Uncaged Book Reviews

ISSUE 56 | March 2021

2021

*Made by request for eligible ads

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

M

arch 2021 - has been a hectic month here, and you can read about our barn roof collapse in the Life in Motion column. With the money from the GoFundMe, I’ve purchased a shelter that will be delivered and I should have the horses home by the weekend of March 13. I’ll order the nice Amish-made shelter also, but that one has a much longer lead time.

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

by Jami Gray with part two 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.

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

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 March 2021 issue of Uncaged Book Reviews.

You may now fill out a form on the Requested Reviews Page on

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X cyrene

contents feature authors Laura Beers 12 historical romance 20

Jillian Eaton

32

Linda Ballou

46

Timothy Sojka

60 72 78

historical romance

historical fiction

crime thriller

John Mollard

crime noir

George T. Arnold

mystery/suspense

J.S. Marlo

FangFreakinTastic 130

Ava Lynn Wood romantic comedy

short story

66

Ignition Point, part 2 urban fantasy - Jami Gray

authors and their pets

54

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

showcase

18

LaJuana Craft Ryckeley

58

D.L. Dempsey

Words from God

End Your Relationsh*t

A Life in Motion

40

time travel romantic suspense

Monthly column chronicling life on a small farm. Monthly recipe for March: Smoked Sausage Skillet

COVER IMAGE ©siala

86

Marie Powell

96

VK Tritschler

100

Issue 56 | March 2021

young adult fantasy

romantic comedy

4 7 140 142 146

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

Aliza Ross

contemporary romance

Uncaged on Instagram

Issue 56 | March 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 56 | March 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

historical romance | historical fiction

Laura Beers

Jillian Eaton

Linda Ballou

laura beers

L

aura Beers spent most of her childhood with a nose stuck in a book, dreaming of becoming an author. She attended Brigham Young University, eventually earning a Bachelor of Science degree in Construction Management.

Many years later, and with loving encouragement from her family, Laura decided to start writing again.

Besides being a full-time homemaker to her three kids, she loves waterskiing, hiking, and drinking Dr. Pepper. Currently, Laura Beers resides in South Carolina.

Stay Connected

12 | UncagedBooks.com

authorlaurabeers.com

Uncaged welcomes Laura Beers Welcome to Uncaged! You are releasing the first book in a new series, A Dangerous Pursuit on March 16th. Can you tell readers more about this book and the series?

A Dangerous Pursuit is the first book in the Regency Spies & Secrets series. It has spies, intrigue and is a clean read. There was a lot of civil unrest during the Regency era because of the war with Napoleon. It was the perfect backdrop for my series.

How many books are you planning for this series?

I have planned out four books for this series.

What inspired you to write in the historical genre? Is there a lot of research involved?

I have always been fascinated with history, especially the Regency era. When I went to college, I majored in Construction Management because it was much more practical than being an author. But the desire to write a book never went away. It was much later that I sat down to start writing.

Yes, there is a ton of research that goes along with writing historical romances.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

The hardest thing for me to cope with during the pandemic is the unsurety of everything. I do not like surprises. I like things to be predictable so I can plan accordingly.

I can’t wait to travel to England. My husband and I were supposed to go this March, but we decided to wait a year.

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

I am working on the fourth book to the Regency Spies & Secrets right now. It is a story that revolves around coal miners and the horrid conditions they were forced to endure.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

I must admit that everything I edit out is done for a good reason. I assure you that no one wants to read what I edit out.

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

Edenbrooke. This was the first book that made me fall in love with the Regency era.

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

I enjoy spending time with my family. We just returned from a trip to the mountains near Boone, NC, and I loved watching my kids play in the snow.

Besides spending time with my family, I enjoy eating delicious food, going to the gym, taking naps, and golfing with my husband.

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

I wake up every morning at 5am to write. It is quiet and my family is in bed. It is the perfect time to write for me. I try to write about 5 hours a day.

Sometimes I can sneak in more and sometimes it is less.

I generally can produce a full novel in a month.

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That includes plotting, writing, and editing.

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

It depends on my situation. I have discovered that I enjoy physical books when I am at the beach. But I usually read ebooks.

Yes, I am reading/researching right now. Mad & Bad Real Heroines of the Regency is a fascinating book about real women in the Regency era. I am learning so much.

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

I would love to say that I am so grateful for you.

Thank you for reading my books! You have made my dreams come true by reading my books.

Enjoy an excerpt from A Dangerous Pursuit A Dangerous Pursuit Laura Beers Victorian Historical Releases March 16 Miss Madalene Dowding was devastated when her mother died, leaving her all alone. To honor her mother’s legacy, she decides to use part of her fortune to open an orphanage. When a teacher at the orphanage goes missing, Madalene takes it upon herself to start looking for her, even if it means taking her deep into the unsavory parts of London.

Baldwin Radcliff, the Marquess of Hawthorne, is working on his last case as an agent of the Crown since he is about to retire and take up his seat in the House of Lords. He is tasked with finding a French

| LAURA BEERS | spy that is in league with a growing group of radicals. As he searches for the enemy, he discovers a meddling heiress that keeps stumbling in at the most inopportune times, making him wonder if she is perhaps the spy he has been sent to find.

Despite mutual dislike, Baldwin agrees to help Madalene, but only if she stays far away from the investigation. A promise that Madalene has no intention of keeping. Will headstrong Madalene and duty-driven Baldwin be able to work together, especially since so much is at stake?

Will Baldwin choose between saving the Crown or saving an obstinate woman that he has unwittingly fallen in love with?

Excerpt Lord Hawthorne reached into his boot and pulled out a small pistol. “Are you familiar with how to use a muff pistol?”

“I am not.”

“That is disconcerting,” he replied, frowning. “It is not uncommon for a lady to carry one in her reticule.”

Glancing down at the pistol, Madalene remarked, “I have never been in a position that required the use of one.”

“I shall bring my spare with me tomorrow and give it to you,” Lord Hawthorne said, returning the muff pistol to his boot.

“I am not opposed to that.”

“Good,” he replied. “Do you carry a knife on your person?”

“I do not.”

With disapproval on his features, he asked, “Do Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | you not have the slightest regard for your personal safety?”

“I can box,” Madalene announced proudly.

marked, “No harm done. It was just some blood.”

“Again, I am terribly sorry—” she began.

Lord Hawthorne didn’t appear impressed by her admission. “I doubt that very much.”

Lord Hawthorne raised his hand, stilling her words.

“I am impressed, Miss Dowding. You have quite a punch.”

“It’s true,” she asserted.

“I assure you that I have never drawn blood before.”

His next words seemed to catch her off guard.

“Punch me, then.”

“How often do you box?”

Her lips parted in surprise at his odd request. “I couldn’t possibly punch you, my lord.”

“I practice nearly every morning,” she admitted.

Leaning closer to her, he said, “I give you leave to punch me.”

He bobbed his head in approval as he lowered the handkerchief in his hand. “I am glad to hear that. No one would expect someone of your stature to hit so proficiently.”

“But what if I hurt you?”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

Lord Hawthorne chuckled. “You couldn’t possibly hurt me,” he remarked smugly.

“I assure you that it was meant as one,” Lord Hawthorne said.

Tired of his pompous attitude, Madalene reared her fist back and punched him in the face. She felt gratified when she saw him stumbling backwards.

Madalene glanced down at the bloody handkerchief.

“Would you care for a clean handkerchief?” she asked.

His right hand went to cover his nose and she saw blood on his fingers. “Oh, my lord!” she exclaimed. “I am so incredibly sorry.”

Rushing over to the table, Madalene picked up the handkerchief she had been working on and brought it back to Lord Hawthorne.

“Allow me to retrieve some ice for your nose,” she said.

Rising to his full height, Lord Hawthorne asserted, “That won’t be necessary.”

“But you are bleeding, my lord.”

Dabbing his nose with the handkerchief, he re16 | UncagedBooks.com

Lord Hawthorne followed her gaze. “It would appear that I ruined this one.”

“No need to concern yourself with that,” she assured him. “I have many, many more.”

He smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a grimace.

“I’m afraid my nose is not ready for me to smile,” he admitted.

“Did I break it?” she asked hesitantly.

Lord Hawthorne brought his hand up to touch his nose.

“It doesn’t appear so. But even if you did, it wouldn’t be the first time I have broken my nose.”

Unsure of what to say, she started, “I am truly sorry, and—”

| LAURA BEERS | “It was not your fault,” he interrupted. “I was the one who told you to punch me.”

DON’T MISS THESE TITLES:

“That may be true, but I shouldn’t have hit you as hard as I did.”

His lips quirked slightly upward in a hint of a smile.

“I have a feeling you have been wanting to hit me for quite some time.”

“No, of course not,” she rushed to say.

Leaning closer, his eyes held an amused glimmer.

“Liar.”

A giggle escaped her lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Well, perhaps.”

“I assumed as much,” Lord Hawthorne remarked, taking a step back. “If you are not opposed, I shall call on you tomorrow to continue our discussion.”

“I look forward to it.”

Lord Hawthorne tipped his head. “Good day, Miss Dowding.”

“Good day, Lord Hawthorne,” she replied, dropping into a slight curtsy.

He opened his mouth as if he intended to say something, but then he closed it. Finally, he spoke. “Until tomorrow, then.”

Madalene watched as Lord Hawthorne departed from the room, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he had intended to say.

Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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showcase LaJuana Craft Ryckeley Words from God Words from God LaJuana Craft Ryckeley Religion/Poetry

Words from God: Rising Out of the Ashes is a collection of poems of pains turned purpose. It is a showcase of how one can rise from the ashes and be of help and a beacon to others. The words in these poems are the inspiration and bringer of hope that all is not lost. That somehow, these struggles are the instruments toward one’s success.

It’s the classic situation of “When life gives you lemon, you make lemonade.” And life can throw a very, very sour lemon—sometimes more than one at once. And though it is easier said than done, “making a lemonade” is not a walk in the park.

Optimism doesn’t come easy to a lot of people.

Especially if there seems to be no end in sight for the struggles they have been experiencing. But for some, these struggles seem to be the stepping stone to propel themselves to greater heights, all with the help of someone powerful—more powerful than anybody on earth.

Author LaJuana Craft Ryckeley first lived in Taylorsville, Mississippi, and then moved with her family to Mobile, Alabama. It was one of the earliest challenges she had to face in life along with her family. But those were not hindrances for her to learn and enjoy singing and reading. Thank18 | UncagedBooks.com

fully, her mother instilled in her the love for poetry.

And even when she married, her husband, Wiley, has always believed in her gift for writing poems that he encouraged her to join in contests.

U.S. Review of Books “I have journaled through my poetry—my life.”

Poet Ryckeley has survived many challenges and here shares her experiences and feelings in the medium she carried from childhood, learned through hymns and the songs of Stephen Foster. This is a wide-ranging collection featuring hundreds of works arrayed in twelve parts, beginning with the section “Christian Poems and Studies.” The opening call to “Seize the Day’ prepares readers for the lively and thoughtful journey to come: Relish every breath of air Live each day with zeal and flair When cherished moments come your way Whisk them up and seize the day The portion on “Growing Old” shows the poet grumbling but always with a redeeming moment to boost the mood. She counts the deficits: simple tasks are harder, dentures don’t fit right, memory is short, and eyesight is fading. But when she turns to reminiscences for solace, she realizes in pieces like “She Is Old” that “old memories are stronger” and evoke a smile. Also, Ryckeley was burdened, or blessed, for some time with raising teenagers. She examines this period in her life with wry humor: Why do they think they know it all?

When they are only in their teens Why are they so rude when you call?

I don’t think it was from my genes The grouping titled “Memories” includes a child’s punishment for noisily “dangling feet” during church and a lengthy paean to “My Daddy,” recalling her father going hunting and fishing, “playing cards, or games he made from wood,” doctoring her wounds, and repair-

ing her bike. She equally cherishes times with “My Mother,” whose plain love for God and nature was an inspiration. Poems extolling the qualities of “Women” contains this lively self-portrait of “Stressed Housewife”: Like an unwinding ball of yarn That is given quite a kick Battered, I am so forlorn Enough to make me sick

tion, indicating a many-year connection to her inner, word-embracing self. The ironic humor evinced in some of the pieces and the whimsy of her “Just Because” selections mix surprisingly well with the religiously themed selections, illustrating her emotional flexibility and genuine poetic flair. Overall, this is an aggregation for poetry lovers as well as Christians seeking new ways to explore their faith.

RECOMMENDED by the US Review

Ryckeley’s collection is introduced with a short autobiography that reveals a stalwart soul who grew up and spent much of her life in difficult circumstances. Her childhood involved family separations. Later, as a wife and mother, she was subjected to harsh conditions and abuse. All these groupings in free verse, rhythm, and rhyme include some words of faith and comfort attributable to Ryckeley’s abiding Christian view of life. In “Words and Words,” she asks to humbly remember that it is God that does the work when she offers prayers.

In the poem “I Asked the Lord For,” she acknowledges that what she prays for is not always what she gets. In a vision of the desert, she finds “The Signature of God.” Having found a quiet, comforting lifestyle at last, she now feels free to express herself in verse, with some of the works here marked with the year of their composiIssue 56 | March 2021 |

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jillia n eat o n

J

illian Eaton grew up in Maine and now lives in Pennsylvania on a farmette with her husband and their three boys. They share the farm with a cattle dog, an old draft mule, a thoroughbred, and a minidonkey -- all rescues. When she isn’t writing, Jillian enjoys spending time with her animals, gardening, reading, and going on long walks with her family.

Stay Connected

jillianeaton.com

20 | UncagedBooks.com

Uncaged welcomes Jillian Eaton Welcome to Uncaged! You released Bewitched by the Bluestocking with Dragonblade Publishing in January and it’s the first of a series. Can you tell readers more about this book and what will be the underlying connection for the series?

Thank you for having me! I’d love to tell you more about Bewitched by the Bluestocking. It takes place in 1870 (five years after the end of the Civil War) and follows Joanna Thorncroft, the eldest of three American sisters whose parents have passed. Struggling financially, they decide to sell their mother’s ring…and when it’s abruptly stolen and taken across the Atlantic to London, Joanna and the middle sister, Evie, follow suit!

Joanna utilizes the services of a sexy, brooding private investigator (as one does) to track down the ring and without any money to pay him, more-or-less hires herself as his secretary. But the more they find out about the ring and who might have stolen it, the more questions Joanna has…about herself, her family, and what matters most!

Each book in the series will feature a different sister, along with a cousin they discover in London. A prevailing theme throughout the series will be what, exactly, defines family – is it just blood, or something more?

Along with the romance, I’ve enjoyed exploring the bonds of sisterhood, how much the past can shape the future, and all of the rippling effects that can be caused by one small, seemingly insignificant decision.

How many books are you planning for this series?

There will be four books. Bewitched by the Bluestocking, Entranced by the Earl (which has been written, and is with the editor now!), Seduced by the Scot, and Wooed by the Wallflower. Each book will be a full-length standalone, but readers will definitely get the best experience if they read them in order.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

Such a good question! My family and I have been very fortunate in that both my husband and I have been able to work from home and our three boys (a 4-year-old and 2-year-old-twins) are young enough so that this hasn’t been completely lifechanging for them. That being said, the hardest thing to cope with has definitely been finding quiet time to write while being in the house with my husband and three rambunctious children!

When the restrictions are lifted, I’m looking forward to getting together with family and friends.

Having a “real” birthday party for the boys. Getting a coffee at Starbucks and being able to smile at the barista without a mask on. Simple things that I definitely took for granted before this all began.

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

I’m currently working on Book #3 for this series, Seduced by the Scot. On the backburner I have Book #6 in a different series, the Bow Street Brides, which revolves around the Bow Street Runners in Regency Era, England. Lots of adventure, lots of dashing detectives, lots of steamy romance!

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

Typically, no. But with Bewitched by the Bluestocking I actually ended up cutting out over 20k words when I took the book in a direction that it really didn’t want to go. Deleting that many chapters was SO hard for me! But it made the book stronger in the long run. I haven’t made the extra content available just because I don’t want it to detract from the original story.

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

Something Wonderful by Judith McNaught. The first Regency romance that I ever read, and I laughed, cried, cheered, and cried some more.

That ending! It’s one of my favorite books of all time.

I still can’t believe that I get to do it for my job.

Enjoy an excerpt from Bewitched by the Bluestocking Bewitched by the Bluestocking Jillian Eaton Victorian Historical

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

We have a 5-acre farmette with chickens, two horses, and a mini-donkey, so when I’m not in my office I enjoy being outside with the animals as much as possible. I also LOVE going to the movies by myself as a way to unplug and unwind, which is something else I’ve definitely been missing during the pandemic.

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

Generally I write anywhere between 3-4 hours a day; longer if I can on the weekends. I am not a fast writer by any means, and it generally takes me upward of 4+ months of really pushing myself to write a full novel (which doesn’t include editing).

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

I’ve actually never tried listening to an audiobook! I generally read physical books at home, and reserve my kindle for road trips. I just finished Chasing Cassandra by Lisa Kleypas (loving this series!) and started Tweet Cute, and super sweet teenage-love story by Emma Lord.

It’s British versus American in this engaging battle of wits!

British private investigator, Thomas Kincaid, thinks he’s seen it all . . . until a gorgeous, soaking-wet American shows up and demands he help her find a stolen family heirloom. Having had his heart crushed once before by a beautiful woman, Kincaid has no intention of tempting fate a second time. But Joanna Thorncroft isn’t about to take no for an answer.

Joanna has to find her mother’s ring and discover the secrets it contains. Secrets that have brought her all the way across the Atlantic and onto the doorstep of a sinfully handsome detective. While falling in love is the furthest thing from her mind, fiercely independent Joanna can’t help but find herself drawn to Kincaid…and the blazing passion that soon threatens to consume them.

But when the scandalous truth about the ring’s history is unveiled, it changes both the past and the present. If Joanna and Kincaid want a future together, they must risk everything to get it…including their hearts.

Excerpt

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

London, England August 19, 1870

Thanks for taking the time to read this! Writing has always been a passion of mine, and sometimes

The Office & Private Residence of Mr. Thomas Kincaid, Private Investigator

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| JILLIAN EATON | Many people–and things–had shown up on Kincaid’s doorstep seeking help during his three years as a private investigator. Wives wanting to know if their husbands were having an affair behind their backs. Husbands wanting to know if their wives were having an affair behind their backs (fidelity, it seemed, was not exceedingly common these days).

Occasionally, someone would come searching for a missing relative, and this past winter he’d solved the mystery of a missing cow. His first bovine case, as it so happened. Then there was the time he’d arrived home to discover two tiny kittens on his doorstep; both of whom now happily resided in the flat above his office.

But in all those years, he’d never–not once–opened his door to find a blue-eyed American heiress with hair the color of fire and a plump mouth that immediately brought to mind all sorts of wicked, carnal thoughts. Until one rainy morning in the middle of August, when he proceeded to do precisely that. Truth be told, Kincaid would have preferred more kittens.

“Can I help you?” he asked warily, his dark brows gathering above thin wire spectacles. A light mist fell from the gloomy London sky, coating the lenses of his glasses and causing him to squint at the woman perched on his doorstep.

She wasn’t wearing a cloak, leaving her slender arms exposed to the rain. Kincaid had a primal urge to throw his jacket over her trembling shoulders and draw her into the warmth of his chest, but he’d learned long ago to be leery of beautiful women. And this one, with her thick, auburn lashes and high cheekbones and soft, soft lips, was absolutely stunning.

“I hope so.” Her husky voice–smoke and velvet wrapped together–hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Are you Mr. Thomas Kincaid?”

He gave a curt nod. “Kincaid is fine. Might I inquire as to who is asking?”

“Joanna Thorncroft.” Without waiting for an invitation, she slipped past him, the side of her breast leaving a burning path along his forearm as she marched into the foyer and turned around. “Well?” she said impatiently. “Are you going to take my case or not?”

Kincaid blinked at her, then slowly closed the door.

It was clear from the hard inflections of her words–

and her sheer audacity–that his unexpected visitor was an American. Heralding from somewhere in Massachusetts, if he had to guess. Coupled with a keen sense of observation, he also had an excellent ear for dialects. It was what made him good at his job. Something else that made him good at his job was knowing when to recognize trouble. And it had just walked through his door dressed in rain and smelling of roses.

“I am afraid I am not taking any new clients at this time, Miss Thorncroft.” The world around him blurred as he took off his glasses and wiped them dry on the cuff of his sleeve. He’d worn spectacles since he was a young boy at the orphanage, and had been teased mercilessly for it. Those cruel taunts were what had prompted him to become a peeler as soon as he came of age.

Named for their founder, Robert Peel, the peelers were Britain’s first–and only–organized police force. Kincaid had worn his blue coat with pride, and quickly climbed the ranks from constable to sergeant. Five years in, he was named an inspector and given his own division.

With nearly twenty-four men under his command, he’d earned a reputation as a demanding, but fair leader. From sunup to sundown, and often late into the night, his career had consumed him.

It was gritty, exhausting, and dangerous work.

Work that often exposed the darkest, vilest underbelly of human existence. But it had given him purpose. It had given him the opportunity to stand up against the bullies and the bruisers. It had allowed him to protect the vulnerable and save the innocent. To rescue the boy he’d been. The boy no one had ever stood up for. The boy no one had ever cared about.

The boy no one had ever loved.

Some might have taken all of that pain and anguish and drank themselves to death with it. Kincaid had used it to fuel his grueling ambition to make London a better place. A safer place. A place where babies weren’t abandoned by their parents and children weren’t beaten by those charged to keep them safe.

He hadn’t always succeeded, and sometimes those Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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bitter failures weighed heavier on his soul than the triumphs. But he had made a difference. He’d been making a difference.

Then he met her.

Lady Lavinia Townsend.

The conniving bitch who had cost him everything.

His position. His career. His good name. She’d taken it all from him because she could, and laughed gleefully while she’d done it.

But she’d also taught him a valuable lesson.

Because of Lavinia, he knew what happened when the lines between his professional life and his personal life blurred. Because of Lavinia, he knew never to trust another woman with his heart. Because of Lavinia, he knew he couldn’t help Miss Thorncroft.

He wanted to. A single glimpse into those luminous blue eyes and he was tempted to move heaven and earth to give her whatever she asked of him.

But he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Kincaid had learned in the hardest possible of ways to avoid temptation. And Joanna Thorncroft had temptation written across every inch of her damp, delectable little body.

Sliding his spectacles back into place, he cleared his throat. “There are several investigators I could recommend. Good men, all, and–” “I don’t want them.” Joanna stepped closer to him, her leather boots leaving small, muddy footprints on the wooden floor. Her tantalizing perfume lingered in the air between them, causing his nostrils to flare. “I want you.”

Steeling himself against the urge to reach out and trace the sharp curve of her cheekbone, then bury his fingers in her hair, Kincaid shoved his hands 24 | UncagedBooks.com

behind his back and disguised his desire behind a clipped, businesslike tone. “As I said, Miss Thorncroft, I am not accepting new clients at this time.”

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “Then you’ll have to make an exception, Kincaid, because I have come a very long way, I am very tired, and I am not leaving here unless you agree to help me.”

He’d missed the stubbornness in her chin before, but he saw it now. Along with a tiny freckle in the middle of her collarbone.

He wondered what it tasted like.

He wondered what she tasted like.

Scowling, Kincaid squeezed the back of his neck where the corded muscles were as hard as granite.

They weren’t the only part of his anatomy that had gone hard.

“Miss Thorncroft, I must insist–” “Kincaid,” she interrupted smoothly, “I can see that you are reluctant to hear me out. I can understand.

I am a stranger, after all. And an American at that.”

A wry smile twisted those plump lips. “However, I am sure that after I’ve had the opportunity to tell you why I came here, you will agree that my case is of the utmost importance. Do you have an office?”

“Yes, it’s through there.” He nodded at a door across the foyer that was partially ajar.

Originally, the room had been a parlor, but now housed an old desk cluttered with papers, shelves cluttered with books, and chairs cluttered with cats.

There was also a bed shoved into the corner and his jaw clenched taut when his mind conjured a vivid image of Joanna sprawled across the mattress while he peeled off her wet clothes…with his teeth.

He ran a hand across his mouth.

This would not do.

This would not do at all.

| JILLIAN EATON | But before he could put his foot down and demand Joanna get the hell out, she flitted past him and into his office, leaving him staring after her in stunned, stormy silence.

“Oh, you have a cat!” she exclaimed, pointing to the top of a bookshelf where a sleek, black feline lounged on its side.

“Two,” he managed in a strangled voice. “I have two cats. That’s James. Jane is most likely upstairs.”

“I’ve always wanted a cat, but my sister seems to be allergic to them. Well?” Joanna’s head canted. “Won’t you come in, Kincaid? Do have a seat. You’re looking rather…flushed. Are you feeling all right?”

The irony of being invited into his own bloody office was not lost on Kincaid as he stalked through the doorway, sat down at his desk, and selected a pen from the jumbled pile of writing utensils jammed inside the top drawer.

It was clear Joanna was not leaving until he listened to what she had to say. It was even clearer he was dangerously close to yanking her into his arms and kissing her senseless. Since he obviously couldn’t do the latter, he would grit his teeth and do the former.

Then he’d escort her out, tear up his notes, and go on with his day as if she’d never walked through his door.

“I am fine,” he said curtly as he flipped to a fresh page in the leather-bound journal where he kept track of all his various cases. Not that there were very many to keep track of at the moment. Business always slowed when the ton flocked en masse to their estates in the countryside. As it stood, his only other case regarded another missing cow. The poor things must have had a dreadful sense of direction. Ordinarily, he’d be reluctant to take on work involving farm animals, something which never would have been asked of him as an inspector, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He hadn’t earned much as a peeler. Certainly not enough to compensate him for all of the long hours, nor the life-threatening danger he’d found himself in

more often than not. But part of his salary had included an allowance for rent, and clothes, and food. It hadn’t been much, yet he had gotten by.

And there’d been a certain security in knowing that at the end of every week he would have money to bring to the bank.

As a private detective, he earned more quid outright, but it came in sporadic bursts that were dependent on the number of cases he took on. In the beginning, not a single person had dared darken the door of a disgraced policeman. By sheer will and persistence, he’d managed to secure a handful of clients, who had then discreetly spread his name to their friends. Now that he was nearing the end of his third year as a detective, he was turning a respectable profit. But he still had bills to pay, and a house in need of repairs, and cats to feed.

Traitorous little buggers that they were.

Abandoning his perch on top of the bookshelf, James leapt onto Joanna’s lap as soon as she sat down. Purring loudly, he kneaded her thigh before turning in two circles and curling into a ball.

If Kincaid didn’t know any better, he would have sworn the damned cat smirked at him before James yawned, exposing a mouthful of pointy white canines, and closed his eyes.

“He’s absolutely charming,” said Joanna, stroking his back. “And soft.”

Kincaid had endured low points in his life. A beating at the orphanage that had left him black and blue for weeks. The betrayal of the woman he loved. But never–not once–had he sunk so low as to be jealous of a cat.

Before now.

Forcing his gaze away from James (you and I will discuss this later, he told the feline silently) he jabbed his pen into an open inkwell and held it poised in midair. “Why don’t you enlighten me as to why you are here, Miss Thorncroft?”

“I’d be delighted.” Her hand paused in the middle of James’ back. “But first, I believe I should be upfront about something. I do not–as it currently stands–possess the necessary monetary funds to pay for your services, Kincaid.”

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | men–would have stuttered and hemmed and blushed their way through such an admission.

Money, particularly the lack of money, was never an easy subject to address. Which was why his standard policy was to demand a generous down payment on services to be rendered upfront. But Miss Joanna Thorncroft, with her clear blue eyes the color of an autumn sky, did not so much as blink. Nor did she blush, much to his disappointment.

He’d always been attracted to a blushing woman.

“I am sorry to hear that, Miss Thorncroft.” A lie, of course. Except that it wasn’t. Not entirely. Because there was a part of him that did want to take her on a client. The same part of him that wanted to kiss her. The same part of him that had imagined her on his bed. The same part of him that was fascinated by that damned freckle on her collarbone. Which, as far as he was concerned, was simply more evidence that he should not, under any circumstance, agree to help Joanna. “I can recommend–” “Yes,” she cut him off, waving her arm in the air, “you mentioned that. But the fact remains I want you to be my investigator. And it is you I intend to have, by whatever means necessary.”

Was she trying to heat his blood, Kincaid wondered?

If so, it was working.

Any hotter and he’d burst into flames.

“That may be. But if you cannot afford my services, I am afraid we will not be able to proceed.”

Closing his journal with a loud, purposeful snap, he slid it away from him across the desk. “Thank you for coming in, Miss Thorncroft. Please let me show you to the door.”

He stood up.

Joanna did not.

“I believe I was very clear, Kincaid.” She arched a russet brow. “I temporarily lack the monetary funds to hire you, but that does not mean I am incapable of paying by other means.”

Kincaid sat down so hard his chair slid back and hit the wall. “What–what are you implying, Miss Thorncroft?” he croaked as his mind immediately conjured a flurry of scenarios, each one more 26 | UncagedBooks.com

wicked than the last.

Joanna against the wall, sighing his name as he kissed her neck.

Joanna naked on her knees, eyes heavy-lidded with desire as she beckoned him towards her with a crook of her finger.

Joanna leaning back against his desk, her skirts lifted above her waist as she ran a hand down the flat plane of her belly and pressed her fingers between her thighs– Stop it, he ordered himself fiercely.

What the devil had come over him?

Kincaid wasn’t a monk. Far from it. But in the four years since Lavinia had shredded his heart with all the maliciousness of a feral she-wolf and reduced his career to a smoking pile of ash, he had selected his partners with the utmost discretion. Seeking blind pleasure over emotional attachment, he’d always been exceedingly careful to choose women far outside of his professional circle.

His last mistress, a widow several years his senior, hadn’t even lived in London. He had visited her when time allowed, and when they’d mutually decided to end their affair last month, there were no hard feelings. There’d been no feelings at all. Which was exactly what Kincaid preferred.

And how he knew, he knew, he couldn’t allow himself to become tangled up with a feisty red-haired American. Because the ripe, tangy passion Joanna invoked within him was the same he’d felt with Lavinia.

And everyone this side of the Thames knew how that had ended.

He had been stupid enough to fall in love once and it had nearly ruined him. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He wasn’t even going to allow himself to be tempted to make the same mistake again. Which meant, as deliciously enticing as trading sexual favors for investigative work appeared on

| JILLIAN EATON | the surface, he needed to decline Joanna’s offer.

“Miss Thorncroft, while I appreciate–greatly–your proposition, I’m afraid I must turn it down.”

She frowned at him and tucked a damp tendril of hair behind her ear. Her dress, a simple green gown with black buttons down the middle and a matching sash at the waist, was nearly dry with the exception of her breasts. Full and voluptuous, Joanna’s bosom must have caught the rain as she walked, and Kincaid’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth when he noted the hard peaks of her nipples straining against the light cotton fabric.

“But I haven’t even told you what it is yet,” she said.

“What?” Tearing his gaze away from her bodice–no small feat–Kincaid forced himself to focus solely on Joanna’s countenance. That hardly helped matters, as every inch of her face was just as stunningly beautiful as the rest of her.

Thick, arching brows a few shades darker than all that wild, red hair. Pale ivory skin saved from coldness by a charming spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. A full mouth that was slightly top heavy, and an elegant jawline leading to that delightfully stubborn chin.

“My offer. I haven’t told you what it is yet,” she repeated.

Kincaid gripped either side of his desk and bore down with such strength he wouldn’t have been surprised to see the wood crack in half. “That won’t be necessary, Miss Thorncroft. I’ve a vivid enough imagination.”

Her freckles bunched as her nose wrinkled. “What are you imagining?”

Was the woman trying to kill him?

“Miss Thorncroft.” Taking a deep breath, he chose his words with the utmost care. “Please do not misunderstand. I would very much enjoy engaging in an–an intimate relationship. However, given the–” “What are you talking about?” she interrupted.

His brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

“Secretarial work.” She looked oddly at him. “Obvi-

ously.”

“Secretarial work,” he repeated in a strangled voice.

“Yes.” Joanna scratched James under his whiskery chin, then took a pointed glance around the room.

“It is clear you would benefit from some organization. Your office is, if I may be so blunt, an absolute disaster. As it happens, my organizational skills are second to none. In addition, given my lackluster welcome, I believe you would benefit greatly from a secretary.”

“Do you?” Kincaid didn’t know whether he felt relieved…or disappointed.

“Indeed. Someone to greet your potential clients as they come in. Take their coats, serve them tea, make sure they are comfortable.” She leaned forward, further exposing her breasts to his carnal stare, and Kincaid liked to believe it was a mark of his good character that he didn’t whimper. “Surely we can work something out. My services in exchange for yours.”

Once again dragging his gaze from Joanna’s curvaceous frame, he grimaced fiercely at a painting hanging crookedly on the wall. It had been a gift from a wealthy dowager countess after he’d discovered who had been siphoning money off of her estate. A greedy nephew, as it happened, with no regard for his elderly aunt’s welfare. The countess had been so pleased with Kincaid’s detective work, she’d doubled his fee and given him an oversized canvas depicting her three beloved cocker spaniels as a reward. He’d tried hanging the painting in his bedroom, but James and Jane wouldn’t hear of it, and thus the artwork had been relegated to the office.

The frame was in need of a good dusting, he noted. As did everything else.

Joanna was right. The room was a disaster. But then, he was an investigator, not a bloody maid, and he had neither the time nor the inclination to keep things neat and tidy. That being said, he was Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | the first to admit his office could surely benefit from a bit more…orderliness. And a secretary to take notes, keep his files straight, and greet clients with the warmth and tactfulness he admittedly lacked, certainly wouldn’t hurt anything either. In fact, it might even get him some of the meeker clients his gruff demeanor tended to frighten away.

Yes, now that he thought about, he didn’t know why he hadn’t hired someone sooner.

tigator. You’ve come highly recommended, Kincaid.

I should think you would view that as a compliment.

And while I realize exchanging my services for yours is a tad…unconventional, shall we say, I truly believe such a bargain will be immensely beneficial to us both.” She smiled hopefully. “Why don’t we shake on it and see how things go? Surely you can commit to a trial period of a week. A fitting compromise, don’t you agree?”

But he’d be damned if that someone was going to be Miss Joanna Thorncroft.

Kincaid didn’t like what that smile did to him.

“No,” he said flatly as he picked up a pile of papers and shuffled them into place.

“No?” Joanna said in the incredulous tone of someone unacquainted with the word. “I don’t understand.”

“Have you ever been a secretary before?”

“Not exactly, but–” “Have you ever worked for a detective?”

“Well, no, but–” “Are you acquainted with British law?”

“How does that–” “I am sorry, but you do not have the proper qualifications.” He met her gaze, registered the angry indignation swirling in the depths of those vivid blue eyes, and glanced promptly away. “As you can see, I am a very busy man. If you would, please put down my cat and see yourself out.”

She stomped her foot. “I will not!”

“All right, you can keep the cat,” he said graciously.

“I don’t want the cat. No offense intended,” she said when James lifted his head and gave a grumpy meow. “What I want–and need–is a private inves28 | UncagedBooks.com

Or maybe he liked it too much.

Either way, the answer was still…

“No, Miss Thorncroft. I don’t agree.”

Her smile disappeared. Her eyes narrowed. Her chin lifted. “Is this because I am a woman? Is that why you don’t believe I meet your lofty qualifications?

Perhaps I’ve never been employed as a secretary before, but I can assure you I am as intelligent and well-read as any man. I’m also more than capable of handling any tasks you put before me.”

Kincaid didn’t doubt that Joanna could topple mountains if she put her mind to it. For such a little slip of a thing, her courage and persistence was formidable.

But he’d drawn his line, and he wouldn’t cross it. No matter how sweet the enticement was on the other side.

He had been down this road to hell before. He had the scars to prove it.

And he had no desire to travel it again.

“Miss Thorncroft, my inability to take you on as a secretary–or a client–has nothing to do with your intelligence, or your work ethic.” Having shuffled and straightened every piece of paper on his desk, he laid his hands flat and pushed his weight into them. “This is a personal decision.”

“Personal?” Her head tilted in confusion. “But you don’t know me well enough to dislike me yet. It usually takes a few days. Or so I’ve been told.” She bit her lip and gave a small, apologetic shrug. “It seems

| JILLIAN EATON | I can be rather…obstinate.”

“Really?” Kincaid said dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

A huff of breath whistled between her lips. “Kincaid, I must implore you to reconsider. My sister and I have traveled a very long way–” “You’ve a sister?” he interrupted.

Wonderful.

As if one gorgeous, stubborn American running amok in London wasn’t bad enough, there was a pair of them. And no, he wasn’t going to allow himself to imagine them naked. Together. Doing things.

Naughty things.

No, he wasn’t going to imagine that at all.

Absolutely not.

“Yes,” Joanna replied. “Well, two sisters actually, but–” Bloody hell.

“–Claire stayed at home.”

Thank God for small favors.

“Miss Thorncroft.” Gritting his teeth, he latched on to his self-control with all the desperate strength of a drowning sailor clinging onto the side of a sinking ship. “I do not know how many different ways I can say the same thing. I cannot, under any circumstances, hire you on. It’s completely out of the question.”

“I…I see.” Giving James a final scratch behind the ears, Joanna gently set him aside and stood up. Walking towards Kincaid, she extended her hand across the desk. “Very well, Kincaid. I respect your decision, in as much as I disagree with it. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“You’re welcome.” Relief flowed through Kincaid as he took her small, delicate hand in his considerably larger one. He began to shake it. And then he saw her stubborn chin wobble.

Such a tiny movement, really.

Hardly perceptible.

Easy to ignore.

Except he couldn’t ignore it. Nor could he ignore the sudden clench in his gut. His fingers tightened around hers, unconsciously drawing her closer.

“Miss Thorncroft…”

“Yes?” she whispered.

Kincaid closed his eyes.

Don’t do it.

Don’t do it.

Don’t do it.

“A week-long trial, did you say?” With great reluctance, he opened his eyes.

“Yes!” Her entire countenance lit up, as bright as the sun. “Just seven days. If I haven’t found what I’m looking for, or either of us decides our arrangement is no longer sustainable, then I’ll get another detective and you’ll never have to see me again. I swear.”

Never see her again?

Kincaid’s stomach tightened again. Although this time, it was for an entirely different reason. Quickly releasing Joanna’s hand, he sat back in his chair and motioned for her to do the same.

He knew he was going to hate himself for this later.

He knew he was making a terrible mistake.

But he also knew it was the right thing to do.

Picking up a pen, he reopened his journal. “Why don’t we begin by you telling me what it is you’re doing here, and what, precisely, you’re searching for?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Resuming her seat, Joanna beckoned James into her lap. With a happy meow the traitorous feline accepted the invitation and began to purr as she stroked his tail. “You see, it all began with a ring…”

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li n d a ball o u

N

othing pleases adventure-travel writer Linda Ballou, more than seeing gorgeous country from the back of a good horse. She has had the pleasure of staying at guest ranches in Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Arizona and California, along with horse treks in Ireland and Ecuador. Her articles have appeared in Equus, Horse Illustrated, California Riding Magazine and numerous travel publications.

Her story Irish Mist recounting her crosscountry jumping adventure in Ireland appeared in the anthology Why We Ride.

Writing The Cowgirl Jumped Over Moon, a novel that takes you from the Grand Pix

32 | UncagedBooks.com

jumping circuit to the John Muir Wilderness, was her way of dealing with an injury that forced her to leave the jumping world behind. Cowgirl was a finalist in the Indie Excellence Awards, and was the Founder’s Choice at the 2017 Equus Film Fest in New York.

Linda has long admired Isabella Bird, the plucky Englishwoman who rode with abandon in the Hawaiian Islands and the Rocky Mountains in 187374. Her article Riding in the Hoof Prints of Isabella Bird won the Solas Award offered by Travel Tales publications. Embrace of the Wild is a tribute to a courageous woman who crashed through social barriers to become the best loved travel writer of her time. This historical novel also demonstrates Linda’s personal conviction that nature can be our salvation.

A theme that runs through all of her work.

Stay Connected

LindaBallouAuthor.com Uncaged Welcomes Linda Ballou Welcome to Uncaged! Can you tell us more about your latest book, Embrace the Wild?

LB: Some people live to travel, Isabella Lucy Bird traveled to live. A story of raw courage and fierce strength of a plucky English woman’s un-flinching desire to be free. Impetuous, strong-willed Isabella defied her strict Evangelical upbringing and the societal expectations of the Victorian age to fulfill her dreams. She redeemed her body after botched surgeries on her spine resulting in years of chronic back pain. She mustered the stamina to ride on the flank of a living volcano in Hawai’i? Herded feral cattle in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains and convinced ruffian, Rocky Mountain Jim, to guide her up Longs

Peak. Ride with this intrepid horsewoman who broke barriers at every turn to become the most beloved travel writer of her time.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

LB: The isolation has been difficult, but it has allowed me to focus on getting Embrace of the Wild published. I have been wanting to write this story for about a decade, but was so busy traveling and writing about my adventures I couldn’t take the time. I pretended I was at a writer’s residency in the Rocky Mountains confined to the project at hand. This kept me intellectually engaged and allowed me to endure the fact that I couldn’t see my friends, travel, or go out to dinner.

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

LB: I am an adventure travel writer by trade. I published Lost Angel Walkabout-One Traveler’s Tales in 2010. I am working on my next collection Lost Angel Unleashed. It will include some of the stories that may be considered politically incorrect and travel memoirs from my youth in Alaska that I didn’t feel I could reveal. I want to get back to traveling and gathering more experiences to share.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

LB: Not really, but I do find things I share in articles and blog posts that I discovered in my research that don’t work in the book.

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

LB: I fell off the couch reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. However, Hunter Thompson beIssue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

I am a nature nut. I love kayaking, horseback riding and hiking.

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| LINDA BALLOU | came too degenerate in his later years for me to enjoy.

I love Tim Cahill’s travel narratives. He always makes me laugh.

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

LB: I am a nature nut. I love kayaking, horseback riding and hiking. One of the reasons I loved writing Embrace of the Wild is because it is set in two of the most beautiful natural settings I have been lucky enough to enjoy.

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

LB: I prefer hard copy, but I do read a lot on my phone using the kindle app. It is so convenient and I can take it anywhere. Audiobooks move too slowly for me, however both of my novels and my travel collection are on audible. I do like podcasts that give me information.

I just finished West with Giraffes and loved it.

Great writing.

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

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

LB: Each one has been different time frame. The first book Wai-nani: A Voice from Old Hawai’i took me twenty years to have the guts to publish! Embrace of the Wild was written in one year. I work on my writing projects from about 8AM to 12PM. I take a lunch break, a hike and come back home and review what I have done that day.

Readers and reviews are the lifeblood of any author. I love feedback. If you read one of my books please let me know what you think in a brief review.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

Enjoy an excerpt from Embrace of the Wild Embrace of the Wild Linda Ballou Historical Fiction “I have just dropped into the very place I have been seeking but in everything it exceeds all my dreams. “ Isabella Lucy Bird (18311904)

Some people live to travel; Isabella Lucy Bird traveled to live. Dare to saddle up with this equestrian explorer on her way to becoming the best-loved travel writer of her day. Set off on a voyage from England to the South Seas. Jump ship in Honolulu, then hop on board the Kilauea steaming its way to sleepy Hilo. Be captivated by the lavish beauty of the Sandwich Islands. Charge up the flank of a living volcano, ford roaring torrents on the way to Waipio Valley where the gods come close. Feel the loving touch of the healing hands of a Hawaiian elder and let go of chronic pain that has held you captive.

Invigorated from your stay in Hawai’i press on to ride solo in Colorado on a 600-mile mountain tour. Here you meet an unlikely soulmate in the form of renegade Rocky Mountain Jim. Convince him to guide you to the top of the loftiest peak in the Rocky Range, and try not to fall in love with him and the majesty of his realm. Know the wild abandon of giving rein to your mount with tears streaming, hair flying, and blood pumping.

Set your spirit free with Isabella as she breaks through physical and social barriers to follow her dreams Excerpt The narrow track now slippery with red mud was 36 | UncagedBooks.com

You can also learn more about me and my work at treacherous. My mare struggled for traction with her www.LindaBallouAuthor.com legs sliding out from under her. Cascades streaking white down the cleft of the pali dislodged rocks that rattled down the mountain. At times the rain was so dense, I lost sight of Kilani who forged ahead undaunted. We crossed several smaller gulches with rushing water up to my horses belly without incident.

But, when we arrived at the lip of Hakalau gulch lost my conviction. Foaming water broiling in a riotous rush to the sea had risen half way up the side of the water corridor. Limbs of trees and leaves swirled in a muddy chaos below. The thunderous sound of breakers crashing on the sea cliffs filled me with dread. If I didn’t drown in the river, I would surely be crushed on the rocks by the pounding sea. I decided I would prefer spending a night in the rain on the shore over attempting this crossing.

Two native men on the other side of the raging torrent had lassoed the horse of a woman trying to reach the other side. With ropes tied to trees they were pulling her to the shore. Her horse floundered falling backwards into the brew. The woman went into the drink.

She clung to the horn of the saddle while her body was caught in the current. With a herculean effort the men pulled the flailing animal to the shore. The horse found purchase and the woman was rescued.

Kilani was not dissuaded by the perilous crossing we just witnessed. She stood on the edge of the gulch prepared to jump into a certain death. The men threw the lasso over her horses head and she pressed her horse forward. My heart was in my throat as I watched her being picked up by the roiling water and sent spinning downstream. I screamed over the wild chorus of the river for her to face the flow. She was attempting to cross sideways with her horse completely submerged up to its head. She managed to swing around to face the torrent and the men were able to pull the wretched animal towards the shore. The horse’s eyes rolled white with fear, snorting and puffing as it struggled with every ounce of it’s being to find footing on slippery rocks while the rain pounded even more intensely. Kilani managed to gather herself back onto the horse as it lurched up the far bank of the river. I

| LINDA BALLOU | could only hope for her that her husband’s affections would be rewarded in kind.

I made my decision not to follow her lead to a sudden death. But, as I was about to turn back a lasso was draped around my mare’s neck. Without so much as an “Are you ready?” I was pulled into the roiling drink. Instantly immersed up to my neck, I had no choice but to press forward. I spurred the hapless animal beneath me with all my might. She was swimming toward the far side, but we were drifting towards the sea. I yelled for help over the roar to no avail. My screams were swallowed in the roar of the ceaseless foaming rollers below. This looked to be a sad ending to my new found freedom.

From shore Kilani screamed “Spur. Spur. Spur.” Both men were on the rope they pulled taunt around my horse’s neck. They secured their feet on boulders and grunted with each pull giving a small release so they did not choke her to death. The animal was gasping, and gave out a sorrowful whinny that shook her entire body. I was lifted by the water out of the saddle. My arms were being pulled out of their sockets as I clung to the big horn of the Mexican saddle. The rain was blinding and I was about to let go and join the spirits in the underworld of Po. Suddenly, my mare found a reserve of strength and lurched forward. With the help of the men pulling her, she was able to swim close enough to the shore to scramble up the slick wall of mud and out of the torrent.

Upa finally arrived with a mule in tow. The men tossed him the rope that he put around the creatures neck. He deftly hopped rocks, dove into the muddy brew and navigated the charging river like an amphibious creature leading the mule behind him. He laughed loudly when he reached our party on the other side.

“Lucky we get here today,” Upa said.

My horse stood trembling. My teeth chattered involuntarily. The tumult of blinding rain had not ceased. I didn’t feel lucky.

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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 Winter Was Not On Our Side 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.

I had written a completely different column for March, but then the winter weather here in Wisconsin had some plans for us that we were not expecting. A storm blew in about 8 inches of heavy wet snow, and our 35+ year old barn’s roof could not handle the weight. Half of the barn roof collapsed, snapping the trusses in a domino effect.

After getting the horses out, the building was not safe for a shelter for the horses, and with a cold snap coming, and no shelter for the horses outside, we had to find them a place to go until we could get the roof fixed. A lady named Sheri contacted me after seeing our emergency on Facebook. She lives about two miles from us, and had a few open stalls at her farm, and an open pasture with a shelter and offered to come pick the horses up. With horrible road conditions, Sheri and her husband Rodger brought their large trailer to our house and we were off. I will never be able to thank Sheri and Rodger enough, and I’m sure we’ve made new lifelong friends.

With the horses safe, we were able to make a nice shelter for the goats on the end of the stable side of the barn. The farmer we have known for so many years, brought over extra hay and bedding for the goats to give them a cozy shelter. I know that they aren’t happy, because the horses are part of their “herd,” and until they return – all they have are us.

We were able to get the goats and one horse out of the barn ourselves, but had to call in the fire department to help us get the other two horses out safely. The horses stayed relatively calm while the fire department used a power saw to cut down the walls after adding support to the damaged trusses to stabilize the roof.

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With temperatures dipping below zero at night, we went out and purchased new blankets for the horses, so they can still spend their days outside. Twice a day, we go over to the farm and feed the horses, clean their stalls and either take them outside in the morning, or bring them in in the afternoon. So even though it’s more work this way, the horses are safe and that’s what matters most. My FitBit is happy these days During this time, I’ve gotten several estimates from builders. The insurance will hardly pay for the demo of the collapsed roof, let alone a new roof. Of course

| CYRENE OLSON |

we are fighting this. With the estimates ranging from $20-30,000 – it’s hardly in our budget. All I can say, is make sure you get the type of insurance that will replace a building at today’s rates.

I started a GoFundMe - to help defray costs, if you would like to share it, that would be so helpful. I know many people are in need these days and I thank all who have already donated.

So we have devised a new plan. We will bring in a nice Amish made run-in shed and have it placed in our back pasture.

We will tear down the roof of the barn, and use the stable sides by adding a half roof for hay storage, and for equipment. On the other wall we will build a tack and feed room. It will be a lot of work, but it will be easier to take care of and the horses will be safe and happy – AND home. Believe it or not, these shelters are very warm.

So that’s it from this very eventful month here at the farm. Not too long after our weather issues, the southern states got hit with record setting cold and snow. I was heartbroken to see so many without power, heat or water. Even though we have this type of winter for about four months every year, these states aren’t used to it, and I only wished there was more I could do for everyone. Stay safe everyone.

As for reading, with all going on, my reading time was completely lackluster, and I read less last month

than I have ever done. As for TV watching, I have welcomed back the Chicago One TV shows, Chicago Med, Fire and P.D. It’s nice to finally have some new episodes with all the delays. If I have to tell you it’s a favorite large city, I’ve been to several, but Chicago is my favorite. Only for visits, mind you. I also did some streaming with Discovery+ mostly getting caught up with Crikey!

It’s the Irwins and Chip and Joanna Gaines Fixer Upper, which has been one of my favorite home shows and am glad they are back on the air. Do you believe they still don’t own a TV in their house? Impressive.

I’ve also watched a couple pretty good movies, The Midnight Sky with George Clooney is an apocalyptic look at what climate change causes. It’s a good movie, but it’s a bit slow.

The other one I liked even better was Outside the Wire – Anthony Mackie & Damson Idris star in this one, and this one completely tossed me off at Issue 56 | March 2021 | 41

| A LIFE IN MOTION COLUMN | the end, and it’s good to see Mackie spread his acting skills after Marvel. Both of these movies you’ll find on Netflix. Mackie will spread his falcon wings again in Falcon and the Winter Soldier – coming in March to Disney+, and you will not keep me away

simmer. Add tomatoes and simmer until well mixed, about 10 minutes. Add the sugar and the salt and pepper to taste.

3)Add the chunks of smoked sausage, cover and simmer for 15 minutes.

from that one considering the Winter Soldier is my favorite Marvel superhero.

My recipe this month is a very easy – all in one skillet dinner I call Smoked Sausage Skillet dinner.

If you give it a try, let me know how you liked it! ©Copyright 2021 Cyrene Olson www.uncagedbooks.com Cyrene@UncagedBooks.com

Smoked Sausage Skillet Ingredients: 2 lbs. smoked sausage - cut into chunks 3 bell peppers - seeded and sliced. Use multiple colors, I normally always use a red, green and yellow, it will work with any of them 1 medium onion, cut in chunks 2, 15 oz cans of stewed tomatoes with juice 3 cloves garlic - minced 2 green onions - chopped 2 TB cooking oil Paprika Parsley Salt and Pepper to taste 2 TB sugar Cornstarch Cooked long grain rice 1) Add the sliced peppers, onions and garlic to a skillet with the oil. Saute until the onions and peppers are softened.

2)Sprinkle liberally with paprika and continue to 42 | UncagedBooks.com

4) Mix a tablespoon of cornstarch in about a 1/4 cup of water and add to the mix. Simmer with the lid off until the juices thicken.

5) Sprinkle with parsley and the green onions and serve over a bed of rice.

This recipe feeds 4 easily, so if you aren’t feeding as many, you can easily cut this recipe in half. If you are adventurous, you can add a can of pineapple chunks when you add the meat. Let me know if you try it!

feature authors

crime thriller | crime noir

Timothy Gene Sojka

John Mollard

T im o t h y G e n e S o j k a

T

imothy Gene Sojka writes for enjoyment, paddleboards for stress relief, and runs so he can eat Tex-Mex. He has a passion for plot twists and pushing the “philosophically pure” to the point of hypocrisy. Tim enjoys time with his wife Lori, hanging out with his daughter Abigail and playing 42 Dominoes with his mother and grandmother.

S t ay C onnec t ed

timothygenesojka.com 46 | UncagedBooks.com

Welcome to Timothy Gene Sojka Welcome to Uncaged! Your book, Payback Jack will release March 18th. Can you tell readers more about this book?

Every novel introduces at least one character who drives the action. In Payback Jack, the character is Smith Driskill, a 55-year-old east Texas farmer, windowed and abandoned by his children, dramatically executes child molester and murderer, Rodney William Markum. He is unprepared for the ensuing media circus painting him as a hero, or the political divisions that surface when he chooses death over a day in court. Why is Driskill so determined to die on death row, and why have so many people pledged to stop him?

Still, to me the core theme in this book is hypocrisy.

For instance, this book addresses the death penalty.

Someone may be for the death penalty, still if their daughter was on death row, they will most likely change their stance.

If someone is against the death penalty, but a family member is murdered, they may become a proponent of the death penalty.

MIKE TYSON – “EVERYONE HAS A PLAN UNTIL THEY GET PUNCHED IN THE MOUTH”.

I think Mike’s point is important with opinions as well. People opine right up until a life changing events alter their beliefs (They get punched in the mouth.)

I do not mean this harshly; these points apply to me too. What I am really saying is understand and respect someone’s opinion, because circumstances really shape their core values.

What will a reader get out of this book?

1) More twist than a back country Texas road, 2) Characters they will hate then love.

3) Jaw dropping changes of direction.

4) The nuts and bolt origin story of what makes a hero cross the line to anti-hero, or villain.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

I miss seeing people smile. I miss people seeing I am smiling for them. A smile is the simplest and most wonderful form of communication.

Still, this book would remain incomplete without the pandemic. The pandemic cancelled my commute for a few months, and gave me extra time to write and extra time with my family. So, you celebrate the highs.

You have been a successful real estate agent, what inspired you to start writing?

I started writing this book in the 1990’s because a story in the Houston Chronicle caught my attention. I still, believe the newspapers, or their online progeny supply the best starter fuel for stories.

Then life took over. I worked for Nestle Foodservice and they promoted me every few years, our daughter entered our life, addiction overtook me, and then my wife and I founded a successful real estate company. Our team, sales over $70,000,000 a year. So, starting and keeping the company afloat dominated our attention for over a decade.

Now, we have such great leadership on the team, I had more time to finish the novel.

Still, one strange incident pushed me to finish the novel. I watched a comedy special with comedian Ron White. Apparently, he and Dr. Phil are friends. Ron asked Phil, “What’s the one thing in your life you can do to feel good about yourself?”

Dr. Phil answered, “Just finish things.”

I finished almost everything in my life, I ran marathons, started companies, oversaw millions of Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | dollars in sales. Still, I never finished my novel.

The unfinished manuscript gnawed at me, taunted me, haunted me.

This will sound selfish, or self-serving. The idea of immortality intrigues me beyond measure. I know physically I cannot go on. However, if an artist creates one magnificent work, just one, they live forever. The people they love live forever in the book’s acknowledgments. The message lives forever.

Real estate sales offer little opportunity for immortality.

You mention that the follow-up to Payback Jack is already in the works. When do you expect that book to release?

I understand this is unpopular in the world of Rambo 11 and Fast Furious 24, the Retirement Years.

I dislike sequels. As an author, I want my characters so exposed, so raw, so close to the reader, so tired of working with me they refuse a starring role again. I want the reader to experience such a roller-coaster with Smith Driskill they understand him completely.

However, I understand the readers desire to revisit great characters. All my characters live in a metaworld, the same fictional universe. So, they may reappear in a lesser, but important role, an easter egg of sorts, for someone who read my other work. Kayla Cope a heroine in Payback Jack reappears briefly in my next novel Politikill.

Still, I’m willing to leave the door cracked open for a sequel, if a character has the energy and inclination to step back through, God help us all.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that 48 | UncagedBooks.com

| TIMOTHY GENE SOJKA | extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

God yes, I cut whole chapters, characters, scenes.

Payback Jack started at 120,000 words. The finished novel came in at less than 80,000 words. So, a third of the book ended up in the circular file.

If the character or scene are any good, they show up somewhere else. A shooting scene cut from Payback Jack anchors Politikill.

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

The Cannon Boy of the Alamo by R.L. Templeton accomplished both. I am a history nut and I love Texas, so that book punched my ticket.

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

Listen to the lyrical rhythm of my wife, Lori’s voice.

Paddle Board in the morning when the lake is smooth as glass.

Play 42 Dominoes with my mother or grandmother.

Do anything with my daughter, Abigail, anything.

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

I wake up at 5 am. And sneak in a few hours, usually about 2 hours a day. Real estate investing, owning a small company, and real estate sells still take up much of my day.

How long does it take me to write a novel? The first one took me 25 years, the second one took me about 25 weeks. Now that I understand the proIssue 56 | March 2021 | 49

| FEATURE AUTHOR | cess and the landmarks, the execution seems easy.

A completely edited novel, ready for a publisher seems realistic every 18 months.

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

I love the feel, smell, girth of a physical book.

I just read the Firm and the Witching Hour again.

I blew through Where the Crawdads Sing recently. Fahrenheit 451 occupies my side table now.

I just reread I am Legend too, greatest ending of a short story ever. Look the movies sucks, I get it, they went with a Hollywood ending. Find the short story read it today.

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

I can accurately predict the end to most movies and books within moments of the opening scene.

Few things disappoint me more.

As a person, I strive for 100% honesty and like most humans fall short. My characters must be honest, even in their dishonesty.

Still as an author, I disagree with Abraham Lincoln, I aspire to fool all the people, all the time. I constantly search for a perfect plot twist. While understanding the difficulty of that task.

I’m pretty easy to find on Facebook. The Realtor me is everywhere. The author me is just getting started on Facebook. Readers, pick the author me, unless you want a ton a real estate updates. The easiest place to follow me is www.timothygenesojka.com Also, book club discussion questions can be found at the end of Payback Jack. I will happily do a Zoom call with a book club group to get them started or at the end of the novel. For Book Club 50 | UncagedBooks.com

request reach out to me at tsojka@seetimsell.com

Enjoy an excerpt from Payback Jack Payback Jack Timothy Gene Sojka Crime Thriller Releases March 18 When Smith Driskill, a 55-year-old east Texas farmer, widowed and abandoned by his children; dramatically executes child molester and murderer Rodney William Markum; he is unprepared for the ensuing media circus painting him as a hero or the political divisions that surface when he chooses death over a day in court. Why is Driskill determined to die on death row, and why have so many people pledged to stop him?

Excerpt 12:22 p.m.

Tuesday, December 4, 1989 Smith Driskill lowered the rifle as his head rolled right, then left.

Screams shattered the crisp air. No need to look back; Markum was dead...or dying. Rodney William Markum was now the newest inductee in the crowded cast of characters to haunt Smith’s nightmares.

Driskill arrived downtown the day before to map out Markum’s murder, doubting his chances. He was not nervous; hell, he had made tougher shots, killed men less deserving. Then Smith found the abandoned Sam Houston Hotel, the perfect place to take the shot. The decaying downtown landmark was situated a block from the Houston courthouse.

| TIMOTHY GENE SOJKA | Smith sighed and regretfully left his old, well-maintained Remington on the floor.

The delay supplied time to escape. His heart caterwauled in his chest; his old knees ached.

Yesterday, he pried a piece of plywood from the hotel’s rear entrance and explored the vacant, reddishbrown brick structure for the first time. Pungency of rot and decay assailed Smith’s senses. Smith slowly took inventory of his surroundings. A few hotel windows were intact, most broken. He climbed the stairs and selected the fourth-floor window facing San Jacinto Street for the shot.

He wanted to take his favorite hunting rifle with him, but no chance. Driskill thought it through.

The police may eventually use his old Remington to track him, despite his precautions. Smith carried the gun in a box through downtown and into the deserted hotel. No one considered this curious before the shooting; now responding police units were an obstacle.

Haunted mansions aspire to appear equally foreboding. Once the hotel brimmed with life, but the Sam Houston Hotel now stood as a silent tombstone, marking a death seconds old.

Smith turned to his left and right. No witnesses in the alley. He smothered another cough.

Smith turned and descended the creaky stairs.

He timed himself yesterday. Taking the shot and exiting the building took forty seconds. No need to run, even if his polluted lungs allowed that luxury. As suspected, the gunshot sent onlookers scurrying to and from the area Markum fell, far enough away for Smith to escape unnoticed. Smith exited into an alley just off Prairie Street, between the hotel and a sandwich shop. The alley served as an unattended parking lot; if someone were pulling in their car, they might identify him later, a requisite risk. The farmer needed to make it to his F150 before the coughing crippled him again.

Except for painting a bull’s-eye on Rodney William Markum’s forehead, whoever coordinated the event could not have made the shot easier. Markum spoke from an elevated stage; the other speakers stood two or three feet behind, clear shot.

Smith stopped to confront an oncoming coughing fit.

Hours earlier he arrived and assumed position, watching as the police patrolled the crowd. Two uniforms stood by a man in a suit, not far away. Smith considered the two uniforms, sensing they were not police officers, more likely security guards. If the guards reacted quickly, they might see him exit the building. Yet, as he guessed, they watched events unfold.

He planned to kill Rodney William Markum since Kayla Cope’s report on Inside Houston weeks before. Finding the time and place was easy. Smith heard about this debacle on news radio, called the law firm of Barney, Jones, and Dupree, and pressed for specifics. He removed the rubber gloves and hairnet, stuffing them into his coat pocket.

Smith consumed crime novels, so he knew he should not smoke or eat while at the scene. These days, one drop of saliva was all a crime lab needed. He wore rubber gloves and a hairnet yesterday when he explored the building, and today, to make sure he did not leave fingerprints or hair samples.

With Smith’s history, his prints were still on file.

He walked unnoticed onto Prairie Street.

Smith almost backed out. His daughter may unfortunately learn about his past, but this task was too important. His actions would confuse, anger, and hurt Rachel. In time—probably after he died—she would forgive him.

He coughed as perspiration drained down his face, soiling his shirt collar.

A teen walking with his mother pointed at Smith— probably saying how sickly the old man looked.

Thousands of folks were coughing this time of year. No need for nerves; the boy would forget by Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | tomorrow.

Smith’s luck had held. Fortune provided him a clear shot, no witnesses in the alley, and with a little luck, a forgetful 14-year-old.

Coated in a rank cold sweat, Smith turned onto Travis Street.

He parked his pickup blocks from the hotel in a lot near Texas Commerce Center. The police will stop vehicles near the courthouse. Best to walk several blocks to his truck, just a sweaty executive in a gray suit, anonymous.

Only a few more minutes until he reached his Ford F150.

Driskill must drive to Beaumont. He smelled and felt like French-fried dog crap, too tired to set up a tent. Instead, he would stay at a small motel he staked out. In each town he visited, he looked for secluded campsites and mismanaged motels.

Smith opened the truck door and flopped inside; relief washed over him.

Yesterday, he packed everything he owned. Still, what does a broken-down, failed farmer in his fifties, with waning endurance and a hacking cough—who just punched his murderer’s card— do with his life? What would happen when he stopped running?

Smith turned the ignition, and the road-worn, well-maintained engine roared. He pulled out of the parking lot as police cars, sirens blaring, sped by him. The Ford turned east on Interstate 10, toward Beaumont.

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LAURA BEERS & Korra This is Korra. She is an Alaskan Klee Kai and is five years old. We absolutely adore her! My kids decided that Korra needed a Christmas sweater this year. She can do tricks, but only if there are treats involved.

JILLIAN EATON & Scarlett

This is Scarlett. Scarlett is a 13+-year-old (exact age unknown!) cattle dog x jack russell that we rescued from the Humane Society two years ago. She was an owner surrender through no fault of her own, and is the sweetest, kindest, most patient dog in the entire world. I wish more people would realize how amazing senior pets are – little to no training, you already know their personality, and they are so grateful when you give them a forever home.

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TIMOTHY GENE SOJKA & Sadie

My wife Lori, selected Sadie after holding the Yorkie puppy for several minutes. She needed to feel the sweetness, and we got the gentlest dog on the planet. Sadie must greet every human, dog, squirrel and lizard. She means them no harm; she just wants to begin a friendship. Geckos entertain Sadie endlessly in the summer and the tiny reptiles serve as unwilling babysitters for hours. Sadie still goes spastic if you mention the word WALK in any context. The tan and soft gray beauty cannot go thirty minutes without checking up on every member of the house. I tease my wife for spoiling the dog, however, I am just as guilty.

TK TRITSCHLER & Mochi I have three cats, two elderly gentleman brothers called Darwin and Columbus and one new addition to the family who is a ginger ninja named Mochi.

My dog is a miniature Schanauzer called Henry who walks with me each morning.

Mochi likes nothing more than to ‘help’ me with my writing – so I have included a photo of how helpful he is.

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.

J.S. MARLO & Cora

This is my granddoggie Coral. I used to babysit her when her daddy worked long shifts at the hospital, before he met his girlfriend. On Christmas Day, Coral proposed to her daddy’s girlfriend, and in the Fall 2021, she will be the ring bearer at their wedding.

MARIE POWELL & Catrin I live with a Calico “rescue cat,” who is all of 6 pounds and nobody’s pet. I call her Catrin because, well, she’s a character in her own right.

She loves to chase a cat-nip mouse from room to room. Several times a day (and night), she clearly calls out “Mouse” so I know it’s time for me to take a break from writing to throw it for her.

She’ll dance for cat treats but turns her nose up at wet or dry cat food (although somehow both disappear from her dish when my back is turned.) A writer-friend found her in his backyard, and when we looked on Facebook we found at least six families feeding her, but no one owned her. And no one does now, as I’m sure she would be happy to explain! She lets me live here with her, though, as long as I keep the cat treats handy.

Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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Event Location:

Eventbrite tickets

Courtyard by Marriott St. Augustine Beach 605 A1A Beach Boulevard St. Augustine, FL 32080

Facebook group

56 | UncagedBooks.com

Author list is subject to change

the author. You never know when you might find your next must read!

Please join our Book Obsessed Babes Author Signing Event Attendee Group page so you will stay up to date on all activities surrounding the event as well as meet and interact with attending Authors prior to the signing. There, you will also find the hotel block link to reserve your hotel room if desired.

This event has a recommended age of 18+. This is recommended, not required.

The health and safety of our attendees are very important to us. Masks are required to enter the signing event. We will also be following all county/ city of St. Augustine mandates.

Sponsors Book Obsessed Babes Author Signing Event Pick up a new book from a favorite Author or a new to you Author and find a nice sunny spot on the beach to enjoy!

Come meet and greet with 50+ talented Authors in beautiful St. Augustine Beach, FL. The Authors of bobase21 are excited to meet you, share their stories, and will have books available for purchase.

There will be several activities throughout the #bobase21 event weekend to include a Trolley Tour, Welcome Reception, and an after signing game night. Tickets are available for purchase through Eventbrite. Sheer Bliss Events is excited to be hosting again in beautiful Saint Augustine Beach, Florida!

Lexi C Foss Rene Folsom Robbie Cox Mia Ellas Kimberley O’Malley Victoria Saccenti Lia Davis Laura Hawks

And everyone’s favorite volunteers: Melanie Marsh (Fang Freakin’ Tastic Reviews) Andretta Schellinger (Fang Freakin’ Tastic Reviews) The Amazing April

Come join us March 19-21, 2021 at Courtyard Marriott St. Augustine Beach, FL. Located just one block off the ocean, on A1A. There you will meet nearly 60 incredibly talented Authors of multiple genres. You will have the opportunity to visit with your favorites as well as meet new to you authors.

We encourage you to stop at every table and meet Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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showcase

D.L. Dempsey End Your Relationsh*t End Your Relationsh*t D.L. Dempsey Self-Help

When you are in a deeply bad and worrisome relationship, do you feel like there’s no way out?

How can you “End Your Relationsh*t”?

The author shares her personal memoir and practical guide to help you go through this with compassion, self-respect and logic. As you delve into these pages, you’ll find a kindred soul in the author as she tells you of her story and struggles. You’ll find a friend in her as well, as she helps you overcome the seemingly unending fear, doubt, confusion, and hurt you may have.

D.L. Dempsey is a proud decorated military veteran, a single mom, and a first-time author. She holds an Associate of Science in Public Health, a Bachelor’s degree focused on conflict mediation and communication, a Master of Public Health, and a Master of Science in Nursing where she gained deep insight into human behavioral and psychiatric health. Over the years she has provided a positive, life-changing impact on others’ lives from helping family and old friends suffering abusive or unfulfilling marriages get through the barriers to starting and following through with their divorces.

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U.S. Review of Books “I HAD to stay in the moment and not imagine any “what if” situations because they just weren’t realistic and... would sure ruin the mood.”

Dempsey never feels out of her element as a debut author, consistently showcasing her veteran savvy as she conveys a critical message to the masses. She presents an organized, coherent, and forceful argument toward ending a relationship rather than being caught in a perennial—and miserable—cycle of guilt, shame, pity, and chiefly, regret. Though she is not a therapist, her focus on women’s trauma lends credence and validity to the content she puts forward in her work. While her efforts focus on “abusive or unfulfilling” marital relationships, it is clear that her guide is applicable to all relationships and is predicated upon loving oneself before anything or anyone.

Dempsey’s raw and authentic outpouring of her personal experiences truly resonates. She has been front and center in the exact relationships she writes about ending. More importantly, however, she presents roadmaps throughout her book on how to go from simply thinking and fantasizing about being liberated from a miserable relationship to actually ending things. Fittingly, she coined the word “relationsh*t” to play off the idea of being utterly trapped in an unfulfilling marriage or alliance of any type. By sharing her own stories, she establishes the foundation of her arguments, particularly on the topic of children witnessing or experiencing dysfunction or trauma and then being more vulnerable to that themselves in their adult relationships.

At times, readers will want to cringe at the sort of monsters and predators that prey upon young adolescents. At other times, they will applaud the strength and courage the author displays in freeing herself from such toxic relationships. Without a doubt, Dempsey has created a system through which those who are interested in ending a relationship with compassion and self-respect are provided in-depth scripts to anticipate anything the

other person can say to try and make one stay. In reality, this text helps to take the blinders off relationships that have already been dead inside for far too long.

Interestingly, the author explores satisfaction and fulfillment in relationships from a multitude of relevant angles. Using research from reputed sources like behavior expert Beverly D. Flaxington, Dempsey highlights how both men and women arrive at their feelings of self-worth—or lack thereof—and often through misconstrued fallacies. One prime example is when a friend of the opposite sex will hug a spouse, and immediate thoughts of unfaithfulness or possessive behaviors confound the individual. While the individual is already insecure, he or she directly relates it to the action mentioned earlier.

stands. Imbued with compassion and empathy for the reader, Dempsey’s narrative encourages readers to take accountability, explore their relationship with themselves, and embark on a path to self-love.

Compelling to read and understand, Dempsey’s work is a fitting reminder that even amidst the chaos of today’s world, it is important to step back and recenter. It is a surefire must-read that is a gamechanger in the self-help genre.

At its core, Dempsey’s guide forces the reader to reflect and ask probing questions that range from “What is good about staying?” to “What do I truly want?” Questions are proposed that have simmered in the individual’s mind for days, months, or even years, and now they are given the platform to come out to the surface and be heard. Beyond asking questions, however, the author also presents methods and tools to reframe how one thinks about his or her relationship. Specifically, she dives into her section on “Unhealthy Thinking Traps” that zero in on common phrases and ideas like “blaming ourselves for something that isn’t our fault.”

Often, the devastating cycle continues because of a lack of recognition and awareness and a sense of resignation that what the individual is going through is normal and will never change. Using both personal experiences and a psychologically driven argument such as “PersonalBoundary Abuse Disorder,” Dempsey unlocks the potential for a freer future with proper boundaries for the individual.

In addition to the guide being expansive and ideal for any relationship type, it is stylistically appealing to all audiences as well. Not only does Dempsey provide personal experience and research to support her position, but she also has built-in handouts and exercises for the reader to get a complete and revealing experience about where their relationship, or “relationsh*t,” Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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John m o llar d

J

ohn F. Mollard (1976- ) was born in Virginia, Minnesota, to a school teacher/ hospital volunteer coordinator mother and millwright father. Graduating high school in 1994, he attended Mesabi Community College, Bemidji State University, and Mesabi Range Community & Technical College, earning degrees in Liberal Arts, Mass Communications, Creative Writing, and Carpentry.

As a writer, he has written numerous screenplays such as MOOSEBIRDS (1998), HAT TRICK AVENUE (2000, previously optioned by Haze Films Productions), MACGUFFIN (2002, previously optioned by Haze Films Productions), TWO FLOORS ARE BETTER THAN ONE (2002), and THE DAY LUFBERRY WON IT ALL (2010, with Roy C. Booth & R. Thomas 60 | UncagedBooks.com Riley) which was made into a short film by

Booth in 2010.

member allowed to see him. My sister was also unable to visit.

As an author, his credits include THE DAY LUFBERRY WON IT ALL SCREENPLAY BOOK, four drabbles in SPOOKY HALLOWEEN DRABBLES 2014, and the forthcoming thriller novel MACGUFFIN (co-authored by Roy C. Booth).

Writing-wise, I missed out on promoting my book with signing appearances at Convergence and local. Promoting the book has been rough.

Nobody’s buying anybody’s books.

In his spare time, Mollard is a hardcore movie geek, collecting movies and TV series on DVD/BluRay. He even appeared as a featured extra in the movies NORTH COUNTRY, THE DAY LUFBERRY WON IT ALL, and GIRL SCOUT COOKIES. He has been employeed since 2000 as a Certified Registered Central Sterile Reprocessing Technician at the Virginia Regional Medical Center/Essentia Health.

Stay Co n n e c te d

Uncaged welcomes Jon Mollard Welcome to Uncaged! In June of 2020, you released MacGuffin, a crime thriller noir. Is this your first published full length novel?

It’s my first published anything. Drabbles don’t count.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

The hardest thing to deal with was being unable to visit my 78-year-old father in the nursing home/ hospice as he battled terminal thyroid cancer and dementia. He also tested positive for COVID during his stay but had only mild symptoms. Last time I saw him was March 2020. He passed away January 29, 2021. Fortunately, my mom was able to see him a couple times a week. She was the only family

You have written a lot of screenplays and been a part of a few anthologies. What do you have coming up next that you can tell us about?

Working on a hockey comedy called HAT TRICK AVENUE. Novel or novella.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

On MACGUFFIN, we chainsawed 40,000 words.

Roughly 160 pages. Rough draft was 118k. Final draft was 78k. Some great stuff went bye-bye, some bad stuff. Didn’t need it. I don’t miss it. The novel is about Hollywood. While researching the popular locales and celebrity deaths, mysteries, and scandals, we found a ton of great stuff for inspiration. Being my first novel, I tried to use it all. Took years to edit the book down to size.

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

Jeff Dunham’s audiobook autobiography was pretty darn funny. He narrates it himself which is an added bonus. John Waters’ books are pretty amusing too. Can’t say I’ve ever cried reading a book.

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

I’m a huge collector of movies and tv shows on VHS, Laserdisc, digital, DVD, and BluRay. Mostly for nostalgia reasons. I love anything 1980s. I’m also big into music. Not so much the Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | last 25 years though. That music is painful. I also enjoy listening to podcasts, my cat, and lounging on the couch.

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

I spend most of my waking hours brainstorming.

Not so much writing. Very slow for me.

MACGUFFIN took 18 1/2 years.

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

Any format or platform is fine with me. Whatever’s cheapest. I’m reading GHOSTBUSTER’S DAUGHTER: LIFE WITH MY DAD, HAROLD RAMIS by Violet Ramis Stiel. Biography. I enjoy reading biographies.

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

Please pick up a copy of MACGUFFIN from Amazon. I know they’ll enjoy it cause I wrote it. I enjoy it. Co-author Roy C. Booth would appreciate it too.

Enjoy an excerpt from Deep Secrets of the Bayou MacGuffin John Mollard & Roy C. Booth Crime Noir/Suspense HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA, AUGUST 2005.

Rich MacGuffin, an aspiring actor with a talent for acting but a distinct lack of tinsel town looks, struggles to find work that 62 | UncagedBooks.com

will lead him on the road to stardom.

When a series of murders takes place by an elusive serial killer nicknamed THE HOLLYWOOD SPECTRE, and one of those victims is the star in a movie in the process of being shot, MacGuffin comes up with a unique idea that will land him the starring role.

Finally, MacGuffin gets his chance to show his acting ability, and he shines. But the killer is still on the prowl and seeking revenge against those from his past. MacGuffin unwittingly becomes involved with the LAPD and FBI as they hunt the killer and the bodies stack up.

Excerpt LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA WEDNESDAY, AUGUST THE TENTH SEVEN THIRTY-SIX AM IN 1939, NOTORIOUS MOVIE executive Harry Cohn, founder of Columbia Pictures, reportedly told actors William Holden and Glenn Ford, “If you must get into trouble, do it at the Chateau Marmont.”

The Chateau Marmont, opened on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood on February 1929, is a legendary castle-like hotel modeled after the Chateau d’Amboise in France’s Loire Valley. The hotel features rooms, pool, hillside bungalows, and garden cottages. It has served as the setting for many notable events in the lives of its large celebrity clientele.

At approximately 7:36 AM, a black stretch limousine drove east down Monteel Road at the north end of the hotel and came to a stop in front of the private back gate entrance to bungalow #3.

As the limo idled at the curb, the rear passenger doors opened, and two men in black suits stepped out: Earl and Harve Gittes–the Italian American owners of the Burbank-based For Stars Security, offering protective services to movie and rock stars alike.

| JOHN MOLLARD | Earl, 62, was a quiet, reserved, black-haired, pockfaced tough guy, while his cousin, Harve, 61-yearold, was a balding loudmouth.

Upon closing the car doors, they moved briskly through the gated entryway and walked up the palm tree-lined sidewalk to the front door of the bungalow.

As they neared, they could hear The Grateful Dead’s “West L.A. Fadeaway” emanating loudly from within.

Harve glanced up at his older cousin and shrugged.

“Sounds like somebody’s home,” he said in his thick Jersey-Italian accent.

Earl only grinned and bobbed his head in response.

Harve knocked on the door. “Hey, wakey, wakey!”

After a moment with no answer, he pounded on the door again. “Answer the damn door, you Hollywood prick! I hate waiting on your spoiled, sorry rich ass!”

Still no answer. Growing more and more impatient, he pounded his fists on the door again and again.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!”

Before Harve could knock again, Earl stopped him with a stern glare and a wave of his right index finger.

Bungalow #3 was one of two identical, adjacent, 1,500-square-foot hillside bungalows, with two bedrooms and baths, a spacious living room, a kitchen and dining area, a private street entrance and carport, and a private garden with direct access to the hotel pool.

Inside the front door, a small entryway led into the dining area and the adjoining living room. The place appeared trashed. A pair of Gucci suitcases lay upturned on the floor by two shredded and stained corner couches. Torn designer clothing hung from a broken flat-screen television beside a shattered porcelain lamp. A set of bongo drums stood by the entryway.

Crushed beer cans and broken wine bottles littered the carpet by a coffee table.

Atop the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of Cristal champagne chilled in a bucket of melted ice. A script with TEENAGE CONFIDENTIAL, PROPERTY OF PARADISE PICTURES, INC. on the front cover

rested nearby. Also of note were a small stash of marijuana in a plastic bag, a rolled-up hundreddollar bill, and a razor blade beside three neatly cut lines of cocaine. The August 10th morning edition of the Los Angeles Times lay opened to the front page with the top headline, “MURDER IN BEL-AIR: PROMINENT PLASTIC SURGEON AND FIANCEE BRUTALLY SLAIN IN BENEDICT CANYON.” At the end of the main hall, past the kitchen, guest bedroom, and bathroom, was the spacious master suite, where a Jewish male, resembling a young Sal Mineo, slept in the middle of a king-size bed, semi-exposed, beneath gray silk sheets. He stirred from the sound of The Grateful Dead blaring from behind the closed door of the adjoining master bathroom and covered his head with a pillow to drown out the noise.

Inside the bathroom, “West L.A. Fadeaway” played over a radio sitting on the right edge of the sink, as strapping film star Christian Rivers primped himself before the mirror while talking angrily on his cell phone. “Look, Ari, as my agent, your job is to find me acting roles, not to run my personal life!” He paused and sighed. “Yeah, I saw the newspaper headline! I don’t understand what the goddamn fuss is! So, every celebrity’s living in a state of fear? Big deal! Tell ’em to put in a security system and buy a guard dog!”

Hailing from Dallas, Texas, Rivers was 35 years old, had shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, a goatee, and an uneven smile, and was one of the biggest names in the movie business. He wore only snakeskin cowboy boots and a gun belt over a white bath towel around his waist.

There was another knock at the front door, which, of course, nobody heard due to the loud music.

Rivers continued his heated phone conversation with his agent, “What do I need a bodyguard for, let alone two? A man, a real man, can take care of himself, goddammit!” He paused and punched the wall, denting the sheetrock. He scowled as he spoke to his phone. “What...huh? Well... same to you, you...” He hurled the phone into the toilet.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Splash! He composed himself and scoffed, “Screw me?”

He took a drag from a smoldering joint in an ashtray beside the radio, pulled on a tan cowboy hat, quick-drew a prop Colt .44 pistol from the holster on his belt, and admired himself in the mirror.

“Hello, handsome!”

He winked and blew himself a kiss. He flipped off the radio and walked into the master bedroom.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Harve pounded on the front door, followed by his aggravated voice, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Uh, Mr. Rivers, sir?”

A minute later, Rivers startled Earl and Harve as he answered the front door stark naked, except for his cowboy boots, gun belt and holster, and cowboy hat over his genitals.

“Jeez!” bellowed Harve, aghast.

Rivers greeted the two cousins with a shit-faced grin. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Earl and Harve, bodyguards to the stars! How’s it hanging, boys?”

With a cocky smile, he took Harve off guard and clobbered him in the nuts with an open right fist.

Harve howled in pain, his eyes rolling back. “Ow... uh...unh...!”

As Harve keeled over, Earl smiled and shook his head, amused. He said nothing.

Harve spoke through his pain to Rivers, “Mr. Rivers, uh, sir, um, we’re here to escort you to the studio.”

Rivers checked his watch. “A little early, aren’t you? It’s only...7:39 in the AM. Pick-up ain’t till 8:00 AM.” Harve groaned, holding his groin. “Sorry, boss, but, uh...” He coughed. “...traffic is a real bitch this morning.”

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“Well then...” said Rivers, moving his cowboy hat from his genitals to his head, giving Earl and Harve an eyeful of male nudity, “...I better move my sorry ass and get dressed, then.”

He winked, clicked his tongue, fired a fake shot from a finger pistol, and tipped his hat to the two beleaguered bodyguards. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” He turned and walked back inside, while Earl and Harve returned to the limo.

Minutes later, a fully dressed Christian Rivers, sporting his cowboy boots and cowboy hat, opened the front door of the bungalow and exited, slamming the door closed behind him. He made his way down the sidewalk and out the gate to the limo where Earl and Harve stood waiting.

As Rivers neared the limo, Earl opened the right rear passenger door for him and ushered him inside.

Rivers tipped his hat. “Much obliged there, Earl. At least one of you is earning his keep this morning.” He gestured at Harve. “Can’t say as much for the other fella whose name escapes me for the time being.”

Harve grinned crossly.

“Thank you, Mr. Rivers,” said Earl in a New York accent. “Please, watch your head.”

“Don’t mind if I do, Earl. Don’t mind if I do.”

As Rivers climbed inside the rear of the limo, Earl and Harve followed and took seats across from him.

As Harve pulled the door shut, Earl pounded on the black divider between them and the front cabin to signal the driver.

The driver shifted the gear into “DRIVE” and muttered to himself, “Enjoy the ride. Heh, heh.”

The limousine crawled east down Monteel Road, gradually picked up speed, and disappeared around the curve.

shortstory Pt. 2

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

Ignition Point

by Jami Gray I started to grimace at the blatant lack of creativity but caught my expression before it could show.

Don’t antagonizethe client, Rory. “And to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Jones?”

“Consider me part of the delivery.”

My internal warning system blared. Having a powerful magic user do a ride along for a delivery? This did not bode well! “Precautionary or containment?”

Something unsettling flashed in his eyes. “Both.”

With that disturbing answer, he tilted his head in an arrogant dismissal, turned, and disappeared behind the heavily tinted window of the back seat.

My sense of unease sauntered out of the corner I’d shoved it in earlier and came forward with an evil grin. Right, so my mysterious package was volatile enough to warrant a mage playing guardian. And here I was flying without a safety net if things went wrong.

This had to be why the Guild strongly dissuaded its members from taking private jobs. At least when you did a Guild-sanctioned job, the parameters were clearly defined, and no deviations were allowed.

That reassuring leash of a rule provided a shield that discouraged potential problems that might hamper a successful delivery and allowed the Guild member protective options should things take a nasty turn. Of course, that didn’t help me now.

You took the job, so see it through.

Gripping the envelope, I mentally tugged my professionalism into place and moved to the driver’s side door. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I tossed the empty envelope onto the passenger seat. The soothing scent of newly cleaned leather filled my nose. Despite the car’s luxurious interior, there was no way to miss the thick after-market privacy screen locked into place and hiding Mr. Jones and his pack66 | UncagedBooks.com

age from view. I did my best to ignore the threat hiding behind the opaque window and took a few moments to familiarize myself with the car’s dash. It also gave me a chance to reclaim my equilibrium. Not that ignoring Mr. Jones was easy. It was beyond unsettling to have an unknown mage at my back. I much preferred facing my threats head on, thank you very much. That made it easier to run away.

I secured my seat belt. Because I couldn’t shake my uneasiness crawling over my skin, I nudged my magic until it blinked sleepy eyes and stretched awake. I hit the ignition switch and took visceral pleasure in the smooth rumble as it purred to life. Ready to ride, I shifted my gaze to the rearview mirror by habit. The privacy screen reflected my image and left a disquieting tension zipping down my spine, but years of discipline came to my rescue, masking my visceral reaction.

Keep it professional. I was getting paid to ensure the package made it from Point A to Point B intact. It was not my business who, or what, the package was, or why it was being delivered. The reminder didn’t do much to quiet my persistent conscience. Holding my emotions in a choke hold, I forced my attention forward and assumed the car was equipment with an interior speaker system. “Address?”

Sure enough, Mr. Jones rattled off an address.

It didn’t ring any bells. Not a surprise, considering metro Phoenix served as a central hub to a cluster of smaller cities. Those bedroom communities added to a sprawling network of streets that stretched over roughly five hundred and eighteen square miles.

Street names tended to repeat or change depending on where you were, so to ensure we got to the right spot, I programed the address into the car’s GPS. Someone had given the navigation system an Australian accent, which cheerily informed me that this particular address was on the west end, about forty minutes out from current location if traffic cooperated and more if it didn’t.

I backed out and wound my way out of the parking garageto the soundtrack of the GPS’s jaunty directions. The next few minutes were spent navigating the grid of one-way streets that served downtown Phoenix. Luckily, the mid-week crowds weren’t the night-

| JAMI GRAY | mare the weekend gatherings typically turned into, but there was enough nightlife meandering about that concentration was a must. Pedestrians paid little to no attention to traffic signals or marked crosswalks, bravely playing chicken with traffic.

Eventually I got clear of the bars, restaurants, and hotels lined with death-defying cabs and took the onramp to the freeway. Finally free, I accelerated. With a smooth snarl, the Maserati gladly took the reins, picking up speed as we hit the ribbon of freeway asphalt. My Aussie navigator cheerfully warned of a disabled car on the shoulder three miles ahead.

The subtle click of the intercom being activated preceded a coldly polite request. “Ms. Costas, do you mind muting the GPS?” The request carried a hint of an order colored with hauteur that set my teeth on edge, but I dutifully did as he requested.

“Thank you.”

Now that I had no reason to respond, silence settled in like an extra passenger. The Maserati prowled down the highway with the leashed aggression of a stalking predator. Normally I’d find the quiet restful, as small talk was never my forte. Tonight, it left me with too much time to think, and where my thoughts led was not good. Between the amount of money being paid for this job, Mr. Jones’s inauspicious presence, and the measures in place to ensure the package was kept hidden, something was off in a very dark way.

even more.

To help offset my anxiety, I made the most of my quiet time, slowly sliding my magic over my skin like a thin but nearly impenetrable armor. I wasn’t worried about Mr. Jones picking up on what I was doing.

My ability wasn’t showy or intimidating, unlike the power he carried, but it was rare. In fact, I didn’t even know my own power existed until I stumbled on it by accident.

Growing up without a family wasn’t easy and left you vulnerable to all sorts of garbage. For a while, I managed to evade the worst of them, but eventually my luck ran out. I spent much of my childhood bouncing in and out of shelters, and one night, a lowlevel Fire Mage decided he wanted my bunk. He and I both learned of my ability when it flared to violent life, bouncing his attack back to him. By the time he realized what was happening, he was sporting second-degree burns, his eyebrows were nowhere to be found, and the bunk in question was a smoldering pile of smoking ruin. After a few shocked moments, I took advantage of his distracted attention and bolted, blanket clutched in my hand.

That might be true, especially since I didn’t spend all my time on the side of right. Even if it was paranoia, there wasn’t much I could do about it—unless I was willing to violate my rule on professional neutrality.

Not until a few years later, when I ran across Algin, an old, schizophrenic street tramp, was I finally able to put a name to the power I held, Prism. Getting even that much was difficult, but what I did learn was that my magic acted like a magic-repellant armor, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t impenetrable—a purely physical attack could breach it—but when facing a mage, it did tend to give me enough time to react and escape, which was preferable to being dead. Normally my ability lay inert, but when my stress level rose, so did my magic. Mostly it buffered the worst of a magical attack, but on a few rare occasions, it could turn the offensive magic back to the originator. It was purely defensive, but in my line of work, it came in handy.

Not keen on cluing in the intimidating Mr. Jones to my growing unease, I kept an eye on my mirrors, including the rearview, checking the traffic and on watch for anythingunusual. Fortunately, rush-hour traffic was in its last gasp, so traffic was moving at a decent rate despite the endless highway construction. As we headed farther out, the construction disappeared, and the traffic lessened

When our exit popped up on the GPS, my armor was firmly in place as I began shifting my way left. The directions took me south of the freeway. With dusk gone and early evening well established, only the occasional passing car broke the illusion that we were in the middle of nowhere. Streetlights were few and far between, providing the deepening night shadows plenty of space to play. Lightning danced

Or you’re just being paranoid.

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| SHORT STORY | along the horizon to the east, but the lack of thunder meant it was a ways out yet. A pool of amber light flared to my right as we drove by a planned housing community. As we passed, even that indicator of life faded into the night, and darkness encased us.

Unfamiliar with the area, I slowed, dropping closer to the speed limit. Splitting my attention between the GPS and the unlit street signs, I kept an eye out for our turn. To my left the land stretched dark and creepily empty, occasionally broken by the shadows of industrial style buildings. It was a strange mix but not unusual this far out. Another planned sub-division was coming up on my right. Our turn lay just beyond that.

Halogen lights flared in my rearview mirror. Based on their height, they were attached to a lifted truck. I tilted the rearview mirror to minimize the glare, but the driver stayed on my ass. My fingers tightened on the wheel as I passed the first neighborhood entrance, wondering if he would turn in.

We passed that entrance, and the truck stuck tight.

The hairs on my neck rose. My brain started cataloguing evasive maneuvers, weighing the Maserati’s speed and maneuverability against the truck’s lumbering size and height. We passed a second entrance, and the halogen lights turned away. The truck roared off into the neighborhood.

My fingers flexed on the wheel as relief displaced my wary tension. Our turn was coming up quick, so I took my foot from the gas and eased on the brakes, preparing to glide through the stop. No way was I doing a full-on stop, not with agitation still poking at me.

Once through the turn, the GPS indicated our destination was five minutes out. Squat buildings crouched along the left side of the road. On the right, cement walls and overgrown paloverdes half hid the next upcoming turn I needed.

I continued down the road. A glance at the GPS indicated we needed to turn right at about where I could just make out a stop sign. We were passing a side street on our right when light sparked off the rearview mirror, catching my attention. I checked the road behind us, but it was empty. When I looked forward, someone was standing in the middle of 68 | UncagedBooks.com

the road,arms held wide in a familiar pose. I hit the brakes. Elemental magic erupted as a wave of redtinged blue fire roared toward us like dragon’s breath.

Mage! “Brace!” I yanked the steering wheel, trying to evade the attack. It didn’t work. The magical fire roared along the passenger door, and the punch of an invisible giant fist sent the car tumbling. Air bags exploded, blinding me, but I could feel the world tilt and spin as the car rolled. Metal screeched, something crunched, someone gave a pained grunt, and the windshield fractured. The car bounced then settled.

Before my brain could shift into gear, I was fighting my way free of the airbag. A layer of bitterness coated my mouth, and something warm and wet trickled into my eye. I swiped at it, absently noting the smear of blood on my hand. I went to wipe my hand clean on my pants, but the glittery layer of shattered glass and dust from the deployed airbags covering my lap stopped me.

I did a quick inventory on other possible injuries, but everything came back livable. Pain was taking a back seat for now.

“Mr. Jones?” My voice sounded overly loud and rusty There was no answer. I tried to twist in my seat, but the seat belt held me in place. Considering the tilted perspective, in which the passenger door lay above me, it was safe to assume the car had landed on the driver’s side. I peered out the fractured lines that used to be the windshield. Things were blurry, but I was fairly certain the shifting shadow taking its sweet-ass time coming closer was our attacking mage.

“Mr. Jones, can you hear me?” I shoved my hand down my left side, hissing as mangled metal tore my skin. When I hit the seat belt’s release, the quiet snap was deafening. Freed from the constraint, I used the seat back and steering wheel to shove up and twist so I could see behind me.

Well shit.

The privacy screen had been reduced to a few jagged pieces and Mr. Jones had obviously forgone his seat belt. Not a wise decision, based on the awkward angle of his neck as he lay crumpled against the door. I didn’t have time to worry about the implications of

Mr. Jones’s demise because I finally caught sight of what had been hidden in the backseat. A boy, who couldn’t have been more than ten, hung limp from his seat belt, eyes closed. What the hell was going on?

Shock morphed into worry. I’d figure it out later, for now I needed to get us both out of here.

Ignoring the protests from various aches and pains, I grunted and squirmed until I could reach back through the seats. I held my hand in front of the boy’s nose and mouth. A faint puff of warm air hit my palm.

The rush of relief left me momentarily shaky. I gently brushed back his hair to find a lump on his head where it must have impacted with the window. An angry voice, the words unintelligible, came from outside, quickly followed by the eerie rush of propelled air carrying heat that had nothing to do with the weather.

| JAMI GRAY | He studied me for what felt like forever but couldn’t have been long. The rapid rise and fall of his chest slowed and he finally nodded.

“Good.” I let go of his arm. “First, are you okay?

Everything working?” He gave me another wary nod. “Can you undo the seat belt?” His panic inched back as he scrambled at the seatbelt. His growing frustration became obvious as he tried to manipulate the latch. Using my toes, I shoved my torso through the space between the driver and passenger seats, ignoring the protest of my aching ribs and the way he flinched. Reaching deeper into the back seat, I nudged his hands away. With my head practically in his lap, I could hear his panicked breaths. “Hey.” I waited until his eyes met mine. “You’re okay. I’m going to get you out. Use my shoulder to brace so you don’t fall when I release this.”

I braced and turned my neck, expecting to come facetoface with the mage and his fire. Instead, the mage was still a few hundred feet out. Strangely, his back was to us, his attention on something or someone I couldn’t see. He stumbled back as if pushed by an invisible fist. Clearly, he was otherwise occupied, which was good news for me. Time to get the boy out of here.

I found the button on the latch and waited until his hands gripped my shoulder. “On the count of three— one, two, three.” The latch clicked open, the restraint loosened, and his weight hit me. At the impact, I bit my lip, stifling my pained groan. “You good?” My question came out in a kind of breathy voice.

I turned back to find the boy’s eyes open and on me.

There was no missing the fear that left him pale and still. Trying to keep him calm, I managed a shaky smile that felt fake, but it was the best I could manage. “Hey, kid, we need to get you the hell out of here.”

“Right, time to come up front. Ready?” He nodded again, and then, ignoring the lancing pain along my ribs, I was half pulling as he wiggled through the seats. After a final tug that nearly blacked out my vision, he dropped into the front of the car.

He gave a slow blink, then looked over, his eyes widening when he caught sight of Mr. Jones. His mouth opened and he began to fight his seat belt, his failing movements rocking the car. His mouth opened as if he was screaming, but strangely no sound emerged.

“Whoa! Hold up, kid! Stop!” I captured one of his arms before he could clock me unintentionally. “Stay still and I’ll get you out, okay?”

A shudder wracked his body and his eyes darted between me and the dead man.“Hey, I need you to focus on me, okay?” I tried to keep his attention on me.

It was obvious the kid was scared shitless. “You’re okay and I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to calm down so we can get out of here, okay?”

I felt his hair against my jaw as he nodded.

A quick check outside revealed an empty night.

Where the hell did the pyro go? Off to the right, the night sky lit up with an eerie glow. The car’s awkward angle blocked my view, but a hoarse shout sounded, quickly followed by the harsh bark of another voice.

Giving silent thanks to whoever was occupying the mage’s attention, I grabbed the boy’s hand and we scrambled over the dash and out of the car.

Adrenaline was a wonderful painkiller.

The End, Pt.2

© Copyright 2020 Jami Gray All rights reserved.

Published with permission.

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feature authors

suspense | romantic suspense time travel

George T. Arnold

J.S. Marlo

G e o rge T. ar n o l d

G

eorge T. Arnold, Ph.D., is a professor emeritus in the W. Page Pitt School of Journalism and Mass Communications at Marshall University where he taught news and feature writing, language skills, ethics, and law for 36 years. He worked full-time for seven years as a newspaper reporter to finance bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Marshall, and he holds a doctorate in journalism and mass communications from Ohio University.

His textbook/resource book, Media Writer’s Handbook, a Guide to Common Writing and Editing Problems (7th edition), is in its third decade of continuous publication and has been purchased at more than 300 colleges and universities in the United States and abroad.

Dr.Arnold also has published more than 50 professional and academic articles.

He began writing fiction in 2012 and has written | UncagedBooks.com 72

a short story, One Minute Past Christmas, and two novels, Wyandotte Bound, and Old Mrs. Kimble’s Mansion.

Stay Co n n e c te d

Uncaged welcomes Christina Berry Can you tell readers more about your newest book, Old Mrs. Kimble’s Mansion?

I am not certain how to catagorize it because it has romance, drama, and suspense. For readers who like romance, Forrest, the main male character, is cautiously caught up in a challenging new involvement while struggling with a long addiction to a perilous old love.

For those who like rags-to-riches tales, Forrest turns a tragedy at age 21 into an obsessive drive for money that earns him almost a billion dollars by his early 40s.

For admirers of drama, there is a magnificent but somewhat mysterious mansion whose presence provides the backdrop for the entire story.

And for lovers of suspense, there is a sensational murder trial whose outcome determines whether an extraordinarily beautiful woman of dubious reputation will become the wealthiest widow in the state prison or will be free to spend her late husband’s millions any way that pleases her.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

I come from a very close family from West Virginia, and we are accustomed to spending much time together visiting and traveling with one another. That, by far, is the hardest thing. I also miss being with wonderful friends at church, eating at a variety of restaurants four or five times a week, and spending an occasional afternoon shopping at a nice mall. Most important, of course, is being relieved of the stress and worry I share with virtually everyone during the world’s first pandemic in more than a hundred years.

You have been a professor at a university for 36 years. What inspired you to start writing novels?

It came about mostly by chance. Perhaps more than anything else were a couple of casual remarks – one made by a sister and the other by a former student.

I have been writing professionally (journalistically and academically) for more then 60 years. I turned to fiction writing when I was about 70 and was riding around with family members in my small town (Lancaster, SC) a few days after Christmas.

We just happend to pass a deserted lot that had a few trees grown for the sole purpose of beautifully decorating someone’s home for the holidays. But there were a few lying neglected and unwanted on the ground because everyone passed them by.

Since my childhood, when almost all families bought real trees for Christmas, I have always felt a deep sadness for the ones never given a chance to have their few days of glory. As we drove past one of the lots, I casually said, “You know, I have a perfect ending for a short story about these trees if someone would write it.”

My sister, Patty Arnold Noll, immediately said, “You know how to write; why don’t you turn it into a short story? I replied that although I know how to write journalistically and academically, I had no clue whether I had the imagination and creativy required for fiction writing. But I gave it a try and wrote One Minute Past Christmas.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Some time later, a former student wrote me a note on Facebook and said kind things about the story. His last sentence was a question, or perhaps a challenge: “Could there be a novel coming in the not-too-distant future?” I dismissed the thought until I wrote another short story that over time I turned into a four-part western/action/ romance novel, Wyandotte Bound. A year after I finished that, I wrote Old Mrs. Kimble’s Mansion.

I wanted the challenge of obtaining a traditional contract in which the publisher pays all expenses and the author gets royalties. Speaking Volumes published both novels.

I remember one from my childhood that made me both smile and have a few tears run down my face.

It wasn’t sad; it was just so incredible beautiful. O Henry’s The Gift of the Magi.

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

Of course, I like to read. I love old black-andwhite movies from the 1930s and 1940s. I like playing my jukebox that has a 1950s look but contains all the modern technology. I like taking long walks.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

No. I wrote my first novel, Wyandotte Bound, from beginning to end without sketching out a plot or figuring out an ending. I loved the freedom that process gave me because it doesn’t exist in journalistic and academic writing that stress painstaking research and strict adherence to facts.

From my background in journalism I learned the art of writing short sentences that flow easily from one to another, brief paragraphs that eliminate confusion, and simple words carefully chosen so readers do not have to have the novel in one hand and a dictionary in the other. From my background in teaching language skills, I learned how to develop smooth transiitons, arrange the order of words into flawless syntax, and how to avoid trite expressions, cliches, and wordiness.

(I have a language skills textbook/resource book – Media Writer’s Handbook, a Guide to Common Writing and Editing Problems – in its 7th edition and 25th consecutive year of publication, mostly with McGraw-Hill. It has been purchased at more than 300 colleges and universities.)

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

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I love to bake. And I enjoy getting and answering emails, texts, and Facebook messages from old friends, classmates and former students. And I am startng to get messages from readers I had not known before they bought one or more of my books.

I am grateful for my many blessings every day and try never to take them for granted.

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

My fiction consist of only one short story and two novels. I wrote Wyandotte Bound over a couple of years. It started out as a short story that eventually turned into Part 1 of a four-part novel. About a year after writing the short story, I wrote a couple of pages that started Part 2. About a year later, I wrote the rest of it in a few months. I wrote Old Mrs. Kimble’s

Mansion in three months by working on it steadily but with no set number of hours or any set number of consecutive working days.

Each of the seven new textbook editions took much more time and were much harder to write than the fiction. The writing is laborious and takes great concentration because textbooks require absolute accuracy.

The only creativity is thinking of interesting examples to illustrate how to use grammar and punctuation correctly. In fiction writing, I do not worry about the writing because it comes easily and it’s great fun to make things up. The challenge is to be imaginative and creative. I get satisfisfaction from writing journalistically and academically, but writing fiction is pure fun for me. I feel no pressure and no stress because I do not do it to make a lliving. I do it because I just

enjoy the heck out of it.

| GEORGE T. ARNOLD |

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

Physical books, probably because of my age and my long established habits. I do like to listen to audiobooks when I am driving by myself on a long trip.

I just finished reading John Grisham’s latest novel, A Time for Mercy, and my friend Leila Meacham’s Dragonfly. They are my two favorite writers. During the pandemic, I have been doing almost daily FaceTime readings with my granddaughter and great-granddaughter, who live in West Virginia. We have finished six books – some for fun like Where

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | the Crawdads Sing, and some for education like The Story, which we are finishing now.

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

My fiction is intended to entertain, to provide an enjoyable break from the work, demands, and stress of everyday life, and perhaps a nice escape from the serious concerns brought on by the pandemic.

I hope readers will like my writing style. Believe it or not, writing as I do with empahasis on short sentences, brief paragraphs and chapters and simple language is much more difficult than putting together complex sentences that cover half or more of a page with black type.

I do not want readers to have to strain their eyes to distinguish one line from the next or to have to look up the meanings of words not commonly used and meant to impress more than to inform.

Short paragraphs also give readers a chance to do something I personally enjoy: to take a bite of a delicious snack or to take a sip of a favorite drink without losing their place on the page.

Enjoy an excerpt from Old Mrs. Kimble’s Mansion Old Mrs. Kimble’s Mansion George T. Arnold Mystery/Suspence Forty-four-year-old Forrest Alderson isn’t at all sure of his motives for returning from self-imposed exile to Asher Heights, West Virginia, to see his hometown for the first time since he graduated from college. All he knows for certain is it’s something he has to do 76 | UncagedBooks.com

if he is to find out whether he can break free from the tragedy that compelled him to flee or whether he is forever doomed to be imprisoned by it.

He has spent the intervening twenty-three years in sacrificial preparation, striving obsessively to become enormously wealthy with one exclusive goal: to at long last take possession of Old Mrs. Kimble’s mansion, no matter the cost, and let that magnificent structure he has coveted since he was a poor boy stand as proof to one and all that native son Forrest Walker Alderson has done himself proud.

Or could it be his return is motivated—as his attorney, Olivia Fillmore, fears—by revenge, an evil desire to rub his great wealth and success into the face of the one person who caused him to hermit himself away all those years without a wife, children, or even a close friend?

To have any chance of finding the answers he so desperately needs, Forrest will have to struggle through a challenging new romance, an addiction to a perilous old love, a sensational murder trial, and the inevitable decision about what to do with the rest of his life.

Excerpt A Curious Request 1985 “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that,” Mr. Vermillion utters as he hangs up his phone and steps into the outer office to share the news with Cassandra Pierce, his partner at their law firm on Stanford Avenue in downtown Asher Heights, West Virginia.

“Not expecting what, John?” Cassandra mumbles, her mind focused on her day’s work schedule.

“A call with a curious request from a big-shot attorney at one of Chi-cago’s most prestigious outfits.”

“Oh?” Cassandra responds with a little more enthusi-

| GEORGE T. ARNOLD | asm, sensing she could be about to hear something that might provide a break from the monotony in the daily routine of a couple of small-town lawyers.

“Get this, Cassandra. It seems someone who doesn’t want us to know his identity is hiring us to buy the old Kimble mansion for him, and never anybody mind that it may not even be on the market.”

“Fine with me,” Cassandra answers without looking up from her pa-pers, “but what if it’s not for sale?

What makes that Chicago lawyer representing ‘Mr. Anonymous’ think we, of all people, can buy it?

We’re not even in the real estate business.”

“To me, that’s the challenging part, my friend. That and the mysteri-ous nature of the request. ‘Money’s no object!’ ” she said. “In fact, she said it twice.

“The guy is so dead set on having that mansion, its condition is no barrier either. And what’s more, he’s sending us a five-thousand-dollar retainer this afternoon!”

twenty years.

“I knew I had my surrogate as soon as I checked out the list of Asher Heights lawyers and saw John’s name,” Forrest Alderson explains, sitting in the Chicago office of his primary attorney, Olivia Fillmore, who possesses a law degree from Yale, a Phi Beta Kappa key, and head-turner beauty.

“John wasn’t one of my run-around friends, but he was one of the best of the good guys I grew up with,” Forrest assures Olivia. “And I picked you to handle things for me because I trust you more than any-body else in this overpriced law empire I’ve been paying a fortune in retainer fees all these years.”

DON’T MISS THIS TITLE:

“Well, whoop-de-doo,” Cassandra responds sarcastically. “Five thou-sand whole dollars? C’mon, John, there’s no way you’d be this giddy over that amount of money. What gives?”

“Oh, just a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus if we can persuade the owners to sell within the next two weeks.

Tell me that’s not enough to get even your skeptical little heart pumping, Cassandra. So, you as ready as I am to get this adventure started?”

“Five figures does have a way of getting a gal’s attention!” she con-cedes, dropping the papers she had been carefully organizing as if they were so many used napkins. “How ’bout doing a drive by right now? We have an hour before we have to be in court.”

“I’m game. Your car or mine?”

Unknown to John Vermillion, the offbeat phone call was set in mo-tion by an old acquaintance from his high school graduation class of 1959. Someone he has not seen or even thought about in more than Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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J.S. mARLO

J

S Marlo spent her childhood in a small French Canadian town, reading and daydreaming stories.

One day, she met her hero, a dashing officer, and followed him back and forth across Canada.

The “memorable” adventures she experienced with her young family fueled her imagination and kindled the dream of one day becoming an author. When her three spirited children left the nest in pursuit of their own adventures, she gave writing a chance. Ten years 78 | UncagedBooks.com

later, her first novel “Salvaged” was published.

JS lives in Alberta with her hubby, and when she’s not visiting her children or spoiling her little granddaughter, she’s working on her next novel under the northern lights.

Stay Connected

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

I haven’t seen two of my three children in a long time. One lives overseas and her last visit was more than a year ago. The other only lives eight hours away, but he’s a doctor dealing with Covid-19 patients, so he stays away to keep us safe.

I’m looking forward to the day I’ll be able to hug my daughter and my son again.

WEBSITE Uncaged welcomes J.S. Marlo Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest book, Mishandled Conviction is part of the Unraveling the Past series.

Can you tell readers more about this series and how many books are planned?

I write romantic-suspense/murder-mystery novels, but I added a time travel component to my “Unraveling the Past” series. All the stories in the series are stand-alone. They do not feature the same characters and they are not a continuity of each other, but in each of them, one or more characters travel back into the past to reshape the present.

In “Misguided Honor #1”, Becca becomes trapped in the body of a heartbroken young woman who’s destined to die and forever haunt a Canadian military base.

In “Mishandled Conviction #2”, Violette remodels the fake prison of an escape room only to be transported into the life of the real inmate who died in it.

The third and final book in the series will be titled “Misplaced Loyalty”, but it is currently in its early planning stage.

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

I’m currently writing a Christmas novel “Wrapped in Red”, which is scheduled to be released in Dec 2021.

“Wrapped in Red” is the first installment of my newest sweet mystery romance series “Fifteen Shades of Color”.

You can expect a blizzard, a lost B&B reservation, a car crash, a cute little girl, a loving widow, a roguishly charming grandpa, a crime or two, and lots of shades of red.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

By the time I reach the editing process, I’ve already flushed all the unnecessary scenes that do not move the story forward. I may still end up deleting a sentence or a paragraph here and there, but nothing substantial—nothing worth sharing with anyone.

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

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

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A review is the greatest gift you can give any author.

hiking in Iceland Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | I don’t remember reading a book in which I didn’t laugh, or cry, or scream. I just become very immersed in every book I read, including the storybooks I read to my little granddaughter.

To answer the question, it was probably the first book I ever read, but for the life of me, I can’t remember its title LOL What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I like to do jigsaw puzzles and play board games, and if it’s not too cold or rainy, I like to snowshoe and hike.

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

If I’m not babysitting my granddaughter, and my husband is working late, I can easily write 10-12 hours that day. But if I have my granddaughter with me all day, I’m usually too exhausted to write more than an hour or two that evening.

In average, it takes me nine months to write a 70,000+ words novel. Due to unforeseen events, I’m on a five-month deadline to write “Wrapped in Red”. So far, I’m on track to make it...and hopefully I’ll still be on track by the time you read this interview.

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

I think I’ve listened to one audiobook in my life.

I’m way more visual than auditory, so I need to see the words, to absorb them at my own pace, to sometimes reread a paragraph to make sure I capture every nuance of the text. I know there are lots of people who love audiobooks, but it doesn’t give me the full experience. That on audiobook I listened to, I ended up buying the book so I could read it LOL I read and own a ton of ebooks and paperbacks.

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If I’m taking a bath, I’ll grab a paperback, just in case I drop it in the water.

If read in bed, I’ll grab my iPad so I can turn the light off and I don’t disturb my husband’s beauty sleep.

If I travel, I’ll take one paperback and my iPad. And if I read in front of the fireplace, it’ll depend on which book I want to finish reading that day.

I currently have four paperbacks that I got for Christmas on my nightstand and six unread books on my iPad. They’re mostly romantic suspense murder mystery novels.

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

I would like to say: “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading, and if you have two minutes, please leave a review.

A few words suffice, like I liked the characters, The story made me cry, I stayed up at night to finish it, I was on the seat of my chair...”

A review is the greatest gift you can give any author.

Enjoy an excerpt from Mishandled Conviction Mishandled Conviction J.S. Marlo Romantic Suspense/Time Travel While Violette remodels an escape room, the lines between illusion and reality blur. The escape room is based on the legend of a dead inmate who haunts a condemned penitentiary, but the fake prison cell she recreates transports her into the past.As she relives the tumultuous events surrounding her life and the inmate’s death, Violette glimpses clues regarding

| J.S. MARLO | the disappearance of her son-in-law and loss of her precious heirloom.The past and the present collide, threatening the lives of Violette’s loved ones and unleashing conflicting emotions toward the men haunting her heart. Can she unravel the truth and save her family without losing her future?

Excerpt The hair on Violette’s arms stood at attention the moment she tiptoed inside her house. She’d been careful not to make any noise when she opened the door. In two months, her daughter would stop sleeping at night and wouldn’t start again for another decade or two.

Knowing the trials and tribulations that Sophie would face as a new mother, Violette aimed not to deprive her of those precious hours of slumber.

There’s no way Sophie went to bed but forgot to turn off the lights. She could see her daughter leaving the one in the vestibule on, but not all the lights in the kitchen and the hallway.

“Sophie? Are you up?” Something snapped behind her, jolting Violette. As she spun on her heel, the front door opened and her daughter barged in.

“Mom, where have you been?” Garbed in Elliot’s oversized t-shirt, Sophie kicked off her yellow flipflops. One landed on the floor mat and the other under the bench on which they sat in the winter to put their boots on. “I was worried.”

“No...not your escape room...not exactly...”

“Then where were you, Mom?” An arm draped around Violette’s shoulders, Sophie led her into the kitchen. “I tried calling you. When you didn’t answer, I knocked on Joe’s door. He was mounting a rescue when he saw your car pull into the driveway.”

“My phone was—” The meaning behind their nightclothes, and the realization that they had followed her inside, dawned on Violette. “You were on your way to rescue me? In pajamas?” That would have been a great idea—four hours ago. “I think I need a cup of coffee.”

“At this hour?” A frown etched on his forehead, Joe pulled up a chair for her. “You won’t be able to sleep a wink.”

Trust me, I won’t sleep whether I drink or not.

“You’re right. After the eventful evening I just spent, I need something stronger. I’ll have a beer.”

Her daughter exchanged a dubious look with Joe, a look that her grandson might as well get used to early in life, but then Sophie gestured for Joe to sit at the table. “I’ll get Mom a beer. Would you like one too?”

“No thank you, Sneaky Pie.”

Welcome to Worryland, sweetheart. Once you enter, you never leave. “I was—” Upon seeing Joe stepping in with only pajama pants on, the remaining words caught in Violette’s throat.

The nickname drew a smile on Violette’s face. On so many levels, Joe was the father that her daughter would have deserved but that Violette could never give her. “I suppose I owe you both the long version, don’t I?”

“Did something happen?” Bare chested, Joe looked more athletic and in better shape than most men half his age, including Elliot who patronized a gym three days a week. “You didn’t spend half the night in my escape room, did you?”

“We were worried, Mom.” From the fridge, Sophie fetched a beer from the six-pack that Elliot concealed behind the milk. “We’re just glad you’re safe, but an explanation would be nice, if you feel like sharing.”

She heard him, but the question didn’t register until she tore her gaze away from his formidable physique.

Sharing her unbelievable ordeal sounded like a bad idea—an idea that might tempt them to send her to Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | the loony bin—but to receive answers to her questions, she somehow needed to share her incredible tale. “I...I drove to the Ottawa Royal Penitentiary to visit Phantom’s cell.”

“You drove where?” Joe’s policeman mask fell right off his face and hit the table with a silent thump.

I stumbled onto an enchanted passageway that transported me from your mock courtyard to the real courtyard, slid into a coal room, broke all my nails. The grime of her escape was embedded into every pore of her skin, while the hopelessness of the prison cast a shadow on her soul. I searched Phantom’s cell, found a dog tag, walked up and down a deserted road hoping to get a signal on my phone only to realize that it had died since I’d left the prison. Then I felt giddy and scared when I spotted lights in the distance. I almost gave a heart attack to the poor truck driver when I waved at him from the ditch, but he was kind enough to give me a ride to your escape room. From there, I jumped in my car and drove home.

“I drove to the prison.” Mustering her best poker face, Violette held his darkening gaze. “How else would I get there?” ~*~ Over the years, Joe had earned the reputation of being a skilled interrogator. He didn’t care much about the fancy title, which looked better on paper than a psychological manipulator, but he enjoyed playing the cat and mouse game with his suspects.

While Violette’s destination had taken him by surprise, her strange response had aroused his suspicion. However, he reminded himself that she was a friend, a dear friend, not a suspect. Whatever words or tone he used, it couldn’t remotely sound like he treated her like a suspect, or she would never agree to his proposition.

Something had happened to her tonight, that much he was certain, but for everyone’s sake, he needed to let her recount it as much or as little as she desired in her own time.

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“I’ll admit I’m curious, Violette, and a little bit jealous. Before I designed the escape room, not only did I read and reread Phantom’s police report, but I’d also planned to visit the penitentiary to see his cell with my own two eyes.” A silent sigh expanded his chest.

“I’ve seen pictures, but I regret not taking the time to make the fifty-minute drive.”

Sophie placed an unopened beer and a glass in front of her mother. “As fascinating as your prison and escape room sound, I’m just happy you’re safe. If you don’t mind, I’ll go back to bed since I have to get up early for work tomorrow. See you at breakfast?”

“Of course.” Violette stroked her daughter’s baby bump. “Good night, you two.”

“Good night, Mom. Good night, Joe.” As Joe bid her good night, he remembered the name in his pocket. “Sophie, before you go to bed, may I ask if the name Harold Stanley Griffin rings a bell?”

The young woman paused with her hand on her belly.

“You could say it rings like a broken bell. He’s Elliot’s friend from way back when. He designed my engagement ring.” She glanced at her hand, where a delicate ring adorned her finger. “Why are you asking about him?”

Because I needed to know if a connection existed between him and Elliot. “We’d like to ask his employer a few questions. Would you know where he works?”

“In his cousin’s basement, somewhere in Manotick. I only met him once in person in a coffee shop downtown. The way he looked at me and touched my hand when he measured my finger...” Small tremors shook her body. “He gave me the creeps. I told Elliot to meet him without me the next time. Do you think he might know where Elliot is?”

If he did, he took Elliot’s location to his grave. “I doubt it, Sneaky Pie, but you never know.” Joe offered his most reassuring smile. “Have a good sleep.”

feature authors

young adult fantasy | contemporary

Marie Powell

VK Tritschler

Aliza Ross

MARIE POWELL

M

arie Powell’s adventures in castle-hopping and exploring her family roots resulted in her historical fantasy novels, Spirit Sight and Water Sight (Last of the Gifted).

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These are just two of Marie’s 40-plus children’s and young adult books with such traditional publishers as Amicus Publishing, Scholastic Education, Lerner/ Lightning Bolt, Crabtree and more. Her short fiction and poetry can be found in subTerrain, Room, Transition, and other literary magazines. She is also a professional writer, editor, journalist, and photographer with work published in a variety of formats.

Stay Co n n e c te d

to find three relics that could rally the Welsh--if she can outwit the English lord who wants to use her gifts to capture Prince Dafydd. Hyw is on the run with the prince and the straggling Welsh army. To escape the betrayal dogging their heels, Hyw takes refuge in his evolving gift—until shifting shapes puts his humanity in jeopardy. With Hyw trapped in his magic and her betrothed in an English prison, Catrin faces an impossible choice: save her brother, or save the one she loves. Book 3 will take the story to its conclusion, and I hope to have that out next year.

mariepowell.ca

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

She loves travelling. On recent trips to Wales, she immersed herself in the culture and landscape of her heritage. At the same time, she discovered valuable research for her YA fantasy series, Last of the Gifted.

Welcome to Marie Powell Welcome to Uncaged! Tell us more about your series, Last of the Gifted. With two books out now, how many are you planning for this series?

Last of the Gifted is the tale of two siblings who pledge their magical gifts to protect their people from the invading English, with the help of the last true Prince of Wales—after his murder. This medieval fantasy series combines myths and magic with the historical realities of 13th Century Wales. I’ve planned at least three books, with two published and available now, and the third on its way.

In Spirit Sight (Book 1), warrior-in-training Hyw can control the minds of birds and animals. His sister Catrin can see the future in a drop of water. After Prince Llywelyn is ambushed and murdered, Hyw’s gift stretches in unexpected ways to allow the slain prince’s spirit to meld with him and help them fight back against the invading English. Catrin must use her gift to convince her betrothed to help the slain prince’s brother. When Catrin and Hyw are reunited, they must work together to save the new Prince—and each other.

Water Sight (Book 2) carries the story forward as the English pursue the remaining Welsh across North Wales. Catrin’s gift of Second Sight is their only hope

The thing I’ve missed the most is travel. I like to travel at least once or twice a year, in Canada and abroad. I also miss attending my favourite writing conferences, like When Words Collide in Calgary and the Surrey International Writing Conference (SiWC). I was actually booked on the SIWC-AtSea cruise and writing retreat when the pandemic hit, and I really hope that will return someday. Also, I’ve done a lot of research for these novels on trips to Wales. It’s not strictly necessary to travel to do historical research, but I like to soak up the ambiance and tune in the whispers of ghosts that lived through this unspeakable period of history. I had planned to go to North Wales a third time last year, before the pandemic hit. If and when these restrictions are lifted, I want to make another trip to follow my characters to the conclusion of their journey.

You have written a lot of children books, what inspired the leap in the young adult genre?

I think I’m a naturally restless person. I began my career as a dramaturg (theatre scholar and new play consultant), so I wrote plays. Later I turned to journalism, and I still write non-fiction articles. Then I worked as a part-time library programmer, reading children’s books to groups of kids. So it felt very natural to write children’s books, and before I knew it, I had 40-plus published by traditional houses like Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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I saw how a really great piece of writing could capture not just my imagination, but the imagination of other people, too.

| FEATURE AUTHOR | Scholastic, Amicus, Lerner/Lightning Bolt. But fiction has always been in the mix for me, and I started having short stories and narrative poetry published in literary magazines early in the 2000s. This novel series came to me during my first trip to Wales. I started Spirit Sight as my MFA thesis project at the University of British Columbia (UBC). So the process of moving from children’s to young adult novels actually feels very natural and fluid to me.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

Yes, to both! I wrote a lot of back-story material for these books, getting to know the characters. I did a lot of research, so I have put together a read-along resource from the map, historical note, and glossary in these books. I’m doing a teacher’s resource guide now because I have so much material about this little-known time period. I also wrote scenes that follow the journeys of several secondary characters.

None of that could go into the novel, but I plan to make it available as short stories and novellas this year.

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

So many books to choose from! My dad read to me every night when I was a kid, up to the age of 12 or so, but he didn’t read kid’s books. He read me novels mostly, classics and popular novels (although he skipped over the racy or politically incorrect bits, as I discovered later). King Solomon’s Mines and The Once and Future King were favourites. I would have to say a short story collection by Edgar Allen Poe affected me the most. In Grade 7, I had the chance to read “The Tell-Tale Heart” out loud to a group of other girls, and that was when I knew I wanted to write. I’ve heard writers say they started writing because they couldn’t find a good book or story they wanted to read. I wanted to write because I found so many great stories and great writers! And I saw how a really great piece of writing could capture not just my imagination, but the imagination 90 | UncagedBooks.com

| MARIE POWELL | of other people, too. I wanted to do that!

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

I like to experiment with growing vegetables and herbs. I have a black thumb, seriously, so I can’t quite call it gardening. But I plant a garden in my yard in the spring and something useful usually grows there. One year I had a yard full of potatoes and kale. I’ve had good luck with basil and mint, and for the past couple of years, I’ve had a wonderful crop of purple beans and snap peas. This year I’ve taken medieval cooking classes online through Blackfriar’s and the University of Durham--that’s one of the benefits of the pandemic, with more online classes available. I like to learn things.

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

I write a lot, but I try not to count hours. Most of the day, I’m either writing fiction or non-fiction. Novels are time consuming. It took me the better part of 10 years to write Spirit Sight, but I was also working and writing kids’ books and articles in between. It was nice to focus on Water Sight in the last year and get it completed and published. I plan to get Book 3 done before the restrictions are lifted, and publish it this fall.

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

I prefer audiobooks, by far. Then physical books.

Ebooks are new for me and harder to focus on. Each year I try to read more than 50 books for pleasure, and I probably use about that many for research. I’m always reading two or three books: one for research, one escapist novel, and an audio book. I used to listen to a lot of audio books in the car, and I look forward to doing that again once the restrictions are lifted.

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

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | I hope you enjoy my books, and please let me know by leaving reviews on Amazon or Goodreads.

Please follow me on social media and sign up for my newsletter on my website.

Enjoy an excerpt from Spirit Sight Spirit Sight Marie Powell YA/Fantasy Two siblings pledge their magical gifts to protect their people from the invading English, with the help of the last true Prince of Wales—after his murder.

Warrior-in-training Hyw can control the minds of animals. His sister Catrin can see the future in a drop of water.

Hyw wants to use his gift to win a place in the Prince of Wales’ bodyguard. Then ambush and murder stretch the gift in unexpected ways, as the slain prince’s spirit melds with Hyw to help him fight back against the invading English.

Catrin’s visions hold only disaster and death.

She must convince the young nobleman she’s pledged to marry to help prevent the genocide she foresees.

Can the gifts be trusted? Or will their world shatter around them?

Excerpt December 1282, Gwynedd, Cymru (North Wales) He raised his arms, feeling bone and feather flatten against the wind, and knew himself tethered to air currents that smelled of salt and fish, somewhere off the horizon.

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He ran below the bird, yet his mind and the hawk’s mind moved as one. He could feel the dry December grasses beneath his bare feet, but he saw as the hawk saw: a flash of grey fur in the stubble, the swaying pattern of a tree branch.

He tried to turn the hawk’s mind—his mind—to his will, and for a moment he succeeded. In the distance he could see the stone watchtower of his home at Garth Celyn, seat of the royal court of Wales. But the hawk’s need was powerful, turning him back to scan the ground they circled. If he squinted—just so—at the yellow and russet clumps, he could make out the leaves of each tree. A shadow flitted from branch to branch.

Prey!

His talons ached for the soft flesh and his beak thrust forward— No, not his. It was the hawk’s beak that longed to rip the flesh from bone and feather. Hyw grasped the bird’s thoughts again and turned its head toward Prince Llywelyn’s tower. There! A streak of movement across the grass. Was it some grotesque beast from the past? He urged the hawk to circle until he could see it more clearly. A single horse and rider galloped toward Garth Celyn.

A messenger! Fast horses in wartime never bring good news. Had the English broken the peace again? Hyw gasped, and his connection to the bird faltered.

The hawk gave a piercing shriek. Hyw felt himself falling, as if he’d dropped from its talons rather than its mind. His feet—the same feet that had seemed to barely skim the ground a moment ago—thudded against the earth. He stumbled and the momentum of his running threw him, over and down until he braced his hands against the mountainside. He almost flipped again and bit back a cry as his fingers buckled, but his shifting weight came to a stop. Tears have no place in a warrior’s world, his father had told him when Hyw had sprained his ankle five years ago. He flexed his

| MARIE POWELL | fingers. Each one moved, painfully. Nothing was broken.

When he shared the mind of an animal or bird, he often lost the sense of his own physical body. He was becoming familiar with the consequences of coming back to himself. This time, though, he’d taken it a step further. He’d done it! He had made the hawk turn, so he could see what he wanted through its eyes, if only for a moment. It was easier with horses, because they loved him and he them—but they couldn’t see any farther than the men riding them. Hawks and other birds would be more useful in a battle. Now he had proven it. He scarcely felt the dry spears of grass as he pushed himself up.

Hyw’s first thought was to tell his father. But would his da listen? His da was Bran ap Maredudd, a trusted warrior of the prince’s bodyguard. When Da bid him learn the ways and customs of their English enemy by going to foster at the court of Lord Shrewsbury, Hyw had gone. He spent four long years in the borderlands.

But he had returned over a week ago. Every Welsh boy in training at Garth Celyn received a red sash on his fourteenth birthday, to mark his warrior status.

Hyw had turned sixteen before he left Shrewsbury’s court. All last week he’d waited, but his father had not brought him a sash. Hadn’t even mentioned it.

On Hyw’s first evening home, his mother Adara had seemed glad that his ability had manifested while he was away. It was his inheritance from her family, similar to her brother’s, she’d said. She’d even called it a “gift” that could help them. Bran had nodded but shushed her, glancing around at the priests and other wagging tongues in the Welsh royal court. He had not called on Hyw to serve the prince at Garth Celyn. But now Hyw had something to offer. Surely, now that he could control the minds of the creatures he bonded with, he could change his father’s mind.

And what word did this messenger bring? If this meant war, Hyw would be needed. Wouldn’t he?

At the same time, Hyw felt a nagging doubt. What of James? They were best friends, but James was

Shrewsbury’s son and one of the Saeson—English.

The enemy. Fie on it! If his father rode with the prince, Hyw must be by his side. He would work harder to master his gift and to prove its value. He could prove himself—he would—if he could make his father listen. He would win his red sash. His cheeks burned as he sprinted for Garth Celyn.

As Hyw passed through the gates, he heard an anxious neighing. He sprinted across the courtyard toward the barns in time to see a young groom, holding the reins of a lathered horse. The sunlight caught a gleam of metal and Hyw saw a heavy English saddle, rather than the darker leather gear of the Welsh. The messenger’s horse! The man who’d been riding it must already be inside the longhouse.

The groom crooned softly to the horse, but it blustered, jerking its head down. “Hogyn da,” he repeated, but the horse reacted as if he were cursing it instead of saying “Good boy.” Hyw caught sight of its wild eyes as its head reared up again, and its hooves skittered on the packed courtyard.

Could it be reacting to the language itself? Hyw felt the wrath beneath the horse’s bay coat like a fist in his own gut. Warhorses were bred to be fighters too. How often had he dealt with their tempers in Shrewsbury’s barns? He took a deep breath and held out his hand.

“Would you like me to try?” he asked in Welsh, and the groom passed over the reins.

“Why not? He’s one of the Saeson too, after all.”

Hyw took the reins and ignored the slur. It was mild compared to some he’d overheard since his return.

After so many years away, he was like a stranger to his own people. He’d had to prove himself to the English in Shrewsbury’s court, but it stung to have to prove himself again here at home.

He turned his attention to the horse, reaching out with his mind to make contact with the animal.

He relaxed, probing the horse’s mind to find the link that would bond them. He gasped as he felt his head lengthen. His back stretched. His nostrils Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | filled with the smell of sweat and dust. Sunlight filtered across his blinkered eyes. He was all but overcome with a wild urge to kick out and pull away. He bared his teeth and snarled.

At the sound, he opened his eyes. It always felt real, but he knew it had occurred inside his mind and not in his body. He was able to join with the animal’s mind, to see and think as it did. Yet from the look on the groom’s face, he had seen nothing more than another boy calming a horse. Hyw stared into the dark intelligence reflected in the horse’s eyes. Its skin shivered, but it stared back at Hyw with pride and defiance.

As if he were an enemy, Hyw realized. Because he was Welsh? Hyw reached out once more, crooning in English as he had to the horses in Shrewsbury’s barns. Gradually it calmed.

“I’ll take care of him,” Hyw said quietly in Welsh, and the horse tossed its head again. The groom held his hands up in a gesture that clearly said he was leaving Hyw to his fate and backed away to attend other duties.

As Hyw turned, he spied his father’s lean frame by the doors of the longhouse at the other side of the courtyard. Bran was standing with Prince Llywelyn, easy to recognize in his black mourning clothes. The prince had no doubt been training with his men when the messenger arrived. Bran must have carried the news to the prince. Even now, they would be on their way to hear the messenger’s words.

The two men appeared to be watching him. For a moment Hyw felt a faint hope that his father had seen him use his gift. Then he realized the groom standing right beside him had not known what Hyw was doing, so how could his father from that distance?

Perhaps he could do it again, and use this horse to convince his father that his gift would be useful to the prince. But before Hyw could wave, they turned and made their way inside the longhouse.

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VK tritsc h ler

V

K Tritschler is a full-time busy body, and part-time imagination conjurer. She lives on the amazing Eyre Peninsula in South Australia, having moved there from her hometown of Christchurch, New Zealand. Her family consists of a very patient husband, two rampant boys and too many pets to mention.

She has a wonderful set of amazing writers who support her in the form of Eyre Writers, and in return she offers crowd control services for the Youth section who are the future best-selling Australian authors.

Her first book “The Secret Life of Sarah Meads” was released in 2018 and since then she has kept herself busy participating in the Anthology “Magic & Mischief”, publishing “The Risky Business of Romance”, participating in the NYC Writing Challenge, the Clunes Booktown, and helping to organize and run the Eyre Writers Festival.| UncagedBooks.com 96

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no matter what, when I get back and when its safe enough to travel again, I will have a fabulous time catching up with everyone and hearing their stories.

You released two books in 2020, what can we look forward to from you this year?

vktritschler.com Uncaged welcomes VK Tritschler Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest release is called “Trade Secrets,” and is a romantic comedy. Can you tell readers more about this book?

When I wrote Trade Secrets, I had a picture of a young woman fresh into the world of corporate marketing who finds that her expectations of what the world will be, and reality of it and the people she must work alongside, vastly different. Emily finds herself stuck in between her boss bawdy boss Jimmy, and the handsome Harry who works for the competition. She is hired by Jimmy to spy on Harry and find out trade secrets, but as she learns about both men, and subsequently herself, she must decide where her priorities truly lie. I like that readers are divided about the characters and whether they love or loathe them. I think as a writer to create a character in which two readers can interpret and relate to in quite different ways, is a great feeling because I think that is also how we react to people in our own lives.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

We have been extremely fortunate to reside in South Australia. Locally we have had minimal restrictions, and therefore it has not impeded my life dramatically other than being more mindful which I think can be nothing but positive. But I did have to cancel a trip to Canada to visit my family, which I was disappointed in. My Grandmother, a living legend at over 100 years of age, was key in my desire to visit. But I know that

More books! I have so many ideas rattling around in my brain, that it seems impossible to get them all down in a timely manner. But I have set aside writing goals this year, and my next book which is a paranormal romance is due out in April. I also have someone working on converting one of my books into an audiobook, as I have become a fan of these myself as my life has been getting busier. I am also assisting with the local Youth writing group again this year, because there is nothing like kids to keep you motivated and remind you why you started writing in the first place.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

I am a visual writer, which means I see the story in my head as I write it. What tends to happen is not that I edit out a lot of things, but rather that my typing can’t keep up with the story in my head and I must add things into the book. Which means often when I have editors read through my work, I end up having to elaborate on scenes or bring in more of the backstory to satisfy the reader. Therefore, I don’t have ‘extra’ content that is available as such, but I am certainly keen in the future to release content which is solely for my fan base. I have one story I started in NanoWriMo which I would like to send my fans once I have finished the editing phase!

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

I will be honest here and let you know that when it comes to reading, I am an easy crier. I did it for Black Beauty when I was just a kid. I have cried as I have written stories many times. But laughing? That ones a little harder. Smile? Definitely. But laugh out loud funny is a hard button to press. But I did laugh Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | when I wrote the cat shower scene in The Secret Life of Sarah Meads, so I was thrilled to see that a reader once commented on how she laughed out loud at the same point and scared her dog. What a fabulous thought.

table is a physical book, The 24-hour Café by Libby Page. I liked the idea of a story about following your dreams. I have currently got over three hundred books on my Kindle. I had read nearly all of them. So yes, I think you could say it is a little obsessive.

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

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

My husband will tell you I never truly relax, and I think he’s probably right. I was not built with a fully functional off-switch. I love to read, but I get totally absorbed into my characters world when I do. I also enjoy fishing, but only if they are biting!

The best thing I can do to relax is go for a walk in the wilderness and explore, or to travel and wander around strange and new locations. I have travelled for many years, and to get lost in a new country or location is the best feeling in the world. There is always somewhere new to discover. Hopefully, we can all enjoy this again soon!

I would like to thank them for their support. As a relatively new author, each and every person who likes, shares, follows or engages is a real gem. And it has been such a pleasure to read all their reviews (yes – even the ones who didn’t like a certain book or character!) as they have given me constant motivation to write more and do better.

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

I would consider myself an all or nothing kind of gal. This year’s goal is to set aside a set time for writing, since at the moment its when the muse takes me. I do regularly escape to hidden writing locations with other authors and writers, and that is where I am most proactive. If I set my mind to it, I can write an entire book over a long weekend.

But typically, I would write two or three thousand words in a stretch and I might only do that a couple of times a week. I am hoping with my new plans this year, I will be able to work this into a better system.

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

I read anything and everything. I use audiobooks for my morning walks, and that helps me feel like I am exercising my mind as well as my body. Current read for that? The Duke and I, by Julia Quinn. I watched the television series and wanted to find out if the books were like the show. On my bedside 98 | UncagedBooks.com

Enjoy an excerpt from Trade Secrets Trade Secrets VK Tritschler Romantic Comedy What happens when your dream job turns out to be a hot mess?

Emily earned a spot in a top Adelaide advertising agency and was excited to be starting her professional career. But on her very first day she gets coffee spilled on her by Meg, her new and complicated co-worker; runs into Jimmy, her wildly inappropriate boss; and gets stuck in an elevator with Harry, who is the hottest guy in the industry and her company’s biggest competitor.

When Jimmy enlists Emily to spy on Harry and his company, things become more complicated.

But Emily finds that her life isn’t as perfect as she’d dreamed. Now, she has to choose between handsome Harry, who may not be all he seems, and bawdy

| VK TRITSCHLER | Jimmy, who is exactly what she fears. Secrets and hidden agendas rip apart Emily’s dreams. Will she pick the devil she knows or the one she doesn’t?

DON’T MISS THESE TITLES:

Excerpt As she pushed the door open, a large desk and surrounding chairs greeted her. The wall was again a length of a window, but this time with a much pleasanter outlook into a park. At one end of the room was a large projection screen and beside it a small easel, which was empty. And beside them was Meg, seated, or rather perched, on a leather recliner and next to her with his relaxed grin was a face she had already met that morning. Him. Toilet guy. The only other bad part of her day so far, and he smiled like a Cheshire cat.

“Good morning. You must be Emily,” he said, getting up from his chair and walking in her direction.

Unable to avoid the introduction, she grimaced. “Yes, I believe we’ve already met. I’m Emily Johnson. Nice to meet you.”

“Not as nice as it was to meet you downstairs this morning.” He gave her a firm handshake. “Nothing like a hot bit of toddy in the morning to wake an old fella up.”

Meg snorted in the background. “Jimmy, leave her alone. Ems, that’s Jimmy. He’s our boss.”

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A li z a r o ss

B

orn and raised in Queens, Aliza studied psychology at Queens College and graduated from Fordham Law. As a litigation attorney, Aliza has specialized in complex civil litigation and white-collar criminal defense.

She lives in Manhattan with her husband and two children.

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Uncaged welcomes Aliza Ross Welcome to Uncaged! Your new book, Asymmetrical Woman will release on March 4th. Can you tell readers more about this book and what inspired you to write it?

Thank you so much for the featured interview.

ASYMMETRICAL WOMAN is my sexually charged debut novel which follows the desires and intellectual ennui of a woman in a disintegrating marriage. Having relinquished her career as a high-powered attorney to have children, Alix Beck finds herself awash in sleeping pills and fantasy on the Upper West Side as she tries to reignite her lustless marriage to her wealthy husband. When childhood boyfriend Evan contacts Alix to help investigate the car accident that killed his sister, Alix uncovers information that would have dire consequences if revealed.

Overwhelmed with temptation to begin an affair with Evan and conflicted by the information she is withholding, Alix develops Bell’s Palsy, paralyzing her face and plans. In self-exile, consumed by her condition, Alix is forced to find creative, even comic, solutions to her sexual frustrations and reexamine her marriage, ambitions, and true self. ASYMMETRICAL WOMAN explores the inherent contradictions and dilemmas of contemporary women—the disappointments, compromises and anguish of marriage, motherhood and work.

I was inspired to write this novel by the undercurrent of anguished compromise present in virtually every marriage I’ve witnessed and each woman who has struggled with her identity and sexuality trying to balance it all. I wanted to express the incongruity that can exist in a woman’s heart, body, and mind between wanting to be fully known by, and one with their spouses on the one hand, and the deep yearning, fantasies, sexual craving, and desire for newness and individuality on other.

What have you found the hardest to cope with during the pandemic? What are you looking forward to when a lot of restrictions are lifted?

In many ways the pandemic aligns with my obsessive compulsive nature —I have always been suspicious of door knobs, toilets, ear whisperers, the hands I shake! But learning how to dye my own hair, now that was certainly challenging.

As far as restrictions lifting, for both selfish and selfless reasons, I’m looking forward to my children resuming the occasional sleepover at my parents’ house.

And while I enjoy having cucumber-gin cocktails at all the new outdoor spaces in NYC (Columbus Avenue feels like Europe!), I look forward to restaurant and bar owners being allowed to operate at full capacity again. It’s been sad to see them suffer.

How do you come up with the names for your characters?

If you asked me as I was writing the book, I’d say my choices were not very deliberate, but in hindsight I see there may have been subconscious forces at play. For instance, I’m pretty sure I kissed an “Evan” at some point when I was a kid, but I didn’t recall that until after finishing the book.

Do you edit out anything substantial in your novels in the editing process? Do you make that extra content available in any way to readers if you do?

I heeded the advice of my editor and, very, very reluctantly cut a smoking hot, long threesome scene with Jonathan, Alix, and a woman they had met.

I also (reluctantly) cut a lot of Alix’s interiority, including fully editing out her thoughts on the left brain/right brain dichotomy and how it led to her Bell’s Palsy.

I hadn’t thought about making that additional content available, but I’m happy to entertain individual requests.

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

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | The first book that comes to mind as making me laugh is Forever, by Judy Blume, but I’m not sure if I was laughing in the “ha, ha” way or because I was embarrassed by how turned on I was. As for making me cry, I think my first full on snot-dripping cry from a book was To Kill a Mockingbird.

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

Relax? When I am not working or writing, I seek the opposite: running, Crossfit, weights, physical exertion, active play with my kids—I like healthy outlets that keep my endorphins flowing. When it’s warmer, I’m a beach lover.

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

I am constantly writing novels in my head, but as a lawyer I spend most days writing legal briefs, which are definitely more tame than this novel, but still a form of story-telling that I enjoy.

With Asymmetrical Woman, on the advice of a trusted friend, I put no less than three hours a day into the book, and usually more.

The precise amount of time it takes to write a full novel: As long as it has to.

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

I prefer physical books, and always have one going.

Over the last year I have also been listening to audiobooks for the hour a day I run in Central Park.

I am currently reading the Goldfinch by Donna Tartt and just finished listening to Anxious People

by Fredrik Backman which was well-narrated and a very smooth listen.

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

I usually leave my house at 9:00 a.m. Ha! I kid. The usual social channels. My full name is Aliza Ross 102 | UncagedBooks.com

Zasky which can be searched on IG or FB.

Enjoy an excerpt from Asymmetrical Woman Asymmetrical Woman Aliza Ross Contemporary Romance This sexually charged novel follows the desires and intellectual ennui of a woman in a disintegrating marriage. Having relinquished her career as a high-powered attorney to have children, Alix finds herself awash in sleeping pills and fantasy on the Upper West Side as she tries to reignite her lustless marriage to her wealthy husband. When childhood boyfriend Evan contacts Alix to help investigate the car accident that killed his sister, Alix uncovers information that would have dire consequences.

Overwhelmed with temptation to begin an affair with Evan and conflicted by the information she is withholding, Alix develops Bell’s Palsy, paralyzing her face and plans. In self-exile, consumed by her condition, Alix must find creative, even comic, solutions to her sexual frustrations and reexamine her marriage, ambitions, and true self. Asymmetrical Woman explores the inherent contradictions and dilemmas of contemporary women— the disappointments, compromises and anguish of marriage, motherhood and work.

Excerpt Like I always did when Jonathan questioned me about money, I suddenly felt the stinging prick of the conversation we’d had about a prenuptial agreement when we were engaged. While I was having dress fittings

| ALIZA ROSS | and engraving his wedding band, he’d been speaking to a financial adviser. He waited until the wedding was just a few weeks away to broach the topic.

“What do you think about a prenup?” he’d asked casually, as if we were discussing whether to paint the office. Immediately, his rehearsal was evident. The hours of preparation, the false starts I hadn’t noticed, the already worked-out clauses of the agreement, becoming as transparent as the diamond on my finger.

“It’s a fine idea,” I said. Relief rolled over his nervous face. “We’ll need a graph,” I said, straight-faced, racing to the kitchen for a paper and a pen. I half-expected to find a notary in there. “Let’s outline the terms.”

I made a chart of ages—under 20, 20s, 30s, 40s, and education levels—College educated, Graduate Degree, Ivy League.

“What is this?” he asked, as I assigned dollar amounts in the second column.

“This,” I said, as I wrote, without looking up at him, “is ‘The Monetary Penalty’ column on cheating.” This, I said to myself, is your death certificate, your extradition papers. “Since I haven’t a clue how much money you have, I’ll just use five million dollars as a total, and make a legend right here...” I made an asterisk at the bottom of the page, unwittingly pressing down hard enough that the pen pushed through the paper, “... to clarify that the numbers should be adjusted upwards as a percentage of actual numbers.” I assigned the gravest penalty, four million dollars to the twentysomething categories and Ivy Leaguers—because I considered them the biggest threats.

I figured my overreaction would be both sobering and funny to Jonathan. He started laughing, genuinely amused, as if he didn’t understand that he had just flung my heart against a wall with a slingshot and was now watching it dribble down. “Listen, if you don’t want...” he began.

If? Because it was possible that I did? Wait, was that, could it be, I thought it was, my lunch about to shoot

from my mouth onto the framed photo of us at the Eiffel Tower?

“Let’s agree that if you cheat on me, there will be penalties based on the woman’s age, education, and my age. We’ll need to assign monetary values to each of my aging features, maybe a hundred thousand dollars per millimeter of breast sagging? A thousand per wrinkle? Because I’d certainly need to be compensated for giving you my best years.”

“Alix... I...”

“No, it’s fine. You want to make sure your financial capital is protected, and I’ll do the same for the emotional and physical capital I’m investing.”

“I don’t think these agreements are supposed to be emotional agreements. I don’t think it’s about emotion at all.” Exactly.

“Is marriage?” I asked.

He was silent for a few seconds, looking apologetic.

“It is,” he said. He kissed my forehead.

“Not a business agreement, then?”

“No.” “Then why are you treating it like one?”

Did he realize he was? Was he just being reasonable, thinking about the statistics? This must be what the rich do, I thought. I’m just beneath him... them, so I don’t get it. Do you want to marry an unreasonable man? No. Then why did the mere question make me feel dirty, make me want to tear up my law degree, make me feel like a child? Make the half a million that I’d managed to save—a half a million that’d given me the right to unapologetically fuck whoever I wanted—seem like pennies in a piggy bank? Because he was announcing his Issue 56 | March 2021 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | fear that I was only a scheming whore out for his money. Weren’t we in the throes of idealized love, inhabiting that interminable place where logic and reason were beautifully overshadowed by passion and faith?

There was something both shameful and shaming about his request. I knew it symbolized something about both of us, something I wouldn’t dare tell another soul. I couldn’t tell my girlfriends, coworkers, or parents—definitely not my happily married parents who had earned the same teacher’s paycheck every week, took sabbaticals every seven years together, and had no lives outside each other. He was making me choose between appearing greedy or giving up the romanticized ideal. I was ready to hurl his ring across the room, but I didn’t.

“I’m not treating our marriage like a business agreement,” he said.

“Just cold feet?” I asked.

“Definitely not. I want nothing more than to marry you. This could be beneficial for both of us,” he said, hitting the first of ten bullet points his adviser gave him to persuade me.

“Alright, so let’s be logical,” I said. “What sort of agreement are you suggesting for our benefit?”

“I haven’t thought about the details.”

“Chocolate filling or vanilla?” I asked.

“What?”

“The wedding cake. Those are the details I was focused on an hour ago,” I said, feeling my chest tightening with something rancid. “You want to spend the next few weeks before our wedding negotiating a prenup? Should I get a lawyer, or do you think I can negotiate this minor issue on my own behalf? Who’s your lawyer? I’ll reach out.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. I just...”

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“Right, just a financial advisor. Fine. Business it is.

My projected income is over a million dollars a year, assuming I make partner in the next two years. Part of marrying and starting a family means I’ll be risking that income—millions!—either because I’ll be taken less seriously as a result of getting married, everyone counting down until I’m pregnant, or because we decide it’s better for me to work part-time after kids.

You’ve already said that’s what you expect. How can that be addressed in the prenup? And how can you ask me to lessen your risk? Marriage isn’t about hedging. Imagine if I get pregnant, stop working, and then you leave me, and I can’t get back on the career path? How could I ever be comfortable having a kid?

Or what, if after thirty years together, you decide to trade up for less fleshy arms and live eggs, leaving me without a pot to piss in?”

Surely he’d realize how insulting this was, the drops of lemon juice he was leaking into the milk.

fang-FREAKIN-tastic reviews

feature author

AVA LYNN WOOD

A V A L Y NN W OOD

A

va is an insomniac who writes to calm the voices. When the voices get too loud, stories are formed.

Ava was born and raised in Texas. Spending most of her years far from the city, she learned at an early age to create new worlds and characters as a form of entertainment. It was her cure to loneliness as an only child and led to her career as a 106 | UncagedBooks.com

writer today.

Now living in Florida, Ava enjoys the fresh sea air and summer storms. She believes there is nothing more beautiful than an evening summer light show and finds solace in writing while the rain falls outside.

Married to the love of her life, Ava shares two beautiful daughters and a multitude of sweet fur babies with

her husband, Mike. Their marriage is the perfect “North-meets-South” pairing as Mike spent his youth in frigid upstate New York.

When she’s not writing, Ava can be found chasing her children all over the county, snapping photos of any and everything, visiting one of her local theme parks, or just spending quality time with her family.

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avawood.net Enjoy an excerpt from: Dates of Disaster Dates of Disaster Ava Lynn Wood Romantic Comedy Serving as dating guru at her local newspaper, Karissa Daly has gone on her fair share of dates. More than she’d like to admit. She’s all but given up on finding love, certain that she’s enough all on her own. But with her mother’s constant guilt trips and her roommate’s penchant for walks on the wild side, Karissa finds herself on a slew of dates that never should have been.

During a string of horrible, terrible, stranger-thanfiction dates, Karissa wonders if she’s cursed. If breaking the heart of the one man she truly cared for has set her on a path of never ending heartache.

As her dating life unfolds, the cast of characters she meets just keep getting worse, the dates more ridiculous. Through it all, Karissa finds herself wondering if the perfect match exists, or if every single date is just another story in her collection of Dates of Disas-

ter.

Excerpt Dear Karissa,

My boyfriend and I have been together for five years, living together for four. We’ve always been very open and honest with each other about our wants and feelings, by my boyfriend’s latest request threw me for a loop. You see, after five years, my boyfriend asked if we could have an open relationship. We would like to invite other women into out bed from time to time. Am I doing something wrong? Is there any way I can convince my boyfriend that I’m enough?

Please help, Confused in Cedar Park I roll my eyes at the latest email to hit my inbox.

Just another poor sap who actually believes she is the reason her boyfriend is a gluttonous moron.

Come on now. Women have got to realize that perfect relationships, and perfect men for that matter, do not exist. But I could never write that in one of my columns. That’s not what I get paid for. I get paid to tell people how to fix their lackluster existence., to make their lives seem more fulfilled.

I’m the woman people come to for advice, Karissa Daly, romance guru of the Austin Daily Telegram.

“Got a winner this week?” Senora, my editor asks as she nears my desk.

“Listen to this,” I respond and read the email I just received. “Can you believe the audacity?” I ask as she seems to stare off contemplatively.

“I don’t know. George and I have had an open relationship for a couple of years now and it’s really helped us to be more honest and up front with each other.”

I turn my head to hide the gigantic eye roll that ensues. The things women allow themselves to believe in order to keep a man. I just don’t get it. Which is why it’s completely absurd that I am a proclaimed romance guru helping hundreds, maybe even thousands of people with their love lives.

“Well, if it works,” I mutter before Senora walks away. While I don’t agree wither open relationship, I don’t want to lose my job either.

I haven’t completely given up on dating, but all the right men seem to evade me. It’s like I wear a sign that says, “Losers, take notice.” I sear I can’t win for losing with men. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I’m just a little more cautious with who I agree to go out with.

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Uncaged Reviews Striking the Flint

The Case of the Puppy Academy Arizona Tape Fantasy Short

When Piper Miller is drafted to be a contestant in the Dragon Duels, she knows she’s about to face something horrific.

Even hellhounds need training.

Laura Greenwood Fantasy/Scifi Short

Thrown into an arena with fifty other prisoners, mostly those convicted of petty crimes like hers, she has to survive ten days under the constant threat of death from exposure, other contestants, and the fire-breathing dragons that no one can predict.

Uncaged Review: This book is a prequel to The Dragon Duels, and is set 150 years before that series begins. This book is almost too similar to The Hunger Games. In this book, the tributes are petty criminals, locked in prison for crimes against the White Towers. You don’t get any sense of the world in this prequel, but if the “contestants” can live through 10 days in the “arena” against dragons, they will be pardoned and be free.

This is an interesting take on a series, and it shows some promise. Piper and Joseph team up to keep each other safe, against the dragons and against the other contestants. There isn’t a whole lot of action, but I’m betting the main series will pick that up quickly. Reviewed by Cyrene

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When Samantha Rain takes her hellhound to school, she hoped to be surrounded by adorable magical puppies.

Instead, she finds herself at the heart of a mystery and she’s forced to investigate a jewellery thief.

With all the important people at the Puppy Academy, she can’t afford to step on any toes… or paws.

Uncaged Review: This short story actually sits in between the first and second book of the Samantha Rain mystery series, but I had no trouble reading this as a standalone. This has some cute moments and in this world, the hellhounds have different varieties.

The humans that know of the supernatural world are called Wardens, and have hellhounds, but they must be trained. There is a thief among them in the academy, and Samantha is intent on finding out who the culprit is.

This is a cute story, but does it do the job of making me want to read more of this series? I don’t know.

I’m sure a full length will check many more boxes for me, but I probably won’t go out of my way. I think I guessed a couple things in this book pretty early on, and normally like the mystery to play out longer for me. Reviewed by Cyrene

Hex, Love and Rock & Roll Kat Turner Paranormal Romance With a business skidding toward bankruptcy and bone-dry bank account, Helen Schrader is willing to do the unthinkable. But what will happen when she hires a witch to cast a money spell?

When the spell sets in motion her own latent magic and her inexperience causes her to accidentally hex her celebrity crush, rocker Brian Shepherd, all that good fortune she hoped for flies out of the window.

Uncaged Review: Helen’s business is going belly up and she hires a witch to cast a money spell. The witch gives her small crystals, and she meets and gives a crystal to her rock and roll crush, an aging rocker named Brian. But what she didn’t know, is she is a witch herself, and she accidently hexes Brian.

This is a good story with an original storyline with some fun moments and some drama. But it’s well mixed and the characters are easy to like to root for.

It’s not too often that this paranormal genre surprises me these days, but this was fun and original. Reviewed by Cyrene

Knight of Runes Ruth A. Casie Time Travel Historical England, 1605. When Lord Arik, a druid knight, finds Rebeka Tyler wandering his lands without protection, he swears to keep her safe. But Rebeka can take care of herself. When Arik sees her clash with a group of attackers using a strange fighting style, he’s intrigued.

Rebeka is no ordinary 17th-century woman she’s travelled back from the year 2011, and she desperately wants to return to her own time. She poses as a scholar sent by the king to find out what’s killing Arik’s land Uncaged Review: One of the things that are such fun with time travel books, is that when a modern character gets sucked into the past, and then have to try and find a way of communicating without the people from that time period think they are crazy. Rebeka is tossed into the 17th century, and as she works to solve the mystery of going home, she falls in love with Arik. One of the not-so-fun parts of time travel for me, is do they elect to stay in the past with their love, or do they go home?

I’m always torn with this scenario.

This is a well written story, it does start off very slow – at least until Rebeka meets Arik. The characters are easy to like and even though the story wasn’t fast and action packed, it still held my interest and it was great seeing Rebeka and Arik fall in love. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Fang-Freakin-Tastic Reviews Shuttered Affections Rene Folsom Romantic Suspense

Juliana Petersen’s troubled past haunts her at every turn. The crippling memories of an abusive relationship, and the lack of support from her family, lead her to flee her old life and begin anew.

After settling into a quaint college town, Juliana finally feels at peace, content to stay under the radar and keep things simple.

Until Aiden Stone, her new photography professor, crashes into her life, blurring the line between love and lust. As their torrid affair reaches untold heights, Juliana struggles to keep her shuttered emotions, and growing affections, from throwing her into a relationship she isn’t prepared for.

With her newfound romance blinding her from the looming shadows of her past, her nightmares become reality, and she is forced to discover her true strength within.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: Considering this isn’t my normal genre, I really enjoyed this book.

Shuttered Affections takes the idea of a forbidden romance and runs with it. I’d only meant to do a quick skim of it to see if it was even something I might vaguely like, but the next thing I knew, I was knee deep in kissy faces.

I’m still not quite sure how I feel about the teacher/student trope, but if you know you like that sort of thing, this book will be right up your alley.

There is plenty of steam in this book to get you all warm and fuzzy in your special bits. If you like books with lots of sexy times, Shuttered Affections will fill that request.

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Aiden does come off as a bit too perfect, but that’s what most guys in books are like anyway. No one wants to read about the hairy old plumber with a receding hairline and diabetes falling in love with the pretty damaged girl. Usually, stories like that are of the more…creepy variety. We know how that book goes and it’s not at all romantic. So take Aiden for what he is, brain eye candy.

There is a bit of suspense in this book, not quite enough for my tastes, but enough to make me want to keep reading to solve the mystery of what is going on with Juliana and her past. The darkness to that aspect was more up my alley than the sexy times, but again, if sex is your thing, there’s plenty of it here. Don’t misunderstand or think the book is nothing but sex.

There’s plenty of story to go with the sex. I would just have liked for there to be more action of the nonsexual variety, but that’s just my personal preference in books in general.

Overall, this was a fairly quick read too. The story flows at a nice pace and things don’t really feel rushed. It is a cliffhanger, so don’t expect everything to be wrapped up in a nice little package as there’s more to come. And come they do. Over… And over...

And over.

Darkness Beckons Angie Martin Horror Shorts From the bestselling, awardwinning author of “Conduit” and “Chrysalis” comes a collection of short stories designed to illicit chills and keep you up at night.

Darkness Beckons takes readers on a thrill ride through tales of hospital rooms and haunted houses, paranormal phenomena and real-life monsters, introducing everything from serial killers to the boogeyman to all new creatures to fear.

hired the monster in my closet and under my bed.

She knows how to find that little piece of fear we have hidden under a fluffy bunny and draw it out so fast it eats the bunny and leaves us shaking and covered in blood. I can relate to the fears she brings out and that makes them that much scarier.

Includes new stories, remastered ones, and “The First Step” written with bestselling author Marisa Oldham.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: It’s rare that I come across an anthology that really speaks to me. Darkness Beckons is full of dark and twisted stories that make me feel all gooey inside. These are the type of stories that stick with you for a while. They will haunt you in ways you didn’t realize were possible.

I tried to decide on a favorite story, but they’re all soo good in different ways. The First Step has some great surprises. Boys Will Be Boys made me kind of nostalgic, and I wanted to rush in and fix everything.

I really enjoyed the darkness of Sold. Sissy was one that stuck with me and made my brain shudder. Shadows was one that got to me on a personal level. There is only so much I can say because I don’t want to ruin any of the surprises.

Angie Martin has such a way with words that each story she writes creates an entire world to be afraid of. At this point, I’m pretty sure she’s the one who

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Fang-Freakin-Tastic Reviews Those Wonderful Toys Hunter Blain Dark Fantasy What do you get when you cross a snarky vampire, feral werewolf, and an Aztec god?

Two years have passed since John the vampire did the impossible and returned from the edge of oblivion, and he didn’t even get a novelty t-shirt for his troubles. You know the ones: I went to Sheol and all I got was this stupid shirt. Now, our “hero”, Warden Broadway, and Ludvig the Hunter are finally ready to carry out their mission of eliminating all warlocks on Earth—which was tasked to them by Hecate herself.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: To give you an example of just how much I adore this series since this is currently the last book written, I set a time limit each day for how much of it I was allowed to read. I didn’t want to fly through it and just read the whole thing in a day or two and then have to wait forever for the next book.

As usual, Blain has done a great job of grabbing and keeping my attention. Which is no easy feat these days now that I’m a jaded old lady. The action just keeps on rolling with minor breaks in between for story and pesky little details. But I love every crazy minute of it. I’ve flown through this series faster than most just because it made me actually feel something for the characters that I haven’t felt in quite a while. Before I started this series, I was in a major reading slump. The Preternatural Chronicles laughed in the face of my slump, grabbed me, and pulled me along like one

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of my kids spotting a free candy store. Except I didn’t resist like I would have if it were my kids.

I really like how Blain has the angelic, demonic, and everything in between all rolled into one super-funny series. I think I’ve only figured out a couple of minor details before he was ready for me to, and that is something I love. I don’t like to figure out who is behind the mask before it’s time, so when it happens its usually a disappointment, but that is something that I rarely worry about with these books.

Just when you think you know what’s coming next, Hunter Blain laughs in your face and throws something new and unexpected right in your eye holes. I love the personalitites of each character, and I seriously hate hate the villians.

If you haven’t started this series, don’t start with this book. Go back to the beginning and start there.

And be sure to read the novellas too. They give a bit more insight into the world of John the Vampire and friends.

Giovanni Meets a Coven

new and entertaining around every corner.

Occult/Horror

I’m not really a fan of Astral. Just something about her turns me off. But that’s not to say she doesn’t effectively serve her purpose in the story. Giovanni’s personality more than makes up for my dislike of Astral, so there’s a good balance in that aspect.

There are enough twists and light-hearted humor to grab the reader’s attention and enough originality to keep it.

Kathy Bryson

Now Illustrated!

Having successfully dealt with his first zombie, Giovanni is looking forward to the upcoming semester. Then the accidents start, costing Giovanni two jobs, no end of embarrassment, and multiple contusions and abrasions!

Is it just bad luck or is the curse of the zombie out to get him? And which of the voodoo queens suddenly surrounding him can he trust to help out?

Overall, this is a fun read. It’s not super serious, but it does have some serious aspects to it. Go pick it up, it’s worth your time.

Fang-Freakin-Tastic Review: Giovanni is your ordinary student, working two jobs trying to make it by and looking for a place to live with his massive dog.

He’s been living in the morgue where he works. Because of his dog, it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to find new living arrangements.

In fact, the only reason he even had the dog was because when a body on the table woke up and he killed it, his guilt over the murder left him with a dog. When Astral, his beautiful co-student and someone who happens to have an extra room available, offers him a room, he takes it as a sign things may be looking up for him. If only he knew the truth. Not everything is as it seems. Much like the formerly dead lady who woke up in the morgue.

I liked this story. It is novella length so it’s short, but full of weird characters and a dog that gets his nose into a lot of things. There were places that made me laugh, places that made me cringe (in a good way), and places that had me sitting on the edge of my seat.

Much like the previous book, there was something

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews Captain Clive’s Dreamworld Jon Bassoff Horror After becoming the suspect in the death of a young woman, Deputy Sam Hardy is reassigned to the town of Angels and Hope, which, within its borders, holds the once magnificent amusement park, Captain Clive’s Dreamworld.

When he arrives, however, Hardy notices some strange happenings.

Amy’s Review: Terrifying and Creepily magnificent!

Bassoff pens a terrifyingly magnificent story in Captain Clive’s Dreamworld . I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. I was drawn into the story from the beginning, and it is simply (well, not simply, more like complex) creepy on the line of pathological. It’s a magnificent story that you can’t put down, or even look away. The darkness gets darker, and yet, there is some light for grand balance to the story. I like the author’s writing style, and imagination as it came to life. There are many metaphors and imagery within the story, and even a sense of mystery and suspense. Captain Clive’s Dreamworld comes to life, as the rawness and intrigue jumps off the page, making you feel part of the story, and jump at the slightest sound behind you. If you love a good psychological thriller, this book should be next on your list. This story was intriguing and kept the reader guessing. Let’s just hope that in this story, dreams don’t come true. I definitely loved this story. Bassoff has a new fan.

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Carrie’s Secret Paul Backalenick Mystery Follow the gripping tale of Carrie, a teenage psychiatric patient with a terrible secret. Will her fear of revealing it doom her family to suffer more than they already have? And will her silence send the wrong man to prison for life?

But if she tells what she knows, are the consequences even more dire?

Amy’s Review: Magnificent read!

Backalenick pens a thrilling story in Carrie’s Secret.

I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. It’s definitely one of those page-turners that you can’t put down until the end. Carrie is a remarkably complex character, not just being a teenager (which is complex in itself) but a psychiatric patient.

She’s bold and raw, and yet fearful to share her secret and also keep quiet about it. There are a lot of twists and turns, and relationships between different characters. This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. The thrills and intrigue is written clearly and the characterizations are engrossing. If you love a good psychological thriller, this book should be next on your list.

It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next, as well as great character and story development.

Luck Be A Lady Chris H. Stevenson Mythology Mason Hart has just lost his job, fiancé, and car in less than 48-hours. A short time later he accosts a cop and ends up in jail. He finally lands in a hospital as the result of a jailhouse brawl. He’s helpless to quell this downhill slide into calamity. Since he believes all is lost at this point, suicide seems the only alternative left…

Amy’s Review: A fun read Stevenson pens a fun and interesting story in Luck Be A Lady: Bedazzled meets Date with an Angel. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The title seems so interesting, especially with Mason having the worse luck, with everything.

Nothing is going right, and his alternative is not what “fate” has in store for him. It’s a grand read, and it is written so well, and brilliantly, that even though it’s a farce-type story, I see it more as a magical and even fantastical story. The story brings in the believable, even if almost impossible. It is always a joy to read this author’s stories. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. 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.

NAIMERA: Absence of Grace Michael D. Ganzberger SciFi Agent Mike Murphy is leaving the FBI to start a new position as head of security for SGSI, a top-secret tech company that builds unbelievably smart drones and contracts with the US government.

Before Mike’s final week at the FBI comes to an end, his new boss Peter Strauss learns that his daughter Grace has been kidnapped while researching ancient temples in Guatemala, and her fiancé has been killed.

Amy’s Review: Raw and intense Ganzberger pens a magnificent techno-thriller story in NAIMERA: Absence of Grace, This is not only the first time I’ve read something from this author, but also a genre described as technothriller. I now know exactly what that means, and this was the story to show me. I am very impressed with Ganzberger’s storytelling skills, and bringing thrills and even chills to this reader. It’s a whole new world for former FBI Agent Mike Murphy, but he learns you can’t just turn away from the past. In fact, it is his past and training that is perfect not only for his new job, but the whole new world that he faces while trying to save his new boss’s daughter. It’s a magnificently told story that brings the tech world with action pact, thrilling scenes. I loved the story, and characters, and how it plays out. There isn’t just one plot, there are a lot of smaller ones that make the entire story work.

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.

It’s definitely an attention grabber. The thrills and intrigue is written clearly and the characterizations are engrossing

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews Sin and Stilettos Gerald Darnell Mystery When a night club stripper is brutally murdered, her boyfriend is quickly arrested and charged with the crime. Carson is hired by the accused man’s twelve-year old daughter to prove him innocent. Things quickly get out of hand. Bodies pile up and it appears that a serial killer might be at work, and perhaps his client’s father could actually be guilty.

Amy’s Review: Another Thrilling Carson Reno Mystery Darnell pens a magnificent mystery thriller in Sin and Stilettos. This is book 21, yes I said 21, of Darnell’s Carson Reno series. First, I’m a big fan of Darnell’s writing and storytelling abilities. His imagination is something very impressive. I am also a big fan of Carson Reno. There is something about these suspenseful and intense mysteries that have interconnected stories, and they are filled with twists and turns. Just when you think you figured it out, another twist. So enjoyable.

Darnell’s story is almost majestical as his words come to life, and Reno just jumps off the pages.

Sin and Stilettos has an interesting set of characters, and it works for even at a time gone by.

It’s a book that you can’t put down until the end, where everything comes together, and still takes your breath away. You can read the Reno stories as standalone, but I recommend reading each one, and enjoying every mystery and every action of Carson Reno!

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The Ack-Ack Girl Chris Karlsen Historical Fiction Love and WarA country under attack and the story of one woman’s fight to protect England and her heart.1941.

The German war machine has crushed all of Europe-only England holds fast. To force a surrender, the German Luftwaffe bombs cities and villages the length of the country.

Amy’s Review: Wonderful Read Karlsen pens an interesting WWII story in The AckAck Girl. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The title really drew me in as I wasn’t sure of what “Ack-Ack” meant, until I read the first chapter. Karlsen brings the characters to life, and brings the reader in from the beginning. Ava is a unique character, not just glad that she’s surviving, but there is that linger guilt from surviving. In the first chapter, Karlsen writes, “The first explosion sounded from across the river, many blocks away. Ava closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you.” A wave of guilt hit her. Part of the city was destroyed. Londoners were dying while she gave thanks. But she was grateful.” This paragraph seem to set the theme for the story ahead. This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. This story was intriguing and in some ways, inspiring, and kept the reader guessing.

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 Boy With The Thorn In His Side, Part IV Chantelle Atkins Psychological Thriller Aged 17, Danny was sent to prison for committing a brutal and violent crime. Seven years later he is released, determined to put his disturbing past behind him.

He wants to lead a normal, decent life with the friends who stuck by him and his teenage sweetheart Lucy.

Amy’s Review: Remarkable fifth Part Atkins pens a remarkable and intense story in The Boy with a Thorn in his side part IV. I’ve read the first book that had all parts combined, and also the rereleasing of each part, and now, here is part V, which is a new read to me. I always love Atkins’ work, so if she writes it, I’ll read it. The characters were very raw and intense, especially Danny. The story revolves around him and his extremely hard and complicated life. This author brings Danny’s stories to life. Danny is complex and has a lot of depth, and he is trying to live his currently life, which is filled with twists, and ups and downs, actually more downs then ups. He strives to have a normal life, but one that his perspective of what could be normal. This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. It is always a joy to read this author’s stories. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. I recommend reading each part, and savor each word, you don’t want to miss a word of this raw, remarkable sequel. I am a big

The Colour of Wednesday Kate Rigby LBGTQ+ Fiction The Colour Of Wednesday takes its name from the last sentence of Down The Tubes and continues Michael’s story two decades on from that novel. A family death propels him back into chaos and self-destruction.

Amy’s Review: Magnificently emotional Read!

Rigby pens a remarkable dramatic story in The Colour Of Wednesday. I’m a big fan of Rigby, and if she writes it, I’ll read it. This author brings the stories to life. Trauma, tragedy, pain and strain surrounds Michael, and he feels like he’s in a very dark place. Rigby knows how to set the tone for a dramatic, raw and intense story, as well as showing not just the darkness following Michael and his battles, but also the light inside him, which help his struggles. Twists, turns, and new connections not only dictate the ups and downs of Michael’s life, but his search for finding himself.

This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). Magnificent story, kept this reader turning the pages. A definite attention grabber. 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.

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