Happy Halloween!

Here’s a story I wrote many years ago. It’s fun and short and perfect for Halloween. ~ ~ ~ ~ The Spell by Kit Wylde © 2001 “Josie, where did I put that mandrake root?” Tsilla looked down at her familiar. Josie’s big green eyes stared at her for a moment then she began to clean her soft, midnight coat, disinterested. “Well, you’re no help at all. The coven arrives in… Oh, no, they should be here any minute. How are we to cast this spell without the mandrake root? You didn’t hide it again, did you?” Josie stopped, glared at her mistress, twitched her tail and stalked off. “Fine. Leave your mistress when she’s in need. I’ll remember this, naughty puss,” Tsilla grumbled. A sizzling sound announced Serena’s arrival. “Is everything ready, Tsilla? I cannot wait,” she said excitedly. Tsilla sighed. “I can’t find the mandrake root. It was here this afternoon, but,” she raised her voice, “I left the door open and someone stole it.” There was a yowl of protest from the other room. “And she better return it if she wants her treat tonight.” Josie padded into the room, jumped up on the table, and daintily placed the missing ingredient down before disappearing again. Serena picked it up gingerly and giggled. “It looks a little… mauled.” “Very funny. I–” A clap of thunder and a whoosh of air silenced them. Long, black hair floating around her, Celestial made her entrance. “Always the drama queen, eh, Cellie,” Serena said. “No, that’s how you get attention, Serena.” Tsilla chuckled. Celestial gave them a quelling look. “At least...

Why I Don’t Maim Kittens in My Books–Guest Author Skyla Dawn Cameron

Today, I welcome Skyla Dawn, a very talented, witty author. ~ ~ ~ ~ Why I Don’t Maim Kittens in My Books by Skyla Dawn Cameron When Marci graciously offered to allow me a guest post on her blog, she said she had no preference for a topic as long as it didn’t involve maiming kittens. Well, that’s easy, thought I! I’m anti-kitten-maiming, too. In fact, I’m so anti-kitten-maiming, even fictional accounts don’t make it into my books. Ever. Under any circumstances.  There is also no dog-maiming. No animal-maiming of any kind (the exception being a shifter, perhaps, since I count those as humans). I think all writers have lines they don’t cross. One writer’s line is not another’s. Some writers aren’t comfortable with cursing in their work. Others choose to only include fade-to-black sex scenes. Often our lines are very personal. I know of a few women writers who have taken the stance that they will never have their heroines raped. I respect the lines the others don’t want to cross. Mine involves animals. I actually check www.doesthedogdie.com often when deciding what to watch, as a gruesome pet murder is enough to turn me off of horror. There are a few authors whose books I don’t read because an animal usually dies horribly. (Though I have Reasons for my dislike of animal cruelty in works from a writer-standpoint, today I’m sticking with personal issues.) I can become detached from people; I can go to very dark places when it comes to human characters. But I cease being able to enjoy a work if the family dog dies. I...

A ghost or my imagination?

This post is part of Rhobin Lee‘s monthly Round Robin Blog Hop. This month’s theme is fittingly “paranormal.” Enjoy! I was fifteen and home alone. Janna was out somewhere, my other siblings had long since moved out, and my parents were at a party and not expected until late. I sat on a stool behind the kitchen counter, watching something on TV, my legs tucked up under my nightgown. It was cold and going on 10 pm. One of the three stations we had to choose from had some program on. I don’t remember what it was, but it was not something you should be watching when you are home alone, have a vivid imagination, and don’t like scary movies. I watched it anyway because, quite frankly, it was better than a quiet house. You see, I grew up in a house with a lot of odd noises and happenings. I could sit on the couch, read a book, and hear someone calling my name, except there was no one in the house to call my name. Lights would turn on, doors would shut, items would disappear and reappear days later in the exact spot you had left them. While I was used to it, I wasn’t particularly comfortable with it. We lived out in the country. Although there are other houses right next door, they aren’t right on top of each other, and it is easy to sneak around without people knowing. (I know. My friends and I used to do it. We weren’t peeping toms, but we liked sneaking around just because we could. LOL) My parents...

Cover Reveal — Life Flight by Shaunna Wolf

Cover Reveal Life Flight   Erotic Romance/Mystery From SRHowen writing as Shaunna Wolf   Malachi Blackfeather has spent twenty years in the Army. Two of those years as a Vietnam POW. Now that he’s out, all he wants is some peace and quiet to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Between the flashbacks, and an over interest in sex that is now being called sex addiction, finding his path isn’t easy. Kat is trying to escape an abusive marriage. Her soon to be ex is a master at manipulating the system, and her family thinks she should stay with him, “because no other man will want her”. She’s looking for escape in any form she can get it. When they meet, sparks fly. Trapped by a blizzard, can two damaged people, who think there is no chance of love in the world for them, find each other, and survive an unforeseen circumstance that puts both of them in danger? Mystery, romance, and danger, fill this novel, with a story that will draw you in and not let go. **Warning: This is a mature adult novel. Recommended for readers 18+ due to sexual content and adult language. From Freya’s Bower December 2013 Goodreads...

Life After Death

Do you believe in life after death? I do. I always have. I couldn’t believe that, when someone dies, the essence of who they are just disappears into nothingness. To me, this cannot be true. I believe that those who have passed do communicate with us, stay around us (although not all of the time), and do move on while keeping watch over us. (I am in the middle in black. Janna is to the left of me with the long blond hair. ) When my sister died in a car accident in 1993, she was just shy of her 28th birthday. Vibrant, smart, funny, beautiful, compassion, driven, caring, Janna was all of these and more. My family was devastated. All of us were shell-shocked. She had touched every person who’d known her those last few years in a positive way. She made people laugh. She exuded peace, and there was an inner glow about her that last year or two. The radiance of her spirit shone through her human form, and she looked timeless. She was… amazing. In some ways, I envied her. Her confidence, her humor, her wit, her beauty. (I didn’t begrudge her any of it, and I celebrated her successes. I just wished I could be more like her.) I remember the call on that fateful day. Dad, Mom, and I piled into the car and raced up to the hospital in Modesto where her husband waited. My brother and sister-in-law met us there. Janna lay in a comma, unresponsive. There was swelling on the brain. The doctors didn’t give her any anti-inflammatories; they’d decided she was...