Samhain is just around the corner. This is the day when the veil between our world and that of spirit is the thinnest. The nights are long, and the days are short, giving us plenty of time to ponder if such things are real or imaginary.

Traditionally, Samhain is the celebration of the final harvest. It heralded the beginning of the darker times to come. Bonfires flared to drive back the dark. Turnips were carved and lit with candles to drive away evil spirits. (The Halloween jack-o-lantern has its roots there.) In some cultures, people donned masks in an attempt to appease the gods. (You can easily see where the idea of trick-or-treating came from.)

It is also the Celtic New Year. It’s also known as the Night of the Ancestors, a time to honor those who have passed. It’s a time of fresh starts and new beginnings.

No matter what you believe, you know that on October 31 boys and girls will don costumes, masks and makeup and run door-to-door with the familiar refrain of trick-or-treat. Tons of candy and chips and bars will be distributed, and much fun will be had by young and old alike. The smooth sides of pumpkins will be carved into myriad patterns and flicker with the light of a candle, casting a glow in windows and on doorsteps. Nowadays orange and purple lights may adorn the home, along with life-sized zombies and ghosts and ghouls of every kind. It’s all in fun.

But sometimes you can get a little more than you bargained for. That’s what happens to the characters in my Spells, Secrets, and Seductions series. It all begins with A Touch of Magick. Rhiannon Sparks is a witch, but she’s not a very good one. She has trouble casting the simplest of spells. When her two friends join her one evening for dinner, they decide to cast a spell to bring them a lover. During the spell, Rhiannon bungles the words and ends up asking for a love that is true instead. Who does she meet but sexy deputy Ryland Stone, who doesn’t believe in anything he can’t see or touch. It will either be a disaster, or a match made in heaven. Maybe even both. What it won’t be is dull.

Her friends have man trouble of their own in Dreams of Seduction and Love in Flames. After all, they were part of casting the spell, too.

Whether you believe in magick or not, there is no denying the magic of love, when two people come together for the first time. Powerful stuff. It’s what makes the world go round, what gives us our greatest joys and our most powerful heartbreak. I believe in love and happily ever after or I wouldn’t write romance.

May your Halloween be filled with fun and laughter and maybe even a hint of magick. Happy Halloween! Happy Samhain!

A Touch of Magick https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073TS7KW7/
Dreams of Seduction https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073TSC3NN/
Love in Flames https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073TSH9BT/

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

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Website: https://www.njwalters.com
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I was inspired to create Nowhere, NC in 1998 after reading an article about a road in a town in NC that ended because the funding ran out. The photograph showed nothing but woods at the end of this road. My writer brain said, “That is the town but ordinary people can’t see it.” 

It has been a long road to Nowhere since then. I’ve written several short stories for it, but only published a couple of them. I am currently revising Veronica Grimm and will conclude her journey in the revised book. In the meantime, you can listen to the original on Audible and read a bit about Nowhere in the Witches & Whiskers Anthology (https://books2read.com/charmedmagic1) . All the proceeds from the anthology goes to an animal sanctuary. 

Links:
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Dear reader,

The following is a character interview with Lucifer. He’s Quinn’s familiar, a snarky, know-it-all black cat.

1. Is your family big or small? Who does it consist of? Do you have siblings?

Pretty small. No siblings. For a while it was just me and Quinn. That was after her grandmother passed, but now Ian’s around. He’s pretty cool, for a mortal, I guess. Just don’t tell him I said so.

2. How well would you handle a long-distance relationship?

Quite well, I think, considering. I’m not admitting to anything, but I might see Rowan’s familiar from time to time. Okay, maybe more frequently than that.

3. What exactly is a familiar?

A familiar is an animal who has bonded with a witch. The bond creates a unique, strong friendship. The familiar is in tune with the witch’s feelings and our lifespan is connected to the witch’s, meaning we have long lives, hundreds maybe even thousands of years. We, the familiars, also have nine lives, regardless of species, it’s not just a cat thing.

Any type of animal can become a familiar, but not all animals can become one, it’s something you’re born with. Basically, if an animal can talk it can bond with a witch, though generally it’s cats and birds and small rodents or reptiles.

We’re here to provide guidance to the witch, which maybe isn’t a good thing for poor Quinn, since she’s stuck with me.

4. Can you lie easily?

Yes.

5. Have you ever done something illegal?

Of course not. What kind of imbecile admits to something like that? It’s not as though I killed anyone. Spiking Quinn’s tea with a love potion isn’t really all that bad, and I had good intentions. Intentions count for something, right?

6. Are you more likely to ask for permission or forgiveness?

Definitely forgiveness. If you ask permission, they’ll just say no. If I know I’m right, then I go for it. Even if they get a little angry about it, once it all works out for the best, they’ll see I was right.

7. What’s your favourite book?

Everard and Daphne. It’s a star-crossed lover’s tale. But it’s not some sappy love story. Nope. It’s got tons of action and fighting and ruthlessness, and did I mention fighting. It’s way more than just a kissing book, though there’s plenty of that as well.

8. How do you respond to a threat?

Eliminate it immediately. Getting out ahead of problems, threats and problematic people is the only way to survive in this world.

9. What living person do you most despise?

Right now, Draven is pretty high up on the list. He’s the alpha of the local werewolf pack and seems to have it out for Quinn.

10. Have you ever had your heart broken?

No. Well, yes. I suppose there’s more than one way a heart can break. So, yes. For example, watching Quinn mourn for her grandmother, feeling her pain as though it was my own, that was heart break. Romantically though, no. No one has ever broken my heart.

Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets

What do you do when your ex’s werewolf boss wants to feast on the mortal you’ve sworn to protect?

Quinn was unaware of the love potion her meddling cat dumped into her tea, so when Ian Hannigan ends up injured on her property, she thinks she’s dealing with another mortal, not the man who can help mend her heart. Her life becomes a balancing act as she attempts to keep him safe, while hiding secrets better left buried with the dead.

In a realm filled with things that go bump in the night, Ian didn’t expect to find security and happiness in the arms of a green skinned witch, yet for the first time since his parents tragic car crash, he’s found some measure of peace. The rumors he hears in Clayridge aren’t pleasant, but Ian knows there’s more to Quinn than what people would have him believe. If he’s placed his trust in the wrong hands he’ll be paying with more than just his heart. He’ll pay with his life.

Get your copy of Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets today by clicking here
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About Cameron Allie

Romance author Cameron Allie grew up in a small town north of Toronto. As a child she loved stories, and after reading her first romance novel at age fifteen, her dreams of writing became singularly focused on the love story. She is currently living in Ontario with her husband, their young daughters and with their cat, who is constantly trying to interrupt the writing process.

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Contest

To celebrate the release of Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets I will be giving away a moon pendant with chakra gemstones. To enter follow the Rafflecopter link. A winner will be drawn on March 18^th 2022.

The necklace was handmade by author Sean Kerr of KerrCards.

Excerpt from Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets…

Ian raced off as fast as he could, but she was faster. Of course, she was faster; she was a fucking vampire.

When she blocked off his retreat, he turned and started in another direction. Her laughter followed him. Like a cat with a mouse, she toyed with him. Mocking him, taunting him, and foiling each escape. He was under no false assumptions. She was playing with him.

“Little human, come with me,” she whispered. “I’d love to take you home for dinner.”

This time, when she spoke, no haze encircled him, just fear and dread. Her laugh was cut short when a wolf howled in the distance. Seeming on alert, her posture changed, and she lunged for him, all her teasing gone. He braced himself for her attack, sheltering his face as best he could, but her weight never hit him.

Mid-jump, something tackled her to the ground.

A beast, something definitely from a horror flick, rose up over her. It stood at least seven feet tall on its hind legs. Brown fur covered most of its body. It had a wide chest and wolf-like features but walked on two feet. Saliva fell from its mouth, dangling from its teeth like some rabid dog. Its attention turned to him but flickered back to the woman when she attacked it, kicking at its legs before launching nails-first toward the creature’s throat.

Movement behind him caused Ian to turn. More wolf-like creatures were barreling toward them, snapping tree limbs and leaving claw marks in the earth.

Abandoning the skirmish, Ian ran once more.

At one point, he’d been in fine shape, his body toned, his cardio excellent, but in the last year, he’d let physical exercise lapse, and now he felt the repercussions. His lungs burned, his legs ached. He wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace for long. He needed to find help or shelter. Somewhere to hide.

He didn’t bother to look back when he heard something, or more correctly, somethings, from the sound of it, in pursuit of him. He simply pushed on. Nightmare or not, it was his only chance. Praying he’d wake up, he tried running in a zig-zag pattern, but something threw him to the ground, and a second later, pain sliced across his back. Harsh, unforgiving, and deep, claws sunk into his skin.

He screamed in anguish, tears rushing to his eyes. Not a dream. So not a dream.

He was done for. This was the end.

Unexpectedly, the weight above him was removed. Ian pushed up a bit and watched as the vampire woman from before fought against the brown wolf creature.

Pushing to his knees, Ian felt blood dripping down his back. His shirt hung off his body, shredded by the wolf-man’s claws.

He staggered a bit, trying to get to his feet. That’s when he felt hot breath against his cheek. Twisting his head, he came face to face with another wolf-man. This one seemed bigger, its eyes black as night, as it stared at him, spittle hanging from its jowls.

Ian swallowed.

The creature opened its mouth and released a horrific roar.

Spit hit Ian’s face. The power behind that fierce sound moved Ian’s entire body, pushing him backward, like a fat pig blown from its straw house by the big bad wolf.

The creature stalked toward him, and once more, Ian’s legs propelled him forward. A few hundred yards, and he dove behind a pile of brush. He cowered there, knowing it was only a matter of time before they nabbed him.

With one hand, he reached back to assess the damage. The wound was deep. Three, maybe even four slashes across his skin. He’d need stitches or staples, and if he didn’t get help soon, likely a blood transfusion.

A low growl drew his attention. He peeked around the pile of twigs and leaves and spotted the two wolves pacing along what seemed to be an invisible line on the ground. Standing against a tree trunk further back was a woman.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” He wondered out loud as he used his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow.

“Because they aren’t allowed to hunt on my territory.”

Ian’s gaze swung to the newest voice. This new being was just as shocking as the rest, with a purple and black dress that draped from her body, cut high in the front, revealing shapely thighs covered in torn stockings. Brown hair hung in ringlets around her shoulders, tumbling out from beneath a wide-brimmed pointed black hat. One hand was propped on her hip, and the other was wrapped around a corn broom handle. A heavy metal talisman hung around her neck. The green hue of her skin made her look as though she’d walked off the pages of a comic book and left absolutely zero question as to what she was.

A witch. Now there’s was a witch.

The vampire had been breathtaking, in a drugging sort of way, but this woman was stunning. Her beauty was raw and real. Or maybe that was just his loopy brain trying to make sense of this crazy world he’d stumbled into.

“Your territory?”

“Yes.” Her gaze dropped to him, and her mouth turned upward in a kind smile. “This is my land, and you are safe here.”

“You can’t keep him there forever, Quinn,” a deep voice spoke from behind the pile of forest rubble.

Ian took another look around the brush. Two men, both naked, one with raven hair and the other with sandy brown, paced that invisible line. “He won’t be leaving tonight, Draven. Go home.”

A snarl came from the brown-haired man. “I’ve tasted his blood, his flesh. Give him to me.”

The vampire, presently fixing her wild hair, sighed. “I’m going to find a new quarry. Enjoy your mortal, Quinn. You know where to find me if you want rid of him.”

Ian watched the exchange with interest. In fact, he was quite invested, as it seemed his life was being negotiated.

Faster than he could see, the vampire disappeared between the trees, but the men remained.

“I want him, Quinn. Give him back.”

“You’re wasting your breath, Draven. Leave now, or I will turn away all business that comes from your pack.”

Draven, the man who had taken a pound of flesh from Ian’s back, growled. “This isn’t over.” Then as Ian watched, he transformed back into a wolf creature and fled, leaving the raven-haired man behind.

He exhaled rather loudly. “I hope you aren’t making a mistake, Quinn.”

Ian glanced to the witch, whose eyes narrowed. “Think carefully about what side you’re on, Alec, and about what your conscience can live with.”

“The pack comes first. Always.”

“And you don’t ever let me forget it,” the witch—Quinn—said.

The raven-haired man looked as though he wanted to say more, but he merely shook his head, turned, and shifted into wolf form before following in the direction Draven had taken.

Blinking, Ian tried to make sense of any part of what had happened. One minute he was fighting with Priscilla, and now he was face-to-face with a witch.

He glanced up at her, wondering if he should start running again, but when he tried to move, his body gave up, collapsing in pain.

The broom dropped to the ground as Quinn came closer, tsking softly. “And just what sort of mess have you gotten yourself into?”

December is for wishes, whether it be gifts we desire or things we hope for in the next year. And sometimes, we are given things we newer knew to wish for.

Take Aaron, for example. He seems to have everything a person could want: he’s good-looking, a powerful witch, and his family is rich. He goes to wintry Fairview to look for a missing girl.

Then there’s Ilya. Ilya’s a bartender who likes his job. He’s also a banshee and mildly psychic, but he doesn’t tell people about that, because it makes him a target, desirable for his skill.

These two men run into each other, and while the reason for their meeting isn’t a happy one, they do get something out of it: each other. But not without a fight. Not without a risk.

Meet Aaron and Ilya this holiday season in The Night Bartender.

The Night Bartender (Fairview Chronicles 9)

Ilya stays safe by trusting no one, but Aaron, a wealthy witch, makes Ilya want to trust.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3DjlWNU
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Apple: https://apple.co/3Di9UEK
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3qQMsLh
Changeling Press: https://bit.ly/3HwmLpj

Aaron has come to Fairview to find his ex’s teenage sister, who went missing in the city. As a witch both rich and powerful, Aaron follows a trail that leads him to a bar frequented by supernaturals and to a bartender who attracts Aaron’s attention — and not just because the bartender is keeping something from Aaron. When Aaron runs out of leads, he follows the mysterious and pretty bartender, and the next thing Aaron knows, he’s foiling an attempted abduction.

Ilya has built a quiet life in Fairview mixing drinks and flying under the radar. He is a banshee, and the psychic ability and mild telepathy that comes with that makes Ilya a sought-after commodity. That carefully constructed life Ilya built for himself breaks into a thousand pieces when a handsome witch starts asking questions and becomes Ilya’s rescuer mere hours after they meet.

The witch, Aaron, vows to protect Ilya and to keep his secret. Now Ilya has to decide whether he will give Aaron his trust and risk a lonely but safe life as a night bartender in a wintry city in which people disappear only to then turn up murdered.

Excerpt from The Night Bartender…

Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Aaron buried his hands in his coat pockets and gave the bleak Fairview midday sky a hard look. Not that the sky gave much of a damn. It was late November, just after the Thanksgiving weekend, and for most of the morning, it had sleeted in a way Aaron had never before experienced in his life. It was like a hot shower, except the cold, freezing water got all the way through to your skin and passed the cold to every inch of your body.

“Damn city just might be cursed with bad weather,” Aaron mumbled as he walked along a street in the Old Town, which should lead him to a bar friendly to the not-quite-human clientele if his online research skills hadn’t failed him. A deep black cloud caught his attention. It zapped across the horizon as if blown by a particularly vicious breeze. Aaron frowned before he picked up his pace. The sooner I’m done here, the sooner I can go back to Morrowvale where November doesn’t suck so bad your balls want to freeze off in surrender, he thought.

In all honesty, Fairview wasn’t a bad place. The city itself was nice enough. The parks and trees here littered the streets with the bones of leaves turning to sludge in the puddles left from the earlier sleet showers, and the people, while ignoring both other people and the suck-tastic weather, dressed a little nicer than the average Morrowvaler. Aaron had also never had Japanese food as good as he’d had an hour ago in a small, unassuming place he’d accidentally walked into, at least not outside Japan. That counted for something, at least in Aaron’s book.

Traffic was in what passed for a bit of a midday lull in Fairview. The honking had ebbed to a not-eardrum-shattering noise, and Aaron managed to cross the street without it feeling like he was gambling with his life.

The Ragdoll was a basement bar, and if Aaron hadn’t been looking for it, he probably would have missed the small neon sign that was either broken or just off this early in the day. A wrought-iron fence further hid the sign and the door, which lay at the bottom of a flight of stairs. This could be a private gambling den or the hideout of a bunch of Russian spies, Aaron thought.

He walked down the stairs and pulled the door open just as another sleet shower was getting ready to wash the streets and everyone walking outside with icy wetness. Aaron shivered as he crossed the threshold and blinked into the softly lit bar.

Last week’s Thanksgiving paper turkeys and fall-colored garlands were still up, though a busboy collected the decorations into a cardboard box labeled “Turkey Day” in black sharpie. There were no Russian spies and no gambling going on here.

Surprisingly, there were several patrons in the bar this early in the day. Aaron spotted a handful starting their day’s drinking early, but most nursed mugs of coffee or were digging into sandwiches which, admittedly, looked better than was right in a basement bar. Judging by their business suits, those were just office workers who knew where the good sandwiches were at. The music was pop, playing just loud enough to offer background noise without becoming obnoxious. This place, despite the outward appearance, looked hip, trendy even. Fucking Fairview. This city is as confusing as a clown at a dinner party, Aaron thought.

Aaron’s fingers closed around the talisman in his pocket. With his touch and the smallest pinch of magic, he felt the worked metal coin activate and the spellbound to it sizzle to life. Three people, including the strawberry-blonde girl behind the bar, whipped their heads around to look at him. So, this place really is supernatural friendly, Aaron thought. The talisman heated rapidly in his pocket. And Dora definitely was here before she disappeared.

That confirmed, he let go of the talisman and walked straight to the bartender. The other two patrons who’d noticed his magic had gone back to ignoring him like the good Fairviewers they were.

“Hi,” Aaron said, giving the strawberry blonde his best winning smile. “What’s good here?”

She shrugged. “Depends on whether it’s drink-o’clock in your world or not. If not, the pumpkin spice latte kills. If yes, you look like a Macallan kind of guy.”

Aaron grinned at her. “You’d be right about the whiskey, but I think I’ll go with the latte,” he told her.

He was doing his best with the charming vibes, which usually worked even if he turned it on women, but the bartender just nodded and went about preparing his coffee. Aaron watched her, more interested in the fact that she was making coffee at a bar decked out with an impressive assortment of liquor than anything else. The coffee machine was one of those intimidating ones that took up some primo counter real estate, and from the looks of it, it saw some use.

When she was done, she brought the latte over to him and puffed a dash of cinnamon over the foamy top right in front of him. The warm scent of the spice immediately made Aaron feel just a little more optimistic about everything. The mug was the cutesy kind with a grinning, red-nosed reindeer on the side.

“There you go,” she said with little enthusiasm, though not exactly unfriendly.

“Thanks, miss,” Aaron said. Before she could walk away again, he focused on her instead of the latte. “Could I ask you something?”

“I’m guessing I’m not your type, so go right ahead,” she said.

Aaron’s eyes widened, and it was the girl’s turn to chuckle. “Half-succubus,” she said in a whisper. “The gay-dar is practically built-in.”

He nodded, fighting the color rising to his cheeks. “Right. Makes sense.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you’ve seen this girl,” he said and pulled the photo Patrick had given him from his pocket. It showed Dora smiling, her blond hair shimmering in the sun.

The half-succubus took a look, then shook her head. “No, sorry. Friend of yours?”

“My ex’s sister, believe it or not,” Aaron said. “She went missing, and I tracked her first to Fairview, and now here.” Aaron had the cellphone gods to thank for that. It made using his magic almost unnecessary, although Aaron still liked to confirm the actual person had been to a place, not just their phone, hence his talisman.

About Alexa Piper

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them.

Connect with Alexa: https://linktr.ee/AlexaPiper

Mediums are the main attraction in one of my favorite places, Cassadaga, Florida. If you want to communicate with a loved one who has passed away, this is the go-to town.

As you walk along the quiet streets, many of the homes are Victorian with wide porches and colorful gingerbread trim. Others are more like cottages or bungalows. The atmosphere is peaceful and serene, and you see signs outside the homes advertising psychic readings

A fascinating bookstore offers the schedule for the month including tours, healing and massage services, orb photo opportunities, educational sessions, and so much more.  This is the perfect place to begin learning about Spiritualism and the history of the town.

A historic hotel dominates the smaller businesses and residences. Its 1920’s style luxury immediately brings about a sense of a slower, simpler pace of life. It’s supposed to be haunted, but the ghosts are friendly!

Even if you don’t see a ghost during your stay, you can get a tarot card reading, experience a reiki healing session while reclining in a crystal bed, or have your aura photographed.

I could go on and on about this charming location, which is only about 20 miles from Daytona Beach, but truly in a different world.

My recently released novel, Witch Trial Legacy is set in Cassadaga and surrounding areas and is the first in a collection where romance collides with supernatural suspense.

The Cassadaga Collection: Witch Trial Legacy

If you are a fan of Tricia O’Malley or Kay Hooper, you’ll love The Cassadaga Collection: Witch Trial Legacy.

 Get your copy here!

Sybilla Sanborn must break a centuries-old curse before everything she cares about goes up in smoke.

Sybilla is a nurse gifted with the ability to heal with her touch but cursed with visions of future tragedies she cannot prevent because no one heeds her warnings. With help from the mediums of the spiritualist town of Cassadaga, Florida, she learns she is descended from both the first person executed for witchcraft in this country and the man who accused her.

Conn Ahern is an Iraq war vet dealing with pain and PTSD while working as a paramedic and struggling to save the ranch his grandmother founded. He’s an atheist who wants nothing to do with the people of the town.

When Conn and Sybilla meet, sparks fly, but not always in a good way, and their relationship fans the flames of jealousy and revenge in someone who doesn’t want them to work things out.

During a séance, her ancestor’s spirit reveals how Sybilla can rid herself of the curse and save Conn, but the price may be too high.

Here’s an excerpt that shows Sybilla meeting with a medium and experiencing a past life regression where she views what happened to her ancestor:

This time she didn’t even make it up the sidewalk before the door opened. “Did you glimpse me from the window again?”

“Nah, this time it was my psychic power.” Mr. Bennett said it deadpan.

Not sure if he was joking, she nodded and followed him inside.

Today he sported a blue and yellow Hawaiian shirt over tan pants and sandals. He carried a tray with a pitcher of ice water and two glasses into the living room and set it on the coffee table. “Okay, you’re familiar with the drill by now.” He gestured toward the recliner.

She sat there, and he settled in the other one. “The initial routine will be the same as the previous sessions. First, a short prayer, then I’ll put you in a state of deep relaxation. When you’re completely open, I’ll guide you to younger times in your life. Eventually, we’ll return to previous lives or those of your ancestors. The process is a little like hypnosis, except I won’t be giving you suggestions or commands. Instead, I’ll guide you to remember past incarnations. Time is not a concept of the other side, so during a session, we could move backward or forward from the present. Who you were, and who you are, and who you will be are all the same. Only our mortal minds need to sort events into before and after. So, whatever happens to you, go with it. All right?”

She touched her butterfly necklace. “What if I get scared or find out something terrible? What do I do?”

“Trust me. If you tense up or I think you’re becoming frightened, I’ll bring you to the here and now. Remember, none of what you see or hear is happening in this lifetime, but the past and can’t harm you. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do it.” She leaned back, closed her eyes, and listened as Mr. Bennett said the invocation and guided her through relaxing by contracting and releasing the muscle groups in sequence from her feet up to her neck and face. An odd floating sensation went through her as if she hovered a few inches above the chair.

His calm, soft voice surrounded her. “Now, I want you to remember a time when you were young and happy. Tell me about it.”

“My birthday when I was five. I had on my princess gown with a tiara in my hair. Mommy looked so beautiful in her white slacks and lacy top, like a queen. The cake was white with white icing and gold candles. Everything at the party was white and gold. So lovely.” Sybilla sighed. The day had been one of her best, before the visions and the fear.

“All right. Imagine yourself as a toddler.” He paused. “Now as a baby.” For a moment he remained silent again. “Now, go further, all the way to the womb.”

Imagining myself in utero is silly. No one can remember before they were born. Black nothingness, although warm and safe.

“Let your mind drift to before this existence, to when you manifested as someone else, someone with a different name and a different body, a man or a woman, adult or child. Do you remember?”

Something happened.

*~*~*

She viewed the world from a different perspective as if she were shorter. Her chubby body was that of a child. Young, maybe six or eight. She stood in a cell beside a woman who wore an ankle-length, black skirt with a white apron, and a dark, long-sleeved blouse. The woman wept and sobbed into a handkerchief.

Mother. She clung to the woman. “Don’t cry. I love you. What’s wrong?”

Rough hands gripped her shoulders from behind and plucked her from the woman’s arms. “Mistress, say goodbye to your daughter.” A male voice, cold and harsh.

The woman clutched her and hugged her hard.

The man with the cruel grip dragged her away.

She wailed. “No, let me go. I want my mother.”

The man lugged her out as she kicked and screamed, and her mother shouted, “Damn you, Matthias North. You bear false witness against me. Though I am no witch, I condemn you and your line forever. No one will ever again believe you or anyone descended from you for the rest of time.”

“A witch you are, proved by the curse that falls from your foul mouth, evil one.” The man spat on the floor.

When he reached the outer door of the jail, he handed the struggling child to a woman. “Take her and find a family to care for her until she is grown. The witch hangs tomorrow.”

About the Author

Katherine Eddinger Smits is a direct descendant of Susannah Martin, one of the victims tried and executed for witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts in 1692. With a master’s degree and over 20 years of clinical social work experience, Katherine addresses real-life issues of self-acceptance, body image, relationship dynamics, fears, and phobias through stories of fantasy and romance which include mages, mermaids, and magical creatures. Mystery, suspense, and a little sex add spice to her books.

Other books by Katherine Eddinger Smits:
Water Dreams, Love’s Siren Song, Book I
Water Desires, Love’s Siren Song, Book II
The Sea Witch and the Mage, Sirens Series 1
Siren Descending, Sirens Series 2

Social Links:
Sign up for my newsletter and I’ll send you an exclusive short story. I email newsletters once or twice a month and always include contests. https://katherineeddingersmits.weebly.com/
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Word Siren Blog: https://katherinesmits.wordpress.com/
(Group Blog) Pen Dames: https://pendames.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/katherinesmits

UPDATE: The winner is Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

A corn maze on one of the spookiest nights of the year sounds like fun, right?

But once you get inside those tall stalks there’s no breeze. The air gets thick and heavy, despite the fall weather. And be sure to watch your footing. Those big fat rain drops might turn that path your on into a slick mud slide. But that’s all okay, too, right? One hour to get out of this maze, and the last one out buys the beer for the rest of the night. All you have to do is NOT be the last one out.

But what if you don’t come out at all?

Hidden deep within this corn maze is a magical portal, and on the other side…? A realm full of creatures of myth and legend and campfire stories. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it through the forest and into the city.

Let me be the first to welcome you to Clayridge, with this informative, albeit, unnerving guide.

A mortal’s guide to surviving in Clayridge:

Clayridge: Generally a safe place, protected by a large stone wall, enchantments, and the Guard. Wander outside of this city and you could find yourself in peril quite quickly.

Witches: Generally helpful, good for purchasing spells and enchantments to keep you safe. They can also read your fortune via cards, runes, tea leaves or a palm reading, though they tend to think that sort of thing is for the tourists.

Werewolves: Don’t be in the forest after nightfall or these beasts will surly find you. They walk on two legs, transform at will (so long as the moon is in the sky), and enjoy hunting.

Vampires: Beware of these seductive creatures, they can lure you in with a Blood Lust spell and spend days, months, or even years keeping you as their pet and pleasure snack. Dangerous creatures. Be wary.

Sirens: Okay, so you may want to keep a safe distance from the fountain in the center of town. Those half-fish, half-woman creatures that live inside it will lull you in with their song. They’ve been known to break up marriages, ruin relationships, and cause all kinds of trouble. If you value your relationships heed the warning signs and avoid these hormone driven creatures. You’ll likely just become addicted.

Dwarfs: Small in stature, great skill at building weapons, toys, and pretty much anything. They make great drinking buddies too.

Harpies: If you see one of these half-bird, half-woman creatures, well, you’re likely already dead.

Demons: Their appearance depends on their sub-species. Winged, horned, black mist. Does it look dark, dangerous and deadly? Then it probably is. Also, they generally work for vamps, and are often up to no good.

Gargoyles: These guys are cool AF. Stone through the day, flesh and blood after dusk. Generally work as nighttime labourers around the town, particularly at the theater, but don’t be fooled, they possess wicked warrior skills.

Fairies: Cute. Helpful. Playful. Strong work ethic.

Pixies: About as fun as a nest full of hornets. You don’t want these pests in your home. They’re difficult to get rid of without the aid of Pixie Repellant. You can pick up a bottle at The Broomstick.

The Divide: A nasty town full of undesirable creatures. Vamps, demons and werewolves are commonly found here. For a steep price you can purchase your very own mortal, for whatever wicked purposes you might devise.

The Guard: Hellhounds make up the guard, serving as peacekeepers and law enforcers. They’ll protect the people of Clayridge with any means necessary. Huge hounds with matted black fur, ghostly tails and glowing eyes, they look scary AF, but that’s only because they are. Dangerous? Only if you’ve don’t something wrong.

Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets

Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets is available for pre-order. I hope you enjoy the following excerpt. I’ve also included a link to my newsletter. Subscribe now and you’ll be gifted a FREE short story, Arrested Valentine, which has an exclusive sneak peek for Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets, that’s currently only available at the end of Arrested Valentine.

What the story is about…

What do you do when your ex’s werewolf boss wants to feast on the mortal you’ve sworn to protect?

Quinn was unaware of the love potion her meddling cat dumped into her tea, so when Ian Hannigan ends up injured on her property, she thinks she’s dealing with another mortal, not the man who can help mend her heart. Her life becomes a balancing act as she attempts to keep him safe, while hiding secrets better left buried with the dead.

In a realm filled with things that go bump in the night, Ian didn’t expect to find security and happiness in the arms of a green skinned witch, yet for the first time since his parents tragic car crash, he’s found some measure of peace. The rumors he hears in Clayridge aren’t pleasant, but Ian knows there’s more to Quinn than what people would have him believe. If he’s placed his trust in the wrong hands he’ll be paying with more than just his heart. He’ll pay with his life.

Contest: comment on this post for your chance to win a super cute tea cup bookmark!

Read an excerpt…

“You didn’t have to send your….” Alec paused, a grin in place as he seem to search for the right word, “…pet away. Is that what the mortal is, Quinn? A pet?” Before Quinn could jump to Ian’s defense, Alec kept going, every word stoking a fire in her. “You’ve never kept a mortal before. That’s not like you. Getting a little bored and lonely way out here by yourself?” He used his hands to brace himself on one of her Adirondack chairs, leaned closer, and whispered suggestively, “I could have helped you with that.”

Quinn blinked, then narrowed her eyes. He was baiting her. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want Alec?”

His shoulders slumped and he released an exaggerated sigh. “You Quinn. I’m here for you.”

“Aww,” she said with as much mockery as she could muster. “Let me just kick Ian out and you can come on in.”

“Your sarcasm is noted. Give me a chance Quinn. We could be great.”

“Could have been great. Past tense, Alec.” Turning to her fire, she dismissed his offer. “You’re the one who walked away.”

He was stealthy when he moved. His hands came to rest on her shoulders as his lips caressed her ear. “I still remember the way you feel, the look on your face when you come.”

The creaking of her front door told her that Alec’s overfamiliarity hadn’t gone unnoticed by their audience. Quinn spun away from him. “Well, you should forget it. What happened between us is over and there’s no going back.”

He was silent for a long moment. Behind him the door to the cabin closed again. Inside the curtain fluttered. She hoped they couldn’t hear the conversation. Maybe Lucifer had directed Ian to a different activity to keep him occupied.

Finally, Alec met her gaze. “I never stopped loving you.”

Seventy-five years ago a confession like that would have made her weak in the knees. Even in the height of their passion he’d never told her he loved her. She’d been the only one to utter those words, and then he’d crushed her silly infatuation. Grandma had warned her. The pack always came first.

With her grandmother’s voice in her ear, she straightened her spine and took a deep breath. “What do you want, Alec?”

She saw his jaw clench, in that same way it had whenever he had to do something he didn’t want to. But like a good little beta he followed orders. “Draven wants the mortal.”

Hands on her hips, she stood immobile. “No.”

“He’s willing to trade.”

Quinn huffed. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

“You give up your pet and I promise you’ll never be alone again.”

“Because you’ll stay with me?” She laughed. “Is that it? That’s Draven’s big trade? You for the mortal?”

That jaw, the one she’d once kissed and fawned over, clenched even harder. “Come on, Quinn! Think this through. You get what? One year with your mortal. Then he’s going back through that portal. Okay, maybe he stays. Best case scenario you get what? Sixty years before he’s worm food.”

Quinn swallowed. She didn’t want to think about that. Of course she’d out live him, but what about all the time they’d have together. They could both enjoy that.

“How long afterwards would you renege on your bargain? How long before Draven calls you back to the fold?” She crossed her arms over her chest, and stepped closer to the fire. “I’d rather die alone in this cabin than spend eternity with you.”

His jaw tightened so much that Quinn worried he’d break his teeth. Baring those pearly whites, he snarled, “Careful, Quinn, or you’ll end up a bitter old hag just like your grandma.”

“Get off my property!” She waved her hands, shooing him off the platform. “Get lost or the next time you transform you might just find yourself turning into a toad. A great big fat one with warts.”

Alec snickered, and stopped his backward momentum. “You always were a spitfire, Quinn.”

She was unprepared for his next move. With wolf-like reflexes he grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. Her chest hit his with such force her breath flew from her. His lips crashed against hers. In an instant she pushed him, shoving him with all her strength.

If not for his animal agility, he would have fallen on his ass, but instead he landed stealthy on his feet. “Think it over, Quinn. We were amazing once. We could be again.”

“I’m not turning him over to be slaughtered like some lamb.”

All traces of humor and anger fled his features. With severe sobriety, Alec’s gaze drilled into hers. “Seriously, Quinn, watch out. Draven is relentless in this. He will get your mortal. I don’t want to see you get hurt in the process.”

His concern was worrying, and as Quinn watched his retreating back she had to wonder just how far Draven would go in his attempts to get Ian. Her land was protected, and when he was with her she’d keep him safe. The town was secure enough, but still Alec’s visit was alarming.

Quinn doused the fire with a few shovelfuls of snow, before marching to her cabin.

Once inside she ripped off her boots and tossed her cloak on a peg. She stalked across the floor, tossed the rug aside and using a chant, unlocked the safe hidden in a compartment beneath the floorboards. She lifted out an old six shot, double barrel revolver, two pistols with double-stack magazines, and a sack filled with gold coins, setting it all on the floor before closing and securing the safe. Next she went to the cabinet near the door that housed her rifles. Unlocking it she pulled out a long barreled rifle. She set each one down on the counter top next to the mug of coffee that Ian had been sipping from when she’d walked in the door.

“You know how to shoot?”

Ian frowned. “You’re scaring me, Quinn.”

Lucifer leapt onto the counter. “Me too. What’s going on? I didn’t think that kiss was shotgun worthy.”

Straightening, Ian glared. “He kissed you?”

Quinn checked the chamber of the revolver, stalling as she thought through her answer. “He’s my ex, and he’s not the one I’m worried about. The kiss was not welcomed.” Her gaze was hard when she repeated. “Do you know how to shoot?”

“No.” He looked down at the guns. “Who are you worried about?”

She snorted. “Draven.”

Ian’s face paled. “The one who slashed me?”

Nodding, Quinn looked away. “He’s going to come after you, and we need to be ready.” She glanced at Luce. “Can you apologize to any customers that might come by today? Ian and I need to make a shopping trip.”

“We went to town last week,” Ian objected, with visible confusion.

“We’re not going to town.” She pocketed the sack of gold. “We’re going to see a dwarf about some silver bullets.”

Pre-order Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets by clicking here

Sign up for my newsletter and receive a FREE short story. Get Arrested Valentine now.

About the Author

Romance author Cameron Allie grew up in a small town north of Toronto. As a child she loved stories, and after reading her first romance novel at age fifteen, her dreams of writing became singularly focused on the love story. She is currently living in Ontario with her husband, their young daughters and with their cat, who is constantly trying to interrupt the writing process.

Connect with Cameron:
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UPDATE: The winner is…Dana Zamora!
*~*~*

Spring has sprung—at least here in Northwest Georgia! The flowers are going crazy. There’s green as far as the eye can see, and of course, the yellow haze of pine pollen coats everything. We’re joyfully wheezing and sneezing our way through the days with runny eyes and runny noses as we embrace the wonder of spring.

Here on the farm, spring means BABIES! Our first calf dropped last night—a little late, but better late than never. We have four new chicks that will augment our four old ladies who supply us with eggs. Piglets should be coming in another few weeks. The energy of spring is like nothing else. It just lifts your soul when you walk among new life, full of possibility and hope.

I think creating a story is like that too. It starts as a baby idea, a kernel of thought. Then, it starts to grow, sometimes not even consciously, until it defines itself. Sometimes, it rises in my brain, fully formed with crystal clear images and parades around like a gaudy Vegas side-show until I give it my attention. Other times, it whispers and nags, slipping into my dreams as half-formed ghosts, only revealing itself clearly when I focus solely on it.

Then, the magic starts. Just like that buzzing lift of spring, the story takes root and blooms—and it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. It’s why I’m shamelessly addicted to writing! Like any infant, you don’t know what it will be when it grows up, but breathing life into a story is like experiencing spring over and over!

One of my book babies releases today! Thank you, Delilah, for letting me drop by and celebrate with you wonderful folks!

Pure Magic Contest

I’m offering a giveaway of an ebook copy of Pure Magic, a multi-author anthology that features my story—Hecate’s Hand-Me-Downs. To enter, leave a comment about your favorite part of spring! I’ll pick a winner on May 1^st!

Hecate Rigby wants nothing to do with magic or being the witch she was raised to be. But, when Cate’s forced to return to Ravensdale after her Grandmother’s death, she soon finds out her Grandma led a double life—one that will change Cate’s life forever. The Hammer of the Gods is missing, and Cate was the last one to have it. Will she step up, embrace her powers and her heritage, and find the hammer before it falls into the wrong hands and plunges the world into war?

Grab your copy here: https://books2read.com/pure-magic

Here’s an excerpt from Hecate’s Hand-Me-Downs:

Rook squawked and puffed his feathers up.

In a voice that shook the walls, he announced, “Behold, the God of the Forge.”

He flew down from his perch and landed in front of the door, bowing his head with one wing spread out to the side.

I spun around to see a man shuffle into the store and stop short of the mess. Despite his twisted legs, he towered over me and seemed to suck up all the available space. His t-shirt read ‘Save an Anvil, Bang a Blacksmith’ and stretched to its limits over his massive shoulders and muscular chest. I glanced down at his legs. His knees touched, and his pigeon toes canted in at an awkward angle.

The dichotomy of his top and bottom halves would have distracted me, but his bedroom brown eyes snagged my attention.

Goddess help me, but I’m a sucker for a brown-eyed boy.

The man wore his dark brown hair long and pulled it back in a simple ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck. His body screamed bad boy, but his eyes whispered tenderhearted dreamer.

Rook squawked and pecked my ankle. “Show some respect.”

“What?” I gave myself a little shake and put a smile on my face, reminding myself that it was bad manners to stare.

“Hello, Mistress Rigby.” He nodded at me as his gaze swept over the disarray in the shop, and his mouth turned down with a frown.

I drew a breath to launch into my ‘we’re closed’ speech, but he cut me off.

“I’ve come for the hammer. Bring it to me, please.”

The command in his voice was unmistakable, and my patience, brown eyes notwithstanding, found its end. I didn’t like his tone.

“The hammer isn’t here. A tall, beautiful, scary lady beat you to it.” I put my hands on my hips and mirrored his frown. “As you can see, we’ve had a bit of a…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say. Finally, I just said, “We’re not open.”

“Rowen Rigby, Sentinel and Guardian of the Crossroads, do not play games. I will have the Hammer of the Gods as I am its rightful owner.” The man seemed to get bigger, and his voice filled the shop.

Magic crackled in the air. Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

Rowen had not been remiss in my arcane education. I knew mythology as well as spell casting, herb lore, and healing magic. Though I hadn’t embraced the craft after leaving home as an adult, the lessons still lingered in my mind. The Hammer of the Gods, Rook’s announcement of the God of the Forge, and the man’s palpable power all came into focus. Impossible as it was, Hephaestus, Son of Hera, God of the Forge, and Olympian outsider, stood in my shop.

*~*~*

Stalk me (it’s not as kinky as it sounds!) for more giveaways, games, and fun: https://linktr.ee/andycarley