? What do you mean?” asked Mahoy angrily. This is making no sense, is this just the confused ramblings of a tired old brain trapped within a decrepit old body?

“The devil incarnate,” Travis Watkins said solemnly.

He realised Mahoy was confused. “When your dear mother went into premature labor at home that dreadful night, your father called the top obstetrician. He arrived by ambulance with a midwife and several staff but despite their best efforts they could not stop your mother’s blood loss.”

Watkins looked ashen-faced as he spoke. “They tried everything but she was slipping away. Your father and I were standing by in the study, waiting for good news. None was to come. When at last the obstetrician announced your birth but her imminent demise your father went berserk.”

Watkins shook his head as he was revisited by flashbacks of that painful night.

“What did he do?” Mahoy asked, not knowing what to make of the tale.

“Your father was suddenly consumed by an awful rage. He hurled the doctor against the wall rendering him unconscious. I was stunned by his fury and power, I knew him to sport a vicious temper but I’d never seen such rage before. He was like a man possessed.” The old butler shook his head as if to clear it. “And that was when my world and everything I believed in was turned forever upside down.” He suddenly looked more tired, drained by the exertion of reliving the memories.

“Tell me more!” Mahoy said coldly.

The old man looked into the younger man’s eyes and seemed compelled to go on but the power of the drug was working its magic. He slumped forward in the chair and started snoring.

Mahoy marched over to the crumpled figure and shook him violently. When that didn’t work he swooped down to pick up an empty mug and walked over to the grubby sink. He filled the mug with cold tap water and then went over to Watkins. He sprinkled the old man with a few drops of water but when that had no effect he tipped the 104 | UncagedBooks.com

rest over his unwashed head.

Watkins jumped with a start.

“You were saying about your world having been turned upside down,” Mahoy said through clenched teeth.

The old man shook his head and steadied himself in the chair. Slowly his mind returned to the matter at hand.

“Your father…he yelled at me to get out of the room so I ran for the door,” Watkins said groggily, “but no sooner was I out of the study than he screamed something. I couldn’t understand a word of it but within an instant, a strange chill filled the house. And then from within the study, I heard a peculiar grating and grinding sound like something very heavy was sliding over the floor. I don’t know why but I felt the irresistible urge to turn back and peer inside the room.” He shuddered at the thought.

“Go on!” beckoned Mahoy.

“Against my better judgment, I slowly opened the study door and peeked inside. I was stunned to find a tall man standing with his back to me, facing your father. I couldn’t understand where he’d come from.”

Mahoy was intrigued.

“Your father seemed to be pleading with the stranger, begging for his help but the man just kept shaking his head. He didn’t seem moved by your father’s desperate plight. Instead, he seemed preoccupied with the unconscious doctor lying against the wall, blood oozing from his scalp from the impact. The tall man turned to look at the doctor and that was when I saw the side of the visitor’s face,” Watkins said with a shudder. “It was an unholy white, like slimy porcelain only with dark veins showing through it, and his thin, black tongue protruded out of his snake-like mouth to lick his lips.

He seemed at times not to hear your father’s pleadings.” Then Watkins stopped and took a long pause.

Sleep seemed to be creeping back over him again.

“What happened then?” Mahoy asked, still unsure what to make of what he was hearing. How was this relevant? He wondered.

The weary butler took a sip of water from a plastic cup. Some of it dribbled down his bristly chin and he coughed violently. “Your father stood before him, head slumped down, almost grovelling and beseeching his help. I heard him say, ‘She has lost a great deal of blood, old friend, please do something, you are my only hope now.’ And he embraced the tall man. Then I had a chill come all over me.

“You see it was as if the tall man knew I was there spying on them and then, while still hugging your father, his head turned completely around to look at me.

| J.A. KAHN | I’ll never forget that evil look, his face was white as death and his lips back as night. He smiled at me before his face suddenly was filled with mock anguish and then he turned back to your forlorn father.” Watkins shuddered again at the recollection.

“I’ll never forget his words or the odd manner of his speech, ‘That is great pity. What pure waste,’ he said and I swore he licked his lips as his eyes turned up towards the ceiling under the very room where he knew your dear mother was dying. Then he looked at the bleeding unconscious doctor again.” Watkins closed his eyes momentarily.

‘The doctors can’t save her now, you’re her only hope,’ your father said in desperation.

“The tall man strode over, and then past your father.

He stopped by the glass doors and looked out into the black night. I swear I couldn’t see his reflection in the glass.

“I could feel the growing desperation in your father, the man was wasting precious time while your mother was bleeding to death upstairs. ‘You saved Grosvenor, why not my dear Bea?’ your father challenged him.

“But without turning around the tall man spoke, ‘He not saved. Too far gone when I turn him. He family madness already affect him, Seedreek. You know he very unstable.’ His voice was cold and cruel.”

Watkins took a deep breath to compose himself.

“I didn’t understand what he meant or who, at that time, this Grosvenor fellow was, but I would find out soon enough. But your father kept pleading with the man. Then after a long moment of deep thought, the tall man turned back towards Lord Cedric and placed a marble white hand on his shoulder. I could now see his face fully again. It was a ghoul’s face. Terrifying, malevolent, and mean. The man looked your father in the eyes and his words sent a chill down my spine. ‘For you, old friend, I bleed and kill all world.’

He said it so sincerely I knew he meant it. Then he looked me in the eyes as he spoke to your father. ‘Be warned, maybe not go as planned. Now, take me to her!’ he said.

“Your father looked so relieved. ‘Quick!’ he ordered, seeing me standing at the doorway, ‘Take my guest to see the Lady Beatrice. Hurry, man!’ and to my never-ending shame I did just that.” Watkins cupped his face in his hands.

“Then what happened?” Mahoy asked, trembling and fearful about what was to follow.

For a long time the former butler did not, or could not speak. He simply shut his eyes and slowly shook

his head. When eventually, he was ready to continue, he said, “Have you ever wished you hadn’t taken a particular path one morning? Wished you hadn’t been at a certain place at a certain time? I felt like that about working in Thornefeld Manor that night. How I wish I had never applied for that job, but it was the old butler who coaxed me into applying. He must have known about the history of the place,” his voice was filled with remorse and self-pity.

“Yes, yes, but what happened to my mother?” Mahoy asked, growing increasingly impatient.

The old man looked up at the young face peering down at him. “It was horrifying what I witnessed that night, Master Rupert. When we reached your dear mother’s chambers, the tall man seemed wild with excitement but was trying to suppress it. He literally brushed me aside as he stepped into the room. The sight and smell of blood in the room turned him into a wild beast.

“I remember the look of terror in the midwife’s eyes as she held you in one arm while trying to mop sweat from Lady Beatrice’s brow with the other.

“The vampire, for that is what your father’s friend truly was, looked at your dear mother in the final throes of death, her agonised groans made feeble by her blood loss, her skin shimmering with a cold perspiration.

“The vampire stood staring at the spectacle before him, no pity or sorrow in his eyes. ‘She lose lot blood. Maybe is late to save but must try for dear friend, Seedreek,’ the beast had said. I saw the evil smile he sported, those thin black lips pulled back and curled upwards on that ghostly white face.

Even those frightful eyes were glistening.

“Your dear mother was in and out of consciousness. I don’t know if she knew what was going on around her.” And Watkins sank his face into his hands once more. “I pray to God she didn’t.”

Mahoy stood staring down at him, his body rigid and cold, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, a knot in his stomach. “Go on, please, Mr. Watkins,” he said, knowing full well what gutwrenching horror was coming.

“Artor, for that was what the monster was called, bent down beside her face. He tilted her head upwards to expose her neck. The poor woman was ghostly white and drenched in sweat. She was in and out of consciousness and was delirious when she came round. What must she have thought seeIssue 57 | April 2021 |

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| FANGFREAKINTASTIC | ing that grotesque face beside her? Her eyes suddenly filled with tears as did mine. If only I had the strength to do something about it, but I didn’t.

“Then the vile beast placed one of his mottled hands on her throat to brush aside her once lustrous blond hair now a sickly mop, wet and plastered to her ghostly face.

“The vampire lowered his mouth against her neck and supped on the little fluid that trickled out.

“Out of the shadows suddenly appeared this mad Grosvenor chap your father had spoken of earlier.

He looked wild, truly mad. He lurched forward and grunted. I sprang back as did your father. I honestly thought that was my last night on earth.

“Artor lifted his bloodstained face from your mother’s neck and hissed at the intrusion. Grosvenor backed off but didn’t go far. He tried to move closer once more, but Artor lifted his monstrous bloodied face up again to glare at him. That was when I recognised them for what they truly were - wild animals, hyenas not willing to share a kill.

“Just at that moment, Brutus came bounding through the door into the room. And seeing what was happening to his mistress, the Great Dane leaped to her defence. He landed heavily on Artor’s back, throwing the vampire forward against the bedside cabinet.

“Your father rushed forward shouting, ‘No, Brutus!’ but the dog was deaf to everything except his mistress’s agonised groans. He pounced again and bit into the vampire’s calf bringing the creature down with a tremendous thud to the ground.

Artor’s eyes flashed green and then red and yellow. He was furious. He thrust a hand at the huge dog and took hold of its muzzle. Still biting into his leg, the dog refused to let go. The vampire gripped the jaws and with a simple flick of the wrist tore the lower jaw clean away. He hurled the dying dog aside like a rag doll just in time to stop Grosvenor from launching himself at Lady Beatrice. The crazed vampire looked at the whimpering dog and went to feast on him instead.

“Artor went to finish his work. And I’ll never forgive myself, Master Rupert,” the old man said, tears in his eyes. “She was always good to me, always thoughtful and kind. But when it mattered most, her dog was more loyal to her than I was.”

And he buried his head in his hands and quivered.

Rupert gently placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder.

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“Your mother never recovered and died that very night. Your father spent hours by her side, crying. Artor stood watching impassively the whole time, it was sickening. He showed no pity.

“And then when your father was through crying he called for the groundskeeper, Angus, to take her body to the mausoleum. He told me to stay in the room and watch you.

“Angus made two trips that night. First, he took Lady Beatrice’s body away and then he returned for Brutus. I am so sorry.”

“So, that was it. She was buried unceremoniously in the family cemetery with all my other ancestors,” Mahoy said softly. Tears ran from his eyes. He sat down opposite the old butler on the other armchair.

Both men remained quiet for several minutes, and then Watkins spoke softly, “Mavis, the lady you couldn’t remember was your dear mother’s personal maid. She took you from the midwife that night and cared for you.” He shrugged his shoulder and gently shook her head. “You were very special to her. She even named you because your father wanted nothing to do with you.

“Poor Mavis, she utterly adored you. You were her gift and her reason for being until your father sent you away to boarding school after a few years.” Watkins closed his eyes.

“Her heart was broken for a second time when you left. You see you were named after her own young son. The poor boy died just a few weeks after she started working at the Thornefeld. Seven years of mothering ended just like that, and she never even saw her child’s body to say goodbye.” The older man bowed his head in deep regret. “We all later suspected but could never prove anything. The shame of it all,” and he sighed. “She was told by the groundskeeper the child had fallen from a tree onto the cemetery wall and bled out significantly. Apparently, he looked so dreadful that he didn’t want her to look upon the boy’s face.” He shook his head in disbelief. “We all bought it at the time. Fools that we were.”

Mahoy was too deep in his own grief to empathise with someone else in theirs. He was gazing wistfully out onto the drenched concrete garden, and then spoke his thoughts out loud, not directed to the old man. “They didn’t even cover her tomb properly,” he said dreamily.

His words snapped Watkins from the slumber that was descending over him again. “What’s that you say?” he asked.

“My mother’s tomb…the lid was ajar and the door to

| J.A. KAHN | the mausoleum left open.”

The retired butler looked shocked. He shook his head.

“Then it is worse than I feared.”

Mahoy looked at him confused.

“It appears the vampire was successful then,” he stared at Mahoy keenly. “I fear your mother is one of them, one of the undead!”

“What?” Mahoy recoiled in disgust. “Nonsense, my mother is dead!” he countered angrily. “You’re insulting her memory. Besides there are no such things as vampires.”

The old man looked at him keenly but said nothing for a while allowing the young man to calm his mind.

When he felt he was ready, he said in a gentle voice, “Believe me, Master Rupert, I was once like you, I thought the notion of creatures like vampires was nothing more than mere folktales and myths, but the evidence is incontrovertible that they do exist. I have seen them with my own eyes.” He cleared his throat and gazed out the window at the incessant rain. “If you wish for proof simply visit your family cemetery but never go alone, and never by night!”

“Why, what’s there?” Mahoy asked, his curiosity rising.

“Not all the graves in the family cemetery belong to your kith.”

“I know, the rest are distant relatives and servants,” Mahoy suggested.

“No,” said the old man, “most, but not all. Many graves belong to hapless victims brought into the estate for the hunt,” he said with a shudder.

Mahoy’s eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. “Nonsense!”

“Don’t believe me? Why not exhume the bodies and run your forensic tests, then you’ll get your answer soon enough,” the old man said. Then he added, “We all knew what was going on, the killings, the screams, but they were behind the closed walls of the estate and outsiders never guessed.”

“Murders on Thornefeld Manor grounds? I don’t believe it, that’s preposterous. Who was killing them?”

Mahoy asked, not convinced.

“The Devil, that’s who.”

Mahoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. He was considering ending their chat when the old butler leaned forward wide-eyed and gripped him by the wrists.

“Listen to me carefully. This is no joke. Your inheritance is filled with skeletons and monsters.”

The old man looked hard into his eyes. “You still want proof? I understand,” Watkins said, “then speak to the groundskeeper. He stayed, he had no problems

with what was going on there.”

Mahoy was perplexed.

“Perhaps he will come clean, explain his part in it all.”

“But seriously, vampires! Just how stupid do you think I am?” Mahoy asked rhetorically.

“Not stupid Master Rupert, foolish,” the old man replied. “Do you know anything about your line?”

“My line?”

“Yes, your bloodline.” And judging by the vacant expression, he realised Mahoy had no idea. “Your family is ancient, truly ancient, old true blue bloods. In fact, you and your family have more claim to the throne than our queen. You are direct descendants of the Conqueror himself.”

Mahoy looked back warily at the old man who looked on the brink of dozing off once more.

“But there’s more to your line than antiquity alone. Search the cemetery and you will scratch the surface of the truth.”

Stop with the riddles, Mahoy thought. He wanted to say more but stopped himself. “So, what lies there besides the dead and rotting?”

The old man smiled apologetically, “The truth about your father.”

Don’t miss this title:

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AMY’S BOOKSHELF

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Uncaged Reviews Kiss Me Deadly

Jessie Thomas Paranormal Romance A necromancer and a vampire walk into a cemetery...and if you’re wondering how this joke ends, that makes two of us.

I’m Seraphina Mason, Buffalo’s only resident necromancer. While other people are on normal sleep schedules doing regular human things, I spend my nights conjuring spirits, resurrecting the dead, and sometimes a bit of poltergeist removal, if you need it.

But I’m not even the most dangerous nocturnal creature lurking around the cemeteries.

Uncaged Review: This is a pretty good start to a series, but you have to slog through to the halfway point before it picks up speed. It’s a slow mover, and there are a lot of things that are never fully explained and some things that are overly explained. There is always a fine line that authors walk to give enough information but not so much as to slow the story down. This book has a tendency to do both at times, but all-in-all, I’m seriously looking forward to the next book in the series.

I like the characters, the plot is original and interesting, and the slow burn romance is interesting. I think the series will give us more of a back story about Ellie, Rhys, Dev and even this entire paranormal world. I will definitely move on to book two when it’s available. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Lady Constantine and the Sins of Lord Kilgore Julie Johnstone Fantasy ShortHistorical Regency/ Scottish In the game of love, even a rogue can come undone by his own wicked wager.

Callum, the Marquess of Kilgore, long ago accepted that he was no saint. So when he’s offered a shameful bet—to seduce the lady some have dubbed the “Ice Queen” and recover the land he foolishly gambled away—he agrees. Yet, as he comes to know Lady Constantine, he realizes this kind and pure woman deserves far better than a reprobate like himself. Now, he would do anything to protect her from the scandal he helped create, even ruthlessly pushing her away. It seems he hasn’t fallen quite as far into sin as he thought…

Uncaged Review: I had a feeling, when reading this series, that Lord Kilgore’s story was going to be complicated, even more so than the first books in the series. He is a rogue who had my interest the first time I met him in earlier books. Soon after they are married, Callum is kidnapped and thrown in an asylum. The torture is almost unbearable, but so is Callum’s will to live. He will need to prove himself before he can be with Constantine, to prove he is the man she can truly love. But Constantine is no wilting flower, and she is the perfect match for Kilgore.

This book was heartbreaking, romantic, steamy and a true page turner. I liked that the book included an epilogue, but I was a bit bummed about the abrupt ending. It still deserves five stars, but I would like to see the ending a bit more, and see if a couple questions that were never answered could have been resolved.

Good edition to this series. Reviewed by Cyrene

Baron of Bad Tammy Andresen Historical Regency

Earl of Sin Tammy Andresen Historical Regency

He’s bad to the bone… and she looks oh so good.

EHe’s a man of sin and she’s tempting beyond belief…

The Baron of Baderness is too dark, too dangerous for any clear minded lady to consider. And Lady Grace has her choice of men. So why can’t she stop thinking about the one man she shouldn’t want?

Uncaged Review: This book started out with a bang, a kidnapping, a carriage chase and a shooting, all in the first pages! Lady Grace is kidnapped

by Abernathy, and while she is supposed to be under the watchful eye of The Baron of Baderness, Ben. When the chase ends, the love story begins. Ben never thought he was good enough for someone like Lady Grace, but she will batter down his walls and it’s a sweet story and I’ve read the other books in this series, and is a good addition. It was fun to see the characters return from the previous books, since they are all co-owners of a gaming hell.

This may be my favorite of the series so far, with a not-so-perfect hero, who is transformed into the man he always should have been with the help of a strong heroine in Lady Grace. Reviewed by Cyrene

The Earl of Sinclair is a man returning from the brink. Raising a daughter on his own and only just skirting financial disaster, he’ll be the first to admit he needs help. But a beautiful tutor who whisks into house and begins making changes. He’s not certain this was a good idea. It’s one thing that his daughter loves her, but his own heart is in jeopardy.

Uncaged Review: Mary, who lost her own family and fiancé in the past, decides to interview to be a tutor for Cole, the Earl of Sinclair who lost his wife in childbirth a few years ago, and feels he is failing his own daughter, Anne. Anne had been kidnapped by Abernathy and Mary may be just what Anne needs, but is she also able to heal the heart of the Earl, and at the same time, her very own?

I’ve read the other books in this series, and the characters from the past books are returning, which is one of my favorite things in series. This is a fast read and a fast romance. There is no fat in this book, and it hums along quickly and this is one of those books that I wish was a bit longer. But with the series continuing on, it reads like one longer story. Great addition to this series. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Uncaged Reviews A Lord for Miss Lily

A Marquess for Miss Marigold Maggie Dallen & Katherine Ann Madison Historical Regency

Lily’s lord is her long lost friend.

He’s also her worst enemy.

All this wounded marquess wants is solitude. Instead, he stumbles across a wallflower…literally.

Maggie Dallen & Katherine Ann Madison Historical Romance

Lord Merrick is perfectly handsome and charming…but this lord is a complete traitor. Lily knows this for a fact as she is the very person he turned his back on. Now she’s determined to avoid him at the house party she’s been trapped at with her former friend.

The only problem? Lord Merrick is like the plague… he just keeps cropping up.

Uncaged Review: A friends-to-sweet romance book that has all the feels. Lily and Merrick were great childhood friends but each seemed to go their separate ways for different reasons. Now stuck at a house party together, they banter back and forth. Lily believes she can’t trust Merrick any more, and Merrick is in the dark as to why.

This is a clean, sweet romance that has wonderful characters and is an easy read. Falling for these wallflowers is easy and the writing duo of Dallen & Madison is outstanding.

The books can easily be read as standalones and come with their own HEA. No cliffhangers here, just a reader looking forward to the next book in the series. Reviewed by Cyrene

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It wasn’t as though Marigold was hiding, she was just…lying low. In an abandon shed. Admidst a houseparty where both her best friends had managed to become engaged.

In a few days she can escape to her quiet life a solitude and books. Alone. Forever. But then the prodigal son returns to the manor and charges into her life with the military precision one might expect from a war hero. Even more terrifying, he refuses to ignore her like the rest of society. Of course, he doesn’t.

Uncaged Review: Mary wants nothing more than to steal away to the country and have a quiet life. During a house party she hides away in a shed, but she’s not the only one trying to get away from a party. Until Max, a returning war hero and Marquess – finds her and drags her back out to the party. Mary believes he’s only doing this to be nice to her, but is he?

This is a shorter story, pretty easy to read in one sitting and it’s a sweet, feel-good romance that has wonderful characters. The two authors have done a terrific job of writing together and even though this is part of a series, you can easily read this as a standalone.

Reviewed by Cyrene

Slayer Cyndi Friberg SciFi Romance General Malik Xett doesn’t have time for romance. His one and only concern is curtailing the power and influence of the ruthless Sarronti elite. Still, the human female working with him lingers in his mind and fuels his imagination.

Though Kara O’Leary has been attracted to Malik since they first met, she never dreamed he returned her feelings.

One kiss ignites a hunger neither can deny, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Hostilities rapidly escalate and new threats are revealed. How can Malik and Kara bring freedom to the “world below” when all they can think about is each other?

Uncaged Review: The character building and world building in this novel are top notch, and the descriptions have this world leaping off the pages. This is the first book in a series and the first book I’ve read by this author and I will be looking forward to reading more from her. This is a complete novel, and does not end on a cliffhanger, but I still believe reading any series in order will enhance each story. With that said, there is a lot going on in this book, and the romance between Kara and Malik brews perfectly. Sarronti males are paired with human women through a mate locator. If there are more than one mate available, the women can choose the one they prefer. There is one that Kara is matched to, that she declines – and he won’t take no for an answer, until Malik steps in.

The Contest Nora Katzir Women Sleuths/Mystery Rachel’s husband is a cheater, and her friends have the perfect solution: kill John without getting caught.

They were referring to a hypothetical contest, of course. It wouldn’t necessarily solve Rachel’s problem, but it might ease her pain.

Entries to the contest, start pouring in from friends, customers at their favorite eatery and complete strangers.

Uncaged Review: I’m not a huge mystery reader, but this book is a light-hearted mystery that was fun to read. Rachel’s husband is caught cheating on her, and to cheer herself up, her and her friends start a contest on the most creative way to kill John. The contest grows rapidly and soon they are swamped with entries. And then John dies in a car accident. Whoops.

The friendship between the women is a refreshing touch, and the mystery was fun and I didn’t guess this one as I usually do with murder mysteries. The contest idea was unique, and it kept me reading to see if the contest “caused the death of John” or if it was truly an accident. A fun mystery with some light-hearted moments Reviewed by Cyrene

There is a lot of action going on this book, and some of the descriptions weigh the book down a bit, but when it comes to scifi, it’s not always an easy task to convey the world in the author’s mind to paper and have others believe it. This book left a lot of unanswered questions, but I believed this story and felt what the characters were feeling, and for me, that makes this an easily recommended book. Reviewed

by Cyrene

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Uncaged Reviews The Forest

Michaelbrent Collings Occult Suspense Three kids went in.

Now, twenty years later, the two survivors are going back…

For Tricia and Alex, the idea is simple: find and rescue their friend, Sam, from his insane mother.

But when they enter the forest, they discover that their idea is anything but simple. Because this forest isn’t like any other.

In this forest, a silver mist cloaks the truth. In this forest, a simple trip of a few miles can turn into a nightmare In this forest, the monsters are real.

Uncaged Review: If you are easily frightened (I’m not), then I wouldn’t recommend reading this at night right before you go to sleep. Even though I’m not easily scared, this book made me jump a few times, this would be a great film – it has all the trappings of a good thriller like Bird Box or A Quiet Place. A long time ago, 3 friends went into the forest, but only 2 came out. Sam never returned and now, twenty years later, Alex and Tricia are determined to go back and find Sam. They have no memories of what happened all those years ago, and it will be an uphill battle for them to come out of this in one piece and with their mind intact.

This is one of those books that I will come back to and read again. There is so much going on, and there were parts that I hurried through to see what would happen, and I’m sure I missed things.

There was a bit of being a bit over muddled, but it’s worth a read, and maybe even a second read.

Reviewed by Cyrene

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A Trade in Tears Samantha Shiye Ghost Mysteries

Morag, “Mo”, has it all. A happy-golucky, free-spirited student and martial arts enthusiast, she’s on top of the world until she finds Cindy beaten and bloodied in the graveyard – ultimately shining a light into unknown shadows of her own childhood Cindy, eighteen with her whole future in front of her, has lost it all. One victim of many in a brutal string of sex crimes that has swept their corner of South East England, the experience leaves her shaken, before revealing secrets she’d kept even from herself. Despite the support of her rich and successful older friend, Faye, who has troubles of her own, Cindy sinks deeper into despair.

Uncaged Review: This book teeters on the edge of paranormal, but doesn’t quite get there. There is a lot going on in this book, from sex crimes and sex trafficking, some of it pretty brutal. The Chief Inspector Collin’s daughter Mo finds Cindy badly beaten and the investigation turns into a much larger scope than first thought.

This is a good debut novel. I liked the different layers of the plot although it weighed it down in spots and slowed the progress of the story. There is the separate narrative of how Johnny is hearing his abducted girlfriend’s voice (the paranormal part) but all of it comes together in the end. I did not guess the ending, which is a good thing, and I would welcome reading more by this author as she perfects her craft.

Reviewed by Cyrene

Come Here, Kitten Emilia Rose Shifter Romance

The Havoc Tree Layden Robinson Dark Fantasy Shorts

Taming an alpha is never easy—even when you’re his mate.

“Words, thoughts and manic rantings under the influence of strong drink and fine smoky treats.”

ARES Warmonger Alpha Ares promises to kill anyone who has the Malavite Stone—a crystal packed with ungodly powers and healing properties. From slaughtering packs to building himself an empire, he will stop at nothing to find it.

That is until he meets Aurora.

Uncaged Review: Sometimes a good steamy shifter book is what it takes to get out of the doldrums. And this book does a great job of it. Aurora is an alpha female that was destined to lead the pack but cannot shift because of a past injury, and now is thought of as weak to the pack. When her mother offers her up to Ares for pack protection, Aurora feels betrayal and stubbornly defies Ares. This book offers great characters and good world building, with action, loss, romance and mystery.

Uncaged Review: Well, I’m not real sure what I just read. I guess the blurb gives you more of an idea that this is a lot of ramblings of a manic mind.

I feel like I slipped down the rabbit hole along with Alice. These are absolute short ramblings, and I hate to call them stories, because they aren’t at all. What they are, are almost (and I mean almost) delightful madness of scribbles that will have you either going back and reading it again, or scratching your head wondering what just happened. This is not really a novel, more like some incoherent thoughts jotted down on paper and then published in a sort of mad anthology. A couple reviewers called it surreal – and maybe the strange stuff you see in nightmares, and that rings pretty close to the mark. Reviewed by Cyrene

I enjoyed the book, and I loved the author brought in a cat, Ruffles as a great addition to the story and this book could have rated much higher for me except it ended on a cliffhanger. And it cut off in a strange place. I liked the steamy romance between Ares and Aurora, but their story continues – they have not hit their HEA, yet. Not a standalone. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Uncaged Reviews Summer Warrior

Regan Walker Historical Norse & Icelandic Fiction Somerled’s parentage was noble, of the Kings of Dublin, the royal house of Argyll and the great Ard Ri, the High Kings of Ireland. But when the Norse invaded Argyll and the Isles, his family’s fortunes fell with those of his people. All hope seemed lost when he rose from the mists of Morvern to rally the Gaels, the Scots and the Irish

Uncaged Review: This story is a special work of love for this author, as the Clan Donald is from her own heritage and history. This book is so thoroughly and thoughtfully researched, you will be pulled into the pages as you go. Don’t be put off by the historical aspect of this book, this book is a fast paced tale through history and becomes a “can’t put down” book very quickly. This author is a wordsmith, where writing is an art form and weaves a story that leaves you wanting more when you get to the end. The characters are engaging and believable and the world building is second to none.

This author continues her talent of weaving true history into her fiction, so the reader will be learning at the same time. This is easily one of the top books I’ve read this year, and I’m pretty sure it will remain in the top ten all year long. Reviewed

by Cyrene

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Soothsayer Kathryn Amurra Ancient Worlds/Romance

Aurelia has always valued love and happiness over titles and power. Though her kind-hearted father has allowed her to turn away suitor after suitor in pursuit of a love she cannot yet define, when he dies her choices die with him. Knowing that marrying the elderly governor of a neighboring province can secure her mentally challenged brother’s safety, she gives up on her dream of finding love in return for his protection.

Uncaged Review: This is not the typical historical romance that is so often written, but this takes place in ancient Rome, and the young woman, Aurelia is forced into accepting an older governor so she can have protection for her and her brother, who is unable to survive being drafted into the military because of his mental issues. But during the journey to the governor, and her escort is Cassius, a strong warrior who is loyal and selfless, and also believes he won’t live much longer because of a soothsayer. But Cassius may have misinterpreted the words..

I won’t say more, but the build up to this romance is a slow, worthy climb and watching the two fall in love in satisfying. The loyalty that Aurelia shows for her brother, and the selfless way Cassius cares for them makes this a worthy read and I’d be onboard to read book two. Reviewed by Cyrene

Mission Impossible to Forget Jacki Delecki Romantic Suspense

Former Special-Ops Marine Nick Jenkins is out of a job and out of patience.

Discharged from the Corp because of hearing loss, the last thing he wants to do is babysit someone who’s surrounded by the haunting sounds of music he can no longer appreciate.

Professional cellist Emily Hewitt loves nothing more than creating music. Sharing her gift with the world is all she lives for. Until her life is threatened. Caught up in a treacherous conspiracy, Emily becomes the pawn in an international play for power and must be assigned a bodyguard.

When danger turns deadly, will Nick be able to save Emily?

Uncaged Review: This is the fourth book in a series, but each book are standalones, and about a different couple. Each book focuses on an ex-military special operatives. The result is a fast paced, thrilling suspense that leaves you flipping the pages. Emily, who is a professional cellist, comes back from a tour to find her manager murdered. Fearing for her life, her brother hires ex-Marine Nick, to be her bodyguard, with whom she has a past. But the danger is real, and the two will have to navigate through their own hangups and danger to find their HEA. This is a good story and not too long of a read, that really kicks up a notch after about 25% through. The characters are engaging and likeable, and the build of the romance was spot on. Great read. Reviewed by Cyrene

TNightworld Academy – Term One L.J. Swallow YA Fantasy Welcome to the Nightworld Academy, attended by vampires, shifters, and witches. A place filled with harmony and mutual respect between the supernatural races. Sometimes.

I’m told my curse is a gift. A valuable one that could cost me my life.

My visions of the future are weird, but my new school is weirder. All lessons take place in the evening and the majority of students are on an advanced program where they take extra classes late into the night.

Uncaged Review: This is a good beginning to this series, but I didn’t like the main character all that much for the first part of the book, as a matter of fact, I didn’t really like her much until the last part. She was very immature for her supposed age, and even though I think the author was going for snarky and rebellious, it didn’t work for me, it only showed her spoiled and bratty. When she finally started coming into her own, I started to like her more, but it took more than half the book to get there. Another thing to watch for, is the book is written in first narrative, but it switches from chapter to chapter and the reader needs to pay attention to the top of each chapter to figure out who has the voice. A couple times I caught myself having to go back and look.

With all that said, the action, the relationships, some of the fun, it’s all there and it’s still a good base for this series. I’m definitely moving on to the next book, and even though these say they are moving toward reverse harem, don’t let that worry you. This is still very much a young adult story.

Reviewed by Cyrene

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Fang-Freakin-Tastic Reviews How to Save an Undead Life

list of places to visit when the plague is over.

Life is about as normal as it gets for an ex-necromancer hiding among humans. Until the society that excommunicated Grier offers her a second chance at being more than ordinary. Too bad no one warned her the trouble with being extraordinary is it can get you killed.

My only real complaint is that as much as I love this book (and the series, I just finished the last book in the series so I’m trying to be careful of spoilers. I also only started the series 2 weeks ago and they’re not tiny books), there is a theme that pops up repeatedly that really bothers me. Grier’s weight is brought up repeatedly in a negative way. She is small due to where she was before this book started. A mention is one thing, but it pops up repeatedly in each book.

People get mad if someone says negative things about someone being heavier but think it’s ok to make the same kind of comments about someone who is thin.

That’s not right. Just bc they are thin doesn’t mean it’s ok to tell them they need to eat or they need curves etc. If you wouldn’t say something about someone who is thicker, don’t say something about someone being thinner. Weight shaming is wrong regardless of what direction it goes. This is one of the very few things I get particular about but it’s something that affects me personally on a regular basis.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: I fell in love with this series almost immediately. This author was at a book event I was at last year, and I should have caught on then that her books would be awesome, but I must not have been paying attention.

Aside from my one complaint, this really is a great series despite how frustrated I am over the weight issue. Once I started reading, I couldn’t put it down and just had to keep reading. I’ve had a lot of nights with very little sleep as I tore my way through the series.

Hailey Edwards Paranormal Romance

Grier Woolworth spends her nights weaving spooky tales of lost souls and tragedies for tourists on the streets of downtown Savannah. Hoop skirt and parasol aside, it’s not a bad gig. The pay is crap, but the tips keep the lights on in her personal haunted mansion and her pantry stocked with ramen.

Grier is likeable, as are most of the other characters, but Boaz is infuriating. This book is an example of how family isn’t always blood. Family is much more than that. I can appreciate Grier’s awkwardness and respect why she has some of the quirks she does due to her trauma. Neely is probably my favorite character of all though. I can’t quite get a read (no pun intended) on a few of the characters, and I want to be hopeful, but authors tend to be sadists, so I’m a little leery of getting too hopeful.

This book has made me want to go to Savannah, GA even more than I already wanted to. I’ve always loved haunted history, so Savannah is on my

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Reaper Rejected: Reaper Trials-Semester Two Mia Ellas and LE Perez YA Fantasy

wanting more. Definitely worth picking up this series if you haven’t yet. You won’t be disappointed.

I do think this story might have been even better than the first one and I loved the first book too.

Rejected and labeled a traitor, one woman must prove where her loyalties lie.

I’ve been beat up.

I’ve been lied to.

Heck I’ve even been kidnapped.

What’s a girl to do when she has to go back to where it all happened. The academy holds the answer to what happened to my parents. Add in the fact that I’m manifesting my powers and I have nowhere else to go.

Whoever or whatever is after me is closing in. I need to stand my ground, learn how to use my new powers, and survive the Reaper Trials. Piece of cake.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: I love this series. I’ve been waiting and waiting and finally, it’s here. And most definitely doesn’t disappoint. We get answers to a few questions we had after the first book and are given a few new things to wonder about. I like not having all the details at once because it gives me something to look forward to finding out.

As expected, the fight scenes are phenomenal. Plenty of action at just the right moments to keep things rolling along. I love how the authors describe the fight scenes in a way that I can actually picture in my mind and make sense. Too many fight scenes just don’t make sense and don’t work the way it sounds, but that’s not a problem in this series.

Fast paced, full of action, and the adorable but vicious Pez, there’s nothing I can say I truly didn’t enjoy in this book. I mean, I’d like it to be like 500 pages or more, but that’s just me being greedy and always

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Fang-Freakin-Tastic Reviews The Nightwalkers JA Kahn YA Horror/Suspense Murder, mystery, and supernatural mayhem.

A spate of horrific murders has left residents of Lyndhurst village terrified. The police are chasing shadows. Each kill site is clean, with not a drop of blood anywhere in sight. There’s not even a finger or footprint to follow. But one thing is clear, a serial killer is on the loose.

Desperate for fame and to outdo the local constabulary, a group of kids blunders in on the scene. But their hopes of catching the killer red-handed quickly turn to dust when they witness one of the gruesome murders firsthand. Worse still, far from upstaging the police, the kids unwittingly become prime suspects.

And they have just one other problem - they suspect they’re going to be the next bloodless corpses.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: It took me a minute to get into this story, but once I did, I was hooked. I tore through this like my kids and a pack of oreos.

It’s considered a “teen” book, but there is plenty of action for adults to enjoy as well.

I loved how the main characters didn’t seem like they were the popular kids. It made them easier to identify with and in some ways, reminded me of my own childhood except when we went vampire hunting, we didn’t find any. It does show a good example of how kids are regularly not taken seriously when it comes to telling those in charge things aren’t right. The bond between the kids that is one of the things I miss about being a kid. It’s hard to make those kinds of friends as adults.

While fairly lighthearted, there are a few scenes

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that really bummed me out. Just when I really got to liking someone, something would happen. Every time I thought things were going to go right for these kids, they went horribly wrong. I loved how many twists and turns there were, and I was always kept guessing.

Plenty of action and mystery to keep me happy. I did feel bad for the detective guy though. He was dopey but it seemed like he had good intentions. He was kind of like the detective that Steve Martin played in the Pink Panther lol. I also appreciated the link to Kahn’s other book, Self Defense Against Vampires, which I also enjoyed immensely.

This really is a great story. Plenty of things to keep your attention without giving away all the secrets at once. You don’t have to have read Self Defense Against Vampires to know what is going on in this story, but I do recommend reading it at some point just to get a bit more info.

Grave New World

Kate Karyus Quinn, Demitria Lunetta, and Marley Lynn Fantasy Mystery

Sometimes you have to play dirty.

I’m Paige Harper and I clean up supernatural messes. But my personal life is something I can’t seem to straighten out.

I accidentally married a fae, and even though we’ve been divorced for years, Jax still manages to land me in hot water. Like, putting my house on the table at a high stakes poker game type of hot.

Now, he’s been arrested for murder and the cops want to pin a series of vampire killings on him. I don’t know if he did it or not. But I do know he needs to be at that poker game or else my house is gone.

In order to get Jax out, I turn to Nico, a one-eyed werewolf private detective, for help. Nico is a handsome, dangerous, ladies man and I have no intention of falling prey to his charms.

Although, that’s easier said than done as the two of us begin crawling through the dirty underbelly of the supernatural world…

It’s a good thing I brought my broom.

For many, humor is a coping mechanism, and I can appreciate making stupid jokes when other people don’t think it’s appropriate.

I love a good mystery and Grave New World is full of them. In this world, supernatural creatures are out in the open and attempting to share the world with humans. As with the real world, there are both good and bad in each group, and the way these authors have interwoven their lives works for me. I don’t feel like the story dragged anywhere, and if it did, I was so engrossed in the story I didn’t notice.

This is a series that I’m going to enjoy losing myself in, I just hope they can write faster than I can read. Paige’s sense of humor and luck in life parallels my own so I can’t wait to see what kind of mess she gets herself into next.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: Grave New World is a much different kind of paranormal mystery than I am used to reading. I’m enjoying reading about main characters that are closer to my own age and not viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. And the world these authors have created here is totally different from what I’ve seen before.

Something I love about this book is the sense of humor. There is no way someone could write characters that are this funny without being funny themselves.

I’m only speculating here, but I suspect these authors have a sense of humor similar to my own and I love that. Despite all the bad things that happen to Paige, she never seems to lose her sense of humor.

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews A Venomous Love Chris Karlsen Historical Mystery It’s 1890.A veteran, Detective Rudyard Bloodstone has fought a brutal battle and witnessed war horrors that haunt his nightmares. Now one of those horrors has followed him home from Africa.A vicious predator, the Cape cobra, can kill a man in thirty minutes.

Amy’s Review: Loved, loved, loved this story Karlsen pens a magnificent Victorian era story in A Venomous Love. The twist in this story is that it’s a detective story as well. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it.

Even though that story was 5 stars as well, I must say this story just made me read it from cover to cover. First, it’s 1890. A time where there was no crime scene investigators or modern science just the wit and knowledge of the detective. Bloodstone has his own demons, a haunting that follows him wherever he goes, but still he has a case to solve, a murder, before there are any others. It’s an amazing story and you can definitely tell that the author did her research not just about the era, but the police procedures. Bloodstone is a unique character, with a lot of depth, and has many different layers, making up a determined man.

Determined to find a killer. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. The thrills and intrigue is written clearly and the characterizations are engrossing. Love this story. This story was intriguing and kept the reader guessing. This read is more than just words on a page.

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Alina: A Song for the Telling Malve von Hassell Historical Coming of Age Maybe Alina’s aunt was right.

How could she possibly hope to become a musician, a trobairitz, as impoverished as she was and without the status of a good marriage?

But fourteen-year-old Alina refuses to accept the oppressing life her strict aunt wants to impose upon her. When the perfect opportunity comes along for her to escape, she and her brother embark on a journey through the Byzantine Empire all the way to Jerusalem.

Amy’s Review: A compelling story von Hassell pens an intriguing and compelling young adult historical story in Alina: A Song for the Telling. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. This book wasn’t just words on a page that told a story, it was an adventure for the reader to be fully immersed into this story. It may have been written for young adults, and maybe younger, but this adult really loved this story. Alina believed in herself when no one else did, living with her strict and oppressive, thinking that Alina must marry to get anywhere in life. Alina had not just the music in her heart but in her soul, which leaped off the pages. The story brings Alina into a world that she had not expected, and she still feels the need to protect and take care of her brother, Milos. Alina tells her story grandly, and some things just resonate with the reader. “Unhappy, I arranged my lute next to the stool where I usually sat. For a while I just plucked and strummed without singing, which gave me time to collect myself...” An inspiring story. The title drew me in, but the story made me stay. The author’s technique of intense characters and great plotlines is a gift. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. Almost magical and yet soulful!

Bound in Strength: Stance Upon Heartache Zola Blue Children’s Fantasy For god-like creatures named Mejuarian living on planet Ercutis, their world was near perfect.

Mejuarian, a cross between an animal and godly beings, have a splendorous village where everyone gets along. They live in a hierarchical society, and everyone loves their king and queen.

Amy’s Review: When world’s collide...

Blue pens a remarkable fantastical story in Bound in Strength: Stance Upon Heartache. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. This was no different, and I think my favorite of her works that I’ve read. The characters were realistic and some, though creatures, humanlike. This author brings the stories to life, as there aren’t just different perspective of stories, but also different worlds and societal levels. The story brings in the believable, even if almost impossible. This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. Magnificent story, kept this reader turning the pages. It’s literally out of this world! Action-packed and it takes the reader on a magnificent journey.

Fifty Bales of Hay Delilah McHenoll Gay Romance A Sapphic tale of love and lust, set in the heart of the English countryside. The story, narrated by nineteen year old horse lover Jazz, follows her week long holiday spent at her Aunty’s Equestrian Centre, where she bumps into the slightly older, coquettish Mia, a close friend she keeps in touch with. So begins a romance between the two, with many hilarious, fun-filled ‘false starts,’ along the way.

Amy’s Review: A grand romance McHenoll pens a grand romantic story in Fifty Bales of Hay. This is McHenoll’s debut story, and it’s just a wonderfully sweet romance between two females. Mia and Jasmine have been friends for years, and are finally admitting their attraction for each other, though each one have been battling their feelings and emotions regarding their sexuality. It’s a fun romance, mixed with taking care of horses and riding them on Jasmine’s Aunt’s farm and horse-riding school. It’s one of those wonderfully thought out stories, and it’s well-written, especially when Mia and Jasmine use every opportunity they can to share a kiss, hoping it will lead to more, without anyone finding out. It was an enjoyable journey and a magnificent story, kept this reader turning the pages. Not only did the scenes work, but they also gave the reader something to look forward to, as well as the characters.

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews

impulses.

Heart Fever Bob Van Laerhoven Mystery/Crime

Orange City Lee Matthew Goldberg SciFi/Post-Apocalyptic

After his much-acclaimed short story collection “Dangerous Obsessions,” which had war as a common background, Belgian/Flemish author Van Laerhoven surprises again with five stories that shed piercing light on our most self-destructive

Imagine a secret, hidden City that gives a second chance at life for those selected to come: felons, deformed outcasts, those on the fringe of the Outside World. Everyone gets a job, a place to live; but you are bound to the City forever.

Amy’s Review: Dark and alluring stories Van Laerhoven pens a wonderfully dark collection of stories in Heart Fever. It was supposed to be a collection, and I take that it was, just not the type that I may be used to, but with that aside, it was definitely an amazing read. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed each one. The characters were quite that, characters, among the dark and dingy, aggressive, and yes, almost inhuman. “Before I lost my arm and chunks of my legs, I liked to look in mirrors and see the monstrous strength in my pectorals, my shoulders, my torso, my legs, my arms. Mirrors defined me. I also liked ramming people’s faces into mirrors, spattering blood, glass and tissue...” This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. Van Laerhoven has quite the imagination, and the words he put together are just thrilling, and very chilling. The title drew me in, but the stories made me stay, just one of those that you can’t miss a word or you’ll miss something important to the story. I have fast become a big fan of Van Laerhoven.

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You can never leave.

Amy’s Review: A grand dystopian mixed with sci-fi Goldberg pens a grand and unique Post-apocalyptic story in Orange City. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were intense, raw, and some not even human.

Orange City is kind of liked the Eagles “Hotel California”, where you can stay, get whatever you want, but never leave. It’s a wonderfully written story, and there were definite twists and those things that you never saw coming. I like the way that Goldberg thinks, his imagination spread out on pages that are more than just words, but a story like no other that I’ve read. I get why it’s called Orange City, and that just adds the extra punch that this story deserves. The story brings in the believable, even if almost impossible. This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). A very well-written story, and I really loved it. The title drew me in, but the story made me stay.

The author’s technique of intense characters and great plotlines is a gift. It’s a rollercoaster story, yet easy to follow and try to figure out what will happen next.

Very unpredictable.

Avenging Angel: Love and Death in Old Brooklyn Charles S. Isaacs Mystery Romance Following a racially motivated rape by three Ku Klux Klansmen, 12-year-old Cassandra Monroe vows revenge. After eight years of training, now a strikingly beautiful assassin, she accomplishes her mission.

Amy’s Review: A unique way for a budding romance!

Isaacs pens a raw and intriguing story in Avenging Angel: Love and Death in Old Brooklyn. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it.

The characters were raw, intense, and very motivated.

This author brings the story to life. The imperfect characters make it real, and the strength of Cassandra is very intense, and powerful. An unlikely alliance and “rescuer” joins Cassandra’s fight. It’s a grand story to follow. A very well-written story, and I really liked it. The thrills and intrigue is written clearly and the characterizations are engrossing. The author’s technique of intense 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.

The Colour of Your Voice Daniel Newwyn Contemporary Romance Loving is hard when you’re about to die.

What happens when a call girl and a death row prisoner fall in love?

Violet Pham can see sounds.

The brown chirps of the sparrows dance with the colors of their feathers.

Amy’s Review: A dark and dingy love story!

Newwyn pens a unique love story in The Colour of Your Voice. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were at their lowest in life, but raw and very real. . This author brings the stories to life.

The characters, Violet and Turner are the most unlikely couple, both on living in the darkness of their own doing. Violet is a very interesting characters, seeing sounds as colors, but sees it as a curse rather than a blessing. The story is written well, and it was a short read, but a lot of details within the story, and exploration of the lives of both Violet and Turner

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