C.A. Worley's Blog

She’s Not a Cat, So Why Call Her Kitty?

Crafting Pet Names for Strong Female Characters in Romance Writing

In the world of romance writing, the little things often have the biggest impact—like the way characters address each other. I’ve dabbled in endearments for my characters to the point almost all of my main characters get a pet name. While working on my latest attempt at something different (shifter romance in current times), I’ve been pondering laying off the practice.

Pet names and endearments can add layers of intimacy to the relationship between lovers. However, using them effectively requires balance and I am, most assuredly, not balanced. Just ask my mother. Moving on …

Too much honey-bunny or sweet-cheeks, and it can feel unrealistic or cheesy; too little, and you might miss the chance to make your characters’ dynamic pop off the page. For me, literally a few minutes ago, I sat and argued with myself about not forcing little mate or little wolf or little anything to come out of my MMC’s sexy but stupid mouth.

Don’t worry, I’m winning the argument … and losing. Hey, I’m a complicated gal!

The Pros of Pet Names

Pet names can be more than just fluffy terms of affection; they’re a form of verbal intimacy, reinforcing the relationship between characters. For strong female leads, these names should reflect admiration, respect, or an emotional connection rather than mere condescension.

That is, unless you’re going for a little condescension so there’s more conflict. It’s a delicate dance, y’all, so mind the steps!

A well-chosen pet name can:

Reflect the personality or traits of the character.Show an evolving relationship (from formal to intimate).Highlight the quirks or private jokes between the couple.Add emotional depth to the dialogue during pivotal moments.

Just make sure the endearments fit the narrative. I’ve had male characters use pet names that reflect some degree of insight. For example, in Shadow’s Lyric, the MMC, Draven, refers to the object of his desire as Angel. Her personality is far from angelic, but there’s a reason behind it, one I simply cannot reveal at this time.

Avoid the Cheese!

I try to avoid the cringe. Below is how I think through it:

Make It Unique to the Couple: If it feels forced or generic, it can make a scene feel clichéd. Consider what the male character would realistically call the female based on their dynamic. Avoid common or overused terms unless they serve a specific purpose (e.g., a more typical name could be used ironically or at a pivotal moment to break tension).Stay True to the Tone: If you’re writing a dark, brooding romance, Pookie aint’ gonna sit well with the reader–not that Pookie ever sits well.Be Careful with Overuse: Don’t let it take over the dialogue. Too much reliance on endearments can make interactions feel unnatural. Use them sparingly—when a pet name slips into a heated argument or a tender moment, it holds more weight.The Grammar of Endearments

Full disclosure: this one came straight from Ai. Sometimes I doubt my grammatical prowess. Other times I know it’s wrong. See what I’m getting at?

When to Capitalize: Pet names and endearments should be capitalized when they are used in place of a character’s actual name. For example: “What’s wrong, Love?” or “Come here, Beautiful.”When Not to Capitalize: If a pet name or endearment is used generically, it doesn’t need to be capitalized. For example: “You’re my love,” or “She’s such a darling.”

Pay attention to context and the relationship dynamic to decide whether the endearment is functioning more like a proper noun or a descriptive word.

Some Common Pet Names and Endearments for Female CharactersLoveDarlingSweetheartBabyAngelBabeHoneyBeautifulGorgeousPrincessSome Common Pet Names and Endearments for Male CharactersHandsomeLoveDarlingBabeHoneyBabyTigerBig GuyStudCowboyUnique and Less Common Pet Names for Female CharactersTempestSirenPhoenixRavenLionessDoveHellionStarlightHuntressGypsyUnique and Less Common Pet Names for Male Characters

I hate most of these, but here’s what I’ve come across:

BearMisterDragonCaptainWolfShadowMaverickHot StuffBoss ManDreamboatConclusion

When done well, pet names and endearments will feel like an organic part of your story, enhancing both the romantic tension and emotional stakes in a way readers will love. When done poorly? Ick.

No pressure. Ha!

Happy writing!

SourcesTaylor, Bronwen. Romance Writing: Dialogue to Build Intimacy. Writer’s Digest, 2019.Patterson, Jessica. Character Development: Personal Traits and Dialogue Techniques. Fiction Writers Collective, 2021.Carpenter, Lila. Crafting Romance: Writing Meaningful Relationships in Fiction. Romance Authors International, 2018.Martinez, Sophia. Avoiding Clichés in Romance: Dialogue Tips for Writers. Creative Writers Monthly, 2020.Knight, Emma. Tone and Voice: Writing Characters True to Their World. Dark Moon Press, 2017.Johnson, Emily. Writing Authentic Romance: Balancing Dialogue and Action. The Romance Workshop, 2022.Nguyen, Hana. The Emotional Impact of Words in Romantic Fiction. Love Notes Publishing, 2021.Brooks, Catherine. Pacing the Romance: When to Introduce Pet Names. Romance Writers Quarterly, Winter 2019.Sharma, Priya. Writing Emotionally Charged Scenes: Do’s and Don’ts. Romance Writers Magazine, Spring 2020.Miller, Alistair. Capitalization in Creative Writing: Names, Titles, and Endearments. Grammar Rules for Fiction Writers, 2018.Douglas, Amy. Proper Nouns vs. Descriptive Terms in Fiction. Editor’s Toolkit Series, Vol. 2, 2019.Lee, Jason. Enhancing Romantic Tension: Tools for Crafting Endearments. Love Stories Press, 2023.

New Series Update!

Hallo, you gorgeous humans! I hope you’re easing into a fabulous spring (assuming we are in the same hemisphere). If you’re like me, you hate being teased with a lovely day of high temps and sunshine only to be thrown back into the polar vortex. Bull. Shit.

Any-hoo …

I have two new books in editing right now, eBook covers are made, and I’m working out details for release! I had originally planned to have the first book out the door in February, but then, based on how my Fate of Imperium trilogy did with a more structured release, I decided to wait until the second book was finished. Book 2 rough draft is complete and Book 3 ideas are … I don’t actually wanna talk about it. My debate is which couple. One popped up out of the blue and might get a hot little novella so I can get their story off my mind. They’re like, gasoline on fire in the bedroom. Or, they will be once I write it out.

My plan this week is to finish edits for book one AND two, put up for pre-order, spacing release 3-4 weeks, also while mapping out Book 3 OR the novella. Both. Probably. I want to prioritize a full-length but I’m too distracted by two of the characters. It’s fine.

I will post once everything is up and running. I am also considering writing about some of the available Ai tools I’ve been dabbling with, such as the creation of images in Sudowrite. I made pictures of characters using the Visual tool and they turned out amazing. If I think there is some Indy author interest, I’ll do some short videos and writings. I’ll need to dig a little to see if authors are using such things.

That’s all for now. Happy Spring!

New Book Coming Soon–Yes, it’s True!

Amazing people! I hope you are having an amazing winter! Well, if you live where it’s winter. If you live where it’s sunny and hot, send a plane ticket and I’ll join you by the pool. Any-hoo, I’ve just finished a rough draft of book that I think I’ll call Chosen by the Fae King in a series I’m pretty sure will be Brides of Falcondale.

What’s that? I’m starting a new series? You bet your sweet ass I am. This story came to me and I HAD to write it. Okay, okay. I HAD to get it the fuck out of my head. My noggin’s little engine couldn’t let it go, so sat down and took care of business.

It’s not as dark as I originally planned, but I think it turned out alright anyway. The story is set in the Crossing Daggers World, but it’s a different realm from than the Otherland. So none of the same characters. Same premise, though, of realms and crossings and magic–oh my!

Below is the book description I just wrote–it’s a rough draft, fyi, and so is the novel. I’m hoping for an March release with a follow-up book shortly after. Hope is not always my friend, but I’m trying.

DESCRIPTION:
In the fae Kingdom of Falcondale, Prince Nox ascends the throne under the ominous cloud of his father’s assassination. Beneath the veiled guise of enacting the bride trials, Nox, a brooding and often callous male, hopes to find much more than just a wife.

When her closest friend, Sofiya, is chosen for the treacherous trials, Aeryn steps in and volunteers to take Sofiya’s place, saving her from the clutches of the coldhearted king–and ends up awakening an irresistible attraction between her untamed spirit and Nox’s enigmatic allure.

Still months from turning twenty-five and coming into her magic, the trials are doubly perilous for Aeryn, something Nox grows to regret. In a world where deception and desire dance on the razor’s edge, the pair must navigate the dangers together or fall prey to sinister forces that threaten not only their lives, but control of the kingdom.

I hope to have preorder links within the next couple of weeks. Ugh, I need to stop saying that word and leading people on. But I promise I really am trying.

Cheers to the coming new year!

Shadow’s Raven Update!

The preorder is live, y’all!! 99cents through XMAS. Releases 12.19.23. I’ve also put Shadow’s Lyric on sale for 99cents through XMAS.

´¨) ¸.•´¸.•´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•` Shadow’s Raven

Crossing Daggers Book 2

“So, Raven, what in the hell did you do to piss off the Fae Queen?”
Wow. Lyric was more blunt than my father and that was saying a lot. Steeling myself, I inhaled, ready to give them my story. Most of it, at least.
“I—”
The doors crashed open, cracking loudly against the stone walls. In a nanosecond I was on my feet, my chair overturned behind me.
The intruder stalked across the threshold. His wild eyes searched, constricting when they found mine. Casimir halted, a herculean tower of lean masculinity demanding my attention.
And, oh, did he have it!
Outwardly I was as cold and smooth as granite. Inside I was a live volcano, reacting to the force of his remarkable bearing. Surely he was descended directly from the gods of lust.
The fabric of his black shirt hugged him tight. I could see almost every dip and valley of his chiseled frame—a frame that was expanding and contracting like a runner who’d just finished a race.
I’d known he was attractive when I’d seen him lying on the floor earlier, even with the blood. Seeing him animated, feeling his dominant presence and palpable virility, set me afire.
The low growl in his chest was one of possession. He tugged on the bond and the spell sputtered. It held but felt somewhat unstable.
Adrenaline flooded my system and heat grew between my legs. If he kept up that sound, he might be able to convince me to rut like an animal with him right here on the stone floor.
Even muted, the cord connecting us was an overwhelming lure. Or was it simply him?

I’m typing this on my phone at lunch right now so apologies for formatting, grammar, lack of flair…not that it would be much different if I had a computer. Any-hoo, I haven’t revised my book pages and my phone is hiding the hyperlink option. I’ll get that cleaned up when I can. So I hope this works:

Amazon

Apple

Kobo

Thank you so much for your patience and inquiries on my progress!

Doing the Things. Finally.

I’m am so damned pleased to announce I’ve got irons about to come out of the fire. I’m having a new cover created for Shadow’s Lyric at the same time as the cover for Shadow’s Raven is being made.

No, the image to the left isn’t the cover, but it is an image of Lyric and Draven from Shadow’s Lyric that I made with the help of Canva’s new AI tools. Pretty neat little tool.

I’m considering getting into the cover design business–yeah, because I don’t have enough in my life to keep me busy and awake at night. In case you weren’t aware, self-publishing is a side hustle and my real job takes a lot out of me. Perhaps someday I’ll make enough off my books to just write.

I just heard Wayne and Garth tell me, “And monkeys might fly out of my butt.” If you don’t get that joke I need you to Google it immediately.

Moving on…

I like when there’s a little surprise here and there in a novel and I’m not good with surprises so I decided to try something with the new release. I’m waiting on my cover designer and some confirmation for promo dates before I set the release date, but I plan to do it as soon as possible. Book 2 is in final edits so I’m shooting for end of the month. Fingers crossed!

I also have another book kinda sorta related to the Crossing Daggers books, but has none of the characters. I’m slow rolling it out on Kindle Vella but am considering pulling it. I don’t have the time to release only 1k words here and there. I intend to get Shadow’s Raven out before I pull the trigger.

Speaking of that book, I don’t have a good title. I think it was like, Brides of Falcondale, or something. I panicked and that’s what happened when I added the first handful of chapters. I know, I know. I’ll make it better. I just have to get some other things off my plate.

Anyway, I will have a release date soon. I truly appreciate everyone who has read my work and has taken a moment to ask about the next book. I’ve never taken this long to finish a project. I don’t intend for it to become a habit.

XOXO,

C.A.

The ADHD is Strong in This One

For those of you who have reached out over the this past year, I am still alive! Mostly. Apologies for dropping off the face of the earth. It’s my new survival tool. Disappear and you don’t have to deal with anything. I do not recommend it–it didn’t work. I truly appreciate the messages and inquiries and mentions of my next book in the Crossing Dagger Series … a book that has slowly been draining me right along with all the other things in life.

My face most days:
1 part laughing, 2 parts shock, all parts appreciative for this beautiful life.

I had to take a time out – a BIG timeout – to focus on myself and my family. Oh, and to still be a good employee at my full time job. I got Covid for the first time and my brain has hardly lifted out of the fog. Like it has for many others, operating in this “Post-Pandemic World” (whatever that means) has been challenging. I’ve struggled with anxiety and, earlier this year, halfway through my lifespan, was diagnosed with ADHD, minus the H with some bipolar tendencies. No one was surprised, really, but still. Shit got real.

Available on Amazon.

Trying to regroup and find enjoyment, I paused the romance writing completely. I spent months getting things off my plate, as best I could. Hesitant to be medicated, I did find that it was necessary to take something just to function. Once I felt I was in a good place, my brother and I spent time working on redoing our book and releasing it under a better cover and a better name.

Post Traumatic Texts has a nice ring, don’t you think? Honestly, it was fun to work on this little paperback–so fun that I didn’t want to do anything else. Full disclosure: it was published years ago under the title, We’re Not Write. It’s better now, but still an experiment in comedy without purpose other than making people laugh.

We’ve also started developing a podcast, Grown & Disowned. Who knows if we’ll get it off the ground with any success, but it has been hella fun to work on. I managed to create a halfway decent intro. You can listen to it on this Grown & Disowned blog post.

My coworkers and I also decided to start a podcast. We haven’t gotten far but I’m into it. I spent an entire day making covers for the two podcasts that I don’t actually have going. I think I did well on them. I also think I didn’t do anything else for 12 hours I played around online.

Are you sensing a theme? I want to do all the things now. Therefore, none of them are fully getting done. So here I am, back on my romance author blog, writing about everything else I’ve been doing. I have found that writing these things out gets them out of my brain so I can focus on other stuff. Is that ADHD? I assume yes. But I’m tired of going down the Google rabbit hole so I’m just rolling with it.

I spent this morning revisiting the series I had started and failed to finish. I loved writing Shadow’s Lyric, and I wrote it pretty fast (hence the typos–ha!). Shadow’s Raven has been far more challenging, which I’ve written about before. But, with the help of a friend, I’ve written the outline for the rest of the novel. I’m probably 2/3 of the way through and will keep hacking away at it, assuming I don’t get distracted by all the other things I have found enjoyable.

Ultimately, my ADHD will always be doing its thing to some degree. So I had a moment where I decided I could fill “all the things” with stuff that brought me joy, or stuff that stressed me out. Podcasts and writing bring me joy. Even after being drained from worrying over Shadow’s Raven, the story still makes me happy when I think of it. So I’m going to finish it and if it can’t get it published until next year, then so be it.

I’m making lists and will devote the next week (off from work!) to writing and making podcasts. We’ll see how far I get. My plan is to take things week by week. If I can just do small things and make progress, then I’m already doing better than I was.

Thank you for sticking with me and for reading the things that come out of my head. I’ll endeavor to do better and get shit going once more. ADHD is an asshole, but sometimes its also manically creative. I just wish I could choose when it’s each.

Until next time, Happy Fall, y’all!

Running In Place

Doing the things.

So, we meet again. Hopefully not for the last time … though, possibly for the first time … for the last time. I’m feeling a Spaceballs quote coming on but I shall refrain. If you don’t get that joke, you need a little Mel Brooks in your life.

But let’s move on, shall we?

What a doozy the past year and half has been, huh? I feel like I’m writing the same post over and over. Like, hey, I’m trying to write and it’s slow but it will get done and I’ll just keep trying and blah blah blah.

The truth? Life has been H.A.R.D. I’m a fast writer (note I didn’t say talented-ha!). But since the pandemic, I’ve been whining about how slow I am. When, more realistically, I’m not slow. I’m simply not prioritizing it. I simply can’t.

Like many of you, life has punched me in the throat several times lately. My family and I have been floating in and out of survival mode. We’re trying to prioritize mental health and it’s not easy to do so. Putting the needs of my family ahead of my writing is what’s happening. And that’s okay.

The issue I’m taking with my current situation is that writing brings me joy. I like the process. Okay, okay, I fucking hate editing, but I seriously enjoy coming up with a story. I write for me. That I can make five or six figures year to year off of my stories, on top of finding joy in the process, is a godsend. Yes, I still have sales, and that’s nice, but I’ve lost the moments of joy I was getting on the regular.

I’m desperately trying to balance the needs of my family with my own needs. My kids were drowning, trying to manage school online and we adjusted to do things we had to do. I’m totally okay with this. But I’m not okay with losing the little pieces I need for me. So I had to figure out how to balance it all.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a balancer. I might be ADD and that’s not a joke. I go hard at one thing, sometimes obsessively, then it’s done and I find something else. That’s what I’ve done with my books in the past. Life isn’t conducive to that anymore–not that it ever really was.

So my new balance is this: I carve out time every week and hold it sacred. Sunday evenings are mine. It’s the only time I have to myself and I have to use it wisely. I wrote 2500 words this evening and I was happy with it. I have to plan the time moving forward. I want more than Sunday evenings so I can get this book finished, so my next step is to pick 2 full days a month where I can write, uninterrupted, and the family knows to leave me alone.

As I type this, there’s a man behind me waiting to ask me something. It’s Sunday evening. It’s my time. And he waits quietly and I’m actually laughing because I think he thinks I’m going to claw off his face if he speaks. Little does he know, I’m not working on the book right now. I’m bitching about stuff online. Should I tell him to approach the Queen or make him wait?

…my stomach just growled so I think this is where I leave you. Mama’s gotta eat.

Have a fabulous week, friends!

Sneak Peek Number Two

Holy massive snowballs, Batman! Winter really dropped a load on us, didn’t she? *insert giggle here* One would think being snowed in would provide ample time to write–and one would be wrong because one didn’t count on the kids being so awfully needy. Math question? Ask mom, even though Dad is 4 feet away. Art project help? Beg Mom even though Dad offered to help. What’s for lunch, you ask? Whatever you make yourself, big boy, Mommy’s at work … yeah, yeah, I’m in my room, but I’m still working. Plus, teens and preteens are capable of sandwich-making. I’m over food prep, anyway.

But I’ve ventured off topic so I could bitch a little. Thank you for staying with me. Moving on–in my last post, I included the opening chapter of Shadow’s Raven. I had to build those characters from scratch, so it took me a while to write. Chapter 2, which I’ve included below, went much faster because these are the characters I created for book one. And might I say how much I adore them? This book is draining me, but I’m chugging along slowly. Cas held charm for me in Shadow’s Lyric. Now that I’m telling his story, I might have to push him to the brink. It can’t all be sunshine and rainbows, ya know? Okay, yes, Chapter 1 included scenes of torture. But I think it would be fun to see how a typically congenial male might act when life gets under his skin, especially in the form of a female he can’t get out of his head.

Happy reading, y’all! Stay warm and stay safe!

Six months later …

“You look like shit, Cas.”

I frowned at Draven’s First Advisor, one of my oldest friends who had long ago become like a sister to me. Only family could get away with saying such things to my face.

“Thank you, Talia. As always, you are most eloquent.”

“She’s right,” Draven seconded. “You’re not sleeping.”

I reinforced my mental shields against my cousin, the Shadow Lord. His mindreading capabilities were problematic. Usually I was good about safeguarding my thoughts. Burnout was making me sloppy.

“Draven, it’s not polite to dip into others’ heads whenever you feel like it,” his mate chastised. I could always count on Lyric to call him out on his bullshit.

“What?” he asked innocently as his palms lifted into the air. “I’m concerned. I get protective when I’m concerned.”

“No way? Really? I had no idea,” she replied acerbically, rubbing her growing bump. Overprotective was putting it mildly.

Lyric was only six months along, about halfway through a normal demon pregnancy. Lyric wasn’t fully demon, so we weren’t exactly sure if it would shorten or lengthen the gestation period. Her asshole of a father, Gabrian, had said her mother’s pregnancies lasted about eleven, so that was what we were going with.

Gabrian was a Fortis demon, a branch of Other known for their physical strength. Lyric’s other half came from her late mother, who was Adrestian. She sometimes sprouted wings of pure energy. Her sister, Kree, could do the same.

Kree, my inner voice bemoaned. I needed to put that female out of my head. She’d made it quite clear she wasn’t interested in me and I’d respected the space she’d requested. Life had started weighing on me ever since. The coincidental timing was not ideal.

Hence, the current intervention.

I’d been called to the Council Room under false pretenses, thinking we’d be going over the new rotation of security at Embour, the Shadowlands’ stronghold. Since I was in charge of such things I’d made a schedule and came prepared to discuss the changes.

Lyric had started the meeting with a little speech about how much they all loved me and how this was a safe space. Kree was noticeably absent.

Phalen leaned over the table, resting on his forearms. The jokester of our group was looking rather grim.

“It’s like this, Cas. You’re not sleeping. We know you’re not because the bags under your eyes are bigger than Lyric’s ass cheeks.”

“Hey!” she protested.

Phalen winked at her and continued on. “It’s affecting your reaction time. Everyone sees it during our sparring sessions. It’s also affecting your decisions. You’ve never been slow with an order.”

He was right. Indecision was not something I experienced. Well, not until recently.

“Your personality is different, too,” Lyric said softly. “You’re moody. Usually, you’re quite charming and adorable.”

Draven scowled at his mate, but held his tongue.

“Annd,” Talia drawled, “it has to be mentioned that your beard is out of control. It’s crooked, for fuck’s sake. I fear something might crawl out of it any second.”

Lyric gagged dramatically. Everything made her nauseous these days.

My sword hand self-consciously ran over the length of the bushy growth, mildly offended. I typically kept it short and neat. Admittedly, I had been neglecting its care.

Phalen nodded his agreement. “You can’t even sit through a Council meeting without wishing you were anywhere else but here, especially when we’re all in attendance.”

Wonderful. Now they were bringing Kree into it.

I looked at Draven. “Am I off the Council?”

“No.”

“Am I no longer the head of Embour’s security?”

Draven hesitated. Lyric’s hand fell upon her mate’s, squeezing.

“Not yet,” he finally stated.

“So, this is you putting me on notice then.”

“We’re just concerned,” Lyric insisted. “This thing with you and Kree–”

“There is no thing with me and Kree.”

“–has affected you deeply in a negative manner, which is now affecting Embour in a negative manner.”

I shifted my chair, squaring my shoulders with my cousin-in-law. “You think I’m hanging on to some unrequited love for your sister? That it’s wrecked me to the point I can no longer do my job?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Hasn’t it?”

“No, godsdamnit!” My fist hit the table.

“I don’t buy it,” Talia said.

“Me either,” Phalen added.

“I don’t give a fuck what any of you buy,” I snapped.

“Watch. Your. Tone,” Draven warned. “This is what family does. We call each other out on our bullshit and we have each other’s backs. No matter what.”

Well didn’t that just take the tempestuous winds right out of my indignant sails. My posture sagged, the anger waning. I was tired. So damned tired. A slow leak was draining me from the inside.

“You don’t tell us anything, Cas, when you used to be an open book. This whole I-am-an-island garbage is over. Got it?”

Lyric squeezed her mate’s hand again, this time her knuckles whitened. “What I think Draven is trying to say is that you need to lean on us. Whatever this burden is, we’ll carry it with you.”

My head dropped into my hands. They all thought I was moping over Kree. Maybe, at one time, I had been, but that was done months and months ago. It wasn’t the root of the darkness eating away at my soul.

I couldn’t protect them from this. Keeping it to myself wouldn’t protect them. As much as I wanted to lock them all up in the basement’s spelled rooms and place a thousand soldiers in front of the door, it wasn’t a solution. It was time to fess up.

Lifting my head, I met each of their eyes before I spoke.

“Ravens.”

“What do you mean ravens?” Draven asked.

“It’s not that I’m not sleeping. It’s that I can’t stop dreaming. Every night I dream of them. I dream of ravens.”

There. I’d said it. It was out. No one so much as blinked.

Night after night they came to me, ravens with varying shades of eye-color. Some were green, some were pinkish-purple. Occasionally it was just one watching me, following me wherever I went in the dreamworld. This was the one that worried me the most, the one with violet irises.

More recently, a dark-haired female started joining these dreams. The first night she appeared, and every night since, she stood with her back to me on a dirt path leading out of a wooded area and down towards a body of water while an unkindness of ravens circled above her head.

They swooped and pecked at her long, dark hair. I’d tried to warn her but she merely laughed. The sound was a sensual melody and I’d run after her, needing to see her face, to watch her mouth produce that sound again.

She disappeared when I was close enough to touch her. The ravens still circling above emitted gurgling croaks and I believed they, too, were laughing. Nothing about her had felt nefarious, yet it had rocked me to the core.

For some unknown reason, I decided to omit this part of my nocturnal experiences. I convinced myself the female wasn’t important; the fact I was dreaming of ravens was. For a demon, dreams were more than mere fantasy, especially ones that repeated.

Draven’s big hand splayed on Lyric’s belly, as if the act alone could protect the babe inside. “How long has this been going on?”

“Six months.”

A variety of curses erupted around the table. Even Emile, who was usually quiet, got very creative with his f-bombs. We all knew what it meant. Dreaming of ravens was a bad omen. It foreshadowed betrayal, death, and misfortune.

“You should have said something,” Draven gently scolded.

“And what would I have said? Hey, cousin, the night we found out your mate was pregnant, I started having visions of the harbinger of bad luck?”

“He has a point, Mr. Overlord. You’re smothering enough as it is.”

The look Draven gave Lyric screamed, Deal with it. They were good for each other, evenly matched in opposing temperaments. Try as I might to stop it, the teeniest tiniest morsel of envy attacked my conscience. I squelched the slip immediately. I was happy for Draven and I would never begrudge him this happiness.

Unlike me, Draven deserved it.

“What have you done about it?” Talia cut in. “I know you, Cas. Even if you’ve not been forthcoming, you wouldn’t just let it go.”

“We have plenty of security already stationed at Embour. I only made a few adjustments to increase response time if someone were able to breach the outer wall.”

After Lyric and Kree had both been taken hostage, barely 18 months ago, Draven had agreed with my extended protective measures. We’d steadily added new defenses and protections since, especially now that Lyric was pregnant.

“I also sent a missive to Vera, asking her to visit Embour to reinforce the wards. She’ll be here within the week. When she arrives, I plan to ask her if it would be possible for the coven to scry on our behalf.”

We did business with Vera quite often. Her magic was strong and her intellect even stronger. She might be able to read my aura or know something about fending off bad omens. I hadn’t gotten a chance to speak directly to her yet, but I was confident she would assist, especially considering our friends-with-benefits history.

Phalen crossed his arms. “You should have come to me. I would have put feelers out.”

My mouth twisted.

“You already did it, didn’t you? Damnit, Casimir.”

“I have access to the same intel you do, to the same soldiers. I was trying to get a handle on things without alarming anyone.”

“Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?” Draven mocked.

“The omen is meant for the one who dreams it. It’s my own ill fortune coming this way. Not yours. You feel responsible enough for everyone as it is. I refuse to add to your worries. If something comes for me, I’m as ready as I can be.”

“Something terrible befalling you is ill fortune to me,” he retorted.

“I am the one who will be hurt by this. You guys are bystanders. I’ve worked to ensure that’s all you have to be.” I would not allow them to come to harm.

“So we’re all just collateral damage?!” he bellowed. “You think what happens in your life doesn’t affect us, when you know damn well when one of us bleeds, we all bleed?”

“I was trying to protect you! I know you, all of you, would fight for me, but I can’t bear the thought of something happening to any one of you. If things get bad enough, I’ll leave. I would never knowingly endanger any of you, never drag you down with me. I’ll take my own life before it comes to that.”

Draven and I were both breathing hard, staring one another down. We were always taking digs, like brothers might. This time, I knew under all that anger was something far more dangerous.

Fear. Draven didn’t handle the emotion well, not that I was much better.

“You talk of taking your own life again and I’ll fucking kill you myself, understood?”

“Yes, Lord Draven. I understand. If I want to commit suicide all I have to do is tell you and you’ll kill me. Thank you. Also, I’m pretty sure you stole that line from your mate. Very unoriginal, but points for trying.”

His mouth twitched. Then he launched his big body out of his chair and had me in a bear hug before I could blink.

This is new.

“If it were me,” he spoke softly, “or any of the others, you would be all up in our business. Don’t pretend otherwise. You’re not alone in this, Cas. Let us help. Please.”

My lungs constricted and not because Draven had a death lock around my torso. He was right. I wouldn’t have allowed any of them to push me away, no matter the consequences.

“Holy fuck,” Lyric wailed. “That was so beautiful. And you’re hugging. The big boys are hugging.”

My cousin and I both turned to look at his mate, the female designated as the Shadow Blade. The master swordsman was crying like a baby.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s these stupid hormones. If you don’t like it you can both go fuck yourselves.”

“That’s two fucks in ten seconds, Angel. Maybe try to space them out a little further, practice using your filter before the babe arrives.”

Lyric flipped off her mate and we all laughed. It had been a number of months since I used those particular muscles. For just a second, I allowed myself to lean on them. I feared a mere second was all I could afford.

Rad(ish) Writing

“Radish is the brand new mobile app for serialized fiction, bringing you early access to stories from top writers. Read great stories on the go!”
~radishfiction.com

I’m super pumped to share my latest adventure with you! Beginning February 1, 2021, I’ll start releasing content onto the Radish Fiction App. Radish is a mobile-reading app that releases stories in seasons and episodes. Think of it as a sort of Netflix for books.

I’ve spent some time the past month exploring the app and looking at authors who publish on their platform. It’s a pretty wide range. There are established authors, such as Kendall Ryan, a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author, and then there are people like me–authors who have had some degree of success and a fair amount of Goodreads reviews (420+ for The Wolf King’s Bride), but who most people would see and be like WTF is this chick?

In terms of what I plan to release, I’m starting with my backlist stuff. I’m not familiar with the ins and outs of using a platform such as Radish, so I’ll play around with it first and see how it goes. Nothing worse than biting off more than you can chew. Okay, yes, there are worse things (hello, global pandemic), but you get what I’m saying.

The story I’m starting with is my Fate of Imperium Series. Season 1 will be The Wolf King’s Bride where chapters are broken down as episodes. I intend to release four episodes per week, possibly more. Again, I’m feeling things out here and have an inkling I won’t really know what works best for me until I give it the ol’ college try. I’ll be sure to share my experience on here–good or bad.

Radish allows authors to choose from a variety of pricing models. No, I’m not clear on the best option, but I do know you can choose Freemium, Premium, Wait-to-Unlock, and Free when publishing a story. I chose Premium for this first go as my series is not free on any platform. If it bombs, I’ll figure something else out. Readers get the first 3 episodes for free, which might entice new readers to give unknown authors a shot. There’s a whole bunch of other stuff, with using coins to pay for episodes, gifting episodes to readers, etc. I can’t speak to any of it yet. Fingers crossed I learn fast and can share with my fellow authors and readers.

If you’re a reader interested in reading on your phone, I encourage you to read more about Radish here on their website, where you’ll also find the links to download the app. If you’re an author looking to get onto the platform, check out the app’s opportunities. Radish usually invites authors “who have a strong online or offline presence.” For me, someone on their acquisitions team found my book on Goodreads and reached out. But I do know you can apply directly on their site. For more resources, you can get onto their Help site.

Hopefully, I’ll be a little more useful as a resource after working through the kinks. If you’re on Radish, below is my profile link. Happy Reading and Writing, y’all!

C.A. Worley Radish Author Profile

Slowly but Surely … Probably

Map of The Faelands was created on Inkarnate.com.

Greetings, good people! Here’s to hoping your 2021 has started off swimmingly or, at least, is becoming less of a shit show as we inch our way along. I’m starting mine with the understanding I’m going to hit my insurance’s out-of-pocket max pretty damned fast. Yay me. No, Mom, it’s not Covid-related, thank goodness–unless, it’s something worse than Covid plaguing me and then imma have to cut a bitch. Let’s just say I’ve yet to find a constructive way of dealing with my negative emotions and some people I know may or may not have been invited to my imaginary Fight Club and they may or may not have lost all of their teeth. It’s totally fine. You dream of beating the shit out of you others, too, yes? No? You’re disturbed? Alrighty then.

Any-hoo, I’m finally back to writing. It’s slow goings, but it’s going. I’m not used to this degree of slowness and I suppose I’ll have to figure out a way around it. Normally I can write pretty fast, as my typos and mistakes can easily attest. But, hey, something is better than nothing. I’m currently four chapters into my new novel. It needs a lot of edits, but I’m publishing the first chapter today on this post.

To overcome my lack of motivation (or at least try to), I’m going to put a few chapters out periodically to hold myself accountable. As always, I appreciate any and all feedback or suggestions. I’ve created five different outlines for how this story will play out and I’m not exactly sure which one I like best. I guess I’ll figure it out as I go. I mean, I think characters sometimes reveal things to authors that they hadn’t planned in the beginning.

Shadow’s Raven is Book 2 in my Crossing Daggers Series. Keep scrolling for the excerpt. For more info and links to the first book, Shadow’s Lyric, click here.

Happy Reading, friends!

Chapter One of Shadow’s Raven

“He’s very handsome, you know.”

“How nice for him.”

Another blow from the riding crop landed, this time across the middle of my face. My bottom lip split and I spat blood onto the floor, barely a foot from my aching knees. If I could have managed it, I’d have directed it to hit the bitch right between the eyes.

Alas, I had not spent my youth practicing the art of launching expectorate at a moving target. I blamed my mother, Circe, for my lack of phlegm control. While some races of witches believed sputum brought good fortune, Dianic witches did not believe in groundless fortuity.

We do not rely upon luck, Raven, and destiny is a farce. We blaze our own paths, the memory of her sultry voice chastised.

She’d been right. Luck was for suckers and I wasn’t a sucker–not that I knew what my path should be at this exact moment.

The nerves in my face were going haywire. Tingling had started a while ago, after a dozen or so rapid-succession strikes. I suspected the whip had traces of iron dusted upon the leather. Iron was bad news, even for a half-breed like me.

A swipe of my tongue caught the tangy trace of copper. The motion sent a drop of liquid trickling down the front of my chin. Holding my captor’s sharp stare, I calmly wiped my mouth on the sleeve covering my shoulder. My soiled clothes were rank and I nearly wrinkled my nose.

The view in my peripheral wasn’t pretty. The Otherland’s natural light, streaming in through the keep’s slender windows, highlighted the rust-colored stains on my once pristine white shirt. The material across my back was torn in several places. Thankfully, I’d been afforded some semblance of modesty and all my essential parts were still covered.

I waited for the Queen’s next move, ignoring the soft scoring of the bottom of her satin slipper sliding across stone. The sound grated against my ears. It wasn’t surprising she slithered around gracefully instead of stepping. It was, after all, how serpents navigated the world.

Unlike a serpent, Queen Sersha didn’t know when to strike hard. Today’s efforts at torture were unimpressive. There were a thousand better ways to torment someone. The unimaginative queen was trying to break me as one might try to break a horse–with a stern voice and a riding crop.

As if.

My biggest complaints had nothing to do with her direct hits. The skin at my wrists burned from the iron shackles, the ferric bonds weakening me to near exhaustion. There was an ache in my arms, the result of being chained to the large metal grommet above my head.

One of my shoulder sockets was hovering on the edge of dislocation. Though, this could probably be attributed to an injury from childhood that occurred well before I’d acquired the substantial healing abilities most species of Others achieved in adulthood.

At least I’d been smart enough to conserve some energy by kneeling during this morning’s little visit. I think Sersha preferred me on my knees, anyway. This way she could pretend I was bowing at her feet. Conveniently, it also made it easier for her to reach my face, something she seemed fixated on today.

The riding crop smacked lightly against her palm, in tandem with her unhurried steps. It wasn’t the worst of the Fae Queen’s tools, but it seemed to be her favorite.

It was a lot like Sersha. Precise. Mordant. Unable to finish the job on its own. I almost chuckled at the thought.

“Must you be so difficult?” she whined sullenly. “Lying with him is no hardship, I can assure you.”

Disgusting.

Mutely, I watched Sersha move around the empty chamber twirling the black leather instrument in her elegant hands, looking every bit the queen she was. Ruler of the Faelands. A descendant of royal bloodlines who carried her frame with poise and grace, fluid as a viper.

I’d seen Fae of both sexes throw themselves at her feet. The covetous eyes of the members of her court watched intently whenever she was near. She loved every second of their attention as much as she loved calling out those who did not meet her standard of envious regard.

I hated her.

I hated the gorgeous mane of red hair cascading down her back. Hated the way her hand-sewn gowns always hugged her thin, perfect figure. Hated how her dark green eyes shrewdly assessed, calculating how far she would have to push before I broke.

Sersha was so much worse than my father had said. She was an imposter, wearing her beauty like a cloak to hide the ugliness underneath.

A true queen would love her subjects, not tolerate their existence. Not play with their lives. Not steal them away from the kitchens solely because she’d taken note of the looks they’d received from her consort–one who likely had a roaming eye because his Queen hadn’t respected him enough to name him as her King.

I wished I’d never left Father and Kol, even though I’d hated that farm. No, that wasn’t right. I hated watching a male of worth live with the ghost of that shrew who was my mother. Still, I wished I had stayed.

Sersha sighed. “Is it money you desire? Land? A job to get you out of the kitchens? I can give you all three.”

My head shook, insulted. How many of her new pets took her up on such offers? Were the Fae who resided here really so easy to break?  I didn’t come to Ansley Keep to find wealth, much less humor this lunatic.

I’d only wanted to earn my place somewhere, to experience what life was like outside of our remote homestead. My dreams pushed me out of the nest, teasing me with hope there was something out there waiting for me to claim it. Something that was mine and mine alone.

Gut instinct brought me to Ansley Keep, and Father had preached my entire life to never ignore the little voice screaming from within. Confessedly, much to my own chagrin, I’d also been woefully curious about the Queen.

Because he loved me, and had taught me well, Father overcame his fear for my safety, of our legacy’s discovery, and let me go. We’d agreed a lowly job in the kitchens would keep me out of Sersha’s notice. If my spelling magic hadn’t been strong enough to mute the strength of my power, he’d have forced me to stay home.

What would my family think if they could see me like this, bound and kneeling in Sersha’s secret room? I could almost hear my Father’s lecture, reminding me that Ulriks did not get taken prisoner. He’d taught me better than to get caught a second time. When those males had stolen me away days after my tenth birthday, I’d had the excuse of youth and inexperience. At 25, I only had myself to blame.

If Father found out, he would do something foolish to save me, probably drag my twelve-year-old brother into it. Thank Hecate I’d had the sense to not share my past with anyone here. No one knew I was from Terek.

I’d gladly take my father’s lecture once I freed myself, something I needed to figure out soon. I should have figured a way out already. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been held prisoner before.

Unfortunately, dislocating my shoulder to wiggle free from my bonds wouldn’t work this time. I was never left alone when brought to this space. My cell, down in the lower levels, was virtually escape-proof, covered in iron and spelled by someone powerful. My best bet to get away was when they transported me to or from the Queen.

Or, preferably, if I could get Sersha to touch me. She was always careful, only coming close enough to strike with her weapon.  It was smart of her. I did have a few tricks up my sleeve, but in my weakened state, our skin would have to touch for me to use them.

As she paced in agitation, I allowed my eyes to roam. Maybe I’d missed something I could use to my advantage. The room was small and devoid of furniture aside from a single chair in the center. Two small window slits, too narrow to fit a body, lined the wall to my right. A variety of loops secured to the stone floors, walls, and ceilings, in various spots were used to secure prisoners.

That was it. No tools. No weapons rack. Nothing. This wasn’t the real torture chamber. It was the watered down version.

There was only one purpose to the room. It was where Sersha did her best to coerce her victims and mete out what she thought of as justifiable punishment when they didn’t bow to her whims. She got off on feeling like she had a hand in such things, as though she were the one breaking her captives’ spirits.

She wasn’t. The unbearable pain came courtesy of her minion, Dolan, deep in the bowels of Ansley Keep. The Queen didn’t have the stomach to do the real dirty work.

Sersha had yet to realize most of the servants knew of the room’s existence, just as they knew of what happened in the dungeon. They ran around with their heads down so as to never call attention to themselves. It was shameful to use fear as a way to control others.

Fingers snapped in triumph.

“Do you have a mate? Or are you under terms of a betrothal?” Sersha’s sing-song voice inquired, sounding like she’d stumbled upon the answer to the world’s greatest riddle. “I can assure you it won’t be an issue. Malcolm and I are nothing, if not discreet. Your male will never know.”

I hadn’t been sure my opinion of her could sink any lower. I’d been wrong.

“No,” I answered honestly. Most Fae could discern truth from lie, so there was no point in playing at any pretense. Plus, I wanted to make it clear my refusal came because it was my right to do so, not because I’d made a promise to some male. “I do not have a mate, nor am I living under the terms of a betrothal.”

“Then why?” she asked, clearly baffled by my continued refusal.

I didn’t answer this question. I never answered it. She should know why. If the Queen couldn’t grasp the concept of respecting fidelity between mated pairs, then she certainly wouldn’t understand why I would never allow my body to be used in such a way.

Sersha had asked this question at least a dozen times since taking me prisoner, weeks ago. I’d started to lose track of the days and I didn’t like not knowing exactly how long I’d been absent.

This was usually the point in our conversations where she’d call in her guard to choke me unconscious so he could move me back to my cell. It was the only way they could get my cooperation.

That first day, she’d said she would have done it herself but she didn’t want to risk getting blood on her new dress. Her words had been so adamant I wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. Sersha wasn’t the badass she so obviously wanted to be.

Though hidden, she had cracks. We all did. If I pressed, would she fall apart? Those who succumbed to emotions became careless. A careless Sersha might lead to a free Raven, and she was definitely more frustrated than normal today.

When she circled back around into my field of vision, I lifted my head defiantly. “Why would you want me to willingly lie with your mate?”

Something sparked in her eyes. Velvet-soft, she brushed the crop down the side of my neck and over my breast, then circled my exposed belly button, just under the edge of my torn shirt.

“You are unique, Raven. I’ve never seen Fae with eyes of violet.”

My eyes had likely been my downfall. I never glamoured them because it never held. Windows to the soul could not be dressed in a lie for long.

I’d erringly thought little of it after my arrival. Forest green may have been the primary eye color of most Fae, but it wasn’t a guaranteed outcome. There were variations within the gene pools. The Keep’s head cook had irises that were amber and at least two of the maids were blue. My own father’s had often been mistaken for violet when they held more magenta than anything.

Granted, Brokk Ulrik’s coloring was one of a kind. Most species of Other knew who he was on sight. When his enemies saw his purple-red orbs headed in their direction, they ran for their lives. Rightfully so.

I wondered what Queen Sersha would do if she saw him coming.

“Nor are you of the same build of a true Fae,” she continued.

The leather skated across the fabric of my top, then lightly tapped on the sides of each of my breasts. She liked to do this sometimes. It never hurt and it never felt sexual. It was merely odd. I thought she might be envious of my ample chest compared to her own diminutive bosom.

Most Fae females looked like Sersha, waif thin and dainty. Though I was petite in stature, I’d never been dainty and I refused to allow my body to hold onto the skinny physique of the Fae. I’d worked for years to build muscle tone, to gain physical strength. My mother had put me in the position where it had been necessary.

“Perhaps you are of mixed blood?” The last two words came out like she had a bad taste in her mouth.

I didn’t fall for the bait. I’d never tell her of my heritage. It would be too easy for her to track down my kin and attempt to use them against me.

“I see why he covets you. He would never act on it without my permission, of course. Malcolm has always been most loyal to me.”

“Then why push me towards him?” I threw back.

“Because he is loyal and I like to reward him for it. By denying himself what he wants, he will slowly grow obsessed. You will occupy his thoughts more and more, become a forbidden fruit, if you will. He would never take you against your will. But if I sent you to his bed, and you willingly went, he could slake his thirst and be done with it.”

“He’s your mate,” I stressed. It should have been explanation enough.

Sersha lifted one shoulder. “Don’t be so naive. Malcolm and I aren’t soulmates, and a soldier needs to be well-fed in all aspects of life to remain content. It’s worked before and it will work again.”

She’d pushed others into his bed before?

The leather tip dipped below my belly button, the first time she’d dared to go anywhere near there. Sickened by her antics, I jolted, halting her progression. Sersha took a few quick steps back. If she wanted a reaction, I’d inadvertently given her one.

I was done with this game. It was time to poke at the serpent’s nest.

“You want to feel like you have control over the situation, like you’re doing him a favor. No self-respecting female would ever tolerate her mate’s wandering eye–and she would never allow her mate to lay a finger on another. You’re pathetic.”

I spit again, as far as I could manage. It fell short, landing a palm’s width from the tip of her satin-covered toes. Sersha’s pale skin heated. Her green eyes glowed.

“Dolan!” she called.

The door opened and the echo of heavy feet thumped across the stone floor. “My lady.”

The large male loomed menacingly. Aside from his size and the color of his dark green irises, I had no idea what he looked like. He was dressed in the Queen’s royal guard attire of black leather pants and boots, blood red tunic, and a thick, dark brown vest stamped with the Fae Queen’s standard–a thorned red rose twined around the blade of a sword.

Unlike the other guards, he also constantly wore gloves and a black leather helmet. The head covering revealed only the eyes. Three small holes marked where his mouth should be. Surely it was hard to breathe inside such a thing.

“Take her back to her cell,” Sersha ordered. “I want her stripped and flogged. Use the rattan cane first. If she doesn’t cry after 40 lashes, switch to the cat o’nine.”

“Cry, my lady?”

“Yes, cry. Sob. Scream. Something!”

Dolan’s head turned to me, tilting. “How many lashes after I switch to the cat o’nine, my lady?”

I smirked. Dolan was smarter than he let on. Unlike his employer, he knew exactly how this would play out.

“As many as it takes.”

Dolan bowed then moved towards me, eyeing my throat. As his meaty hands cut off my oxygen, I held Sersha’s glare.

“I’ll break you, Raven. One way or another, I’ll break you,” she promised, her voice pitched with the notes of her rage.

You first, I mouthed, just as my body lost its fight.