Rory Ó Conchúir has always known that she was destined for war. Her deadly gifts, the unwanted inheritance of her ancestor, the Mórrígan, can only be wielded as a weapon of destruction and doom. For years, she would not allow herself to be used as such, instead choosing to live far across the sea, refusing to regret what she has left behind in order to do so…until the fateful day that she learns of the price she has paid for her peace.
Niall Ó Flannagáin, the young king of Connacht, was never meant for war — that has always been his half-sister, Rory’s, role. But now he finds himself threatened with a foreign invasion and the ruination of the realm, without her aid. In desperation, he turns to a powerful enemy as an ally, his only hope to unite the provinces against the foreign armies gathering even now to destroy the land he has sworn to protect.
Locke MacMurchada, the son of the most hated traitor in all of Éire, owes a debt that he knows he can never pay. But when the opportunity to propose a political marriage with the murderous Rory Ó Conchúir arises, he seizes the chance to protect what is left of both his people, as well as the legacy which his father ripped to shreds…so long as she doesn’t kill him first.
When the fateful day of doom at last arrives, the fates of all three royals – the cursed princess, the young king, and the traitor prince – become inextricably woven together, forcing them to face new threats and old enemies, hoping to forge a stronger Éire from the ashes of the old.
Content Warnings:
Frequent depictions of war & battle scenes
Graphic descriptions of torture & death
Loss of a family member
Discussions of grief & self-hatred
On-page death of major character
Christy Healy has been a book nerd ever since she was a little girl hiding under the covers with a flashlight and a dog-eared copy of Anne of Green Gables. She started writing soon after, and the obsession only grew. Now Christy weaves stories of her own into the myths and tales of the Celtic, Indo-European, and Greco-Roman worlds that she has loved for so long. When not lost in her fantasy worlds, she lives in North Carolina with her children, her dog, and her husband.
Strange visitors have appeared in Ethel, their clothes and mannerisms jarring
against the familiar rhythm of the coastal town. The woman in Orla and Dave’s
spare room speaks in archaic phrases and marvels at electric lights, while the
silent man staying with Molly and Cormac carries a translucent device that
glows with symbols no one recognizes.
As fog rolls in from the sea, bringing with it the now-familiar whispers and
cold spots that signal another haunting, the four friends realize they must
unravel the temporal mystery before them. The clock tower strikes at midnight,
and both past and future hang in the balance.
*Contains mature themes, open door sex scenes, and mature language.
Three years ago, the small town of Ethel, VA, was rocked to
its core when the lighthouse became a beacon for something an-cient and hungry.
Every year since then, we’ve cast a protection spell, tying knots in rope while
visualizing a protective shield, at the weathered tower a week before Samhain,
our voices car-ried away by the salt-tinged wind. This year’s no different.
Cormac’s slender fingers intertwine with mine as we
ap-proach Orla and Dave across the grassy shoreline. We’ve man-aged to mostly
heal from the toxic tendencies of the past—the jealousy, the competition, the
midnight arguments that left scorch marks on the walls. Magical abilities
complementing each other have a tendency to do that, like puzzle pieces finally
finding their fit.
The mid-October sunlight glints off Cormac’s long, blonde
hair, turning each strand into spun gold against the blue sky. We don’t meet
here at night anymore, not since the shadows began to move independently of
their owners. She gently squeezes my hand in reassurance, slight crow’s feet
crinkling around her eyes with a smile that blooms one of my own in return. She
tries to continue her broody exterior by wearing a scuffed leather jacket with
silver buckles, but her face is too full of light these days to continue the
façade.
“It’s about time you two showed up,” Orla says as she wraps
me in a hug, her dark curls tickling my cheek. Her automatic soul-possessing
ability takes hold straight away, a warm honey-like sensation flooding through
my veins. I feel her anxiety—sharp and metallic—and she feels mine. While hers
is about the treacherous events three years ago, mine is about the small
vel-vet box burning a hole in my pocket, holding a moonstone ring for Cormac.
I know she’ll say yes; I hear Orla’s thoughts echo in my
mind like a whisper in an empty room. To assuage her anxiety, I push forward
images of Cormac and me from earlier in the morning. We’d stayed in bed, all
consumed with passionate kisses and bodies moving in rhythmic dance together;
sheets twisted around our ankles, the taste of her still on my lips.
Okay, okay, you’re excused for being late, Orla sends
through the connection, her mental voice tinged with amuse-ment. Then it’s gone
as Dave, tall and broad-shouldered in his flannel-lined jacket, gently pulls
her out of the hug. He com-plements her power as Cormac complements mine, his
deep voice carrying over the crash of waves against the shore.
“Did you actually expect them to be on time?” he asks her,
his breath visible in the chilly air.
Orla looks at me, her eyes sparkling, and we snicker like
schoolgirls sharing a secret.
“Some of us know how to keep a woman in bed,” I goad Dave,
watching his cheeks flush crimson.
Before he can respond, Cormac says, “Guys, I think you
should come over here,” her voice tight with tension.
She’s rounding the other side of the lighthouse, her boots
crunching on the path. I jog over to her, worried she might be in danger, the
wind whipping my hair across my face. Once I’m next to her, I’m struck with
frozen terror, my breath catching in my throat. As Orla and Dave’s footsteps
catch up, I try to count the sleeping bodies sprinkled around the remnants of a
bonfire.
Sprawled across the damp autumn ground lies a peculiar
as-sembly of slumbering figures—some adorned in woolen cloaks and flowing
medieval gowns; others draped in shimmering flapper dresses and tweed vests and
flat caps. The incongruous sight sends a chill down my spine, conjuring
memories of that haunted night years ago when phantoms in pheasant feathers and
tarnished armor materialized from the mist. Could history be repeating itself?
I draw Cormac closer, my fingers tightening protectively around her shoulder. A
bitter wind sweeps through the clearing, rustling crimson leaves and stirring
the strange visitors from their dreams.
“Oh, halloo,” calls a woman with cascading silver-streaked
hair that catches the morning light. Deep laugh lines frame her eyes as she
rises gracefully to her feet, brushing debris from her embroidered skirts. Her
button nose crinkles above heart-shaped lips as she smiles warmly. “I’m Marie.
We weren’t expecting anyone so early.”
“You’re days early for Samhain,” Orla informs her, her voice
carrying across the clearing.
“Samhain!” exclaims a younger woman with stylish curls and
bright eyes. She leaps up, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm, silver
bracelets jingling at her wrists. “I’m Florian. I absolutely adore a proper
shindig.”
Another woman glides forward, her tweed vest firmly hug-ging
her body. She loops her arm possessively around Florian’s slender waist and
extends her other hand, adorned with bangles that glint in the early light.
“Kiersten,” she offers, her voice me-lodic but guarded.
“Molly, and this is Cormac,” I reply, mirroring Kiersten’s
protective gesture by drawing Cormac against my side, feeling her warmth
through her leather jacket.
“Might there be lodgings available in your village?” Marie
inquires, her eyes scanning the distant rooftops visible through the thinning
trees.
“Not anywhere that could accommodate a gathering of this
size,” Dave responds, his weathered hands resting on his leather belt.
A tall woman with anxious eyes approaches Orla hesitantly. A
man with sandy blond hair clutches her trembling arm as she nervously smooths
out her skirt. Dave and I don’t miss her flinch with his touch, juxtaposing
their closeness. It resurfaces memories from when Dave and Orla couldn’t touch.
“Hello, I’m Claudia,” she murmurs, “and may I present Alex?” Her delicate
fingers twist together nervously while Alex soothingly rubs her
goosebump-covered arms.
“Orla and Dave,” Dave announces, nodding curtly. When Alex
extends his hand to Orla, Dave intercedes and shakes his hand, so Orla doesn’t
have to.
“Um, Orla,” Alex interjects, his deep voice surprisingly
gen-tle. “Pardon our intrusion, but might Claudia ask you something rather
personal?”
“Of course, what troubles you?” Orla asks, leaning forward
with interest.
“Do you perceive others’ thoughts when you make physical
contact?” Claudia whispers, her pale cheeks blooming with a rosy flush that
spreads to the tips of her ears.
“Perhaps we should escort this assemblage to our
home-stead,” Dave interrupts, clearing his throat. “We have several spare
rooms. Not sufficient for everyone, but certainly prefera-ble to camping
outside.”
“We’d be eternally grateful,” Marie responds, casting a
con-cerned sideways glance at Claudia’s distressed expression. “A proper rest
would benefit us tremendously after our… unusual journey.”
Ghostly Howls
Ghostly Howls Book 1
Irish folklore meets
small town USA
A heartbroken half banshee, a cockle selling soul possessor, and a town haunted
by mysteries…if they don’t find the killer, Orla and Molly might die before
finding their soulmates.
Orla and Dave’s love has been unrequited for as long as they can remember.
Cormac and Molly are used to drawing outside the lines. None of them are
prepared for the new ghostly neighbors.
In a town that’s always ostracized them, can Molly and Orla finally use their
powers openly in order to save the citizens?
*Contains mature themes, open door sex scenes, and mature language.
*Don’t miss the YA series also by Stephanie Hansen – Altered Helix &
Replaced Parts
Stephanie Hansen is a PenCraft and Global Book Award Winning
Author as well as an Imadjinn finalist. Her debut novella series, Altered
Helix, released in 2020. It hit the #1 New Release, #1 Best Seller, and other
top 100 lists on Amazon. It is now being adapted to an animated story for
Tales. Her debut novel, Replaced Parts, released in 2021 through Fire & Ice
YA and Tantor Audio. It has been in a Forbes article, hit Amazon bestseller
lists, and made the Apple young adult coming soon bestsellers list. The second
book in the Transformed Nexus series, Omitted Pieces, released in 2022. Her
debut spicy paranormal romance, Ghostly Howls, released 2023. Her debut
historical magical realism, Armored Hours, released 2024. The Armored Hours
sequel, Guarded Time, released 2025 and the Ghostly Howls sequel, Ghostly
Returns, released 2026. She is a member of the deaf and hard of hearing
community, so she tries to incorporate that into her fiction.
I’m a Mom, a Grandmom, and a Veteran. Nothing scares me! That’s the saying on my favorite T Shirt. I’m enjoying life too much to let the little things slow me down. If you can’t tell from my Avatar, I live in Florida where I enjoy the sunshine and endure the hurricanes with good grace. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good!
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Aaliyah’s journey continues in this erotic fantasy-scape as
she struggles to understand whether love includes depravity.
Exposed to a handful of soul dust, Aaliyah re-awakens and
sets off to free Gabriel from his prison within the Dry Woods. Outside, she is
again confronted by a gryphon but with no not-to-bright knight to defend her.
Good thing the gryphon only wants companionship. The flight of a wandering
heartsick gryphon is not a direct route to anywhere and after watching a raunch
of unicorns, Liyah tumbles into a magical river far from her desired
destination. Between encounters with dwarves who remember her forgotten promise
and fairies who sell favors for power, she must master the primal magics of
patterning and untether the pleasures she once bound to
fidelity. For Liyah has learned that Gabriel, the man who anchors
her, is not only trapped in the Dry Woods but also bound by primal locks that
will age him to death if opened incorrectly.
Every bit of new magics comes with a cost: soul-dust
addiction, bargains that entangle desire and duty, and adversaries who want her
power for themselves. With time collapsing and a witch’s spell hovering like an
axe, Liyah must decide whether the route to rescue is the same path she
promised never to tread—pleasure given away to reclaim what matters most. The
question is simple and brutal: how much will she sacrifice to save him?
Liyah
blinked and found herself back in her body in the castle’s kitchen. Edwin gazed
at her, concerned. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Indeed.
She looked down to where the bag of red dust should have been cupped in her
hand. The bag, along with its siblings on the table, had disappeared. For a
moment, Liyah mourned. She wanted to return.
Edwin
must have read her expression. “I removed it. It’s addictive. Soul dust. If I’d
known something so powerful was left hanging around in the kitchens, I would
have checked and removed it earlier. Perhaps magical royalty is less concerned
with lower magics. Are you alright?” He’d rounded the table and stood beside
her, rubbing her back.
She
wasn’t, but she didn’t want him focused on her. She needed him to return to the
dragon. “Lower magics?”
He
sighed. “I forget you do not remember certain things. Most things, it seems,
related to magics. In my kingdom, Paradimia, we are not generally born magics
users, but we do have access to lower magics—magics not of people, but of
things, like the soul dust. Low-level magics—from something inanimate, like the
dust—may be used by anyone, whether they are magical themselves or not.”
She’d
thought this land was without magics, but it seemed there were magics within,
just not many magics of living beings. She nodded. “So it is not likely
low-level magics would be hanging around in a kitchen. I understand.” She felt
around on her body. “I don’t seem to be injured, so perhaps it is time I
started my journey.”
“Do
you not wish for my company?”
She
needed him elsewhere. “It isn’t that I don’t want you with me. My parents need
your assistance. Bethela will need another story for the spell needed to put my
parents back to sleep. And I am going to the Dry Woods to free Gabriel. You
see? We are fated to part ways now.”
It
was a pity his expression grew suspicious, for she had relayed the truth. His
voice broke as he spoke. “Is it what I did with the gargoyles? Is that why you
no longer wish for my assistance?”
She
had only briefly thought of the gargoyles since she died. It must have weighed
on him. “It is not the gargoyles, although I know you to be the true knight you
are from what I witnessed. And I know you to have love in your heart, even when
you sometimes speak to me without consideration. No. Here I ask you to be the
guardian I know you to be.”
“But
why is it important that your parents go back to sleep? Surely they can be of
greater assistance awake. They will eventually remember who you are.”
Liyah
reached out and squeezed his arm. “I already know who I am, Edwin. That is
thanks to you. I am Aaliyah, and I am kind and courageous and determined. I
know those things about myself because of you.”
Edwin
sighed and leaned back against the table. His golden locks fell against his
handsome face. “So now I need to help your parents go back to sleep.”
“Yes.
If anyone remembers who I am, a spell will find and kill me. Like the spell
that protected the castle.”
He
frowned. “Yes. That was very dangerous.”
“And
my father says this spell is far worse than the one that chased us about Haven.
So, you see, it is imperative that they go back to sleep. I do not wish to
separate, but I must free Gabriel. When I left him, he was afire again.”
The Princess Annals:
Kingdom of Haven
The Princess Annals Book 1
In this fantasy world of the erotic, Aaliyah must journey to
find her lost identity. Aaliyah awakens in an empty castle with no memory and
only an enchanted clock to send her on her quest. Seduce by one not-to-bright
knight, Aaliyah finds herself hunted by an unseen force yet imbued with
powerful magic. She must coerce horny pixies, swap sex stories with a dragon,
and rely on that same not-too-bright knight to seduce the gargoyle king and his
coven in order to secure the incantation that will reveal who she is. And her
unknown enemy is catching up to her fast.
Aaliyah’s journey sends her to Gabriel imprisoned in a magical wood. She grows
to love Gabriel and discovers that the only thing which can release him now is
love, absolute. But how can she love completely if she doesn’t know who she is?
Beware gentle reader; thread carefully through this erotic
romp as a woman awakened to her innate powers risks all to discover her true
self before an unseen enemy annihilates her.
Victor Pierce is a seasoned writer with a focus on erotic fiction. He
enjoys classic mythology and horror novels. His first series, The Princess
Annals, draws together his love for mythology and the erotic. He resides in
College Park with his partner and her anxiety-ridden black cat and
overly-social gray cat. You may reach him at victor.pierce@bookofvenus.com or at or at https://www.bookofvenus.com/connect-with-us/
When the shadows come alive, Ava and Caleb discover the only
safe place is in each other’s arms.
But the closer they get, the darker the
truth becomes.
All the Shadows We
Become
by Dustin Blackwall
Genre: YA Romantasy Thriller
Caleb Ward is trying to forget the night he almost died.
Ava Lin is trying to understand why he survived.
But Hollow Creek isn’t letting either of them move on.
What starts as a strange blackout spirals into a trail of
eerie clues, shifting shadows, and a connection between Ava and Caleb that
grows hotter and more undeniable with every new secret uncovered.
Something happened
that night.
Something dangerous.
And it’s waking up.
The lights exploded into darkness so fast
it felt like the whole world had been switched off. One second, the fairgrounds
pulsed with noise; the next, a hush dropped over everything – thick, heavy,
wrong. Ava’s breath caught in her throat as the shadows around the tents
stretched, bending in directions that didn’t match the lanterns flickering
overhead.
“Caleb…”
She didn’t even finish his name. Her hand shot out on instinct, finding his
fingers in the dark. His grip closed around hers immediately – warm, tight,
desperate – anchoring her like a lifeline.
Static rolled through the air, not sound
but pressure, brushing across her skin like cold fingertips. The wind
picked up and carried the faint smell of scorched leaves and metal. Somewhere
behind them, a ride creaked slowly, even though nothing was moving it.
Caleb stepped close enough that she felt
the heat of his chest at her shoulder.
“I’m here,” he whispered, voice low and unsteady.
Something moved at the corner of her vision
– a ripple of shadow that stole her breath. But Caleb was already there,
guiding her back against him, solid and unwavering.
The world still trembled, but she didn’t. Not with his strength at her back. In
that moment, she felt it with aching clarity: as long as he held her, she could
face anything.
All around them, people shouted – fragmented
cries swallowed by the dark. A string of carnival lights fizzled overhead,
sputtering blue sparks that made the shadows jump like living ink.
Ava squeezed his hand harder.
“We have to move,” she said, though she wasn’t sure which direction was safe
anymore.
Caleb turned, pulling her with him, and in
that split-second flash of dying light, she saw his face – terrified,
determined, and somehow still looking at her like she was the one thing in this
chaos he trusted.
The ground trembled.
The shadows bent again.
And together, hand in hand, they ran toward
whatever waited in the dark.
Light Years to
Midnight
by Dustin Blackwall
Genre: SciFi Thriller
When data itself begins to speak, who decides what it’s
trying to say?
Light Years To Midnight — a globe-spanning thriller where science, faith, and
code collide in a race against a countdown written into the fabric of reality.
The wind whipped dust across the plateau as Jonas crested
the ridge, breath burning in his throat. Below him, the satellite dishes of the
abandoned relay station stretched into the dark like a field of frozen giants.
Their metal frames groaned under the rising storm, each bent toward the same
invisible point on the horizon.
He wasn’t alone.
A faint beam of light—too controlled to be an
accident—flickered between the dishes. Jonas crouched, heart thudding, watching
as a woman stepped into view, her silhouette sharp against the skeletal
machinery. She moved with the alertness of someone who had been running for far
too long.
Elena.
He had seen her face in files, in encrypted packets, in the
warnings that had chased him across continents. But seeing her here, in the
flesh, felt unreal—like walking into a photograph he wasn’t meant to
understand.
Before he could speak, a second figure emerged from the
opposite end of the array. Maya paused only when she spotted Elena, recognition
flaring across her face. They had never met, not really, but the anomaly had
braided their paths tightly enough that the moment felt inevitable.
Jonas stood and lifted a hand, but movement in the distance
froze him mid-step.
Engines.
Low, tactical, deliberate.
A convoy approached from the north, its headlights dark, its
tires crunching through gravel like muffled gunfire. Special
operations—unmarked, unhurried, confident. Not hunters, but collectors.
Elena’s eyes locked on his.
“Are they here for you,” she whispered, “or for all of us?”
Maya stepped closer, her breath sharp in the cold air. “Does
it matter?”
Something pulsed beneath the earth—three beats, a pause,
three more—vibrating up through the metal frames of the dishes. The sky above
them shimmered, faint but unmistakable, as if answering the rhythm.
Jonas swallowed hard.
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s already
found us.”
Dustin is a lifelong fan of science and speculative fiction,
blending his fascination with astronomy, technology, and the unknown into
stories that explore the edge between logic and wonder. When he’s not writing,
he’s reading, stargazing, or chasing trails on his dirt bike — always searching
for what lies just beyond understanding.
What would life be like to share your birthday with millions
of people?
Gloria White was born on December 24th—Christmas Eve—and is celebrating her
35th birthday when things go terribly wrong. Single and with no love interest
in sight, she leaves work only to find her car won’t start. The arrival of the
tow truck brings Nick Klaaws, who she has known since grade school, as the
driver.
Shocked at seeing him, she loses her balance, falls and hits her head. This
brings on a visit from a ghost resembling her boss, Mr. SC Rouge. They travel
back in time, where he shows her that her soulmate has been in front of her the
whole time and takes her to two possible futures.
Once back in real time, will fate allow Gloria to make the right choices for
love?
Ending the call, she manually unlocked the car door and got into the driver’s seat. She tried the ignition, just for the heck of it, but the engine did not even make a grinding noise. She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, and cried out, “Ouch.”
It hadn’t been worth the effort. She massaged her hand. Deciding to make the most of her time, she checked Facebook to see if anyone had left her a birthday message there. When none came up, she clicked her off her phone and sat in a lonely silence.
An unusual bright light reflected in her rear-view mirror. Squinting, she tried to make out who had joined in the parking lot. Was that the tow truck? How could help have arrived so soon? A low hum of music seeped through the air. Frowning, she tilted her head for a better angle to hear where it was coming from.
“Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh…”
Grimacing at the driver’s choice of songs, Gloria slid out of the driver’s seat to watch a red tow-truck with a wreath on the grill come closer. The Christmas music was now blaring so loud she was tempted to cover her ears. The driver must really like the age-old song, she thought.
The truck stopped in front of her car, and she bent over to retrieve her purse from the car.
“Ho, ho, ho. I heard you’re having a problem.”
The deep voice struck a chord to a long-ago memory from her childhood.
“Aren’t you into the holiday spirit?” She straightened and turned. “Sorry you had to come out on Christmas Eve—”
Gloria flung her arms outward to gain some balance as she felt herself falling. “Ohhhh, nooooo…”
Unable to evade the expected outcome, she held out her hand as she hit the ground hard. Her body jerked and then fell backward, causing her head to hit the pavement. Pain like a mother migraine surged from the back of her head to her forehead. She felt strong arms wrap around her upper body, lifting her. Before the expected blackness took over, she was able to fixate on a familiar pair of blue eyes.
Northern Polar Printing Company’s President, Zane Ashcroft,
is in love with the Vice President, Annie McGrath. From their first encounter,
both knew they were destined to be together. At the annual Christmas party,
Zane, who dresses up as Santa, intends to propose to Annie after dinner. A
recent argument concerning Nick, the janitor, and a shocking development
thwarts his intentions.
Will Annie get that long awaited chance at love and happiness and risk being on
Santa’s naughty and nice list?
“There’s no need for you to come inside. We need a break from each other—time to think about our relationship.”
He heard her choke over the last words. She still didn’t look at him.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and left the car. He watched her walk to the front door where she paused. He held his breath as he waited for her to turn, but she didn’t. She opened the door and went inside, closing it behind her.
Zane hit the steering wheel. Granting her request was the hardest thing he’d done in a very long time. Light snow began to fall as he drove across town to his home. Several ideas came to him on how to resolve their argument.
Flowers? No, too predictable. Box of Norman Loves Chocolate? No, too cheesy.
More things came to mind, but as the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas” played on the radio, it triggered a plan. He’d use cards as the twelve days before his proposal. The numbers would work if he started tomorrow. He’d have to swing by Walgreens before work.
His two-story brick house loomed in front of him. It was not his home any longer. He’d been spending so much time at Annie’s and making her home theirs. Opening the door, cold greeted him. He cranked up the thermostat and went into the kitchen, starting the Krups’ coffee machine. It spitted and hissed. He reached for a coffee cup as the doorbell rang.
“Coming!”
Spilling the coffee he’d just poured, he hurried to the front door, unsure who it could be.
“Mr. North?” Zane eyeballed a red limo parked in the street. It stood out like a beckon against the grayness.
“Zane, I hope I’m not disrupting anything.”
“No, no. Come on in.” He held open the door. “Sorry about the chillness, I turned up the heat.”
“A little cold isn’t going to hurt me.”
“I don’t have much in the house to offer you. I haven’t been grocery shopping in days. I just made coffee, would you like a cup?”
“That works for me.”
Zane led him into the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time Mr. North had shown up at his doorstep, but tonight of all times was odd. He poured another cup of coffee and wiped up the earlier spillage from the counter top.
“I know it’s late, but I flew here right after concluding business with Mr. Moonracer. I felt not everyone was happy at my announcement.”
“You’re right. Annie… Ms. Ashcroft, didn’t like being kept out of the loop,” Zane confessed and sat in one the high back chairs.
“Oh, I see.”
Leaning on one elbow, Zane rested his head on his hand. “As a matter of fact, she’s fuming.”
Mr. North laughed and went to the refrigerator. He took out a carton of cream and poured some into his coffee.
Zane wondered when he’d gotten that. He hoped it was still good.
“She’ll understand soon. She’s been on my Nice List for a very long time. I’ve kept an eye on her.”
Zane straightened his shoulders. “A Nice List? I’m not a kid. This whole day has been peculiar from the start. Now it’s ending even weirder. I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but now isn’t the time for your—”
“Zane, the time has come for you to know the truth.”
Mr. North pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and laughed as he pulled his earlobe.
A delightful smell of cookies flooded the kitchen. Zane inhaled and stared wide eyed at him.
I was born and raised in the cold and beautiful Minnesota,
but I escaped to Illinois for seventeen years to raise my two boys, and now I
call Florida home. My husband Andy, who’s always been my hero, has put up with
my late night computer typing and endless stacks of papers with my stories on
them. We have one furry friend as family: Chip, a sixteen year old ragdoll cat.
Life has been full of ups and downs, but I’ve made it
through the hard times. I love to travel and go to Disney World to trade
pins. I’ve been a bowler for many years,
and you can catch me writing my next novel at the lanes.
I encourage you to check out my web site, www.sonjagunter.com for more info and
don’t be surprised if I let my Norwegian heritage come through in my stories.
