I’ve got a massive backlist out there, but I’m focusing mostly on my indie releases now, which a lot of my readers haven’t heard of yet. So we’re going to be putting up excerpts of the indie work I’ve done—both full length and short collections, each Wednesday, to encourage you to give my new work a try.
Today’s excerpt comes from BEWITCHING BEDLAM
Bewitching Bedlam Buy Links:
KINDLE: https://goo.gl/uVs4nL
NOOK: https://goo.gl/KRVO6C
KOBO: https://goo.gl/jkdJp4
iTUNES: https://goo.gl/9NbHfV
PRINT: https://goo.gl/jSkRXD
Franny peeked around the corner of the door to my bedroom. I’d warded heavily so she could only get in if there was an emergency, and she knew better than fake one.
“Your friend is here. The blond.” She sniffed, affecting a long-suffering tone.
“You don’t like Aegis because he’s a vampire. What the hell is wrong with Sandy?”
“She’s not very lady-like.”
“Neither am I. Go bother Bubba. He’s always up for a good spar.” I shooed her away. Then, wrapping a silver and black shawl around my shoulders, I headed downstairs.
Franny was nowhere to be seen, but Sandy was petting Bubba, taking care to steer clear of his belly. Cjinns were sneaky. While they were all cat on the outside, in their heart and soul they were djinns and they granted wishes based on belly-rubs and how persnickety their mood was.
A happy and purring cjinn? Might be magnanimous. An irritated cjinn would twist your words into the worst possible meaning. Trouble was, they could read emotions and—I suspected—thoughts, to a degree. If you offhandedly were talking to a friend while petting a cjinn’s belly and you happened to say, “I wish I had a million bucks,” you might very well find yourself the owner of a very large herd of elk. Mostly, it was safest to avoid the stomach area, especially when Bubba offered his fuzzy tum-tum up for adoration.