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Necromancy (Lost Library #5), Excerpt #2

Raw and unedited, an early peek, just for you!

***Snip Begins***

Turns out, Pillar wasn’t so keen on cake for breakfast. Discovering that fact made her seem less than her usual near perfect self. Because cake.

Or maybe the pedestal Lizzie had placed her upon had simply shrunk slightly. The woman had saved Lizzie’s life, given her the first magic lesson she’d ever had, and in general been a rock of support through the craziness of her life.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that not everyone could handle all that sugar so early in the day. That and her ability to practically consume her own weight in bacon were two of Lizzie’s favorite talents.

“Why are you mumbling about bacon?” Harrington asked from behind his monstrosity of a desk. “Do I need to have a tray sent in?”

While Pillar had been giving Lizzie a firsthand look at her latest assignment, Harrington had finished briefing Kenna on what help IPPC would be offering her mother. Which was why Lizzie was here in his office now: he’d moved on to the next—and in his mind more significant—crisis: bugpocalypse. The man switched from one emergency to another like he was flipping channels on a TV.

He shook his head then retrieved an energy bar from his desk drawer. He did tend to assume an air of exasperation whenever she or Kenna was near. A subtle air, because Harrington was still Harrington, closed-off emotions and all. “Catch,” he said a split second before chucking it at her.

She did, onehanded. Then ripped into the snack like it was the cake she’d been fantasizing about all morning. As she swallowed the last bite, she considered whether she should add improving her diet to her mental to-do list. But the sweet buttery goodness of cake and the crisp savory awesomeness of perfectly fried bacon made that decision impossible.

She blinked. That was a lot of food love, even for her. Maybe she was wee bit stressed. And tired. Unlike Kenna, she hadn’t slept on the plane for more than a few minutes at a time. “Uh, thanks. I might have been a little hungry.” And a lot stressed. “So, what was that you were saying about paying Gwen’s ransom?”

He so hadn’t said that. He’d said exactly the opposite of that.

He steepled his fingers. “Not happening.”

She took a breath, readying herself to make a pitch, but he beat her to the punch. “We don’t have access to most of the assets, and regaining control of them would require more stealth and time than I possess. Those assets now reside in the hands of mundane law enforcement.”

A pinch in her chest made her breath catch. When she could speak, she said, “You can’t let anything happen to Gwen.”

“I’m helping.” His somber gaze met hers. “I said I would, and I am.”

The implication was clear. He stuck by his word. Also, tit for tat; now it was her turn.

“All right. Tell me everything you know, just in case Pilar missed something.” She sent a silent apology out to Pilar. If anything had been missed, it had been because a very sleepy Lizzie had zoned out a few times. Up until they’d enter the freaky room of dead things. Then she’d been completely awake. “And send for coffee. I definitely need coffee.”

***End Snip***

Haven’t checked out Lost Library yet? You can grab the first e-book for free* on most retailers!

*Free at time of posting. Always be sure to check pricing before you download.

Necromancy (Lost Library #5) Excerpt

Raw and unedited for your (early) reading pleasure, an excerpt from Necromancy, Lost Library #5! Currently on preorder through Nook and Kobo, and soon through iBooks and Amazon.

***Snip begins***

What was that saying about cake and eating it? It had never made sense to Lizzie. Of course if you had cake, you’d want to eat it. It was cake.

But right now, she got it. Today, in this moment, it was crystal, freaking clear.

She’d made a trade.

Her special talents were to be applied to a particular problem, and in exchange, her boss Harrington would apply his special talents to her best friend Kenna’s problem.

At the time it had seemed reasonable. Okay…not reasonable, but it had been her and Kenna’s only option. Kenna’s mom Gwen—a truly badass and admirable lady—had been kidnapped. Harrington had agreed to exert what influence he could to resolve the situation.

And all she had to do was solve a little problem for the Inter-Pack policing Cooperative.

Since IPPC was her sometimes employer and she loved Gwen like a mother, there hadn’t been any debate at all. She’d said, “Yes.”

She’d done it willingly and without complaint.

“You sorry, bastard! Die. Die, you sonofabitch!” Her throat burned from screaming.

Maybe she should take it down a notch.

Nah. She was having a few regrets about that hastily struck deal, and screaming her freaking lungs out was a great tension reliever. Which reminded her of the other kind of tension releasing she wouldn’t be getting any time soon, because her fiancé was stuck in Texas. While she screamed bloody murder in a small room in the basement of an old house in Prague, John was kicking wolf butt and making sure the Pack minded their pack Ps and Qs.

She could be oversimplifying the job of Alpha, but she was also cranky. She hated wasps, and the nasty dead-and-alive-again creatures were currently dive-bombing her. “I am going to smear your innards across the wall, you flying menace!”

And this is where the cake and the eating of cake came in. She was realizing she wanted her cake (Harrington’s help) and the eating of it (a really easy, quickly-resolved IPPC job, preferably with John nearby to help.) An impossibility.

“Lizzie, yelling won’t help.” Pillar’s exasperated voice echoed in the barren chamber.

“It makes me feel better.” And eased her frustration ever so slightly. Lizzie knew that an easy job for IPPC didn’t exist—not when Harrington was involved—hence her frustration and the cake-eating imagery. Also, she was hungry. “Die, you flying little shits. Die!” Yelling was definitely helping.

“Honey, I think we can safely assume these things aren’t dying any time soon.” Pillar directed her light toward the latest victim of Lizzie’s rampage.

It had been a beetle, until she’d smashed it. Was still a beetle. A squashed zombie version of its former self, but a beetle nonetheless.

“We’ve squished them, flattened them, and beaten them.” Lizzie winced at the whiny turn her voice had taken. She cleared her throat, which made her it ache all the more, and said in a more normal voice, “They should be dead a few times over.”

“Will you finally fess up and agree that the zombie apocalypse is upon us?” Pilar asked.

The way she said “zombie apocalypse” in her precise and only slightly accented voice reminded Lizzie more of cute get-togethers with matching linens and scones than the end of the world as they knew it.

She flicked a desiccated, unidentifiable bug away with her toe and swatted away yet another fly. The thing only had one wing. How could it even fly? “The bug-zombie apocalypse. Bugpocalypse. It just didn’t seem like a thing.”

“It’s a thing.” Pillar swung her flashlight around the enclosed chamber, hitting on a number of flying insects and several of the crawling variety, all in various stages of decomposition—or regeneration, depending on one’s point of view.

“Yeah, you’ve convinced me. It’s a thing.” Lizzie flicked her flashlight beam along the lines marked on the wooden floors. They moved out in concentric circles from a point in the middle of the room. Each line represented the passage of six hours.

Why six? She didn’t know. What she did know was that bugpocalypse was spreading. That was the purpose of the circles, to track the spread of the necromantic magic. Someone—not Pillar, perhaps Harrington himself?—had come up with the fabulous idea of seeding the room with the corpses of dead insects. And no, they weren’t being murdered for that purpose. There were plenty of the naturally occurring variety lying about.

Even though they were bugs, it still seemed cruel. Or so Lizzie had thought before they’d started to crawl on her, fly into her hair, and generally make aggressive nuisances of themselves. Then it had become all about killing the little buggers.

A shiver crawled up her spine. She’d likely have nightmares about undead bugs for days.

Her beam traveled over the smallest circle and then further to the podium in the center of it. An old book rested on the flat surface. Black, leather bound, plain. Nothing special, other than its age and the magic it contained.

“Tell me who thought it was a good idea to poke around inside a book on necromancy?” Lizzie asked. She knew the answer, because who else could it be?

“Harrington approved it, but—and I know you won’t believe this—it wasn’t Harrington pushing for the work on that book. It was one of the transcribers.”

“Oh.” She pushed away the prick of guilt she felt. Harrington usually was the culprit when it came to increasing IPPC’s power.

“She was convinced there was no danger,” Pillar said, “and there wasn’t initially. She worked on it for several days without incident.”

“What changed?”

Pillar sighed. “Nothing that we know of. One moment she was unlocking some text, and the next we had bugs coming back to life. And before you ask, the text was some simple biographical data, not a ward-trap.”

Lizzie nodded. She’d worked with spelled books enough at this point to know that the record keeper working on the transcription would have felt the magical rush if she’d sprung a trap. “I’d like to talk to her. Can you set up an interview?”

“Not possible. That particular record keeper is taking a lengthy vacation, from which she will return to another posting.”

“Harrington’s doing?” And that was the second time she’d leaped to a negative conclusionabout Harrington. Kenna’s dislike of the man might be wearing off on her.

“More a requirement for her continued mental well-being. She wasn’t handling the situation very well.” Pillar clicked her flashlight off. “You ready to get out of here? This place makes my skin crawl, and I’m almost certain a bug will fly up my nose any second.”

“That, or we could get stung by a zombie wasp.” Lizzie held her flashlight under her chin. “Would that turn us into zombies?”

“Bite your tongue.”

Lizzie grinned at her friend and mentor. Bad as zombie bugs were, they’d distracted her from the more personal catastrophe that was currently unfolding. The grin slipped away as the full weight of Gwen’s kidnapping settled on her again. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve seen enough to be convinced, and I need to check on Kenna.”

“You don’t want to examine the book?” Pillar asked.

“And risk triggering an even worse event than bugpocalypse? No, thank you.” Lizzie stomach grumbled. “Pillar, how do you feel about cake?”

***End snip***

Keep an eye out for more from Necromancy! And if you haven’t given the Lost Library series a try yet, you can grab the first book in the series for free on most ebook retailers.

State of the Projects

It’s been a while since my last update, so I thought I’d drop a quick note with the state of my various projects. A word of warning, until I push publish, all dates are tentative. I write to a schedule, but life sometime intervenes, and some stories unexpectedly jump the queue. That said, here’s wh[image error]at’s up!

Cate Lawley

Vegan Vamp: Book 6, The Selection Shenanigans, is already begun and planned for a late 2018 release.

Night Shift Witch: Tickle the Dragon’s Tail, the third Night Shift Witch story, is available for preorder now (5/29 release), and the short story that follows it, Twinkles Takes a Holiday, should release sometime in 2018. I’m pretty excited to write Twinkles’ story because he’s a little so-so with more attitude in his fluffy body than should reasonably fit. I think of him as lovably hateful and entirely self-centered.

Death Retired: Later this month, A Date with Death, a Death Retired short, releases. And fall 2018 On the Street [image error]Where Death Lives should release. [image error]

Lucky Magic: Luck of the Draw, Lucky Magic #3, releases June 20th. No preorder on this one, but I’ll be sure to make a big fuss when it releases so you don’t miss it = )  I just polished up the blurb and even that made me chuckle. I hope Don’s story will tickle your funny bone.

Goode Witch Matchmaker: Alchemic Love, a short story featuring Glenda and Bedivere that was in the Hexes and Ohs anthology, just released. I’d love to write The Case of the Naked Reaper, the first mystery where Glenda and Bedivere work together to solve the crime, but I’d don’t have a date yet for that project.

Kate Baray

[image error]The fifth Lost Library story, Necromancy, is set to release September 5th and available for preorder on limited retailers. It’s a Lizzie story = ) Kenna has to wait until next year.

Spirelli’s next story is Entrapped. Marin’s father is missing, but he’s going to have to wait a bit for rescue. Jack and Marin are ready to go–that’s how they roll–but I’ve got other projects ahead of them. I’m hoping to fit this story in at the end of the year, but it’s more like to come out early 2019.

And that’s it. I have a side project I’m hoping to chip away at, but that one is a slow burn. I’ll let you guys know more about it when it’s further along = )

Lucky Magic Excerpt

Keep reading for a quick peek at the beginning of the Lucky Magic paranormal romance series!

PROLOGUE: In Which Our Warlock is (un)Justly Punished

“For your crimes, I sentence you to ten years.” Baba Yaga’s pronouncement filtered through the purple smoke, the flashing disco lights, and the snuffling coughs of her gaggle of warlock minions to finally penetrate Jackson’s brain.

Wait, what? Suddenly the towel around his waist felt inadequate. If he’d known he was going to be ambushed in his own apartment, he’d have thrown on a robe when he’d hopped out of the shower.

“Ten years? For—” Jackson inhaled. For being a warlock. He’d almost said it. Because, really, what had he done that every other warlock didn’t do routinely? He’d had some sex. A lot of sex. With a lot of women. What was the harm?

“For breaking the heart of an innocent girl.” Baba Yaga gave him a hard look, daring him to contradict her.

If he didn’t know exactly how powerful she was, her off-the-shoulder neon-green sweatshirt and bouncy ponytail would have made him laugh. Only the most powerful of witches—and an incredibly hot woman—could pull off leg warmers and jelly bracelets. He didn’t know whether to be appalled by her clothes or turned on by her bare shoulders and barely-there skirt. Common sense mixed with terror cut that thought short.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve apologized. I didn’t mean…” To screw her brains out? Because he definitely had. To leave her after one romp-filled, multi-orgasmic night? Because he’d meant to do that, too.

“Yes?” Baba Yaga was practically shooting icicles from her eyeballs.

Light reflected off the giant disco ball hanging from his living room ceiling and blinded him. It was like an interrogation, but with a bizarre disco flavor. He blinked and held his hand up to shield his eyes.

“I am sorry.” He infused the words with as much genuine feeling as he could muster.

She crossed her arms. “That you’re being made to pay for your choices.”

Well…yes.

He hated to piss her off further, but he also didn’t want to go to prison for ten years. “Can you send me to prison for sleeping with your great-niece five times removed? I don’t think that’s technically a crime.”

“My favorite great-niece five times removed. And who said anything about prison?” She smiled with feline glee.

One of the minions giggled.

“I don’t understand.” He clutched the slipping towel around his waist tighter. Normally he’d be comfortable naked in front of a beautiful woman. But not when that same woman was a powerful witch who not only looked like the ’80s had thrown up on her but also happened to hold his magical life in her hands.

“It’s simple. Ten years—with no magic. You’ll live as a mortal, among mortals, with a mortal job. I’ve arranged a position for you…in tech support.”

A startled laugh escaped him. “Wait. What? Are you kidding? All I did was—” He clenched his jaw. He’d have to be an idiot not to see that minimizing his supposed infraction wouldn’t help his case. And what was tech support?

“All you did was tear a young girl’s heart from her chest and pulverize it.”

Tanya might have cried a few weepy tears, but he’d swear it was more about length, girth, and stamina than about him as a person. She barely knew him. And young? Tanya was two hundred if she was a day. “Have you actually talked to Tanya?”

Baba Yaga’s eyes turned glacial again.

“Sorry—you’re right. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” Except he totally would. Good sex was one of the few pleasures in his very long life.

“Ten years,” she said, “and then I’ll reevaluate.”

She lifted her hand, ready to transport herself and her entourage away.

“Wait!” Jackson grabbed at the towel around his waist a split second before it fell to the ground. “What does that mean? Reevaluate? Are you saying there could be more?”

“Make an effort, Jackson, or you’ll end up no better than an impotent shadow of your current self. We’re done here.” She snapped her fingers.

And then they were gone. Baba Yaga, her warlock minions, even the flashing lights.

A faint purple haze and a forlorn, slowly spinning disco ball remained.

“Make an effort? What kind of effort? What does that even mean?” He didn’t give voice to his other fear—that impotence wasn’t only a reference to his magical prowess. He couldn’t go there.

He turned to the mirrored ball, taunting him from the center of the room, and yelled, “And what is tech support?”

 

 

CHAPTER ONE: In Which Our Heroine Reveals a Secret

 

About Ten Years Later

 

“That is one hot guy.”

I pulled the bag of ice cream, cookies, and beer out of the trunk of Annabeth’s Corolla. “Yep.”

“Livy,” she said. “Come on; you didn’t even look.”

I nudged the trunk shut. “Don’t need to. That’s Jackson.” But I couldn’t resist a glance over my shoulder. I swallowed a sigh.

He was mowing his grass…shirtless. Thank you, ninety-degree Texas heat, because the man had a fine chest. And biceps. And ass. I huffed out an annoyed breath. There wasn’t anything about Jackson that wasn’t fine, and I’d seen most of him. I hadn’t seen everything. It wasn’t like he ran down the street stark naked every Tuesday morning. But a girl could always hope—a little puff of air escaped my lips—and dream.

It would be truly criminal if that was the man’s one disappointing feature.

“Yum. What a treat,” Annabeth said, still staring. “How do I not know about this man? Especially if he’s out mowing his lawn half-naked with any regularity.”

Jackson looked up and saw Annabeth and me staring—great—and he waved. Of course he did. In addition to his gorgeous bod, he was also the nicest guy ever. I waved back, and then turned to go inside.

“And you know him? How have I not heard about this guy?” Then she squealed. “I have! It’s him, isn’t it? The computer nerd? That’s him! Wait, I thought you said he was chubby?”

I kicked Annabeth in the tush and headed for the front door. “Could you holler any louder? Get your rear inside. And he used to be a little squishy, back when he moved in. I never called him chubby; that’s your word.”

“Squishy, chubby, a few extra pounds, whatever—he’s delicious now.” Finally, she turned to follow me.

I wasn’t saying it out loud, because Annabeth didn’t need any encouragement, but Jackson had always been delicious. I tilted my head toward the door. “Grab the door for me. The pizza guy should be here in five minutes, and we need to unpack the groceries first.”

Granted, the chances of our ice cream melting into a gooey mess were slim to none, because—when it came to the little things in life—I had the luck of the Irish. Well, the luck of the Irish-American branch of a fae family. We might get mixed publicity—that Lucky Charms guy hadn’t done my family any favors—but we did usually have a bit of luck on our side.

“How could you keep that man’s divine body a secret? That’s downright selfish of you. When I think of all the man-candy eyeballing I’ve missed…” Annabeth smirked as she opened the front door for me. “But if you want him all to yourself, I suppose I understand.”

“I kept him to myself because you’d have camped out on my front lawn and stalked him—for yourself or to hook him up with me, depending on the day. Besides, I think he has a girlfriend.”

Romance was the one area of my life where magical luck consistently deserted me. So, naturally, the fabulous, not-single Jackson was my current (two years running) crush.

“And a girlfriend matters how? Touching is great, but I’d be good with looking. To start.” Annabeth winked at me then propped a hip against the kitchen counter.

Since she wasn’t too concerned with the perishables, I unpacked the groceries. After everything was put away, I looked up to find her watching me with her arms crossed.

“What?” But I knew exactly what.

“Why haven’t you gone out with him? You said this computer nerd was a friend of yours.”

“Jackson is a friend, and he’s very tech-savvy.” I pointed a finger at her. “I’ve never called him a computer nerd. That’s all you and your assumptions.”

“You also never said he was so hot.” She uncrossed her arms and grinned. “You’re not lusting after him; you like him.”

I stood up a little straighter. “Of course I do. He’s my friend.”

“No. You like like him. You have a crush.” When I still didn’t answer, she squealed. “Ohmygod! You’re in loooove.”

I took a breath, preparing to defend myself—and then the doorbell rang. A little Irish luck? Good thing, since Annabeth could be persistent when it came to satisfying her curiosity. Bulldog-like, actually.

Thank the Goddess for the pizza guy. I practically threw the door open.

Except it wasn’t the pizza guy. I took a deep breath and smiled at the hunky guy on my front porch. “Hey, Jackson. How’s it going?”

“Good.” He paused and gave me a curious look. “I saw that you had a friend over and thought I’d stop by and introduce myself. We keep saying we need to meet each other’s friends.” He gave me another look, then said, “So here I am.”

Worlds. Colliding. Not good, very bad. Every instinct said that Jackson—deliciously scrumptious and yet still amazingly nice—and Annabeth—dangerously gorgeous and always on the prowl—should not meet. Exactly this was why we usually had girls’ night at Annabeth’s. Where was that dang leprechaun luck when I needed it?

I tried to come up with some reason, any reason, that he should leave right away.

“Hi,” Annabeth chirped in her flirty voice from over my shoulder.

Too late.

 

 

CHAPTER TWO: In Which Our Hero Meets a Heroine (Not Ours)

 

Jackson’s smile spread wide, showcasing white, even teeth. How could he have such gorgeous teeth? And who thought about teeth in a moment like this?

He reached out a hand, and I scooted to the side so that he and Annabeth could exchange greetings. I would never hear the end of it. Annabeth was all about hands, and what they said about a man. Jackson had large hands—I knew exactly what she’d say about that—and he also had some callouses, because he did things like mow his own lawn, fix his own fence, plant his own trees. The guy had manly hands. I’d never hear the end of it now; she’d be completely smitten with Jackson and his fine body and his manly hands.

I closed my eyes. Annabeth had probably started plotting her girlfriend takeover before they’d finished the introductions.

Oops—which they just had.

I opened my eyes to find them both looking at me. Jackson still looked curious, but Annabeth had a cat-in-cream look on her face. The only question was whether she had devious plans to steal Jackson away from his girlfriend…or set him up with me. And I wasn’t sure which was worse; both were so terrible in different ways.

And that was when the pizza guy really did come to my rescue. His car pulled up to the curb, and I pointed and said, “Money. Be right back.” Then disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve my wallet.

By the time I came back, a pimply teen was standing in Jackson’s place, gazing with adoration at Annabeth. Leggy, tall, delicately curvaceous, and blonde, she tended to have that effect on men. A pubescent teen didn’t have a chance.

“Hey, kid,” I said, sounding more peeved than I’d intended. “How much do I owe you?”

He unstuck his eyeballs from Annabeth’s plunging neckline, and turned to look at me blankly.

Annabeth grabbed my wallet and gave the kid two twenties, took the pizza, and shut the door in his face. Granted, she did say “Thank you” and “goodbye” first, but I had no doubt he didn’t hear a word.

“Forty bucks for a large pizza?”

She shrugged, handing me the box. “He earned it and then some. I thought you were going to freak when Jackson and I met. It’s that worlds colliding thing you have, isn’t it?”

I nodded. Although usually when I was giving that excuse, it had to with my family, who were leprechauns. I hated that term, because of the little green-jacketed, bearded-man stereotype—but that was what we were.

When I was younger, I thought of myself as a sprite. Mainly because sprites lacked most of the cultural baggage leprechauns toted around. And I technically was a sprite. But calling me a sprite was a lot like calling a vehicle a car: broadly accurate but missing the important details. Just like some varieties of mushroom were deadly while others were relatively harmless, so too was the variance between sprites.

Yeah, sprite didn’t quite cut it; I was a leprechaun.

All the more reason that Annabeth and the magical mess that was my family could not collide. I liked living like a (mostly) normal person. And even without the magic, my family was not normal. I sighed. With magic, my family was chaos mixed with mischief, with a dash of juvenile self-interest thrown in for fun.

“Hey, anyone home in there? Daydream much?” Annabeth bit off the tip of the drooping slice of pizza she’d grabbed from the box. As she chewed, waiting for me to respond, there was an intent look of interest that made me nervous.

“Sorry. I…” But I couldn’t think of what to say. If I was honest with myself, I was tired of hiding the truth from my closest friend. “Whoa, watch it.” I pointed at the sliding cheese about to splat onto my hallway floor.

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can pick up Lucky Magic on Amazon or read it through Kindle Unlimited. 

 

The Halloween Haunting (Vegan Vamp Mysteries #5): Excerpt 1

Right on the heels of The Nefarious Necklace, here comes The Halloween Haunting! And yes, I know I published The Nefarious Necklace months ago. Right on the fictional heels is what I meant. As in, the fourth book ends and the fifth book begins. Our heroes barely have time to shower the smoke from their hair – and they’re off!

***Raw and unedited, just for you! Snip begins.***

Bradley relented and gave me the green light to accompany him on his very special errand. He seemed convinced he could handle it on his own, but he said yes. I think it was primarily because I looked so pitiful that he couldn’t say no. Having big adventures were hard on a lady, especially if they included a near-death by immolation experience and losing a few cups of blood to a zombie girl.

That just happened. I hadn’t even slept. But I was ready to go. Ready to tackle the next big outing. Ready for exciting—

“Slow down with the coffee, Mallory.” Alex retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to me. “Just because caffeine doesn’t make you want to leap tall buildings, doesn’t mean you should drink an entire pot.”

“Hey, that happened one time,” Wembley grumbled. “A guy thinks he can fly one time and some people never let him forget it. Besides, she sees ghosts and hears colors when she over-imbibes.”

“Traitor.” I stuck my tongue out at him. That’s what happened when I spent too much time with my sentient sword Tangwystl. I started to act like her . At least I didn’t blow a raspberry. Tangsytl loved to blow raspberries. “Besides, we all know I’m not normal. I can drink coffee. I pot, two even without accidentally doing something homicidal or suicidal.” I smirked at Wembley. “I can hold my coffee.”

Bradley had watched the interplay between us with some concern. “Do you all have to go?” Bradley asked with a skeptical look. “One person is back-up. Three people is babysitting.”

“No way I’m missing this,” Wembley said.

“If she’s going, I’m going.” Alex said, indicating me with a nod of his head.

***Snip ends***

If you haven’t checked out the series yet, this is book one…

Fairmont Finds: A Pet Cozy Excerpt

This particular work is still an experiment, so if you like the concept – give a shout out in the comments! (Although, by the time this publishes, I may well have decided to send it on out to my newsletter…) WARNING: this story contains no magic (what??) but does have a fabulous canine lead and a female lead who’s in a different place in her life than some of my other characters. I hope you’ll give it a try = )

***Raw and Unedited, just for you! Snip Begins*** (Introducing Zella Marek)

“Fairmont, where have you been? Were you sunning yourself in the breakfast room?” I rubbed his silky brown ears as he leaned his head against my leg. I loved that about him. At fifty-five pounds, he wasn’t too big, but I could still easily pet him while standing. One of the wonderful things about having a German Shorthaired Pointer, all of that personality and love in a perfectly-sized package.

A woman I recognized from the neighborhood approached and asked, “The piano’s also for sale?”

I was moving from thirty-five hundred square feet to nine hundred. Without any hesitation, I replied, “Yes, it is.”

Fairmont nudged my hand with his nose. Leave it to my four-legged friend to have escaped most of the traffic and have found a quiet sunny spot amidst an estate sale. I would have thought seeing his home deconstructed and walked out the door would be upsetting and confusing to his canine brain.

Then again, it hadn’t been his home for nearly as long as my own.

After inspecting the old Steinway thoroughly, the neighbor returned and offered half the value of the piano. I even considered it to save myself the hassle of donating it. But I had found a lovely music school that would enjoy it, and I’d told myself if it didn’t sell for a reasonable sum that it would be happy there.

I wasn’t dotty, just a little sentimental. I knew that piano’s didn’t have emotions, but that piano had been my daughter Greta’s. And I wasn’t the only one who would be pleased with a more benevolent dispensation. Greta didn’t have room for it, but she’d be tickled to find out it had landed in a school.

I did a little math. I’d done very nicely on the dining set and my china, and the sale was still in full swing. Decision made.

“You know, I do believe that the piano has found its home already.” I pulled a sold tag from the half apron tied around my waist. “I’m sorry for the confusion, but thank you for the offer.”

She nodded, looking disappointed. “You’re too young to be going into a home, so what are you off to do?”

A home? A home? I was forty-nine! You better believe I was too young, you crazy old—

A cold nose nudged my hand. I knelt, focusing all of my attention on Fairmont. As I ran my hand along his spotted coat, my blood pressure dropped a few notches.

Looking at the neighbor who I now remember had always been blunt to the point of rudeness, I replied in an equally blunt manner, “After leaving my husband of almost thirty years, I should have left his house. I might have taken me two years, but that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

She chuckled. “Good for you. Start fresh.” Then she leaned close enough that I was briefly overcome by her expensive perfume. “I never did like him.”

“Well, I can’t say never, but you and I seem to have reached the same conclusion.”

***Snip Ends***

This story is excerpted from a Fairmont Finds the Body, A Fairmont Finds Mini-Mystery. If you like small-town pet cozy mysteries with romance, this one might be for you  = )

For another series with a little romance, check out…

Makin’ the List

For reasons slightly convoluted and primarily related to how my brain works (1 world at a time, 1 novel at a time, etc), I have two (2!) Vegan Vamp Christmas stories for you guys this year. (Also, yes, that does mean that I’m working on a Vegan Vamp novel now…)

Story 1…One will be included in Spells and Jinglebells, and that was last week’s excerpt: My, What Big Teeth You Have. If you can’t tell from the title and excerpt that it has a humorous bent, well, then shame on me. (And, oops.) It’s still a feel good story, which I like in a Christmas tale, but it’s written from Mallory’s mom’s perspective. (That poor lady…)

[image error]Story 2…The excerpt below is from the second, less humorous story, Makin’ the List. It’s not super funny, unless you just generally think I’m funny, but I did think it was Christmas-y in its way. I hope you agree. (Tentative cover shown…)

If you want to receive Makin’ the List in it’s entirety, be sure to sign up for my newsletter. When possible, I like to give newsletter folks my shorts for free.

***Raw and unedited, just for you! Snip Begins***

With a twinkle in his eye and a cookie in his belly, he gathered up his velvet sack and disappeared up the chimney. But before he left, he pointed at me, and said, “Ho-ho-ho, and a very merry Christmas to you, Mallory.”

I woke up drenched in sweat. That couldn’t be right. I was a vampire, and vampires didn’t sweat.

Granted, I wasn’t like most vampires. Blood made my stomach turn, my fangs were embarrassingly small and probably incapable of penetrating flesh (not that I’d know), and I might have some suspiciously non-vampire-like powers. Maybe witchy. Maybe wizardy. Hard to say at this point. Point being, I wasn’t your garden variety sociopathic vampire.

Bonus, when I was turned, I lost all (most?) of my at-that-point-undiagnosed anxiety disorders. Most vamps lost their humanity—hence the sociopath title—but not all did. And some even made their way back to the land of empathy. My roommate fell in that camp. Jefferson Wembley was good people, uh, vampire.

But as atypical a vamp as I was, in one regard I was quite typical: I didn’t sweat.

At that’s about when I felt the hot, heavy breath of a beastly creature on my cheek. I cracked an eye.

“Boone!”

My bloodhound grinned at me with his tongue lolling out to the side.

***Snip Ends***

Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter if you want to receive a free e-copy when it’s ready to drop (anticipated mid-November.) Or, if you prefer to buy because 1) you like your email inbox tidy or 2) just ’cause, then it will also be available to purchase for $0.99. Note that new subscribers don’t receive my short story backlog, I just send copies as they release.

And if you haven’t yet had a chance to check out book 1 in my Vegan Vamp Mysteries series, here’s the first book in the series…

My, What Big Fangs You Have (A Vegan Vamp Christmas Story): Excerpt 1

If you’ve been following the Vegan Vamp series, you know that someone has been a wayward daughter. Mallory, the heroine of the Vegan Vamp books, has been dodging her mom for some time now. That’s about to come to an end with this short story, publishing in November as a part of Spells and Jinglebells. [image error]

***Raw and unedited, just for you! Excerpt Begins***

Sometimes a woman had to pressure her child. Sometimes apply guilt. Sometimes it simply took more than that. What was that saying? Walk softly but carry a big golf club?

My husband had always been the golfer in our family, though he certainly hadn’t walked softly. But he was gone, and though I could hardly celebrate the fact that he’d died—that would just be cruel—I could celebrate the fact that the cheating oaf had died before either our divorce was finalized or he’d changed his will.

But his absence meant that I was the golfing parent now. It wasn’t a role I felt suited me. I’d always been more of a tennis player. Suited or not, it was time to pull that club out. I dialed my daughter’s number.

Praise be, the child answered. At least we hadn’t come so far as her ducking my calls.

“Mother, how are you? I don’t have long to talk.”

“Mallory, darling, one should always have time for one’s mother.” I let a slight edge sharpen my voice. “And it has been—oh, let me see—how long has it been since I’ve set eyes on you, darling?”

A tense silence followed my question. Naturally. Tense silences would occur when one’s child hid from her mother—for months.

“Mallory? Are you still there? “ I tapped the phone. “The line’s gone all quiet.”

A beleaguered sigh followed. She must think I was going deaf in my dotage. Well, I was neither in my dotage nor going deaf. “Yes, Mother, I’m still here. And I know it’s been a little while since we’ve gotten together. Work has been…”

“What was that? Work’s been demanding? What is it that you do, now that you’ve changed careers? I’m not sure you’ve ever been clear on that point, sweetheart.”

Score one for the mother. Mallory had been rabidly avoiding dispensing any information about her mysterious new job. Not to imply that a mother-daughter relationship was a battle. Certainly not. It was more a protracted war in which two parties fought, sometimes together, sometimes apart, against the whole world.

“Ah, my job, I…um, I was doing some client work, and then—”

“Client work? What type of client work?” Pressure applied, check. And now for the walk back. “You know what darling, that’s all right. I’m in a bit of a rush myself. Maybe we can discuss your job later.” And then that big golf club swing. “At Christmas dinner. I know you wouldn’t miss Christmas dinner with your widowed mother.”

***End Excerpt***

In case you haven’t yet tried my Vegan Vamp series, I’m including the Amazon link to the first book below. Happy reading! ~Cate

Luck of the Devil: Excerpt #2

Launch in 3-2-1! Luck of the Devil releases in 3 days!!! Depending on how you count, so let me take math out of the equation just in case I didn’t subtract quite right…October 25th Release =)

Didn’t catch the first excerpt from Luck of the Devil? No worries. Here it is, conveniently titled Luck of the Devil: Excerpt #1. 

***And another Raw & Unedited snip, just for you! Begin Excerpt***

Then I took off like the scared little rabbit that I really was. (Dear readers: you might remember this line from last week’s excerpt – because I’m picking up the story right where you left off!)

Small problem. I’d forgotten that Michael was an athlete, whereas the most exercise I got was the sex I had in my dreams.

He caught up with me about half a second after I took off.

While I sprinted like mad, he loped along beside. “Why are we running?”

I tried not to sound like I was about to die from a heart attack—not technically possible, but it sure did feel like it—and replied as best I could. “Bad man.” I huffed and puffed. “Wants to kill—” One more breath. Maybe two. “You.”

And then I stopped, because—who was I kidding?—I was not a runner. Even in a life or death situation, I only had about twenty or thirty good yards in me. Maybe fifty if a sharp implement was in play. I planted my hands on my knees and bent over.

“Wow, you’re in terrible shape.” Amusement glinted in Michael’s eyes as he watched me come close to hyperventilating.

He needed a good telling off. I held up a finger. As soon as I could stop gasping like fish out of water, I was telling him off. With any luck, I wouldn’t puke in the interim, but if I did I was aiming for his shoes.

***Excerpt Ends***

I hope you enjoyed this snip. It was great fun to write–maybe in part because I’m allergic to cardio? This story is a little ridiculous in some respects (in very fun ways, says me, and I hope you’ll agree). I always hope that if it makes me giggle, that maybe you smile, and if it makes me teary, maybe it tugs at your heart. I definitely giggled for this one.

And in case you missed the first story in the series, here it is again. As always, happy reading! ~Cate

Luck of the Devil: Excerpt #1

Soooo – I’m not supposed to share my cover yet. Do you see me sharing my cover? =D But I figured cover, excerpt – those are two completely different things! So, here’s a little snip from Luck of the Devil, the second Lucky Magic story.

***Raw and unedited just for you! Excerpt Begins***

This couldn’t be happening. I could not be in a pile of arms and legs. A pile that included me, my supposed fiancé, and the man I’d had my longest lust-crush on.

But then I tried to move my arm and realized it was pinned beneath a very muscular thigh belonging to a very hot man who was right now staring at me like he wanted to murder me.

“I didn’t ask to be kidnapped.” That’s what I tried to say. Who knows what actually came out, because Michael Kelly had twisted me up in knots from the moment I’d met and fallen head over heels in lust with him.

He shook his head, looking confused.

Oh, no. Livy was going to kill me, If I broke her hot brother’s head at her engagement party, she would never let me live it down.

He propped himself up on his elbows and flashed me a gorgeous grin. “You think I’m hot.”

I had not said that out loud. No, I did not. But he was staring at with that cocky grin and those gorgeous blue eyes, and—

“I will remove your head for your insolence.” And there goes the fiancé, spoiling all the fun.

Don, who was no Juan, might actually take Michael’s head off, and Michael looked not even a little bit worried. Idiot. Looked like it was time for action, not lustful panting. I wriggled free of the pile, slapped a temporary binding on big and burly so he couldn’t slice off Michael’s head before he could say “magically delicious,” then grabbed Michael’s arm and gave a good tug.

When it looked like he was on his feet, I said, “Run.”

Then I took off like the scared little rabbit that I really was.

***Excerpt Ends***

Didn’t catch the first story when it came out? Check out the link for Lucky Magic below. The first story is sweeter than Luck of the Devil, because…well, because the main character isn’t the devil daughter’s