Aimee Easterling's Blog, page 13

Writing tidbits from the retreat

In addition to pushing my social boundaries, the writing retreat I recently attended sent me home with a half-finished short story and lots of actionable authorial tips. I include the best of the latter here just in case you’re a writer as well as a reader. And if you don’t care for writing…maybe the pictures will float your boat.

One takeaway was using synesthesia to fuel your creativity. Writing about the colors of music or the grittiness of sounds rewires your brain to push out interesting ideas.

And try this — focus on sound echoes. Every three to eight syllables, use alliteration, near rhymes, or repeated vowels or consonants inside words to emphasize the words you want to stand out.

Another intriguing tidbit was that the flow state I’m so good at harnessing when writing is closely akin to the meditative state I can’t for the life of me achieve when sitting cross-legged on my yoga mat. Both are about focusing, and I highly recommend Heather Sellers‘ warmup techniques if you need help with the former.

There’s more to it, but she basically gets settled then sets a timer for three minutes, labels a sheet of paper from one to ten, picks a random word (like “sofa”), then jots down ten images chronologically spanning her life that relate to the prompt. If she gets stuck, she starts to spiral — literally — by drawing a spiral on the corner of the page, trying to make the lines as close together as possible without touching. By the time she’s made her list, her mind is clear and ready to write.

Heather also had several great tips for writing about difficult subject matter:

Go cold. Take out the explanation, summaries, description, observations, feelings, commentary, and analysis, leaving only dialogue and action on the page. This lets the reader add in their own emotions and keeps tough subject matter in line. (It’s also a great way to amp up tension in genre fiction — you know something bad’s going to happen if the writer goes cold!)
Go small. Select a specific moment you’ve never written about before and use that to represent a larger chain of events.
Create a beautiful container. Transform darkness into beauty using repetition, lists, and litany to relax the reader and help them feel safe.
Make all characters yearn for a good thing…even the antagonists. This turns the conflict into a fair fight and actually makes the reader identify more with the protagonist since they trust him to be telling the whole story.
Come in through a side door. Heather wrote an inspiring short story all about the bikes she’d ridden through the course of her life…which also showcased tidbits of the difficult childhood she was really trying to share.

Enough about writing…time to go write!

Wolf in Poet’s Clothing

Here’s what you need to know about me. I learned to read at four years old and have loved books ever since. I write werewolf novels for a living. And I haven’t taken an English class since twelfth grade.

Perhaps that’s why walking into a retreat center full of literary writers felt like willingly throwing myself to the wolves.

“Are you the off-site person?”

I turned, but didn’t really take in anything about the speaker. Instead, my eyes flitted from chatting poet to chatting poet, scanning for signs of danger. “Yes?” I managed, the word lilting upward into a question rather than an admission of fact.

“Your car’s on the golf-cart path…” the retreat-center manager started. But my apology was already erupting before her explanation of my transgression could work itself out.

“I’m so sorry…” Heart racing, cheeks heating, I patted my pockets in search of car keys. Or a protective clove of garlic. I wasn’t exactly sure which.

I knew I was risking ostracism by daring to come here. I knew I should have stayed home in my safe writing den.

Here’s what I didn’t know. After absolving me of all wrongdoing, the manager would stride onto the stage and speak with the same Appalachian lilt I have. She’d share a story shrouded in fog but lacking in poetry then enjoy an ovation so loud my ears would ring.

The poets in the audience would share food and words and boundary-pushing over the course of the weekend. Then we’d all come back together in this same auditorium, reading aloud the results of a closing writing prompt.

“What happened at the retreat was…I came terrified and left elated.”

“What happened at the retreat was…I was so anxious when I walked through the door I could barely breathe.”

“What happened at the retreat was…I didn’t think I’d fit in but did anyway.”

What happened at the retreat was, I embraced my two-natured literary skin.

Spring into a great new fantasy series

Has it really been over four months since I last regaled you with reading recommendations? Time to remedy that oversight!

I’ll start with a book so polished it shone. Unique world-building, a quality investigative thread, and great werewolves turn this into a must-read. Plus, at the time of this post, Dead in the Water is free with Kindle Unlimited. What’s not to like?

Next, if you’re willing to go back in time, this historical fantasy will likely hit all of your urban-fantasy buttons. There’s a delightful canal-boat-captain heroine — tough, lovable, and unique. Fascinating magic. Plenty of adventure. Basically, it’s the kind of book you open on a weekend and finish before doing anything else. Plus, Ferromancer is currently free on Kindle Unlimited!

A Darker Shade of Magic is closer to epic fantasy than anything else (although one of the three worlds involved could be our own). I really enjoyed the dimension hopping and the heroine who wants to be a pirate…but isn’t. The book itself is unfortunately pricey, but it’s probably available to borrow your local library.

Technically, you could say Seraphina is about dragon shifters. But the genre is actually young-adult romantic fantasy full of dense world-building and charming characterization that’s rounded out by a deep story and a slightly melancholy feel. Nonetheless, I recommend it wholeheartedly.

In contrast, Fantasy of Frost is firmly epic fantasy, but is written in such a manner that it feels like fast-paced, character-driven urban fantasy. This is another currently-free-with-Kindle-Unlimited selection and a series I suspect you’ll have to consume all in one go. (So much for that week…)

And, finally, how about one science-fiction series to cleanse your palate? Song of Scarabaeus has one of the hardest-to-spell titles around. (I think I got it right.) Between the extremely hooky setup, the vivid world-building, and the neverending action, though, I suspect even hard-core fantasy readers will consider this one worth a try.

And there you have it, the top 12% of the books I’ve consumed this season. How about you? If you’ve recently read something worth sharing, I hope you’ll comment on the embedded facebook post and let me know!

 

Huntress Unleashed, Chapter 3

If you missed the beginning, click here to start on chapter 1.

I really thought I was home free, key already in the door of my battered Toyota Corolla and mind three towns away. But I should have known any alpha worth her salt possessed a sixth sense that would alert her when an underling tried to carry purloined goods out of her territory unhindered.

“Wilder-Young!” Dakota called from three doors down. And maybe it was my guilty conscience or my inner wolf’s intuition, but I somehow knew she wasn’t hailing me to shoot the breeze.

Still, it would have looked suspicious to tear out of the parking lot without answering. So I left the bin of cupcakes balanced on the car’s metal roof and turned to face my employer. “Any luck?” I asked, referring to the lawbreaker she and a third of the pack had set out to capture earlier in the afternoon.

…Or, rather, to kill. Because Dakota licked what I’d previously assumed was red nail polish off one sharp fingernail in lieu of a reply, teeth glinting wickedly in the late afternoon light. “Plenty,” she answered at last. Then her eyebrows rose as she took in the bin of cupcakes only partially shielded by my head. “Are you sure Daddy Dearest would approve of you bringing sweets back to your fuck buddy?” she added, tone remaining emotionless and cool. “Perhaps I should call and make a report.”

In lieu of a response, I inhaled sharply through my nose, refusing to grace Dakota’s assessment of either relationship with a verbal reply. The poke at me and Wolfie rolled off my back like syrup over a hot pancake—if anything, it proved that my cover was still holding months later. But the jab at Sebastien….

So what if we aren’t mated the way shifters would be by now? I thought rebelliously. Yes, the professor and I were dating in a human manner that felt subtly wrong to my inner wolf. But Sebastien was human. It made sense to get to know each other in a human fashion before we chose to commit in a bond unbreakable even by death.

Or so I told myself every time doubts cascaded over my head, threatening to drown me in their dark, malodorous depths.

Only when I smelled sweet humor rolling off Dakota’s slender body did I realize I’d been played yet again. Dakota didn’t care who I was dating or whether I was dating. She just liked to see if twisting my metaphorical underwear would make me jump.

Once again, she’d goosed me precisely where it hurt.

Well, two could play at that game. “Yeah,” I responded as easily as I could, picking up the big round container I’d filled with presents for Sebastien then sliding into the driver’s seat with cupcakes in tow. “Some of us have a life outside of work. Speaking of which….”

I started easing the door shut between us, but Dakota was too fast for me. In the time it took to slip fingers into the door handle in preparation for a door-slamming escape, she’d swooped forward and snagged a cupcake right out from under the plastic lid

Only when the irregular line of frosting on the far side of the chosen pastry made jagged shadows against my employer’s incisors did I realize that I’d been right from the beginning—this supposedly chance meeting wasn’t random at all. “Don’t…” I started.

But I couldn’t think of a single excuse sufficient to wrench the pastry out from between Dakota’s fingers before her teeth crunched against the pills inside. And, sure enough, the sound of enamel pulverizing pre-powdered chemicals emerged from her mouth like the sharp crack of rabbit bones on a January night. Meanwhile, the air filled with the harsh haze of incipient fur.

Despite my best intentions to stand my ground, I cringed back into my vehicle, expecting a vicious tirade the like of which had left an underling bed-bound last week. But my boss didn’t flinch or spit the tablets out. Just chewed thoughtfully, swallowing drugs and cupcake as easily as if the pastry was oven perfect.

Her eyes didn’t dilate either. Three pills would have been excessive for anyone else’s body, but they didn’t impact my small-framed boss’s behavior in the slightest. Instead, Dakota moved as easily as ever when she dropped the rest of the cupcake to the pavement and ground it into mush beneath one booted foot.

“I told you I’d hook you up if you ever wanted any,” the other female told me, her voice just as sugary sweet as it had been a minute earlier. “Offer’s still open.”

Only then did her eyes narrow, the bloodthirsty wolf I knew was inside making itself evident at last. “But here’s the deal,” she added, enunciating carefully to overcome the lupine tendency to lisp. “Pharmaceutical improvements in this pack come only from me. You’re not irreplaceable, so don’t act like it.”

Then, warning concluded, Dakota yawned and dismissed me as easily as she’d threatened my life. “Have fun with your fuck buddy,” she finished, turning away without another word and disappearing back into the maze of buildings that housed her pack.

And even though she’d dismissed me after only a minor tongue lashing, I could barely fit the key into the ignition due to the shaking in my fingers. I’d failed yet again in my attempt to gather evidence for the Tribunal. Perhaps my task was simply impossible to achieve.

***

Still itching to hear from Sebastien? Our favorite professor shows up on the very next page. Nab Huntress Unleashed on the retailer of your choice and keep reading using the links below:

 

Huntress Unleashed, Chapter 2

Did you stumble across this page without reading chapter 1? If so, click here to start at the beginning of Huntress Unleashed.

Five months later…

I loaded the last dirty plate into the industrial-strength dishwasher and exhaled for what felt like the first time in five endless days. It was Friday at 4 pm. Dakota’s pack could catch their own dinner tonight—likely on the hoof, with no cleanup required—and leftovers would tide them over for the rest of the weekend. Which meant I could finally head out to my other life, the two days that made my current gig worthwhile.

“Hey, Ember, save me anything?”

Ryder’s shoulders were so wide that he had to turn slightly to pass through the doorway, and his face was scarred and pitted from the hard life of a member of the regional enforcer’s pack. Still, I smiled rather than cringed as he towered above me. This hard-edged shifter was a softy where it counted and he was always appreciative when I saved him a treat.

To that end, I bent to peer behind a stack of mixing bowls in search of the small tupperware container I’d hidden away from the ravening hordes who blew through the door in search of a snack two hours earlier. “Of course I did,” I told him, then waited as he cracked open the plastic lid to reveal the donut therein.

The scent of licorice and sugar made my nose crinkle in protest, but Ryder rolled the same air around in his mouth like a wine connoisseur. “My favorite,” he rumbled, breaking off a tiny piece between thumb and forefinger and nibbling at the tidbit with all the dignity of a debutante.

He was watching his waistline, he’d explained last month. So he preferred to make this one treat last for days rather than sucking it all down at once the way most wolves would have done. Despite everything—my human not-quite-mate three towns over, the perilous secrets I hid behind my easy-going smile, and my deep-seated aversion to the flavor of licorice—Ryder’s obvious appreciation of well-formed baked goods filled me with an abiding sense of satisfaction.

The zing of awareness as my patience paid off, though, was twice as sweet. “You still on the hunt?” Ryder asked after his Adam’s apple bobbed once to mark the passage of donut bite from mouth to rather flat stomach.

“For my brother?” I asked, heart lifting at the thought that Derek had resurfaced at long last. Because my gut told me that Dakota was the key to finding my missing sibling. And even though I was really here as a mole for my father, I kept hoping Derek might pass through the compound if I waited long enough….

But Ryder’s eyes slid sideways rather than meeting mine head on. “Naw,” he elaborated. “I meant—are you still looking for those pills?”

This time, it was my turn to raise my brows even as I breathed out a cautious “Yeah.” Because I could have understood Ryder coming to me with information regarding Derek’s sentencing. But the current change of tune felt like a trick.

After all, when I’d first asked Ryder about the drugs in question, he’d told me “No can do, pup.” The gift of a licorice-studded scone hadn’t softened his initial stance one bit, and I certainly hadn’t blamed him for the refusal. Not when Dakota doled out her pharmaceutical treats with ruthless efficiency, watching as avidly as any ER nurse to make sure the pills went down the gullet rather than being spit back out into waiting hands.

But perhaps there’d been a policy shift in the interim. Or maybe weekly licorice pastries had worked their magic in a cumulative fashion. Either way, I could barely believe my eyes as three white tablets clanked down onto the counter beside me, one nearly rolling away before it landed at last on its flattened side.

I reached out to nab them, but Ryder’s hand settled atop mine. “Careful, pup. This shit can really fuck you up,” he warned.

The haze of licorice and testosterone surrounding the words tickled my nose into a near-sneeze. But I squashed the urge and instead nodded vigorously, hoping a gestured reply would suffice since I wasn’t quite able to untangle my tongue.

Sure enough, acknowledgement was answer enough. Without another word, Dakota’s second-in-command picked back up his precious donut and ambled out of the kitchen, leaving behind contraband that would not only fuck me up but might actually get us both killed.

Good thing I had a tray of cupcakes on hand to cover up objects that shouldn’t have rightfully been in my possession. Poking a finger into the side of one pastry just beneath the line of frosting, I tucked the pills away in the handy hidey-hole then smoothed the icing back into place. Within seconds, the subterfuge was complete.

No one would have guessed that the pastry originally intended for my house mate was now sullied with illegal narcotics. No one except me and—soon, I hoped—my patiently waiting father.

Click here to head to chapter three in my next post, or download your own copy on the retailer of your choice.

 

Huntress Unleashed, Chapter 1 Scene 2

Did you miss the first scene? If so, click here to start at the beginning.

Only, of course, it wasn’t. For several seconds, every ounce of concentration I could muster focused upon forcing my lungs to billow and oxygenate my blood. But, at last, I was able to glance at the Tribunal member out of the corner of one eye and consider telling him that his grasp on reality was severely cockeyed.

“With all due respect, sir,” I answered, keeping my eyes carefully lowered so as not to provoke Chamberlain’s ire further, “if you were able to keep Dakota in line, you wouldn’t need me to help you.”

I didn’t expect the Tribunal member to like my answer—no dominant shifter likes to have his weaknesses thrown in his face. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of his reaction either.

Because before the final word had even left my mouth, Chamberlain’s inner wolf was growling so violently that it drowned out my assertion. Then the stubble on his chin stretched into proto-fur even as his manicured fingernails began lengthening into vicious claws.

Backing away as subtly as I could manage while still maintaining my seat, I decided that I hadn’t broached the subject in the best way after all. We all knew that the balance of power in the region was shaky, that we couldn’t afford risking civil war when one Tribunal member unilaterally squashed the actions of a regional enforcer. Thousands of lives rested in the balance, and Chamberlain was taking a risk even coming to speak with us today.

So, yes, Scary Guy had reason for his hair trigger. Maybe I should have let him maintain a foothold on his fantasy world for just a little while longer….

Luckily, Wolfie was no pissant and our father-daughter bond was fierce. “Back off,” he hissed, rising slightly to tower over the other male. And even though shifter protocol gave Scary Guy the higher rank, Dad’s boldness paid off.

Or maybe Chamberlain just remembered that he was the one asking for a favor this time around. It wasn’t as though there were other innocuous werewolf bakers waiting in the wings ready and willing to take my place.

Either way, the other male subsided gracefully, his aura of danger receding so dramatically that I was finally able to pry my eyeballs off the table and risk another fleeting glance in his general direction. “My mistake,” Chamberlain murmured, the words only moderately laden with a promise to rip my skin from the underlying bones in the near future.

“No offense taken,” I murmured, doing my best to defuse the aggression that inevitably arose when two strong males from different packs were cooped up within the same small room.

Dad was less politic. “So we’re all in agreement,” he summed up. “Ember is willing to infiltrate the pack and find out where the drugs are coming from. Her human partner will be brought in to analyze the chemical composition and determine what can be done to counteract them. But the whole strategy falls apart if Dakota won’t even let my daughter through the door in the first place.”

“So we sweeten the pot,” Scary Guy answered, his tone raising hairs all up and down my arms even though his words were perfectly cordial. “You’re a worried papa who needs Dakota to keep his wayward pup out of trouble with an easy job. And in exchange…”

I sighed, realizing at last what would make the other female willing to deal. “…and in exchange, you give Dakota the acknowledgement she craves. She becomes my alpha, my boss, my handler. Tell her you need the shifter equivalent of boot camp to shape me up. In other words, we let her win.”

And after that, it would all be up to me.

Want to keep reading? Stay tuned for the next chapter in tomorrow’s post….

Huntress Unleashed, Chapter 1 Scene 1

The grand finale of the Wolf Legacy series is now available and I’m about to regale you with the beginning below. But this has spoilers for the entire rest of the series! So if you haven’t read the other three books, I highly recommend you start with Huntress Born and work your way through in order. Enjoy!

***

“I can’t, Dad.”

“You can, Buttercup.”

Across the gleaming conference table, the room’s third occupant cleared this throat, the electricity of an annoyed and extremely powerful shifter permeating the air. But Wolfie and I both ignored our audience, leaning closer in a father-daughter noggin knock we’d perfected when I was a mere pup.

“I’m not saying I won’t try,” I elaborated for both of their sakes. “I will, of course. But Dakota will never let me onto her property, let alone into her pack.”

After all, the female in question was my precise opposite. Left to my own devices, I spent most of my time baking goodies to cheer up friends and family. In contrast, Dakota had been responsible for my cousin’s death, had slaughtered an entire compound of humans, and had taken my only brother into custody where he disappeared without a trace…all within the same week.

Unbeknownst to me, she’d also started selling large quantities of never-before-seen pharmaceuticals to dozens of innocent shifters around the same time period. As the region’s enforcer—the one in charge of making the rules, not breaking them—she might have gotten away with the trick, too…if she hadn’t spread out her net to include the clan I used to call my own.

For an alpha like Wolfie who lived by his duty to protect, finding out that two of his pack mates had become hooked on empathy-squashing medications must have been a punch to the gut. For the other male in the room, who was legally responsible for Dakota’s actions, the female’s power-hungry manipulations came as an even more personal affront.

So this time, it wasn’t just our obliviousness to his presence that brought our companion’s wolf into existence as a shadow beneath his human skin. Instinctively, I ducked my chin down tighter to keep my jugular inside my throat where it belonged. Only then did I close my eyes in total submission, hoping that what I couldn’t see wouldn’t kill me.

Dad wasn’t oblivious to the danger. Still, the entirety of his interest remained fixated upon his only daughter—which is to say, me. “You’ve been through enough already, Ember,” he said, offering me a way out while ignoring the quivering ball of rage at his elbow. “I know this. You know this. If you want to come home and let someone else solve this problem, no one will think any worse of you….”

Wolfie’s voice trailed off hopefully, but I merely pursed my lips and shook my head. No, I couldn’t leave Sebastien’s side, even if the professor didn’t want me present. And I also couldn’t let someone with fewer connections infiltrate Dakota’s pack, only to sit back and watch as the luckless spy failed at her unenviable mission.

The fact that I’d be forced to deal with overbearing alphas like the third inhabitant of the room during the course of my spying was irrelevant.

“I’ll do it,” I repeated when both males seemed to be waiting for a verbal reply. “The only problem is—Dakota and I have history. If I apply for a job with her pack, she’ll laugh in my face then boot me out the door.”

True or not, my words were apparently not what Albert Chamberlain wanted to hear. I’d learned the Tribunal member’s name when Dad introduced us at the beginning of this negotiation, but as the pall of dominance that had been pressing against my cheeks for the last several minutes darkened and deepened, I stuck to the initial assessment I’d made when meeting the older male via video chat two weeks earlier.

His name might be Chamberlain, but to me he would always be Scary Guy.

Now, my shoulders creaked beneath overwhelming pressure as the male spat out words intended to bring our discussion to an abrupt close. “Dakota will welcome you if I tell her to,” Scary Guy retorted. And that, he figured was that.

Want to keep reading? Stay tuned for more in tomorrow’s post. And in the meantime, maybe you’d like to spread the love with a share?

 

Macaroni Dreams

Having trouble waiting for Huntress Unleashed? I promise to regale you with the first few chapters next week. But in the interim, perhaps you’d like to learn a bit more about Sebastien?

Spoiler alert! This is set between books three and four, so probably best to read the first three books in the series first.

***

The Neighborhood.

As a child, Sebastien had always thought of the word as a proper noun. Capitalized. Unique. Unalterable.

Now, as his slick new vehicle cruised down grungy city streets, he realized this wasn’t “The Neighborhood.” It was merely “a neighborhood.” A place where hundreds of children lived the exact same lives of squalid desperation he’d extricated himself from eleven years earlier. All it had taken was calling in a hard-earned debt and faking his own death to claw free of a chrysalis that had nearly strangled him alive.

“So this is it?”

Glancing sideways at the speaker, Sebastien couldn’t help smiling despite the dark thoughts catalyzed by this return to old stomping grounds. Before Ember had insinuated herself into his life, he’d never seen a reason to return to the pit of drugs, guns, and treachery that had spawned him. But his partner believed in family and heritage. She’d asked endless questions about the Neighborhood, had begged to be shown around his childhood home and introduced to his estranged mother.

Little did this sleek, well-brought-up woman know what a mother from the Neighborhood was really like.

“Yep. We’re here,” Sebastien answered, pulling up to the curb and securing the parking brake with more force than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust the transmission to keep his car in place. Nor did he think the boys lounging on the corner would go after his ride—not after he’d flashed a gun and a curled-lip glare upon arrival.

Some survival instincts never grew stale.

No, he’d simply yanked up on the handle and listened to the creak of protesting gears to remind himself of the past. This was where he’d lost his childhood. From ages 0 to 18, this was where Sebastien had been parked.

***

There was no lock to stop residents, visitors, or random strangers from walking up the dark stairs of the tenement building. Which wasn’t to say the path was entirely hazard-free. A crunch of plastic splintered beneath Sebastien’s heel on step three and his hand jerked away from the railing further up after coming in contact with a slick stream of liquid. He’d promised not to kid himself about the reality of his former habitation, but he still chose to believe the slime was merely air-conditioner condensation rather than bodily fluids related to the used condom kicked against one wall.

Meanwhile, his unsullied hand tightened around Ember’s fingers. It was too much to hope that his girlfriend would overlook these signs of hard living. After all, she was a werewolf possessing stronger than average eyes and nose.

But she didn’t comment as they neared the third floor. Just asked: “Did you live here when you were a pup?”

“This very place,” Sebastien answered, trying not to remember the past as he led the woman he hoped would be his future down a narrow hallway toward his mother’s door. And, strangely, good memories bubbled up out of his cortex while feet traversed worn carpet. How had he forgotten dozens of sunlit afternoons spent stacking blocks by the window with the Hailey twins, how much fun they’d had rolling found marbles down the stairs onto the heads of unsuspecting passersby?

Adult memory had focused only on the twins’ unsavory reason for being ejected from their mother’s apartment in the first place. But now Sebastien recalled his childish envy of the next-door matriarch, who was industriously prostituting herself for the sake of her family rather than thrusting her offspring onto the landing so she could nurse a hangover in silence. His young friends had never gone to bed with faces bruised and bellies grumbling. Their mother welcomed them home at the end of her irregular shifts with open arms.

Now, as Sebastien paused in front of number 46, he heard where that love had taken his compatriots. A groan, a murmur, a forced giggle that didn’t really ring true. The happy Hailey twins had chosen to continue the family tradition, two smart and kind women stuck here in the Neighborhood while children of their own likely angled toward the same trajectory within the next few years.

In contrast, his own mother’s hatefulness had been the impetus Sebastien needed to flee his birthplace with no more than a college scholarship and an uncertain future to fall back upon. So maybe, in the long run, he hadn’t been so unlucky in being raised by Linda. Perhaps he’d won the parental lottery after all.

“Here?” Ember asked, brows rising as she interrupted his analysis of destiny past. Shifter senses would magnify the tiny gasps and vague tang of sex emanating from the other side of the thin wall, and Sebastien could only guess at the result. Could guess that Ember would catch every murmur of feigned passion, would smell the sweat and semen oozing onto dirty sheets….

Cheeks heating, he pulled the best thing that had ever happened to him a little further down the hall. Number 44—the spot where internet research suggested his mother still lived.

“No, here,” he answered. Then, forcing his hand to rise before he lost the last of his courage, he pounded loudly on the door.

***

“Who are you?”

Even at twenty, his mother had been no beauty. Now, having crested the hill of forty and started coasting down the opposite side, Sebastien barely recognized his sole parent behind the wrinkles and bloodshot eyes.

She, apparently, didn’t recognize him at all.

“The sluts are next door,” Linda continued, apparently having missed Ember’s presence in the patch of darkness where the hall light had burned out. Why exactly had he thought it was a good idea to put on a new suit and polished shoes for this first meeting with his mother in over a decade? To don clothes no one in the Neighborhood would have been caught dead in…unless, of course, they were strangers literally caught dead in a darkened alley after losing both wallet and life to thieving teenage riffraff.

Oh, right. Because he’d harbored some childish illusion that Linda would welcome him with open arms and be proud of how far he’d come. That she might take his picture and slip it into her wallet or paste it onto the fridge.

Knowing the joke was on him, Sebastien barely managed to slip his foot into the crack before the door could slam shut in his face. “Just a minute,” he told her, wincing as he recalled using those exact same words many years earlier in previous bouts of dewy-eyed optimism. It was understandable that his kindergarten self had hoped his mother would be proud of his hand-print turkey or macaroni collage. Less understandable why he was once again waiting for a different reaction than he’d gotten two decades before.

“What?” Linda demanded, her slurred reaction exactly the same as it had been when he begged for her attention as a child. But she didn’t struggle to press the door the rest of the way closed when he failed to respond verbally. Instead, his mother paused and leaned in closer until the scent of cheap booze made Sebastien’s breath catch in protest.

“Do I know you?” his mother demanded when Sebastien failed to elaborate upon his request. Her eyes were clearer than they’d been a moment earlier. And this time she did reach out, fingering the rich fabric of his bespoke suit.

“I’m so proud of you,” she could have said. “The clothes make the man.”

Only, the words that actually came out of her mouth were very different. “You can come in here if they’re busy next door.” And she rubbed up against his taller body with curves that still had the potential to sway a male libido…or would have, if the mark in question hadn’t been her son.

So that’s where I got it from. As Sebastien watched himself turn into a dollar sign in Linda’s eyes, he realized that his youthful ability to con soccer moms out of lunch money and sway teachers into failing to report unexcused absences had been a trait learned at his mother’s knee.

Was his adult job as a research psychologist merely Sebastien’s own way of carrying on the family tradition? Not so different from the Hailey twins after all….

If Linda had been lucid enough to understand the story, she might have found the comparison ironic. Or she might just pretend to find it ironic while bilking me of everything I own, Sebastien thought wryly as he pulled his foot out of the now wide-open door.

Coming here had been a mistake, and there was no reason to compound that error by stating his name and purpose. Sliding one arm around Ember’s shoulder to pull her in for a protective squeeze, Sebastien walked back down the hallway in the direction from which he’d come.

“Wrong door,” he called back without bothering to turn and watch the greed in his mother’s eyes fade into disappointment. “My mistake.”

***

“I’m sorry I asked,” Ember murmured as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. She’d been unaccountably silent ever since entering the Neighborhood, which Sebastien had initially taken for shock at surroundings that would have been anathema to someone raised in a nurturing werewolf pack. Only now did he realize that his soft-hearted girlfriend was beating herself up for suggesting such an ill-fated outing in the first place.

Little did Ember realize how freeing it was to relinquish a macaroni dream that never had a chance in hell of working out.

“I’m not sorry,” Sebastien countered, reaching forward to open the front door so Ember could precede him into the outdoors. And as she slipped into light and out of darkness, he realized that he’d been shockingly, abysmally wrong when he’d claimed that he had no family worth speaking of.

Because family was what you made of it. And if this pastry-baking werewolf held his hand, fought at his back, and laughed at his foibles, she was his family in every way that counted.

How could he have missed how wealthy he’d recently become?

***

Be the first to read Ember and Sebastien’s final adventure by preordering on any of the retailers below:

 

“What should I read once I’ve read all your books?”

 

So, you’ve read all of my books already. What should you try next?

One way to look at this is using a tool like yasiv.com that shows how readers have branched out from my titles into other urban fantasy or paranormal romance novels. I’ll let you play with that tool yourself if you haven’t already.

This post is intended to be more like the librarian who notices that you read in five different genres but that every time you come scurrying back with flushed cheeks and a sparkle in your eyes, the book you’re returning contains a thief, a rottweiler, and three passenger pigeons. So, without further ado, genre-unspecific books that will (hopefully) leave you with a similar glow….

Patricia Briggs is the classic by which all other werewolf-related urban-fantasy series are measured. If you like my books, you’ll love hers, especially the Mercy Thompson series about a coyote-shifter VW-mechanic making her way within the territory of a bunch of overbearing werewolves.

Next up, T.S. Joyce’s books are pure romance rather than being heavy on the adventure. But there are shifters and wounded heroines who grow into their true strength and plenty of feel-good happily ever afters. My favorite is the Wolf Bride series, set in the Wild West…but with werewolves.

Ilona Andrews is another obvious recommend since her books involve shifters and adventure and hints of romance. But I’ll go out on a limb here and send you toward the Innkeeper Chronicles rather than toward her more mainstream books. This self-published series has a strong but nurturing protagonist who creates the feel of a werewolf pack even though she’s not part of one.

While I’m on the topic of really awesome urban fantasy, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Nice Dragons Finish Last, about which the title really says it all….

…and Ill Wind by Rachel Caine, which mixes djinns and wind magic to very good effect.

Moving on to second-world fantasy, I suspect even urban-fantasy-only fans will enjoy Balanced on the Blade’s Edge by Lindsay Buroker. The author has such a straightforward, adventurous story-telling style that you definitely won’t get bogged down in irrelevant world-building details and will stay up way too late reading.

And if you like that, A Promise of Fire by Amanda Bouchet is bound to float your boat. This is swashbuckling fantasy at its best, with some romance and plenty of magic. A definite favorite!

I’m going out a bit further on a limb here recommending A Brother’s Price by Wen Spencer. This fantasy novel isn’t for everyone, but I have a feeling it’ll appeal to those of you who enjoy seeing how the imbalances of power within a werewolf pack — or, in this case, within a matriarchal society — create all kinds of room for interesting character growth.

I saved myself two slots for books in genres you might not have considered but that I simply can’t finish this post without recommending. I’ll start with steampunk, which people seem to either love or hate. I couldn’t narrow my recommendation here down to one book, though, so I’ll write three titles really fast and see if maybe you won’t notice: Etiquette & Espionage by Gail Carriger, Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare, and Lady of Devices by Shelley Adina. Phew! There, that really only counts as one recommendation, right?

Which leaves me room for one more completely outside-the-box suggestion. How about Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen? This book does lean more toward literary fiction, but the subtle magic in the real world completely sucked me in. Like the plant equivalent of Chocolat. Enjoy!

Sebastien’s favorite chocolate cookies

Sebastien is a bit of a dark horse through much of the Wolf Legacy series. He has interesting tics and traits that speak to a shadowed past…and he’s not very willing to share those intimate details with the general public. I tried to interview him earlier to give my loyal readers insight into into his past, but all Sebastien provided was this recipe for his favorite cookies.

The final product is melty and caky, halfway between a brownie and a cake doughnut. And, I have to admit, after I scarfed down several, I forgot to keep bugging my favorite psychology professor for more information about his past. I hope they fill in the gap for you as well!

Ingredients:

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup cocoa
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup dark chocolate chips
1 egg
1 tablespoon of vanilla
1/4 cup or so of powdered sugar

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

Next, mix the flour, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, and salt together in a food processor by whirring briefly. Add the butter and chocolate chips and process a little longer until the solid ingredients have been broken up into small pieces. Add the egg and vanilla and process again until well mixed.

Now you’re ready to form your cookie balls. In the summer, you may need to put the dough in the fridge for half an hour or so first. But I’ve found that in a cool winter kitchen you can dive right into this step.

First, pour some powdered sugar out onto a plate or into a wide bowl. Break off a small amount of dough — you’ll be making twenty of these, so estimate accordingly — and roll it into a ball. Dredge the ball in powdered sugar, then roll it around between both hands until it’s a well-shaped sphere. Lay the cookie on an ungreased cookie sheet and repeat until you’ve made all twenty balls.

Place the sheet in the middle of a preheated oven and bake for about 8 minutes until the balls have poofed and cracked but are still soft in the middle. (A knife would not come out clean.) Then remove them from the oven and let cool for fifteen minutes. Enjoy!

Sebastien likes to snack on these melty balls of chocolate goodness while analyzing data in his lab. Even if you don’t have data to analyze, I’ll bet they’ll hit the spot!