At long last...Angie Faust!

I've been loving Urban Fantasy...

too long to stop now.

So I've finally written a straight-up Urban Fantasy, complete with a kick-ass heroine, a cover to die for from the incredible Ravenborn, and lots of quirky explanations for things I've always wondered about.

Is fiction stranger than truth? Here's more about Angie Faust:

The day she killed her boss...

Everything changed.

She never laid a hand on him to take his life. She didn’t have to.

As her boss lies on the floor with a dozen witnesses staring and paramedics working in a futile effort to save him, a mysterious stranger approaches Angie with a bizarre offer.

It’s a job with the ExtraTerrestrial Protection Agency, a secret organization. Can Angie trust a group whose very existence is ultra classified?

She has to decide in a hurry because her newly released power starts drawing attention from life-draining, telepathic Mindworms and alien scientists obsessed with abducting humans. Most terrifying of all she’s stalked by one of the most fearsome predators in the galaxy.

If you love Men in Black or Ilona Andrews’ Innkeeper Chronicles series, buckle up for a wild ride with Angie Faust in Cursing.

Get it now!

Discount Price--99 Cents till December 24

Spend the holidays on the Dragon Planet with a special discount on Billionaire Dragon's Secretary!

Billionaire Dragon's Secretary

Meet Jill, kidnapped by a lying, cheating dragonshifter and stuck on the Dragon Planet, she only wants to earn enough to pay for a ticket back to Earth, but her billionaire dragon boss sets her senses on fire and he’s trying to give her every reason to stay. Targon, “the Gold Whisperer,” fiercely guards his heart and his hoard until his new secretary, Jill arrives. Instantly he recognizes her as his True Mate. How can a dragonshifter convince an angry Earth woman to trust him when he doesn’t trust himself?

Praise for the Dragon Planet romances:

Runaway Dragonette

Can a human computer nerd defeat fire-breathing dragonshifters to win a dragon princess?

“This book was so much fun to read!” Maia Silverdagger

Bachelor Dragon Blues

Jevrath, a Dragon Planet war hero doesn’t know that spy bots invaded his wound and threaten his life. Beth dreams of working to save endangered species. Can an Earth woman’s love save a dragonshifter from the ticking time bomb inside?

“Reading this book made me happy in a totally non-serious, completely refreshing way. Caseystatlefox on Amazon

Valkyrie on Planet Fury arrives January 21st!

I'm planning to release Valkyrie on Planet Fury, the sequel to Gravitas in both Kindle and paperback form on Thursday, January 21st.

Kindle available for Pre-order now

Here's a small taste of the book:

Chapter 1 – In the House of Darkness

I held the hand of the man I loved as we stood before the thrones of the Furies in the House of Darkness. Josu and I might not survive the next few minutes. Assassination is both an art form and a popular sport on Planet Fury.

The room stretched off into shadows. The Furies had state-of-the-art weaponry, but the approach to their thrones was lit by flames burning in braziers on tripods. The Furies sat on a raised dais at the end of the cavernous room. Everyone else stood.

The black, red and green thrones matched the Furies’ robes, but the snakes drew every eye. My own red hair was secured in a simple braid. The Furies’ jet black hair was woven into a gleaming nest for the snakes to crawl through.

When the Furies visited Earth thousands of years ago, humans reported that their hair was entirely made of snakes and their terrifying faces turned anyone who looked at them to stone. Josu I hadn’t turned to stone. But it was hard not to freeze like a petrified bunny and stare at the constantly shifting reptiles. Rumor had it that the Furies even more dangerous relative, Medusa, did indeed kill anyone who gazed upon her face. I never wanted to meet her.

Judging by their furrowed brows and clenched lips, the Furies were angry. Well, they were always angry. Just some days more than others. This was a bad day.

Alecto, all in black, sitting on the black throne, addressed me. “We killed for you not long ago. We rescued both you and this one,” she indicated Josu, “from the clutches of attackers on Earth. You did not request, nor were you entitled to our protection.”

“We are grateful for your help,” I threw in an “Honored Godmother.” I probably got the title wrong. The rulers of Planet Fury were always addressed with exquisite politeness as the Godmothers. No one dared to offend them.

I squeezed Josu’s hand for comfort. He squeezed back. In that moment I sensed that another man somewhere in this room was snared by my Gravitas. Impossible. Any man who made skin-to-skin contact would be instantly addicted to the powerful aphrodisiac all Valkyrian women secrete. The only man I had touched since arriving on the planet was my own mate, Josu.

Males on Planet Fury are nearly as fierce as the women. For everyone’s safety, they live in separate quarters and come together for controlled recreation and sacred reproduction. Furian males are governed by the Men’s Auxiliary Forces, or MAF, also known as the Godfathers.

The only Furian men that I could see in the room were the Godfathers and their armed honor guards who stood in ranks on either side of the thrones. None of them had come close enough to touch me. Yet every one of my senses was on high alert. I sensed that a man addicted to Gravitas was in the room. He just had not revealed himself. Yet.

Men snared by Gravitas cannot be trusted. Driven by uncontrollable urges, they have been known to kill to feed their appetite.

A few hours earlier, my primary worry had been dealing with the three husbands I married during Josu’s absence.

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Fat Activism in One Volume: A Review of Fat Activism

From Body Impolitic, courtesy of Laurie Edison and Debbie Notkin: Fat Activism: A Radical Social Movement by Dr. Charlotte Cooper is being published today, January 4, 2016! In honor of this important publication, Laurie and Debbie, who usually greet the new year with a post of their own, are delighted to publish Lynne Murray’s review today.

Lynne Murray says:

This book addresses many issues that I personally have struggled with for 30 years of trying to live a fat activist life. Such as, why does each new generation of fat activists seem to have to reinvent the wheel?

True, in 2016 the internet provides a treasure trove of resources for those who search. But you have to know a thing exists before you can even start to look for it. Many people who desperately need fat positive information, inspiration and supportive communities will not even have an idea of what they are missing.

This is part of what inspired Dr. Cooper to write her book:

I was interested in how fat activist histories might be transmitted through communities because I was dismayed by how little fat activists seemed to know about the movement of which they were a part. I also felt that fat activism is under-documented and wanted to create a paper trail for others to use. More on Body Impolitic

Where to find Prizes Next Week & from At Large...the wandering murder weapon

Next week check out Zetta Brown's The Full-Bodied Book Blog for "A Tribute to Pearlsong Press: Healing the World, One Book at a Time." My own contribution on Wednesday June 13: Watching Our Language what not to do if you write about characters that are “large and in charge” if you want to keep your reader’s respect.

There will be free book prizes and surprises!

Now, here's the weekendly excerpt from At Large, soon to be published for the first time in ebook form by Pearlsong Press, Josephine Fuller discovers the body of Francesca Etheridge, the woman who broke up her marriage. The police grill Jo about an ice, missing from the murder victim's climbing gear. Back in her apartment Jo decides to put her nervous energy to work:

Finding Francesca like that had riled me up so that I couldn't sit still. It was impossible to return to sorting things. I decided to take some of the boxes of Nina's things down to the basement and bring up some of my things that had been sitting patiently for years waiting for me to settle down. A little heavy lifting would probably calm my nerves, or at the very least exhaust me so I could collapse.

The storage room occupied the end of the building, and took some space away from Mulligan's apartment and Maxine's daughter Hope's apartment which faced it across the hall. As I came down the stairs into the basement, I could hear Groucho, the macaw, warming up with some preparatory shrill cries. It must be intolerable when he let loose a major shriek in Hope's small, windowless apartment.

I put the boxes down and opened the storage room door, feeling around for the string that would turn on the overhead light bulb. The room was crowded with some furniture that Nina had stored there. A table and three stacked chairs pressed up against the stacks of boxes that held all my earthly possessions. Nina had kindly stored them for me, at first when I was following Griff around the world and lately since I'd been traveling on the job for Mrs. Madrone.

An oddly angled shadow sprang into view when the light bulb went on. I realized with a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach what it was. The cardboard packing box just inside my door had my name in black felt marker with the word "BOOKS" below it. An ice axe, its leather harness trailing, was embedded in the front of the box right below the label, its claw end half buried in the corrugated cardboard, and a thin layer of dried blood coating the edges of the point of penetration.

From At Large--Bad News on the Home Front

From At Large, Josephine goes home after a rough day at the Women's Job Skills Center. Looking for her straying cat, she knocks on the building manager’s door.

Maxine answered the door. She was a short, full-breasted woman in her sixties with wildly cut gray hair. Today she wore a mauve sweat suit and hoop earrings.

"Hi, Jo. You're back early."

"I finished up. Thought I'd come home. Where's the bird? He's awfully quiet. Is he okay?" Groucho, her green Military Macaw had a shriek that could be heard blocks away and he usually made some sort of preparatory shrieks when he saw that Maxine's attention was focused into the hallway, rather than on him where it properly belonged.

I blinked in surprise when a face popped up behind her shoulder. A man squeezed up behind Maxine and wrapped his arm around her substantial middle so that her breasts flowed over his forearm, nearly but not quite covering the crude tattoo that snaked up from his wrist to curl around his elbow. Without meaning to, I took a step backward into the hall.

"I've been threatening to put him on a spit for dinner, but Maxine won't let me. Her daughter took him down to her place, the noise was driving me apeshit," the man said with a gravelly voice. "Don't worry—Bird lives!

"Can you believe I've hooked up with a literate jazz buff?" Maxine said in tones more appropriate for baby talk.

"Hope took in Groucho?" I said in disbelief.

"Oh, she was glad to take him." Maxine's new friend grinned broadly. "She hustled that cage outta here in ten minutes flat, once I told her I liked him a lot and I'd like him even better fried with biscuits and gravy."

Meeting the "Other Woman" in the Worst Possible Way

From At Large, Josephine goes to the apartment her ex-husband is sharing with the woman whom he left her for...but a stranger rushes out the door and calls out as she runs off, "Don't go in there! Call the cops, she's dead!"

I turned back to confront the polished stairs leading up into the townhouse. I took out my cell phone. The top autodial button was programmed for 911. I didn't press the button though. Instead, I kept it in my hand as I cautiously went up the stairs. Confronting me at the top of the stairway was a larger-than-life, beautifully framed print of a color photograph of Francesca. It dominated the entry. It was clearly Griff's work, and he had done her justice. It showed her hanging from a wall of sapphire ice, supported by two ice axes and the crampons attached to her boots. Her hair had been shorter in that picture, and the hood of her parka had fallen back a little to show a spiky halo around her determined face. The sun that illuminated the blue ice reflected in her blue eyes. She looked great. It was easy to see why Griff had fallen for her. She looked like a snow goddess—the petite version.

At the top of the stairs I saw a series of huge prints of Griff's pictures hanging along the back wall. Every one showed Francesca in climbing gear. From the massive peaks in the background, I guessed that these were taken during the early days of their relationship in Nepal.

The condo had high ceilings and hardwood floors. The cathedral effect was heightened by the sparse furniture, which gave the place a cavernous empty quality. The place seemed deserted except for the persistent buzz of a fly. The main room was blocked from view as you rounded the top of the stairs by a glass cabinet that must have been seven feet tall, filled with sports trophies and climbing memorabilia.

I went around the trophy display, and tripped over a black leather case that had been unceremoniously dropped at the edge. I went down sprawling on the hardwood floor, cursing myself for awkwardness. I lay for a second, assessing any damage, cringing in expectation of laughter and expecting to look up and see the petite and athletic Francesca sneering at my huge awkward self, complaining that I had scuffed the waxed floor.

Instead, cautiously getting to my feet, I saw a long oak table with a new canvas tarp half pulled off it, and what appeared to be a dummy, submerged in a welter of climber's gear—harnesses and rope, caribiners, crampons, pitons. I had never climbed a day in my life but I'd watched enough people pack and unpack their gear to easily commit it to memory. I didn't see any ice axes, although I saw the harness with the holster from which most climbers hung a couple of axes with their claw-like heads for climbing ice, the way Francesca had in that huge photo.

I went a little closer, puzzled. Mountaineers are usually very particular about their gear. After all, their lives depend on it. Someone had scattered Francesca's stacks of pitons like matchsticks. Her ropes were tangled into a spider's nest, hanging half off the table.

This was a cruel joke surely. I went a little closer, my steps echoing on the hardwood. The tarp had been partially pulled off the gleaming oak table. The climbing gear made a disorderly still life.

My stomach lurched when I realized that the totally still figure at the center of the disorder was no dummy. Francesca Etheridge, a rope around her neck, her red face distorted, lay among her gear, one of her ice axes planted in the soft base of her throat. The bloodied rips and tears in her thermal undershirt showed where she had been hacked before dying. She was clearly lifeless. The blood long clotted. Twisted where she had fallen like a broken doll, her arms were trapped by the ropes and frozen at an awkward angle, not by cold but by death.

Six sentence Sunday week 50 - sometimes it's hard to be a kidnapper

From Large Target, Jo is at the home of the missing admiral’s daughter when her husband, Ivor, reports that the kidnappers have called Colleen, the admiral’s daughter-in-law, with detailed demands about the million dollar ransom.

"She turned them down."

"What?" Amy was horrified.

Ivor shook his head and reached out for his beer bottle and upended it, without getting more than the dregs. "Colleen said we don't have the money," he concluded.

I was fascinated and had to ask, "Did Colleen make a counteroffer?"

For more fun in six-sentence snippets, check out the writers at six Sunday.

Six Sentence Sunday - Week 47- Missing: one admiral and something else...

From Large Target, Josephine and the admiral's daughter find a defense contractor dead in the floor of the admiral's cottage. Jo checks around...

I made a quick circuit of the cottage looking for signs of another victim. There were no obvious signs of struggle or a search effort except in the farthest corner of the bedroom where a Mosler GSA Class 5 Security filing cabinet stood—all four drawers open and empty. I recognized it as identical to the one in my father's home office, part of his ties to the civilian portion of the intelligence community. The Navy might do things a little differently but the admiral's security clearances must be functional.

On the floor in front of the cabinet was a single sheet of paper with Top Secret printed on it in red letters two inches high with a paper clip on it. Nothing was clipped to it.


For more fun in six sentence segments check out the many writers in many genres at Six Sunday.

43rd Six Sentence Sunday, starting the new year with a bang...

Welcome back Six Sunday friends. I'm digressing a little from The Falstaff Vampire Files because the second Josephine Fuller book, Large Target just came out and I have to celebrate with suitable fireworks.

After a night of passion that took an unexpected turn toward dawn Josephine and Mulligan have a serious talk over breakfast. They're on Coronado Island near San Diego where automobiles rule, so she tries to lighten the mood with some car talk...

"Come on, I'll walk you to your car," Mulligan said.

As we reached the parking lot at the hotel, I decided to show off the car I was borrowing, Mrs. Madrone's Lexus. "The remote control is hooked into the alarm so it makes the most amazing sound. Listen to this," I said, whipping out the remote as we headed for the Lexus.

I pressed the button and a deafening explosion shattered the car's windows and rocked it on its tires. I jumped back against Mulligan who was already pulling me away from the hot slap of air and spatter of glass.

For a good time check out the dozens of other Six Sunday writers who will be offering up New Year's surprises in six sentence doses at Six Sentence Sunday.

37th Six Sentence Sunday - Arising at Dusk...With Coughing

From The Falstaff Vampire Files. Kristin Marlowe watches in shock as the crate in the deserted shed...opens and an old man emerges.

He was huge. Tall and broad, with unruly white hair and beard, though his face seemed startlingly pale when paired with the reddened cheeks and nose of a serious drinker. He wore an ancient, old-fashioned long underwear shirt that might have been World War II army surplus. He gave one last wracking cough, then took a deep breath and turned to regard me with eyes that were bleary, but bright blue, not bloodshot.

"A vision of womanliness," he said in a thick, English accent. Even with all my Public Television viewing, I couldn't place its location in the British Isles.

For more fun in six sentence doses, check out the other writers participating at Six Sentence Sunday

36th Six Sentence Sunday - The Coffin...Well, the Crate, Opens...

Back in September I posted some sentences from Chapter 1 of The Falstaff Vampire Files where psychologist, Kristin Marlowe, went to her cheating ex-lover's house to retrieve an irreplaceable item he stole. She was advised to stay out of the shed:

The shed in the back yard was the very last remotely possible hiding place. I went down the hall bathed in red light of the sunset. A few minutes later I was standing in the shed under the glare of the electric light bulb, watching the lid rise on a crate that should have been empty.

A pudgy hand, followed by a large, rounded arm appeared in the gap and pushed the lid up. The rest of the man followed it, raising the lid until it rested against the wall. He sat up, still coughing, as I watched, frozen in shock.

For more surprises and fun in six-sentence doses, check out the many other writers at Six Sentence Sunday

35th six sentence Sunday, sometimes it's hard to be a vampire hunter...

Back into the six sentence Sunday habit, from The Falstaff Vampire Files. Psychologist Kristin Marlowe meets a vampire hunter who has never met a real vampire:

I stopped halfway in the middle of sitting in Larry's cozy, burgundy-colored wing chair. "Did you say vampire cults?"

"Wait a minute," I said putting the name and the subject together. “Wasn’t there a Professor Van Helsing in Dracula?"

"That was fiction, but as a kid when I found Abraham Van Helsing in Dracula, I got interested in the culture," Bram said, settling back on the sofa. "Even if it were in my blood to hunt vampires there would be the small problem that really aren't any, so I have to make do."

Meanwhile over at at Six Sentence Sunday Central, upwards of 160 writers are massing for Halloween snippets Six Sunday

Dreams and nightmares

The Six Sentence Sunday site is taking a vacation weekend Sunday.

After 34 weeks, I've got the habit of posting something, so I thought I would share how dreams sometimes make their way into my books. We talked about this a little during the last Pearlsong Conversation. The entire call is available at Pearlsong Conversations

Sometimes a dream just offers a fragment or an attitude that I use the way a quilter would cut up and stitch in an interesting fabric to contribute to an overall pattern. I think they actually do serve a purpose but I don't always know what it is for quite a long time afterwards.

While I was writing Larger Than Death I had a dream that I pretty much put verbatim into the book. Josephine Fuller has just rescued Raoul, the cat, from his hiding place from her murdered friend's apartment, and both she and the cat are on edge.

From Larger Than Death:

I lay down for a moment on the day bed. Suddenly a mass of aches and pains surfaced that I hadn't felt until then. The cat put his paws up on the bed and gave a meow of inquiry. "Well, I'll forgive you for scratching me, if you'll forgive me for scaring you," I told him. He regarded me steadily for several seconds and then hopped up beside me. His coat was slightly matted. "I'll get a brush for you," I promised. He purred in answer and I slipped into a dream.

In the dream I was trying to take Elvis Presley to detox. I was helping him down the front steps of a mansion very much like Claude Rains' mansion in Rio from the last scene from Hitchcock's Notorious. Like Ingrid Bergman in the film he was too drugged to cooperate or resist. I kept encouraging him, "Come on, Elvis, we're going to the Betty Ford Clinic. You'll meet lots of other famous people and you'll feel much better." But it was hopeless. His handlers spirited him away as a crowd of screaming fans drove up.

I woke up. The shrieking was Groucho, the Macaw, demanding attention in the front room. The cat had deserted me. I heard him in the kitchen row-ow-owling at Maxine, probably begging food. Maxine said something. A man's voice replied. I got up and went to investigate.

I'm still not sure what it meant, but it made me smile and I couldn't resist using it. After seven years I think it expresses Josephine's wish to help and frustration at not being able to do anything.

Now about nightmares. I'm not going to quote from The Falstaff Vampire Files, but the really shuddery critters in that book came from a nightmare that scared the hell out of me.

Oddly enough fearsome things from my nightmares don't terrify me as much as my basic homegrown phobias. Those things scare me so much that I'll never use them in my stories. I also refuse to read about them when other writers use them. And no, I am not going to tell you what they are. But using material from my nightmares somehow takes away the reality factor enough that I can handle the material.

32nd Six Sentence Sunday - When therapist and client have way too much in common

From The Falstaff Vampire Files, Kristin has discovered that her client's fiancé is her own lover.

I wouldn’t say anything till I confirmed it with Hal, but my gut told me Mina’s fiancé was my Hal. She had shyly showed me the exotic, blue diamond engagement ring Hal had found for her in some Eastern European capital and as I leaned forward to look, I noted that I had been touching the antique amethyst necklace Hal had brought back for me from his last trip. I dropped my hand as if the stones had turned red-hot. Dammit, Hal!

Now my hands were shaking and I wondered if I could make it through the next hour, the next client, who of course chose that day to be a quarter hour early.

Luther Kemper was the absolute worst client to follow Mina's announcement.

To find all kinds of action in six-sentence doses click the links to other writers' six sentence snippets at Six Sunday.

30th week of six sentence Sunday - Vampires & Therapy

The Bookbuzzr widget provides a sample of the first chapter of The Falstaff Vampire Files, including an encounter with the Thing in the Shed. So I'm using today's 6 sentences to introduce therapist Kristin's relationship with her client, Mina:

For several months my client, Wilhelmina--Mina--has come in twice a week to talk about her fears of being stalked by vampires who wanted to make her undead. I don't believe in vampires, but something was scaring the hell out of Mina and her terror came along with her into my consulting room with a presence strong enough to make my own throat tense up. So I wasn’t prepared when Mina started off the session with a shy smile and announced, “I’m engaged!”

I smiled back and almost said, "Congratulations," but stopped myself and retreated into my therapist role and said, "Tell me about it."

She lowered her voice, "He wants to become one of them."

To sample a generous assortment of six sentence snippets from authors in a wide range of genres, check out Six Sunday

29th Six Sentence Sunday, how badly does she want her stolen property back?

Kris Marlowe ventures further into the creepy old house in The Falstaff Vampire Files.

"The corridor on the left leads to the back door," Hal had told me on my first visit. "I keep my coffin in a shed out there--did I tell you I was a vampire?"

Strange how I forgot those words until I stood on the red stone floor again and started up the chilly staircase, also red stone.

A scrabbling sound nearby made me freeze in my tracks. I stopped to listen. The house seemed to shudder like a ship in the wind.

More six sentence snippets from over 160 writers writing in all kinds of genres at http://sixsunday.com/

28th Six Sentence Sunday, a dangerous seach

Further into forbidden territory in The Falstaff Vampire Files

I knew I could be arrested and lose my license if the old lady called Hal or the cops. But I needed to get my property back and I was still enraged that Hal had taken it. I walked into the darkened foyer. It was paved in dark red stone. It was late afternoon but very little daylight filtered in and the lights mounted on the wall glowed already in their twisted copper fittings. The veins in the alabaster seemed to pulse like reptilian eggs.

For more fun snippets check out the talented writers in many genres sharing six sentence glimpses into their work at Six Sunday

My 15th Six Sentence Sunday...Sky has a question

From Bride of the Living Dead, when Daria's fiancé, Oscar, leaves the table for a few minutes, Sky jumps in with an unwelcome question--

            "Daria, I have to ask--are you pregnant?"

            "Sky!  No, I'm not pregnant--do you think that's the only reason Oscar would want to marry me?"
            "Of course not, but if you don't need to get married right away we have some time to plan the wedding."
            "We haven't thought that far ahead," I said, catching sight of Oscar outside the window standing by his car watching us and smiling at him. I totally missed that she had said "we" had time to plan the wedding.

Join the fun with over 130 authors in many genres sharing six sentences at a time at http://sixsunday.blogspot.com/

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Inspiration from Six Sunday

When Lauri J. Owen told me about the fun everyone was having at http://sixsunday.blogspot.com/ posting six lines every Sunday from their book(s)--be they past, present or works-in-progress, it sounded like something I wanted to do. But I had to face the fact that I didn't have a blog simply devoted to my books to post it on. So I borrowed the header my web diva created for my web page and here is that blog.

I think it will also be a good place to post other book-related stuff. This blog is brand new, but I didn't want to miss the next Sunday six sentence fun, so I'm kicking off the blog now and I'll connect more dots, add more links and generally polish up what I can as I go along.