Uncaged Book Reviews

ISSUE 47 | JUNE 2020

Victory Gardens

n o te fr o m the e d it o r T

he planting season is upon us, and is the main reason that Uncaged is not running a special article on the wonderful ways that authors are doing their best to help in the pandemic. I hope to bring that to you next month. The victory garden movement began during World War I and called on Americans to grow food in whatever spaces they could, and they ended up supplying 40% of the nations fresh vegetables and fruit. With the pandemic, once again people are choosing to plant larger gardens than ever with the anxiety that there may be a shortage at some point, or the prices will sky rocket. Here at the farm, we are planting a lot more than normal also, and we are utilizing a wonderful space next to our barn we hadn’t used before and the soil is perfect. From corn, beans, squash, tomatoes, peppers, melon, peas, lettuce and herbs, and everything in between, it’s been a very very busy month on the farm. So I’m hoping for a bit more time to add that special article in July. I will keep everyone up to date on our farm fun.

A good harvest will mean a lot of preserving time in the fall with freezing and canning, both in hot water baths and pressure canning.

It’s so gratifying to grab a quart of tomatoes off the shelves when making spaghetti or chili in the winter, or grabbing that package of fresh frozen beans out of the freezer. We will also be working on feeding not only our family, but two others also. So we are using the land this year for the best way we can to help.

Also with this June issue, is the end of the Raven Awards eligibility time period. Anything read and reviewed from now until 2021 will be eligible for the 2021 Raven Awards. Get ready to begin voting for your favorites in a couple of weeks as we kick off Award Season here at Uncaged, and good luck to all the authors!

Uncaged Book Reviews readership is up dramatically. New readers are finding the magazine and discovering new authors. Uncaged will continue to bring the best possible content as usual.

We will be continuing with the “Buy 2, Get 1” promotion we’ve been running. It really does help from a marketing standpoint, to have an advertisment run three months in a row - to repeat in the readers mind. You don’t just see a commercial on TV one time and remember it, right? So we will continue to try and provide the best bang for your buck and get the most eyes we can on your work. Uncaged is supported through advertisements, but the prices will not increase in 2020.

Unfortunately, Tier 2 review requests will remain closed until further notice. That review Tier is only open to Feature Authors at this time. Uncaged is always open to bringing on new reviewers, so if you’d like to get books for free in exchange for an honest review, please email me at Cyrene@ UncagedBooks.com Enjoy the June 2020 issue of Uncaged Book Reviews and stay safe and healthy!

X cyrene 4| uncagedbooks.com

contents featureauthors Emily EK Murdoch 12 historical victorian romance 22

Eliza Knight

38

Caroline Warfield

46 62

Issue 47 | June 2020

FangFreakinTastic JD Phillips 104 occult horror

catchup 32 Annette Bower

Annette tells us what she’s been up to during the pandemic and tells us more about Ponytails and Promises

historical scottish/highlands

historical romance

Britton 78 Barbara Barbara is back with a new historical

romance and tells us how she’s coping in a coronavirus world.

Robert J. Sawyer

scifi/alternative history

Pamela Taylor

historical fantasy

showcase

30

The Girl Who Loved Caravaggio Belle Ami

68

Sara Vinduska

56

Talents of Stone and Fire

74

Melissa Stevens

82

Pocket Poetry

84

Carla Swafford

94

Kimberly Beckett

romantic suspense

military/mc romance

contemporary/sports romance

Andrew Sanders

Note from the Editor Contributors|Partnerships Uncaged Reviews Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews

contemporary/sports romance

authors and their pets

58

4 7 122 128

B. Octavier Barnes

Uncaged on Instagram

Uncaged’s Feature Authors introduce you to their devoted writing buddies, and the devotion goes both ways.

Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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Contributors | Partnerships

Follow Uncaged on Facebook

Paranormal lover’s rejoice. Uncaged review contributors.

A blog for horror fans. Uncaged review contributors.

A little bit of everything. Uncaged review contributors.

If you’d like your banner here, please email me at UncagedBooks@gmail.com Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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upcomingconventions Most upcoming conventions through June 2020 have been cancelled because of the pandemic. Uncaged will monitor the scheduled conventions and remove/add as the information becomes available. At the time of this publication, the conventions listed are still scheduled or marked cancelled, but be sure to check their websites as the time gets closer to the event.

All About the Indies July 11, 2020 Arlington, VA https://aaibookexpo.com/

Writers on the River July 18, 2020 Peoria, IL https://writersontheriver.com/

Literary Love Savannah July 29–August 3, 2020 Savannah, GA https://blueflamesabove.wixsite.com/literarylovesavannah 8| uncagedbooks.com |

Romance GenreCon August 6–8, 2020 Kansas City, MO https://www.mymcpl.org/events/romance

Indie Bookfest Orlando August 27–30, 2020 Orlando, FL http://indiebookconvention.com/

Penned Con (2021 will be the final year) September 17–19, 2020 St. Louis, MO https://pennedcon.com/

Cancelled for 2020

feature authors

Emily EK Murdoch

Eliza Knight

historical romance

Caroline Warfield

e m i ly ek m ur d o ch Uncaged welcomes Emily EK Murdoch Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest release is the 3rd book in the series, Never the Bride, called Always the Courtesan. Can you tell readers more about the series?

I

am a medieval historian and writer. Throughout my career so far I have examined a codex and transcribed medieval sermons at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, designed part of an exhibition for the Yorkshire Museum, worked as a researcher for a BBC documentary presented by Ian Hislop, and worked at Polesden Lacey with the National Trust. I have a degree in History and English, and a Masters in Medieval Studies, both from the University of York. I have a medieval series and a Regency novella series published, and I am currently working on several new projects.

Stay Connected

emilyekmurdoch.com 12 | UncagedBooks.com

Of course – and thank you so much for having me! This whole series started because I was re-reading Persuasion by Jane Austen, and I was so shocked to realise that at the age of 27, the heroine was considered far too old to be married. I started to think of all the reasons a Regency gentlewoman might be considered unmarriageable, and all these characters just walked, fully formed, into my head! In each book, which is a standalone, it starts with a heroine who has either decided herself, or Regency society has decided for her, that she’ll be Never the Bride.

Uncaged: How many books are you planning for the series? Do they read well as standalones?

There will be twelve books in this series, and every single one can be read on their own. Because secondary characters in some books become the main characters in others, there is a general ‘reading order’, but you don’t need to have read them in that order if you don’t want to.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

As well as some of the later books in Never the Bride, I’m working on an exciting surprise Christmas Regency romance which will be announced near the end of the summer, and another one which is totally under wraps for now! I like to have different books at different stages, it keeps me fresh.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle?

Not many people know this about me, but I actually work full time as a Chief Brand Officer for a company here in England, so I have always had to work my writing around that, which was always a challenge. But now in lockdown, because I’m working my day job at home, I’ve gained my commute – that’s 2 hours a day. I don’t always have enough emotional energy, because I am finding lockdown very emotionally draining (am I the only one?), but it has meant I’m not waking up at ridiculous o’clock to make time to write!

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

I’d love to spend some time chatting with Roald Dahl; he was an incredible man as well as writer, and he changed the way I saw the world when I was young.

Kathryn Le Veque, my wonderful publisher, who is on the other side of the world! And probably Terry Pratchett – probably one of my favourite authors.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

In almost every book. My characters are real people to me, and that means sometimes my plans for them don’t exactly work out! Often I get to about two thirds of the way through writing a book, and something occurs to me that would make the entire story so much better.

About half the time, I sigh, and go back through and add it all in. Other times, I make a note because it’s just too big to do without a full rewrite.

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I love eating! I know that’s not really a hobby, but I love to snuggle down on the sofa with a hot water bottle and a glass of really nice wine, and enjoy fruit. Is there anything better?

Reading of course is a huge part of my life, but I also love walking. I’m fortunate to live near a nature reserve, an Iron Age fort, and only three miles from a gorgeous sandy beach, so there’s always somewhere beautiful to go.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

Ohhh, great question! The most important thing to me is that my readers enjoy my books. I love receiving emails from my readers, especially when a particular book has touched them, inspired them, or put a smile on their face.

I’d love to win an award for my writing one day, that would be a huge achievement. But as far as success goes, I would love to know that there are people around the world reading my books and brightening their lives.

Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

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| EMILY EK MURDOCH |

Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

offering her anything of kindness. Until he walks through her door.

So I am very particular about the format of my books! I really struggle to take in anything new in audiobook format, so I have all the classics on audiobook that I already know and love.

Josiah Stanhope, Earl of Chester, is exhausted with politics and games, deceit and lies - it’s time for simplicity, and there’s nothing simpler than the clear cut exchange of coin for pleasure. And yet there’s something different about this girl. She knows how to please a man, certainly, but there’s more to her.

Something refined.

Ebooks are perfect for me to try out a new author.

I don’t treat myself to a paperback or hardback unless I love that book and absolutely will read it over and over again. I’ve already transformed one of our spare bedrooms into a library with wall to wall bookcases, and we’re running out of room. If a book makes it onto the shelves, it’s there for life!

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Thank you. I wouldn’t write if not for you, because knowing that my characters are living their lives with you is such a huge privilege. I hope I can keep writing more stories that captivate you, and that you fall in love with.

Enjoy an excerpt from Always the Courtesan Always the Courtesan Emily EK Murdoch Historical Victorian Always the courtesan and never the bride - it’s a life she never chose and cannot escape…

Lady Honora Lennox hasn’t gone by that name in three years - not since she was abducted and forced to work in a brothel.

She’s but nineteen and has given up on the world 16 | UncagedBooks.com

He’s determined to find out the truth. She’s terrified of destroying her family name. Tensions mount as wills clash and there can only be one victor.

Can Josiah ever prove himself as trustworthy, or will he fall back to old habits? Can Honora ever return to society after her fall from grace - or is his bed far more inviting?

Excerpt Ah, Chester! I thought I espied you at the back there!”

Miss Theodosia Ashbrooke, the matchmaker whom gentlemen around the country feared, advanced.

“You thought you could hide from me, then? Not a chance, my dear boy—no, I have just the person for you, and there is no running from me this time!”

His friends laughed as Josiah looked for an escape route but saw none. He sighed. There was nothing to do but face her. Resigning himself to a conversation with Miss Ashbrooke was rather like permitting a cat to scratch his expensive boots. You were almost certain you were safe, but one wrong move, and it would all become painful very quickly.

“Ah, Miss Ashbrooke,” he said in his most charming, distant voice. “I was actually about to go and speak to—” “I met such a lovely young lady a few days ago, and the instant I saw her, I knew she would be perfect for you,” began Miss Ashbrooke, but she was not allowed to continue.

“I am sorry, Miss Ashbrooke,” Josiah replied curtly.

“I am not interested.”

If only there was some way of pretending an ac-

| EMILY EK MURDOCH | quaintance was on the other side of the lawn…

“Not interested?” She blinked dramatically. “What on earth do you mean, not interested? You do not know a thing about her yet.”

Josiah smiled. “And yet, my lack of interest is undeniable. I am not interested in matrimony, Miss Ashbrooke, so there it is.”

He had intended his brief words to be an end of the conversation, but Miss Ashbrooke clearly did not agree. “But my lord, you are a gentleman at the perfect age for marriage! Just as His Grace, the Duke of Mercia is, and you see how happy he is—and the wedding went ahead with his sister still missing, a very strange—” “Good day, Miss Ashbrooke.”

“But you still persist in feigning no interest in matrimony yourself?”

“No, thank you, Miss Ashbrooke.”

Miss Ashbrooke was looking aghast, as though he had announced he would be foregoing breeches in public.

Josiah sighed. Turning five and twenty had brought him no joy and plenty of complications. Now considered a man of maturity, the women had swarmed about him, and he was done, absolutely done with politics and games, deceit and lies.

“I do not wish for complications,” he said gruffly. “If you will excuse me, Miss Ashbrooke.”

He strode away, but she was rushing to keep up with him.

“What complication?” Miss Ashbrooke panted. “You meet someone agreeable, after a suitable period of time has passed, you come to an understanding, you marry—my lord, would you mind stopping so I can catch my breath?”

Josiah was sorely tempted to reply that he would not and break into a run, but he controlled himself. He was the Earl of Chester. It would not do for someone of such breeding to be so impolite to anyone—let alone a young woman of considerable influence in the tittle-tattle sheets of London and Bath.

But he could not help laughing. “My dear, Miss Ashbrooke, no one but an unmarried matchmaker would say that! It is never so simple, and if it is, then you are doing it wrong. Why, you don’t know the first thing

about marriage!”

“I—I beg your pardon!”

But Josiah was in full flow, that stinging tone which he tried so carefully to control, completely out of his grasp. “I am only sorry, Miss Ashbrooke, that no one has ever explained it to you, but let me see if I can put it simply. There, look.

You see the gentleman there?”

Despite her obvious indignation, she looked over at the gentleman he was pointing at in a green jacket and breeches, and nodded.

“And the young lady he is conversing with—you see her?”

Miss Ashbrooke nodded. It was hard to miss her, after all, wearing such a florid, crimson gown.

Josiah leaned toward Miss Ashbrooke and lowered his voice. “There they are. Two innocents, or so they appear, conversing in a public place about probably idle gossip. They are nothing to each other, and why should they be? But here it changes. One of them wants marriage. The other does not. And no matter how many smiles, lies, games, moments of flattery, and moments of madness, if they do not agree on this, it will lead to heartache for both. There goes the tale, Miss Ashbrooke, and you can watch it come to life all around you.

Just open your eyes when at least five unmarried people are together in the same room.”

Miss Ashbrooke was gaping in utter astonishment. “But it is not like that, not like that at all!”

“Isn’t it?” Josiah’s voice hardened. “My God, Miss Ashbrooke, what I said in jest not two minutes ago is entirely true. You don’t know the first thing about marriage, and I am only sorry you do not because it gives you the entitled feeling to lecture all the rest of us. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

His temper flared, and he took a deep breath and saw, with regret, he had genuinely hurt the matchmaker. God’s teeth, but she had it coming to her.

Why was her view of life so rosy? Had she not seen plenty of potential marriages break down before they had even started because of the silly games women played?

“I must say,” she said coldly as a footman passed Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | with a bottle of champagne, “you will not be attracting any young ladies, and then what will happen to the earldom?”

Josiah shrugged. “There are plenty of male cousins. Perhaps Harry could have it, that would give everyone a laugh. I see no reason why I, as the eldest, should have inherited.”

He shouldn’t have said that. There was nothing like a bit of teasing to wind up Miss Ashbrooke, and she was horrified enough as it was. “Harry?

That would be quite out of the question.”

Josiah rolled his eyes. “But that is hardly the point, is it Miss Ashbrooke? No, all I want is the simplicity of companionship with none of the emotional ties. Marriage is not the solution to that problem.”

Miss Ashbrooke sniffed. “It most certainly is not—and if I may be so bold as to say, if that is truly all you wish, then you know precisely where you can get it!”

Without another word, she stormed off toward another gaggle of young people who evidently just needed her guiding hand to suggest a few matches, and wedding bells would soon ring.

Josiah watched her go with a wry smile. He should not have teased her—and what’s more, he probably shouldn’t have been honest. It was unbecoming of an earl to speak his mind, but since he had risen to the title a year ago, he had been shockingly bad in that respect. Perhaps Harry would have made a better earl.

You know precisely where you can get it!

His smile faded. If only it was that simple—if only Miss Ashbrooke could procure young women for companionship and perhaps a little pleasure, with none of the irritations of choosing wallpaper for the second dining room, or impulsively accepting invitations to dine with boring neighbors.

And it was when a footman offered him a glass of champagne that the idea struck him. You have servants for all kinds of things, don’t you? A coach driver, a footman, a butler, and valet.

Why not consider this another act of servanthood?

After all, he was not looking for a wife. It was a scandalous thought, but half the gentleman in 18 | UncagedBooks.com

England had thought about it—and those with means had acted on it. Why not him? Why shouldn’t he find a little pleasure?

DON’T MISS THESE TITLES:

eliza knight Uncaged welcomes Eliza Knight Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest release, The Highlander’s Dare is the third book in a series, Midsummer Knights and you have scheduled releases this year for more in the series. Can you tell readers more about the series?

E

liza Knight is a USA Today bestselling author of many historical adventures. Escape to Scotland for irresistible heroes, courageous heroines and daring escapades. Join Eliza (sometimes as E.) on riveting journeys that cross landscapes around the world. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends.

She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies.

Stay Connected

elizaknight.com 22 | UncagedBooks.com

Thank you so much for having me, I’m thrilled to be here talking about The Highlander’s Dare and the Midsummer Knights series. The series is comprised of seven unique stories written by seven authors, centering around a medieval tournament. There’s chivalry, intrigue and of course passion and love.

In The Highlander’s Dare, when Lady Clara de Montford and Sir Graham Sutherland meet at a tournament feast on the Scottish Borders, he’s all too happy to help her break her betrothal to a beast of a man, for she just so happens to be the one he’s come to steal. In return, Clara believes she’s helping Graham with revenge against an old enemy. With each trick planned and acted out, the game intensifies, until the ultimate dare just might undo them both…

Uncaged: Can this series be read as standalones?

While it’s always fun to read the whole series, the stories were written to stand alone.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

Next up for me is The Rebel Wears Plaid, which is the first in my Prince Charlie’s Angels series. It’s releasing on June 30. These heroines risk their lives to protect Jacobite soldiers. Hiding them, healing their wounds, and aiding in their escape from enemy forces, puts these fiery ladies in harm’s way, but their loyalty wins out

cally as they want to do things with me, or its just too loud in the house by then to concentrate. I was going to have a local tour of about 6-7 bookstores and libraries for the release of The Rebel Wears Plaid, but that has been canceled due to the virus, which is so very sad. Several of the places have said they’d like to still host a virtual event, so that should be fun. I had several conferences and a couple of research trips planned for the rest of this year, all of which have been canceled.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

over fear every time—and they just might find love.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle? Have you had to change any in-person signings or conventions you were planning this year?

I’ve had to make a lot of adjustments at home. I write full-time, and usually when my kids are at school. But now they are distance learning at home (including my oldest daughter who had to come home early from college because of the virus), so I’ve shifted my workday back to about 5:30am, rather than 9am, and I work while they sleep. When they wake up I help get them set up for school and then I keep on working until about lunchtime, at which point I tend to work more sporadi-

I would love to sit and have lunch with Nancy Mitford. I am currently working on a book about her life which will be published in 2022 (The Little Mayfair Bookshop), and she is absolutely fascinating. She and her sisters were fascinating in so many different ways, not all good! I would also sit down with Jane Austen, because I love her books. Just think her prose and characters still resonate with us today! I’d add Charlotte Bronte to that list as well. Jane Eyre is one of my all time favorite books.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

LOL! All the time! I’m a plotter, so when I sit down to write, I generally not only know where I want them to end up, but I have a lot of those ticking points planned out along the way to get there. And then sometimes, the character will just veer off and be like so sorry, Eliza, no, its not happening that way. And I have to go with it! But that always Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | makes the book more fun! Plus, then I’m discovering the story and surprises just like a reader would.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

Success as an author looks like a person who everyday gets to wake up every day and live in a world of make believe. I think success changes with the stages of a writer’s career, and from day to day in writer’s goals.

When I first started writing, success was writing “the end”, then it was having someone read the book and like it, maybe even getting it published. Sometimes success if being able to meet my wordcount for the day, or finding that one nugget of research I’ve been digging for. As long as you are happy and meeting your goals however incremental, I think you can call that success.

I love to play games with my family, or bingewatch a show. I love wine tasting, and these days I’m enjoying some Zoom happy hours with friends and family. I love to read, and do research. I love to travel when I can. And I also love to exercise—it’s a stress reliever for me, and I enjoy the way I feel when I’m done. In February I ran my first half-marathon with my best friends. Right now I’m learning to play tennis (badly, lol). All of this often surprises people because I don’t “look the part” of an athlete, but I enjoy being physical—I also love wine and oreos. LOL.

24 | UncagedBooks.com

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I love audiobooks so much, it’s because I can listen to them while I’m doing things like getting ready for the day, doing dishes, folding laundry, cooking, or while walking my dogs. I also listen in the car if I’m alone. It has allowed me to increase my reading and made me so happy! I also love physical books and ebooks as well.

Ebooks are awesome for travel! But I still love that paper smell of a book and holding it in my hands. I just finished Between Sisters by Kristin Hannah, and next up is Someone to Watch Over Me by Lisa Kleypas.

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Dreams happen when we believe in ourselves and persist no matter what! Stay safe, stay healthy, and escape with books!

| ELIZA KNIGHT |

Enjoy an excerpt from The Highlander’s Dare The Highlander’s Dare Eliza Knight Historical Highlands/ Scottish A lady determined to set her own path…

Lady Clara de Montfort begrudgingly attends the tournament at her mother and uncle’s insistence, to meet the Scottish warrior she’s being forced her to marry. But Clara has a plan—she’s got one week to change the Baston Ross’s mind and free herself from an unwanted marriage.

A warrior who can’t say no to a dare…

Graham Sutherland accompanies his twin brother Cormac, the new Chieftain of their clan, to a tournament across the border of Scotland in England. After a failed harvest threatens the livelihood of their clan, they’ve come up with a perfect solution. The twin brothers will use the tourney to steal the wealthy English brides of rival clan Ross, thus bringing a bounty to their people.

A love between them defies all the odds...

When Clara and Graham meet at the feast, he’s all too happy to help her break her betrothal, for she’s the one he’s come to steal. In return for his help, Clara believes she’s helping Graham with revenge against an old enemy. With each trick planned and acted out, the game intensifies, until the ultimate dare just might undo them both…

Excerpt Scottish/English Border Sunday, June 20, 1193 Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | There were really only two reasons that Graham Sutherland would ever enjoy finding himself crossing the English border from Scotland. One was if he was chasing the skirts of a buxom and deliciously tempting lass. And the second, but of equal enjoyment, would be if he was about to run his sword through the chicken-livered belly of a Sassenach.

Now, theoretically, he was crossing the border to put his sword against some English flesh, and he was also chasing after a woman—however, neither in this case was what he would consider fun.

If one were to be honest, he felt a bit like he was being tormented. Like the devil himself had lassoed him from hell and was dragging him down into the fiery depths to endure hours, weeks, years, an endless amount essentially of suffering. The woman he was supposed to take to wife was no doubt hideous and whiny and awful. She would put a damper on all of his fun, and the rest of his life would no doubt end up being completely miserable.

And yet, suffer he must, because despite being hellfire, the tourney was crucial to the survival of their clan. Their people had suffered long enough.

Since they were unable to get the aid they needed from neighboring allies, it was time for Graham and his twin brother Cormac—the Chieftain of Clan Sutherland—to take what some might see as drastic measures.

And it had been Graham’s idea to come to the tournament, so he couldn’t really complain about it to his brother. Cormac wasn’t even good with ladies. Why the hell had Graham supposed he could get him to flirt with one successfully enough to steal her away from her potential husband, even if that husband was a bastard Ross? Everyone in the Highlands thought the Ross brothers—all five of them—were absolutely horrible people. Calling them people was an insult to other humans. Brodie and Baston Ross were at the tournament to gather up their brides and spill some English blood along the way, and Graham and Cormac were here to make sure the aforementioned didn’t happen.

But those in England were unsuspecting of the 26 | UncagedBooks.com

Ross brothers. For outwardly, they were able to exude charm, while on the inside, they were filled with the black slime of a bog.

Saints, how he loathed anyone of the Ross bloodline.

Graham was of the mind that if a lass was willing to sell herself into that vile lot, then perhaps, she wasn’t worth saving. Aye, saving, for though he and Cormac planned to rob the Ross bastards of their brides, they would also be doing the foolish women a favor.

And, in point of fact, their people—the Sutherlands— were worth saving. So, Graham and Cormac would suffer torment to save their clan. They could not watch more of their people die from hunger. Already, they’d lost too many.

So here they were, about to sell their own souls to the devil in order to lure a couple of lasses into an unadvantageous match, and more importantly their dowries, which should help bring their clan away from the brink of starvation and destruction. Easy enough, aye?

Graham slid his glance toward Cormac, who had the endless look of a man suffering greatly from a bout of food poisoning. Graham loved his brother to the deep marrow of his bones, but boy, did Cormac need to lighten up. Especially if he was going to gain the attention of any ladies present—specifically one intended for a Ross brother.

Rising up before them was Rose Citadel, as snobby a name as the man who sat his throne there, Lord Yves.

The towers and battlements of the massive stone structure were littered with banners and ribbons proclaiming the tournament and the long bloodline of English bastards who resided there, but Graham didn’t give a fig about the castle. He was mostly interested in the tents that dotted the fields like spilled sugar on grass, and the many flags of the various men who’d come to fight, including their most hated enemy.

But if they were going to be successful, he was going to have to get his brother to stop his incessant frowning. Graham was tired as hell from their journey, and though he’d dried a little bit, he still felt soaked from the pounding rain they’d had to travel through. If he looked anything like his brother and the two Sutherland men that traveled with them—Lachlan and Duncan—then he’d have to step up the charm to win over any lady, let alone one betrothed to a Ross.

| ELIZA KNIGHT | Luckily for Graham, wooing ladies was his specialty.

It was even easier to woo them if they were already wed, or not saving themselves for a wedding night.

Virgins took a lot more persuading, and he was going to have his work cut out for him getting Baston Ross’s betrothed to take a ride on the Sutherland side—but even worse was how he was going to help his brother.

That was a challenge that was likely to wear Graham out faster than any lusty wench.

As if to prove that point, Cormac grimaced and let out a low growl at nothing in particular.

Graham shook his head and stifled a laugh. “Lighten up, brother, else ye’ll be sending Brodie Ross’s betrothed straight into his arms rather than yours.” Brodie Ross was the eldest of the Ross brothers and the current Chieftain of Ross. It made sense that Cormac, as a Chieftain himself, would go after another Chieftain’s woman. Though they hadn’t exactly agreed on that point quite yet. For them, it would be about which woman suited better, or which of the foolish wenches chose them.

Cormac slid an irritated glance at Graham. “This is never going to work.”

“Especially if ye look at it that way.” Graham pounded a hand on his twin’s back, taking note of the splash of water that came off with the smack. “Think of this conquest as ye would any other conquest—the only outcome is victory.” Graham shrugged. “Or if it makes more sense to ye, think of yourself as a twelvepoint stag, and some young five-pointer has come along to steal your doe. Are ye just going to let that weaker, self-righteous arsehole get your lass or are ye going to skewer him with your superior rack?”

Cormac snickered. “By rack do ye mean his antlers, or my bride-to-be’s breasts?”

Graham laughed. “That’s more like it, brother. Show Brodie what he’s going to miss out on.”

Cormac scowled. “I’ll no’ be showing that bastard my wife’s breasts, brother. Nor any man.”

Graham’s eyes widened, and he held up his hands in surrender, trying to keep from laughing once more.

“That’s right, ye’ll no’, so ye’d best quit with all the scowling, else she’ll no’ be showing ye either.”

“Point taken.” Cormac shook the water from his hair.

“Let’s go find a place to set up, preferably well away

from the bloody Ross bastards.”

“That’s the spirit.” Graham grinned at the Lachlan and Duncan, who returned the gesture, all of them becoming serious again as soon as Cormac speared them with his regard.

“Enough nonsense, brother. We are no’ here for fun.”

“On that account, I never doubted.”

They rode through the throng of tents, gaining glowers from some, nods from others, and what Graham liked most—being ignored—from yet another batch.

Graham picked the best location he could find in the few empty spaces. Having entered the tournament last minute, it looked like they were nearly the last to arrive in this godforsaken country.

Lord, he hoped there were going to be more Scots about than just them and the Ross clan. The machinations they had planned for those rotten scoundrels would more likely be noticed if they were the only Scots in attendance. And they couldn’t have that messing up what they’d come here to see done.

Come hell or high water, they would return to Scotland with wealthy brides to save their clan from starvation—even if they literally had to steal them away. Highlanders had done so before, and they’d do so again, he was certain. Graham did, however, hope their plans at wooing worked, because stealing a wench away would make his personal future bleaker than it already appeared.

Dismounting from his horse, Graham was immediately nudged on his thigh by the snout of a medium-sized hound. He rubbed a hand over the dog’s mud-colored head and matted spine, his palm coming away with a stain of brown.

Seemed like Graham was not the only one in need of a bath.

The owner of the hound looked just as worn and dirty, though he nodded at them with respect.

“Are you looking for a mercenary?”

Graham tried not to laugh. Silly Englishman, didn’t he realize that Graham and Cormac were basically mercenaries themselves?

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | nial of their need to hire him, and the two brothers ducked into their newly built tent to prepare for the feast. They stripped out of their miserable clothes and washed, redressing in their finest garments that were mercifully dry.

“Are ye going to meet the lass tonight?” Cormac asked, affixing the Sutherland pin to his tunic.

“Aye, as should ye, brother. We’ve only a sennight to make the lassies fall in love and leave their intended matches. ’Tis a tall order on our parts, but also theirs.”

“Should be easy for ye, Graham. The lassies are always dropping at your feet like flies on honey.”

Graham raised his brow skeptically. “Aye, but what if in this instance, the flies wish for vinegar?” Lord help them if the brides actually wanted the Ross brothers instead.

“I dinna see that happening.”

Graham shrugged. “I didna see the Rosses giving aid to the MacDonalds and look where we are.”

That was a sad fact. After several bad harvests and not enough food coming in, the Sutherland brothers had begged aid from the Rosses, who always seemed to have more than enough. But in a vile twist, they had refused and instead gave aid to the hated MacDonalds, who would not share.

Most of the other clans in the area were either in the same boat as the Sutherlands or had only enough to feed their people.

Cormac ran a hand through his dark hair, the same shade as Graham’s. He let out a long sigh that told of the enormity of their situation. If they didn’t win the battles they’d come here to fight, there was a lot more at stake than their pride. Lives would be lost.

Winning even one bride would make things better, but two would put their clan back on a path to prosperity for generations to come.

“I believe in ye, my laird.” Graham squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “To the feast, where we’ll make a lucky lass believe in ye, too.”

LADY CLARA DE MONTFORT had promised herself that the second day would be better than that first, which had been boring to the point of 28 | UncagedBooks.com

tedium and also fraught with nerves.

She’d had to travel all the way from her family home in Normandy, where she’d lived a relatively comfortable life unaffected by the drama in England and court of her Aunt Isabella, who was married to the strange Prince John. The sailing across the Channel had been awful, and she’d been sick nearly the whole of it, only to land and find herself feeling sicker with what was to come in a sennight—a most unwanted marriage.

Today, Sunday, everyone had started to arrive at Rose Citadel.

With her father’s health suffering as of late, he’d not been able to attend, and her mother had stayed by his side. But remaining in Normandy did not leave Clara without her mother’s long reach wrapped around her neck. With her father, the once virile Count de Evreux, she’d often found an ally against her mother’s plots, but now, there was no buffer. And the countess had schemed with her sister and Prince John to marry Clara off to some savage in the Highlands. A brute that she was going to meet today. Baston Ross.

Nay, thank you very much. I shall not like to take you as my husband.

Just how was she going to work up the nerve to say it?

Somehow in the next sennight, she had to figure out a way to get rid of the brute. She’d never met him before, but everyone knew that Highlanders were only a step above wild hogs. Clara might even go so far as to say that a wild hog had mated with a beastly bear and thus created Highlanders.

Of course, it wasn’t ladylike for her to think this way, but neither was it ladylike of her to try and get out of the betrothal, which she wholeheartedly intended to attempt. Starting today.

All day long, she’d paced in her chamber, trying to come up with a viable plan. And all day long, she’d tossed each idea out the window and thought about pitching herself out too.

That hog was going to get a massive dowry from her father, given she was his only child. A veritable treasure that would raise up even the richest of nobles to infamy. And it was going to a man she’d never met, nor had she agreed to wed. The unfairness of that fact

| ELIZA KNIGHT | was infuriating. She growled at her fisted hands and then threw them up in the air.

“My lady?” Her maid raised a brow. “Are you unwell?”

That was a nice way of asking if her head was on straight. “I am fine.”

“Suppose ’tis time for you to head to dinner before your betrothed comes to find you.”

Clara resisted the retort prepared to roll off her tongue, and instead nodded. If Baston Ross came to claim her, she’d not have the chance to choose a seat at the feast well away from him. Even his name was stupid.

Baston. So close to Bastard. Maybe that was what she’d call him by accident. Nay, nay. She was willing to work on getting rid of the boar, but not on insulting him so openly. Who knew what he might do, and she didn’t want to have to defend herself from him.

This entire tournament was just as stupid as Baston Ross. Men pounding at each other with weapons for a prize. Didn’t they have anything better to do? And at the end, she’d be tossed over a horse and dragged away to Scotland. Clara didn’t even want to get married. What she wouldn’t give to be back home in Normandy, practicing with her arrows, and laying in the field with her pets. She’d been forced to leave behind her four hounds, two sheep, three pet rabbits, a squirrel, two cats, and her entire coy pond.

The only pets her mother had allowed her to bring were her horse and her hawk. Those were considered regal and ladylike. Everything else was too much trouble, the countess had claimed.

And Clara had cried all the way to England. There wasn’t a way she’d be able to replace the irreplaceable. Her new husband wasn’t going to allow her to have them, of that much she was certain. Baston Ross would probably eat them!

Nay, not her new husband. She shook her head. She couldn’t think of him in such terms. Her soon-to-beex-betrothed.

“My lady?” Again, her maid interrupted her thoughts.

“Are you ready? Every step outside has me jumping that it is he.”

That was enough to get Clara’s attention. She hurried to the door of her bedchamber, a special suite set up just for her, which would be the place she’d be

mauled after the wedding if she wasn’t successful in getting rid of the Bastard Hog. If only they would allow women to participate in the games. She might have had a chance at accidentally shooting him with her arrows. Now that would have been a real treat. She didn’t have to kill him, just maim him a little, and then he certainly wouldn’t want to marry her.

The idea had merit; however, she was fairly certain the outcome would only give her grief.

“How do I look?” she asked her maid.

“Beautiful, my lady.”

“Then perhaps we should mess up my hair or rip my skirts?” She lifted the hem of her green kirtle and gave her maid a teasing smile.

“I know what you’re about.”

“Do you?” Clara played innocent with a cock of her shoulder.

“I do not blame you.”

“You’d be the only one.” Clara stepped out into the hall, plastered on a bright smile and followed several other ladies to the scaffold—or rather to the great hall. ©Eliza Knight All Rights Reserrved Printed with permission

RELEASES JUNE 30 PREORDER AVAILABLE Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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showcase Belle Ami

The Girl Who Loved Caravaggio The Girl Who Loved Caravaggio Belle Ami Romantic Suspense

Art historian Angela Renatus knows she’s different. She can see into the past—into the lives of the greatest artists of all time—but are her visions a gift or a curse?

Angela and her fiancé, Alex Caine—a former Navy Seal turned private detective—recover precious works of art for private collectors, museums, and galleries. Enlisted by the Uffizi Gallery in Florence Angela and Alex investigate what is considered one of the greatest art heists in history—the theft of Caravaggio’s “Nativity”.

But the deeper they delve into Caravaggio’s life, the more Angela realizes that her visions about the tortured artist go far beyond the missing masterpiece.

A web of secrets and lies entangles Angela and Alex on a twisted and treacherous journey into Caravaggio’s very own heart of darkness…and the truth could propel the couple to a point of no return.

Rome, Italy 28 May, 1606 The pounding on her door sent her heart into a thunderous gallop. Cara Madre di Dio, nothing good ever came of being out after curfew. Fillide crossed herself, invoking the Virgin’s protection, 30 | UncagedBooks.com

as she rose from her bed and lit a candle. She crept to the window. The full moon lit the street with silvery beams revealing two men holding another man between them. She ran down the wooden steps to the door. “Who bothers a woman in the safety of her home so late at night?”

She could just make out the garbled words. “Fillide, amore mio, for the love of God open the door.”

“Caravaggio!” She threw open the door. The bruised and battered man shaking on her doorstep bore little resemblance to the swaggering painter who’d left her bed only a few hours ago. She held her candle higher, illuminating the ravaged man, his head caked with dried blood. His doublet looked as if it had been painted red by the artist himself. His eyes were wide with terror as if he’d witnessed his own demise.

She hurriedly whisked the men inside, casting a quick glance up and down the street before shutting and locking the door. “Upstairs.” They half-dragged, halfcarried Caravaggio up the stairs and deposited him on the bed. He closed his eyes and drew a breath of relief.

His chest rose shallowly, and he winced.

“What in God’s name happened?” Fillide asked as she fetched a basin of water and cloth.

“A duel between Caravaggio and Ranuccio. Caravaggio drove the bastardo to the ground and went to cut his testicles off, but Ranuccio moved and Caravaggio missed and stabbed him near the groin. He must have sliced deep, because he bled like a stuck pig. His brother and brothers-in-law carried Ranuccio’s body from the tennis courts. He is a dead man for certain.”

Caravaggio moaned as Fillide gently washed the blood from his face and head, careful not to disturb the deep line of gruesome stitches. “If Ranuccio was injured, how did the painter get this wound on his head?” she asked, dipping the cloth into the basin and wringing it out to continue her ministrations.

Onorio’s words tumbled from him. “Ranuccio’s brother Giovan Francesco retaliated and clubbed Caravaggio with his sword. Then the captain joined the skirmish to stop Giovan from killing Caravaggio. Giovan and the captain fought and Petronio was badly wounded.

We all fled before the sbirri showed up and arrested us.

Paulo and I took Caravaggio and Petronio to the barber surgeon, Pompeo Navagna. He stitched up Caravaggio and Toppa, but Toppa was too badly injured to be moved and we had to leave him. It is certain the sbirri,

those bastards of the papal constabulary, will arrest him and take him to the Tor di Nona. If he survives that hellhole of a prison, it will be a miracle.”

“What were you fools thinking?” She wanted to slap silly each of these boys who pretended to be men.

“What will happen next?”

“The capital crime of dueling comes with a death sentence and we are all in danger,” Onorio said. “By tomorrow, the Guigoli brothers, Giovan Francesco, and everyone except poor Toppa will have fled Rome.”

Paulo was pacing. “We need to go Onorio, we need to leave Rome now!”

Onorio grabbed the agitated Paulo, halting his nervous pacing. “Si, si, I know, Paulo.” He turned to Fillide.

“Can you get Caravaggio to the Marchesa Costanza Colonna? He needs to leave Rome for he is sure to be arrested. She has always protected him and pray to God she doesn’t desert him now, or he’s a dead man.”

Fillide examined the feverish face of the painter. She wanted to kill him herself for leaving her bed when she’d pleaded for him to stay. By right, she should toss him in the street or better yet, call the poliziotti. It would serve him right. But in her heart, she knew she could never cause him harm. He’d killed Ranuccio for her, to free her from the abusive pimp.

She loved him.

She’d been in love with him since that fateful day at the market when he caught her stealing a peach.

Caravaggio was her kindred spirit—passionate and fiery—refusing to accept the plate of bitter herbs life had served him. Caravaggio had always reached beyond his fate. And in so doing, he’d reached beyond hers. He’d seen into her soul and had painted her on numerous occasions. If the critics were to be believed, he’d immortalized her.

No one better than Caravaggio understood the loss of a father. He understood her harsh loneliness—growing up without the anchor of a family. A mother who forced her into prostitution, instead of protecting her. Even as she crossed herself for thinking ill of the dead, Fillide could not bury that long-ago betrayal.

Gazing at the man who—like her—struggled to conquer his demons, she made up her mind. “Leave. I will see to him.”

Onorio grabbed her hands and kissed them. “Thank you. I will go to Milan and my family in Lombardy.

Pray the Pope will grant us all forgiveness and allow us to return to Rome.”

“You’re sure the Marchesa will help him?”

“She’s like a guardian angel to him. Their ties go back to his mother and aunt. The aunt was a wet nurse to the Sforza Colonna’s children. It is doubtful she will turn her back on him in his hour of need.”

“Go. I will get him to the Villa Colonna and pray the Marchesa sees fit to save him.”

With the two men gone, she heated a bowl of beef broth and spoon-fed Caravaggio. “This time you’ve gone too far, painter. How will you see your way clear of this disaster?”

“In the Church’s eyes I’m damned and I fear I will never find salvation in God’s eyes. But I do not regret ending the life of that bastardo.” He sipped a spoonful of the fortifying soup. His eyes mellowed and warmed. “Who would think that a whore would be my dearest friend.”

It rankled her to be called a whore, but she could not argue with the truth of his words. “I don’t know why I agreed to help you.”

“Could it be I hold a special place in your heart?”

“And even if it were true, what good does it do me?

You will leave Rome and never give me another thought.”

“You know that is not true, amore mio. Is it not fate that puts certain people in our paths? Even a painter and whore have hearts that yearn for more from this life. Are we not entitled to love and to be loved?”

She smiled and brushed a wayward lock from his brow. “Love has never been in the cards for you or me. We service the powerful and bow to their wishes.” She bent to kiss him. “I wish it were true the possibility of love, but now it is too late.”

He snarled. “It has always been too late for me.

What others take for granted, I’ve fought my whole life to win.”

“Anger will not make it so, nor will it change anything. Both you and I are too quick to anger. A bit more temperance would serve us well. God gave you a talent greater than any man I know.” She laid her head on his chest. “Painter, I do not want to lose you. It breaks my heart to think I may never see you again.” She looked up and gazed imploringly at him.

“What if I came with you?”

Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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C ATC H UP

CATCH UP WITH LINDA O’CONNOR AND HER LATEST RELEASE IN THE DR. BROGAN CORKIE MATCHMAKING DOCTOR SERIES

| ANNETTE BOWER |

Uncaged welcomes back Annette Bower

granddaughters’ return.

Uncaged: I read and loved this book, can you tell your readers more about the book, Ponytails and Promises?

I wear a mask when out in public. I enjoy grocery shopping, but for now, I order online and pick up for myself, my parents, and my sister-in-law.

I’m challenging my pioneer spirit and learning new adapting skills.

Thank you, Cyrene. I’m especially pleased because you know life on the land and how important families are to maintaining a business. My main character, Emily, knew she would eventually become the owner-operator of the one-hundred-year-old family farm. However, the sudden death of her father turned eventually into immediately. Now it was two grieving women and an ageing uncle with dementia on the farm. Research showed that the need for physical strength no longer holds females back from being owners-operators. I wanted to bring to this story the challenges women face as businesswomen.

I also like to change up my characters’ occupations, and hence Max is a Nurse Practioner without knowledge of the agricultural business. I enjoy having characters learn to respect differences on their way to love.

Uncaged: . Are there any promotional events for 2020 that are on hold for now because of the pandemic?

Absolutely. Scheduled readings at libraries and book clubs are on hold. My plans to attract print book readers at craft sales and book signings will wait for next year. Comradery and learning experiences through planned writing conferences and retreats are on hold for the foreseeable future. I repeat I’m challenging my pioneer spirit and learning new adapting skills.

Uncaged: What are you working on now that you can tell us about?

My working title, Oranges for Miranda, is in another editing phase. I continue with a businesswoman theme, but now she is retired and needs to discover who she is without her all-consuming career. She is a mature woman with two adult children she has raised on her own and has turned the business over to them. She left the country to allow her children to be in charge without her. She meets a man and wonders if he could be her denouement in life.

Uncaged: . How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle?

The hardest change is caring remotely for my 96 and 97-year-old parents in protective lockdown in their senior residence. Placing a palm on their window and communicating with my deaf mom and hard of hearing dad by writing on a whiteboard is heartbreaking.

My Barbie dolls forlornly stare at me, waiting for my Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| CATCH UP |

I

am 5’4” with eyes of blue and have always been an urban dweller. I have directional dyslexia and cannot find my way out of a paper bag without a GPS. While our children were young, we lived in a small resort town of Regina Beach, the closest setting I’ve ever been to that resembles remote territory. It is this town, surrounding area, and community that inspires my writing. Woman of Substance, Moving On, Fearless Destiny and Ponytails and Promises are set in and around the town that touched my heart.

My husband and I moved to a condo with a view of the city streets below and the fields on the horizon. When I travel, I meet interesting people who always tell me how to get to where I want to be before my husband sends out the search party. annettebower.com

Enjoy an excerpt from Ponytails and Promises Ponytails and Promises Annette Bower Contemporary Romance Emily Lange is a fourth-generation farmer with fields to seed, machinery to fix, grain to sell, and a lot to prove to a community who doubts her abilities. But in the heart of the Canadian prairies, family always comes first. Her aging uncle, whose dementia is worsening, needs constant supervision and Emily is forced to hire a caregiver to see to his needs during spring seeding.

34 | UncagedBooks.com

Max Fraser, a nurse-practitioner, has his future mapped out. He’s set to begin his new position with the Apex Medical Center and settle into his new life, which hopefully includes finding the woman of his dreams and beginning a family. That is, until he meets Emily and she convinces him to take a detour, move to the farm, and care for her uncle.

The lines of their temporary business arrangement begin to blur as their attraction grows. But neither of them are prepared to abandon their dreams. Not even for each other.

Excerpt Before I read from a novel to an audience, I hire a play director to help me choose scenes for a twentyminute reading that will provide a flavor for my story.

I’ve chosen a few scenes from that reading to bring the main characters, Emily Lange, Max Fraser and Emily’s best friend, Rae, to life.

Rae struck her palm to her forehead. “My brain is mush. I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten about your concern for Harold and spring seeding.”

Emily held up her hand. “Rae, no apologies, please.”

After a large gulp of her cinnamon-sprinkled cappuccino, she licked foam from her lip and shook her head.

“We may have to take turns keeping him in the tractor with us but that’s not ideal or safe.” Emily clamped her jaw, trapping her anxieties behind her teeth. She wanted things to be like they were last spring. Dad and Mom farming the land. Aunt Mae looking after Uncle Harold. And herself, an accounting assistant at Master Seed, enjoying city life with her future as a farming partner somewhere down the road.

“What does Harold need?” Rae broke into her thoughts.

“A caregiver. Someone to be around his house and the yard keeping him safe and engaged in life as much as possible. That’s the most important.” She spread her arms wide. “And I’d like a wife for Mom and me.”

| ANNETTE BOWER | “Have Harold’s mental abilities declined?”

“More episodes of forgetfulness.” Emily broke the wooden stir stick into pieces. “And paranoia, perhaps. He’s always telling us that we don’t trust him to do anything.”

“I understand why you need someone to look out for him.” Rae sipped her coffee. “Wait,” she said. “What else did you say? A wife?”

“Ideally, someone who would do everything a farm wife would do. You know, look after Harold, Mom, and me,” Emily said truthfully. “Probably more like a wife of days gone by. That woman who made the meals, washed the clothes, even sorted and folded them before they appeared in your drawers, just during seeding, anyway.” Emily forced a small smile.

Rae didn’t need her troubles on top of her grief right now. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

The man’s red hair hung over the hood of a loosefitting bunny hug, while his beard hid the ties. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward a sleek black convertible.

“Who are you?” Emily asked.

The sun broke through a cluster of clouds. He turned and watched Rae move along the peak of the roof. He spoke quietly. “She’ll need to fetch another bundle soon.”

“Who are you?” Emily repeated, searching her memory. An old classmate, a forgotten summer resident, or a salesman?

“Max.”

“Aw, explains the trailer with your scaffolding attached to your van.”

Emily inched closer. Where had she heard that name before? His eyelids were fringed with almost invisible lashes. They closed and then opened again, showing off green-brown eyes under auburn brows. Freckles scattered where there wasn’t facial hair. She hadn’t heard of a freckled stranger in town.

**********

“Would you share that coffee?” Max asked.

Rae was on the garage roof. The rapid thwack, thwack from the air-nailer hammering through the shingles reverberated through the trees and surrounding buildings. Emily leaned against the fender and sipped her coffee, waiting for Rae to notice her. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she needed a sounding board before she went home to her mom.

“No.” She pointed to the roof. “It’s for my friend.”

“I’m repairing Mrs. Meyer’s garage roof.”

“Hello.”

Emily jumped at the sound of a male voice next to her ear. Hot coffee sloshed over the lid and down her hand. “Dirty grain.” She shifted the cup into her other hand and wiped the coffee on her jeans then turned cautiously, planting her feet firmly. “Where did you come from?”

“I can tolerate two sweeteners and skim milk, if I have to.”

He obviously knew Rae, but how?

“I’m Max Frazer.”

“Oh, Rae’s brother.” She placed her cup onto the running board. She opened her arms, rushed toward him, and wrapped both her arms around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She patted his back.

He stood, unmoving, with his arms at his side.

The air crackled with Rae’s voice. “Emily, let go Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| CATCH UP | of my brother.”

Emily patted the center of his back one final time and stepped away.

Rae called, “Max, I see you’ve met Emily, the town hugger.”

“I object.” Emily’s hands flew to her hips. “I give welcome hugs.”

“I’ll be right there.” Rae scrambled down the scaffold.

The wind rustled through the poplar trees fanning Emily’s cheeks. She unbuttoned her jacket and the breeze cooled her breasts and her core, which seemed a whole lot warmer than when she hugged other people.

She didn’t miss his slight step backward, away from her. “I encroached on your space, I’m sorry.” Emily was almost afraid to breathe.

“No harm done.” He stepped out of her reach.

“This time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Could this be the time she was forced to keep this promise?

“Emily,” Rae said, stepping between Emily and Max. “Please don’t fight.” ***** After dinner, Rae and Max drove to the farm.

A man dressed in a black vest and dress pants jumped onto the road in front of them. He held a rake as if it was a firearm and pointed it at the windshield. Rae stomped on the brakes.

The man’s gaze met Max’s. Then his lids closed behind black-framed glasses. He shook his head and collapsed onto the ground.

36 | UncagedBooks.com

Emily watched Max wrap an arm around her uncle and turn with him toward home. She followed quietly in their shadow until they had disappeared through the door of the old farmhouse. She wiped her sweating palms on her jeans.

Emily touched her mom’s shoulder, “What are we going to do?”

Rae approached them and wrapped her arms around Alese and Emily’s waists.

“Is your brother really a doctor?” Alese asked.

“No, but the next best thing to it.”

Emily waited for Rae’s explanation.

“He’s a nurse-practitioner with all kinds of life experiences.”

“I’ve heard of that career choice,” Alese said. “A nurse plus.”

DON’T MISS THIS TITLE:

car o l ine warfie l d

Uncaged welcomes Caroline Warfield Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest release, Music on the Waters released in May. Can you tell readers more about this story?

Music on the Waters has many elements that feature often in my work: a hardworking if lonely hero who is comfortably middle class, a talented heroine, an interesting setting (in this case Orkney), and children. Children have a way of invading my books. What is unusual in this one is that the hero and heroine are tied together by their love of music, which is unusual trope for me. Music has a passion that well… Passion!

Uncaged: You’ve done a lot of traveling, has that influenced some of your work?

Travel is an enormous influence. Ever since I sat in a café in Rome asking myself if I could set a Regency novel there (answer: yes), I’ve never looked back. This book is a good example. I visited Orkney in June, 2017 and fell in love with the place. The following spring, I wrote Music on the Waters on a flight to New Zealand.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

T

raveler, poet, librarian, technology manager— award winning and Amazon best-selling author Caroline Warfield has been many things (even a nun), but above all she is a romantic. Having retired to the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania, she reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures while she nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

She is enamored of history, owls, and gardens (but not the actual act of gardening). She is also a regular 38 | UncagedBooks.com

contributor to History Imagined, a blog at the intersection of history and fiction, and (on a much lighter note) The Teatime Tattler, a blog in the shape of a fictional nineteenth century gossip rag.

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I am working on the second book in series promised to Soul Mate Publishing, part of second trilogy under my Children of Empire banner. It will again feature the sons and daughters of the characters in my earlier novels, send them to the far reaches of the British Empire, and move them into 1840. The Price of Glory, currently resting on my laptop, takes the hero to Egypt. It has a splash of Indiana Jones and a dash of Amelia Peabody in a stew of adventure all its own —assassination, archeology, political upheaval, and a woman medical practitioner. The Value of Money begins with the hero being asked to leave the university in Edinburgh. He’ll be off to New Zealand soon to make his fortune, but the heroine and life are going to have to teach him money isn’t everything. The third book, The Cost of Pity is just a gleam in my eye. I planned to have my heroine (sister of the heroes of the other two who longs to be a doctor)

stay in England, but the plot is suggesting some recuperation in Italy. Because I want to publish them in rapid succession, because they are longer and more complex than many romances—and because I am slow—I’m in a bit of a publishing lull.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle?

Yes and no. On the one hand we’re retired so our daily schedule hasn’t changed, and I like having the things I need delivered to my doorstep. We’ve quarantined completely, however, and I miss family and church quite badly. We work at keeping in touch virtually. You would think I would get more writing done since I can’t go galivanting around, but no.

Concern for those I love and for my country weighs

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

She is high up on the list of authors whose work I read before I became part of the writing community. Looking over books I’ve loved for my lifetime, though, the number one author I would love to have lunch with— preferably in Scotland—is Dame Dorothy Dunnett.

I can still open any of her books on any page and be sucked into her fabulous prose.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

That happens frequently. When I was writing The Renegade Wife, I kept trying to focus on the hero but his cousin kept stealing scenes. Charles was impish, brilliant, brave, and a joy to write about. He finally got his book in The Unexpected Wife.

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I love reading, exploring museums, visiting historical sites, and walking in gardens and woods. I like to do all those things with my grandson when possible. Luckily the greater Philadelphia area has plenty of all of them.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

This is success to me: “Your book kept me up all night.

I had to finish it. When will the next one be out?” If people read them and love them, I’m happy.

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

heavily and sometimes it is hard to sit. Urges to walk, to read, and to bake provide daily distraction.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

I can’t name my colleagues and contemporaries for fear of leaving someone out, though I confess I would love to sit down over tea and share stories of growing up in military families with Carla Kelly.

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I like to be around physical books. I love the way they look, the way they smell, and the way they feel in my hands. Libraries are my happy place. But to read? In many ways ebooks are more comfortable. I can adjust the font; I can easily navigate if I want to go back or forward; I can carry many books where ever I go. I like audio too, but mostly in the car on long trips. I don’t like listening to romance. I listen to mysteries and nonfiction, and I’m an unabashed fan of the Harry Potter books in audio.

| MADELINE MARTIN |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | At the moment I’m devouring romance in ebook format. The pandemic has me craving happy endings and heartwarming prose. I’m reading my way through Mary Lancaster and Jude Knight’s various series, grabbed new books by Julia Quinn and Grace Burrowes. They take me to my happy place.

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

First and always thanks to those of you who read my books. If you want to share my journey, consider joining Caroline Warfield’s Fellow Travelers on Facebook. Or check my website and consider signing up for my newsletter

Enjoy an excerpt from Music on the Waters Music on the Waters Caroline Warfield Historical Victorian Sir Alexander Bradshaw, merchant of Orkney, Scotland, needs a wife to manage his unruly sons, cope with his sullen daughter, and warm his bed. But he hopes for so much more. As Orkney’s long, dark winter approaches with no suitable candidates, an acquaintance suggests a music teacher might occupy his daughter. He embraces at the idea.

Ann Dunwood let herself be lured to Orkney by the opportunity to play The Kirkwall Organ. For the beauty of the instrument, she can endure the tedium of choirs and parishioners who wish only for the most banal of hymns; she’s done it before.

She knows how to fade into the shadows and keep to her place.

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When Alec comes upon her filling the cathedral with a Bach fugue he is enchanted by the magical creature at the keyboard. The object of his fascination sinks into a demure young woman when the music ends. Alec determines to get the magical creature back, and quickly discovers she can fill his life with the music it sorely needs. How long before their solos become a duet?

Excerpt Alec approached the music room, drawn by a river of sound. The Moonlight Sonata flowed under the door, down the hall, and into his study long after the children and the servants had turned in; he followed the music. How could he not? The door opened on silent hinges. He slipped into the music room and stood with his back to the closed door while the miraculous creature from the cathedral poured out the lament of the first movement. Emotion left him no room for thought.

She moved smoothly to the allegretto without pause, its gentle rise making his heart dance. As he was lulled into a serene state, she flung herself into the third movement, and the driving rhythm and a lightning-fast melody took his breath away. Or perhaps the passion flooding from the woman’s body to the keyboard to his ears did so. He couldn’t be certain.

He could only gasp for breath when she brought the sonata to a heartbreaking conclusion, her deep sigh battering his chest.

“Brilliant, Miss Dunwood! Bravo.”

She leapt to her feet, chest heaving, and knocked the bench over in her agitation. “Sir Alec,” she gasped, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

In the power of her playing, the conventional bun that bound her hair had broken loose. The resulting nimbus of curls glowed in the candlelight. The demure imposter had disappeared.

That same light glowed in her eyes, but even as he watched, it started to dim. “Sir Alec, I—” “Please don’t apologize.” He couldn’t bear it. He did not want to see that light fade. “You—your playing, I mean. It’s magnificent. Don’t ever apologize. It has been so long since I heard it played well. Orkney is

| CAROLINE WARFIELD | far from the great capitals. Fiddles and fifes are fine enough, but this”—he waved an arm to encompass the room, the instruments, and the woman whose playing stunned him—“this is magic.”

She colored, but he watched her body relax. Even the hands held at her waist lost their white knuckled intensity. She lifted her face and, miracle of miracles, smiled at him.

“Your pianoforte is the magic. And you play, as well.

I heard you this afternoon,” she said.

He returned her smile. “It’s been several years. Memory came back.”

They regarded each other for long moments before her eyes darted off to the corners of the room and she gave herself a shake.

“I’m sorry I disturbed your peace this evening. I’ll be more careful in the future,” she murmured, attempting to slip around him toward the door.

“Miss Dunwood, wait. Please.” She paused, looking back warily. “I—” His mouth went dry and he struggled to swallow. “That is, would you please do me a favor?”

Her brows rose, but she did not answer.

“There are Beethoven duets. Would you play with me?”

She seemed to withdraw into herself before looking back at the piano, longing naked in her eyes. “The sonata?” she asked at last, her voice husky.

“I thought perhaps…” His mind raced. “The variations in C?” She nodded. “Do you have the sheet music?”

He carried the candelabra to the cabinet, hoping the piece hadn’t been moved. It hadn’t. Why would he think otherwise? He bought it for Lucy when he still hoped she would take an interest. She had not, and so it remained where they had abandoned it.

He found Ann seated on the bench watching, and sat at her side.

They studied the music together for moments, falling into a partnership and discussing difficult passages.

She keyed a melody line. He ran through one part, loosening his hands. He knew the music once; had learned it in hope. She seemed to pick her part up quickly. They made one false start, corrected, and circled back to the beginning. Ann Dunwood, he saw,

had lost all her wariness, absorbed as she was in the challenge of the music. Parts proved to be too much, split second timing too difficult. With unspoken agreement, they went back over the difficult parts, hands bouncing off keys. She might not know the piece, he realized, but she understood the composer and fearlessly attacked.

Halfway through, their playing became entangled, until Alec broke off laughing, bowing his head to the piano. Ann convulsed, as if his laughter infected her with madness. They laughed until tears ran.

“How could we—” she began, gasping for air.

“The arrogance of it!” he replied.

“Maybe with a year of practice,” she said, catching her breath.

“A year? Surely a month or two would suffice,” he asserted.

She beamed at him; he thought it the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. When she opened her mouth to reply, the luscious line of her lower lip drew him. He froze, unable to pull his gaze away.

She closed her mouth slowly, and he leaned forward longing to kiss, his common sense in full retreat.

When she licked her lower lip, he was lost. He closed the distance until their breaths mingled.

“Sir Alec?” she murmured before he touched his lips to hers.

“Alec,” he said against her mouth, moving his lips and touching hers with his tongue. She didn’t pull away. He moved back mere inches, enough to look for any sign of distress. Her wide, expectant eyes sent him back for more.

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feature authors

scifi | historical fantasy | romantic suspense

Robert J. Sawyer

Pamela Taylor

Sara Vinduska

R

obert J. Sawyer has been called “the dean of Canadian science fiction” by The Ottawa Citizen and “Canada’s answer to Michael Crichton” by The Toronto Star.

A Member of both the Order of Canada and the Order of Ontario, Rob is one of only eight writers in history to win all three of the world’s top awards for best science-fiction novel of the year: the Hugo (which he won in 2003 for Hominids), the Nebula (which he won in 1996 for The Terminal Experiment), and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award (which he won in 2006 for Mindscan).

The ABC TV series FlashForward was based on his novel of the same name. Rob’s 24th novel, The Oppenheimer Alternative (released June 2, 2020), explores the moral ramifications of The Manhattan Project.

Stay Co n n e c te d

sfwriter.com

r o bert j . sawyer 46 | UncagedBooks.com

Welcome Robert J. Sawyer Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your newest book, The Oppenheimer Alternative, releases June 2.

Can you tell readers more about the book?

According to Amazon, The Oppenheimer Alternative is an alternate-history novel, but that’s because there is no Amazon category for secret-history novel. What’s the difference? Well, an alternate history starts with some series of events in the past as they actually unfolded, then posits that one particular hinge point went differently, and then goes down another path into a “what if?” scenario.

A secret history, on the other hand, never deviates from or contradicts anything that’s in the historical record but purports to tell a hopefully fascinating tale consisting of behind-the-scenes events that, for all we know, could have happened.

My main character, J. Robert Oppenheimer, scientific head of the Manhattan Project and famously known as “the father of the atomic bomb,” really did say that if one were to dig behind his story, you’d find a much, much bigger story — and that’s the story I set out to tell: one that might very well have happened in and around the events we do know about.

Although we think of Oppie today as a nuclear physicist, he was actually an astrophysicist — indeed, the first person ever to postulate the existence of black holes — prior to his work during World War II, so the secret history I outline is a hard-science-fiction story on a cosmic scale.

Uncaged: You’ve won numerous awards including the prestigious Hugo and Nebula awards. What inspired you to write in the SciFi genre?

Ironically, given that I’ve just finished writing a novel set in the past, it was an accident of history. I was born in 1960, before any human being had ever been in space — and I turned 12 in 1972, which was the last year any human being ever walked on Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | another world. It was a dozen years change during which it seemed science could do anything.

And, at the same time, the original Star Trek was in first run on TV, and then being repeated endlessly, portraying the kind of positive, hopeful futures that I’ve gone on to write about myself.

Uncaged: One of your novels was made into a TV series, FlashForward. Even though the series only lasted one season, were you happy with the adaptation that was made to the series?

Well, that was back when a season was twenty-two episodes, so a modern series, like Star Trek: Picard, will have to make it into a third season before it accumulates as many.

It was a fabulous experience, with brilliant people at the helm, including David S. Goyer, Brannon Braga, and Scott M. Gimple — David runs Krypton now; Brannon is executive producer of The Orville and Cosmos; and Scott runs the whole Walking Dead franchise.

Now, yes, the ABC TV series FlashForward was a liberal adaptation of my novel, but that was fine by me: my own personal favorite movies are very liberal adaptations of prior works: Casablanca (from a mediocre stage play called “Everyone Comes to Ricks”), Dr. Strangelove (from a very Tom Clan48 | UncagedBooks.com

| ROBERT J. SAWYER | cyesque technothriller novel called Red Alert), the 1968 Planet of Apes (from the French novel La Planète des singes, which was a satire about academic stuffiness rather than race relations), and 2001: A Space Odyssey (from the short story “The Sentinel” by Arthur C. Clarke). I was pleased with the changes, and loved getting to write one of the episodes myself.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

After my sojourn in the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s for The Oppenheimer Alternative, I’m now back to writing something set in the future. But, as is usual for me, not very far — fewer than twenty years down the road. I’ve previously written a lot about artificial intelligence and transhumanism, starting with my first novel, Golden Fleece, in 1990 and, I’d thought, culminating in my WWW trilogy of Wake, Watch, and Wonder, the last volume of which came out in 2012 — but it turns out I’ve got something new and fresh to say on this topic.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle? Have you had to change any in-person signings or conventions you were planning this year?

My troubles, of course, are miniscule compared to those of many people, but I’m certainly sad that the entire US/Canada book tour I had planned for The Oppenheimer Alternative has been canceled.

And we had a great launch party planned here in Toronto at Prehistoria Natural History Centre, which is an amazing place; the connection was that it was the only place in Toronto where you could buy Trinitite, the green fused-glass mineral manufactured by Trinity, the first atomic-bomb test; my book was very deliberately timed to come out in the summer of 2020, as that’s the seventy-fight anniversary of the key events in the atomic age: Trinity and the tragic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

From the past, my hero H.G. Wells: he invented science fiction of the kind I write: social commentary disguised in compelling, philosophically rich narratives. One of the things I’m very proudest of in my life is that McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario, chose to add my manuscripts and working papers to their archives — and they’re held there right next to their fabulous collection of H.G. Wells material.

As for present-day authors, a great joy of the science-fiction field is that it’s small and intimate: we all know each other, and pretty much all like each other. So, I’ve had the privilege not just once but repeatedly of dining with my heroes, including the true hard-SF masters Larry Niven, Gregory Benford, and the late, great Hal Clement, plus my longtime friend Judith Merril, who was the mostimportant science-fiction editor in the 1950s.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

No. I know a lot of authors assert that their characters do that, but, frankly, I think that happens only if you don’t understand human psychology, and, if you don’t, you really don’t have much business writing fiction.

An author is the ultimate psychiatrist/sociologist: he or she clearly sees the personal and cultural forces that impel their characters to do things. Now, my characters have often been surprised by what they’ve done — just as many of us are sometimes surprised by our own action in real life — but I always have a solid grip on their motivations and limitations.

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

The best word-processing software ever written was WordStar for DOS, last updated in 1992. It was the only word processor ever designed for creative 50 | UncagedBooks.com

composition by touch typists, rather than for secretarial or academic work. George R.R. Martin still uses it, too, as do some other writers, and I enjoy helping us diehards keeping it up-and-running on modern hardware.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

There are so many metrics one can use to define success, and, since you’ve asked, I supposed I’ve achieved all of them: top awards, bestsellerdom, having a Hollywood adaptation with more in the works, money, thoughtful reviews, academic attention, even my own country’s highest honor, membership in the Order of Canada.

But in the end, for me, what it comes down to is satisfaction with the actual work. I’ve never had to write a book just for the money (I’ve turned down media tieins, for instance); I never wrote a book I later wished I’d taken more time with (The Oppenheimer Alternative took four years to research and write!); and, in three decades as a novelist with twenty-four titles under my belt, I’ve never written a book that I’m not still proud to have my name on.

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I was an early adopter of ebook technology, way before there the Kindle existed, and that’s how I do most of my reading. Part of it is the portability: I travel a lot (or at least did before the current crisis!), and having a whole library with me is fabulous.

I also have photosensitivity and astigmatism. Because of the former I love reading in the dark, with my ebook reader set to an inverted display, showing white text on a black background, and because of the latter, I find sans-serif fonts easier to read than the serif ones normally found in printed books, so I set my ereader to use them (I recommend Noto Sans, which is free, and has the virtue of making the abbreviation for artificial intelligence not look like a shortened form of the name Alan).

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | I was also one of Audible’s first customers, and absolutely love audiobooks (all two dozen of my novels are available in that format, by the way, and one of them — Calculating God won the industry’s top award, the Audie, for best science-fiction or fantasy audiobook of the year).

As always, I have several books on the go. On Audible right now, I’m listening to The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion by Jonathan Haidt, which is absolutely profound, and has completely changed my thinking about how to interact with people on social media.

On my ereader — a Kobo Clara HD, by the way — my current nonfiction read is H G Wells: A Literary Life by Adam Roberts, and the novel I’m currently reading is The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin, which is one of those books written by a mainstream author dealing with a speculative-fiction notion but failing to really grapple with or even understand her own premise. There are good books of this type — Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife is one of my favorite novels — but this one, although it has some nice turns of phrase, is an example of characters not behaving as real psychology and sociology would have, given the premise.

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

I’m super-sad that I won’t be seeing readers in person this year. I so look forward to my book tours, and to my annual roster of science-fiction conventions coast-to-coast in Canada and the US, all of which have been or seem likely to be canceled for 2020. But I’m still available online as RobertJSawyer on Facebook, Twitter, and Patreon, and my website — with a whole suite of DVD-style bonus features for The Oppenheimer Alternative — is at https://sfwriter.com.

Enjoy an excerpt from The Oppenheimer Alternative The Oppenheimer Alternative Robert J. Sawyer SciFi/Alternative Historical Writing with “a sense of wonder that hasn’t prevailed since the days of Heinlein” (Books in Canada), best-novel Hugo and Nebula Award-winner Robert J. Sawyer brings you “a truly science-fictional work of alternate history” (S.M. Stirling).

While J. Robert Oppenheimer and his Manhattan Project team struggle to develop the A-bomb, Edward Teller wants something even more devastating: a weapon based on nuclear fusion — the mechanism that powers the sun. But Teller’s research leads to a terrifying discovery: by the year 2030, the sun will eject its outermost layer, destroying the entire inner solar system — including Earth.

After the war ends, Oppenheimer’s physicists combine forces with Albert Einstein, computing pioneer John von Neumann, and rocket designer Wernher von Braun — the greatest scientific geniuses from the last century racing against time to save our future.

Meticulously researched and replete with real-life characters and events, The Oppenheimer Alternative is a breathtaking adventure through both real and alternate history.

Excerpt Chapter 8 1944 I wanted to live and to give and I got paralyzed somehow. I think I would have been a liability all my life—at least I could take away the burden of a

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| ROBERT J. SAWYER | paralyzed soul from a fighting world.

—Jean Tatlock “Can I have a moment, Doctor?”

J. Robert Oppenheimer prided himself on being able to recognize anyone he knew by their voice, and the one belonging to this speaker, deep, a tad oleaginous, made his stomach tighten. He swiveled his desk chair around. “Certainly, Captain de Silva.”

Peer de Silva had the distinction of being the only West Point graduate stationed at Los Alamos; he’d earned the enmity of the scientists not just by censoring their mail but by confiscating their personal cameras, too. In his mid-twenties but with the brittle demeanor of a cynic a half-century older, de Silva was one of those prickly souls who took offense at everything. He’d once burst into a group-leaders’ meeting to complain that a young engineer had had the effrontery to perch on the edge of his desk. Oppie probably shouldn’t have used the tone he had— the one he normally saved for the thickest of undergraduates, the benighted fools who proved there were indeed such things as stupid questions—when he’d snapped back, “In this lab, anybody may sit on anyone’s desk—yours, mine, anyone’s.”

As he beheld de Silva now, Oppie noted something odd in the man’s bearing. His face—handsome enough but always lifeless, like a Roman statue— was cocked at a strange angle, and his hands were apparently clasped behind his back as if he were willing himself to appear at ease. “I have ... news,” he said, and Oppie noted the small gap where an adjective— good, bad?—had disappeared under a mental stroke of the captain’s thick black marker.

“And if you share it,” Oppenheimer offered, trying for lightness, “then we’ll both have news.”

“It’s about your—” The younger man aborted that run and started again. “It concerns Miss Tatlock.”

Oppie felt his heart begin to race. He knew that the security people were aware of his relationship with

Jean; knew that they knew she was, or had been, a member of the Communist Party; and—yes— knew that seven months ago, when he’d taken that unauthorized trip to San Francisco, he’d spent the night with her. A lot of poker was played here on the mesa, but Robert rarely joined in; still, he was conscious that he was being scrutinized for tells. “Yes?” he said as nonchalantly as he could.

“I figured you’d want to know,” de Silva said.

“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s dead.”

Oppie’s first thought was that this was some ruse, a test, to see if ... if what? He would flout security again? Surely Jean couldn’t be gone. He’d have expected to hear through mutual friends— the Serbers, perhaps—or directly from her father John, now an emeritus professor.

“Word just came in,” de Silva said as if he’d read the suspicion in Robert’s eyes. “Honestly, sir, it’s true.”

That it was de Silva breaking the news meant it was the fruit of surveillance. Had her phone been bugged? And, if so, had that jackass Pash ordered it because of Robert’s last visit—his last visit ever, he realized now—to her back in June? Oppie sagged in his chair. Jean was just twenty-nine and had been in good physical health. That meant something like an automobile collision or— Good physical health ...

“Did she k—was it an accident?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but she took her own life.”

Both legs and arms went numb, and the world blurred in front of him. “Tell me ... tell me the details,” Oppie said, fishing a Chesterfield from a crushed pack and lighting it.

“Apparently, she’d agreed to phone her father last night but failed to do so. He went by this morning to check on her and had to break in through a Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | window. He found her body in the bathtub.”

Robert exhaled smoke and watched it rise toward the ceiling. Thoughts—some inchoate, some in words—percolated through his mind. Last year, he had paid his fifteen cents to see a recent flick called Casablanca in the base theater; he knew full well that the problems of two little people didn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. But, still, he’d all but abandoned her, except for that one furtive night, since his move to Los Alamos. Had his desertion—his dereliction of duty—led to that complicated, conflicted woman, the only woman he had ever truly loved, taking her life?

His heart felt like a crumpled-up kraft-paper bag, each expansion of it scratching his innards. He couldn’t talk to Kitty about this, but he had to talk to someone. “Are you as good at keeping secrets as you are at discovering them, Captain?” De Silva opened his mouth to reply, but Oppie raised the hand holding his cigarette. “No, I don’t expect you to answer that. But let me tell you, Miss Tatlock— Jean—is a remarkable girl. In years gone by, we were close to marriage two times, but ...” Oppie trailed off, surprised by the way his throat caught— more than his usual smoker’s cough; a constriction as if his very core were loath to let out the words.

“But both times she ... she took a step back.”

That much he’d say, but no more—not about her ... or about him. She’d retreat each time she realized she was also attracted to women. And yet they shared so much: tastes, interests. And he could hardly fault someone else for being indeterminate, for being uncertain, for being both simultaneously this and that.

“I’m sorry,” de Silva said, and Oppie chose to accept the words as sincere.

“She’d wanted to see me before I came here,” Oppie continued, “but I couldn’t, not then. It was three months before I ...”

“Yes,” said de Silva softly. “I know.”

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“Of course you do.” Oppie nodded curtly. “I am deeply devoted to her. And, yes, as you also surely know, even after my marriage to Kitty, she and I have maintained ...” He stopped, drew a breath. “... did maintain an ... intimate association.”

Such measured words, Oppie thought. Why couldn’t he just say it, loudly and clearly? He loved Jean, loved her supple mind, loved her passionate convictions, loved her gentle, artistic spirit, loved— The wetness on his cheek surprised him, and Oppie lifted his empty hand to wipe the tear away. But another replaced it, joined soon by many more. “Forgive me.”

De Silva’s voice was gentle. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

But there was. He had failed her. He’d known all about her bouts of depression. They had discussed them often, and he had talked her back from the brink more than once, even at last sharing the one time he’d contemplated taking his own life, in the summer of 1926, whisked to Brittany by his parents after what had seemed to his twenty-two-year-old self a disastrous year socially and scientifically at Cambridge’s Cavendish Laboratory. And still, despite his candor, despite his support, despite his love, Jean was gone.

She had introduced him to the poetry of John Donne, reciting it often from memory. Batter my heart, threeperson’d God, she’d say, and now he knew what that truly meant, the trinity he didn’t believe in inflicting a sorrow he was sure would never pass.

“Well,” said de Silva—a man’s man, a soldier unused to emotional displays—“I should leave you to your work. Again, doctor, my condolences.”

“Thank you,” Oppie said. De Silva left, gently closing the naked wooden door behind him.

The tears were coming freely now. He rarely paid much heed to his chronic cough, but the combination of sniffling and hacking was ghastly, and his hand

| ROBERT J. SAWYER | wasn’t steady enough to operate his silver lighter; it kept spitting flame near but not near enough to the tip of his next cigarette. He swiveled his chair to look out the window, but the view of the mesa was as blurry as it was during a thunderstorm, even though it was a cloudless day.

There was a rap on his inner office door. He didn’t want to see anyone and so he remained quiet. But the door swung open anyway, revealing Bob Serber.

“Have you heard ...?” Serber trailed off as Robert swung around and he took in his face, doubtless red and puffy. Bob was silent for a moment, swimming in Oppie’s vision, then: “Can I get you anything? A drink, maybe?”

Robert snorted, pulling mucous back up his nose. He shook his head. “It’s just awful, isn’t it?” Serber said.

“She was so ...” But no single word could encapsulate Jean, and he settled on “sweet,” Oppie’s own favorite description for an irresistible problem in science. Robert nodded, and, after a moment more and with a wan smile, Serber withdrew.

Oppie sat for a while—it felt like an hour, although his wall clock said it was only fifteen minutes—then got up. His secretary Vera had returned from wherever she’d been when de Silva and Serber had visited, and she, too, could see that he was distraught, but when she asked what was wrong, he simply said he was going for a walk.

He headed outside and immediately ran into William “Deak” Parsons, the forty-two-year-old head of the ordnance division and second in command here at Los Alamos. “Hey, Oppie,” Deak began, but he, too, clearly saw the pain on Robert’s face. A good Navy man, conservative and tradition-bound, Parsons was often at loggerheads with the freewheeling civilian George Kistiakowsky, who was spearheading a revolutionary implosion-bomb approach. Oppie, hardly in the mood to hear another plea for arbitration, held up a hand before Deak could speak further. “If it’s about explosive lenses, Kisty wins; if it’s anything else, you win.”

He continued walking and, even with his splayedfoot gate, he felt unsteady on his feet. There was a crème brûlée crust of snow over the frozen mud, and now that he’d finally managed to light up again, the clouds emerging from his mouth were equal parts smoke and condensation. Ashley Pond was frozen, a giant cataract-covered eye staring heavenward.

He made his way toward the stables, left over from the Los Alamos Ranch School. There were horses for rent here, but Oppie and Kitty, both accomplished riders, each owned their own. He saddled up Chico, his sleek fourteen-year-old chestnut. On a Sunday, when he had hours to kill, Oppie would take the gelding from the east end of Santa Fe west toward the mountain trails. But he didn’t want to bother with off-site security today. Instead, he rode Chico around the perimeter of the mesa, just inside the barbed-wire fence. Getting out to the edge took care, but Oppie was deft, playing Chico like a musical instrument, bringing each hoof down individually in the perfect sequence to negotiate even the roughest terrain.

They trotted at first as the horse warmed up, then cantered, then, at last, galloped, faster and faster, and faster still, circumnavigating the facility, an electron in an outermost orbit—no, no, a proton hurtling in a cyclotron: building up speed with each lap, wind whipping Chico’s mane, slapping Oppie’s cheeks, flinging tears from his face and wails from his lungs. He urged his mount to even greater velocities, the horse responding with grim conviction, skeletal poplars racing by them as if one could outrun pain, outrun guilt, outrun love.

An excerpt from The Oppenheimer Alternative

by Robert J. Sawyer Printed with permission.

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showcase

B. Octavier Barnes Talents of Stone and Fire Talents of Stone and Fire

B. Octavier Barnes Fantasy/YA Two boys from absolutely different economic backgrounds are thrown together because of the powers they possess. Riley was an heir who could have the world. Except in reality, his family denied him of it.

Arthish was an only son. His father died before he could get to know him, and he was left with only his mother. Before long, his mother also died, leaving him an orphan.

Together they embark on surviving on their own.

Talents of Stone and Fire tells that these boys would learn of the world outside of their own, the opposites of the life they have known. And their challenges would make a man out of them.

U.S. Review of Books “’You’ve been wondering why the School has kept things like Talents and Babylonian Text away from common knowledge, isn’t that right?’”

At face value, Riley Kincrest and Arthish Lilith couldn’t be more different despite their similar ages. Riley is the only son of a lord and spends all of his time studying academics, combat, and the arts in order to take over his father’s lands one day and keep the family name in good standing. Arthish lives alone with his mother 56 | UncagedBooks.com

out beyond the city walls, providing simply for the two of them as a hunter after his blacksmith father passes away. Underneath the surface, though, each of these two young men has hard decisions thrust upon them that will change their lives forever. Riley’s family and teachers beat him mercilessly, looking for any opportunity to provide corporal punishment and never showing an ounce of affection. Arthish’s mother is brutally murdered while he is away, and he seeks revenge on the mysterious man that carried out the nefarious act.

Their paths remain diverged as Riley is urged to escape by the one person in the Kincrest estate that shows him any kindness—the groundskeeper, Freal. Trying to put as much distance between himself and his home as he can, things become complicated as his father puts a bounty on his safe return, leading potential friends to betray him so they can improve their lot. Arthish’s abandonment leads him to live ferally with a pack of nightwolves, track down his mother’s killer, and finally find a home in a traveling circus with others who share an even darker background. Eventually, Riley and Arthish meet en route to The School: a mysterious academic institution where bounties are outlawed, and where Arthish is told he can learn more about a superpower he holds that is bubbling to the surface.

But this is just the beginning of a long adventure for these two young men who seemingly have little in the world save each other.

For a story that features two young adults as its protagonists and later puts an emphasis on what essentially amounts to university life, this is a tale that is often graphically violent and features cruel intentions and behaviors up to the very last pages.

As a fantasy novel, it masterfully blends medievalstyle locations and lifestyles with the class struggle of nobility and commoners, a burgeoning culture of music and art, and later the introduction of the supernatural in the form of Talents. The story is never content to rest on its laurels, growing and evolving multiple times throughout just this first book. Chapters are either told from the perspective

of Riley or Arthish. As they eventually meet and begin a friendship, this dual narration offers differing views on common events. At times a narrator will provide insight on things happening beyond their purview or introducing characters that will prove important later.

The first chapters are probably the most difficult hurdle for a reader to cross, as things are very bleak, and the treatment of the two boys crosses a lot of boundaries over ethics, a theme that is revisited later in the form of a twisted noble who purchases and abuses child slaves. Further into the book, though, the world and the mythology are so engrossing that readers will press on to see the story’s conclusion. The payoff is definitely worth sticking around for as dozens of colorful, interesting characters provide levity and complexity to the story—from the colorful vagabonds of the circus to a family of ruthless bounty hunters, which has ascended to power through sheer might alone.

The darker moments are ultimately necessary to set up who these young men are and why they are motivated to do the things they do. Through the best and worst of times, this book is a captivating introduction to a world that will let imaginations run wild and encourage further reading and exploration, making a perfect introduction to what is hopefully a long and creative series of stories.

F

ear seems to be a chain that shackles, preventing anyone from rising from the dire straits they are in. But for author B. Octavier Barnes, it is a blessing to find an endeavor that gives one a purpose. For him, it is writing. And he believe it pays off to just jump into the unknown and sometimes be surprised at the results than just simply do nothing.

There is contentment and even a hint of pride knowing you’ve taken a move to conquer what you fear. It beats the uncertainty of sitting back and simply asking, “What if...?”

authoroctavierbarnes.com Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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ELIZA KNIGHT & Lady Belle and Merida

These are my furry, cuddly, slobbery babies, Lady Belle and Merida. Lady Belle is a Newfoundland, and Merida is half-Labrador/ half-Newfoundland. They are the sweetest dogs ever and keep me company during the day while I write. In the winter, they are great at keeping my feet warm. They love to wrestle, take walks, eat carrots and apples (and swipe the occasional sandwich). One of my favorite things to do is play fetch with them. Merida chases the ball, and then Lady Belle waits for her to bring it back, steals it, and gives it to me.

It’s hilarious.

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PAMELA TAYLOR & Corgis

My author bio at the back of each book mentions that I share my home with two Corgis who remind me frequently that a dog walk is the best inspiration for that next chapter. Here they are relaxing on the sofa together. And, of course, one of them looked away just as I snapped the picture :)

A U T H O RS A N D T H E I R P E TS Pets and companions come in many shapes and sizes. From furry to feathered to hairy and scaley - there is a place for all of them. Authors have a special relationship with their pets - whether they remind them to get up and take a break or they inspire their writing. Meet the critters that share their love and devotion to Uncaged Feature Authors.

KIMBERLY BECKETT & Mei Li

This is me with my Danish Warmblood mare, Mei Li. She’s an incredibly talented dressage horse, and such a sweet addition to my life.

MELISSA STEVENS & Simba

This is Simba. He’s more commonly known as my Writing Assistant. I’m not entirely sure why, he does more to distract me than to help. But he does listen to me talk about the friends in my head, and work out the problems as I’m telling a story, without complaint… As long as I sneak him bits of food.

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SARA VINDUSKA & Annalise, Dixie, Gunner, Pongo, Hollywood & Daisy

EMILY EK MURDOCH & Bear

I don’t have any pets, but I do have a kitty nephew! This is Bear, my brother’s cat. Bear was adopted at we think around seven years old, when his previous owners had a baby and Bear didn’t deal well with having a newborn in the house.

Bear is probably half Maine Coon, is a floofter monster, and doesn’t like anyone except my brother, to whom he is devoted!

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pa m e l a tay l o r

I

’ve always loved history and have been an avid reader of historical fact and fiction from the first biography I read when I was nine years old. As a writer, I find that the past offers rich sources for character, ambiance, and plot that allow us to escape into a world totally unlike our daily lives.

History is a passion, certainly. It was my major in college, and I continue to read both fiction and non-fiction of many eras and places. But I’m into a lot of other things as well.

I love to travel. The best trips are those where I can explore back roads, small villages, historical sites, beautiful scenery, and impressive architecture.

Over the years, I’ve done a fair bit of photography. Thank goodness for digital so one no longer has to carry around massive amounts of film of all different speeds — and then pay a fortune to get it processed. Whenever I visit

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old sites for the first time, I take gobs of pictures, because I never know when that site might become part of a story and I’ll need to be able to write a good description.

I’m a classically trained musician, having studied piano from the age of five, and briefly majored in piano performance during my first year of college.

I’ve no doubt this training gives me a feel for the rhythm, dynamics, and phrasing of the written word. Currently, I’m learning to play the organ.

I’m in awe of professional organists and the music they coax from beautiful pipe organs. Surprisingly, there are analogies with keeping multiple threads of harmony and/or dissonance in the right balance when crafting a narrative.

I speak French and Spanish and read Italian.

I studied Russian for a couple of semesters in college, but not much of it stuck over the years.

I am a certificated private pilot (single engine airplane) with an instrument rating. And yes, I’ve actually flown in with my brothers for the legendary “$100 hamburger,” though in our case, it was barbecue.

The majority of my career was spent in the software industry, where I did everything from coding to customer support and documentation to product management and product strategy. Writing fiction is a whole different animal from writing a software user manual, but the basics of good writing can transfer from one world to the other.

Speaking of animals, I’ve always had furry friends and currently share my home with two Pembroke Welsh Corgis. They’re great company and remind me frequently that a dog walk is the best way to find inspiration for that next chapter.

S t ay C onnec t ed

pamela-taylor.com

Uncaged welcomes Pamela Taylor Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest book Pestilence, will release on June 11 and is the 3rd book in a series. Can you tell readers more about the series?

The Second Son Chronicles are set at the dawn of the Renaissance, a time when new ideas are just beginning to emerge. Though he is the grandson of the king, Alfred (the protagonist and eponymous second son) is sufficiently removed from the direct line of succession that he believes his life will be spent in routine service to the Crown. His grandfather, however, foresees for him a special destiny, though what that destiny might be is shrouded in mystery. The Chronicles follow Alfred’s discovery of his destiny, alongside his wife, Gwendolyn who is a strong and progressive woman for her time.

Uncaged: Can these books be read as standalones?

How many books are planned for series?

I’ve tried to make it possible for a reader to pick up any book in the series and not feel lost or confused. (I’ve actually had the experience of reading a book only to discover later that it’s part of a series.) While I think readers will enjoy Alfred’s journey most fully if they start at the beginning, I hope I’ve made it possible for them to step into Alfred’s world at any point and feel fully engaged.

There are six books in the series.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

Finishing touches for the remaining volumes in the series, of course. I have several other ideas on my research plate, one involving the Seigneurs of Sark, another set in the Channel Islands during the German Occupation, and a third on the events surrounding the deposing of Edward II of England.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle?

It has seriously curtailed my travel!

So much of what I pour into my books comes from visiting historical sites, immersing myself in the events that happened there, and imagining the lives of the people that lived those events.

There are pictures on the Internet, of course, but that’s a very poor second choice to standing in the ancient places and absorbing the atmosphere and ambiance.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

Ken Follett and Bernard Cornwell, because they write of the eras preceding or contemporaneous with my books. Jack Whyte – it was his reimagining of the Arthurian legends that gave me the confidence to write a series that was period-appropriate but not necessarily based in known events. Alison Weir, because so much of her non-fiction provides the grounding for my own stories. P.D. James, whose mysteries are perfectly crafted. John LeCarré, Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | master of espionage. Karen Brooks, whose historical fiction explores lesser-known stories from the past and who is extremely generous with her time. And, of course, Jane Austen, because, well, she’s Jane Austen, after all. There are so many more, but this would be a great start.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

My characters actually reveal the story to me. And, in fact, they sometimes do things that I don’t realize until later – sometimes even in a later volume of the series – exactly why they did that. I have one character in a later volume who got really stubborn about his name. When I realized there were two characters with extremely similar names, I knew that was just going to confuse the heck out of readers. So I tried renaming the second one, but he was having none of it. Nor, for that matter was Alfred. Thankfully this all happened in time for me to rename the first character before the book where he appears was published.

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I bake homemade, organic treats and create soft tug-toys for dogs.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

Having someone tell me they really liked one of my books and are looking forward to the next one. It’s small seeds like that from which bigger fan bases are grown. And that, of course, is every author’s aspiration.

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

Call me old-school if you like, but for me there is nothing quite the same as holding a physical book in my hands and turning the pages as I go.

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that I’ve never found an equal to. Of course, I do read ebooks sometimes and have been known to listen to audiobooks on occasion, but your question was about preference.

Right now, I’m reading “The Chocolate Maker’s Wife” and I’ve got a big TBR pile that includes Alison Weir’s account of the life of Kathryn Swynford, some research on Edward II, “The Darkest Shore,” “Sword of Kings,” and the last couple of volumes in Daniel Silva’s Gabriel Allon series -- plus I’m eagerly awaiting Follett’s “The Evening and the Morning.”

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

I hope you enjoy Alfred’s story as much as I’ve enjoyed bringing it to life. If you did, perhaps you’ll take a moment to leave a ranking and a short review on Goodreads, Amazon, Barnes & Noble online, or wherever you can.

Enjoy an excerpt from Pestilence Pestilence Pamela Taylor Historical Fantasy The unthinkable has happened: Alfred’s brother, John, is king. And it isn’t long before everyone’s worst fears are realized. Traditional allegiances are shattered under a style of rule unknown since the grand bargain that formed the kingdom was struck over two hundred years ago.

These will be the most dangerous years of Alfred’s life, forcing him to re-examine his duty to personal honor and to the kingdom, while the threats posed

| PAMELA TAYLOR | by his brother constantly remind him of his father’s final words of advice. What choices will he have to make to try to protect the things he holds most dear?

Excerpt My beloved son, If you are reading this, then you know that I have taken no steps to alter the succession. Whether that will be my conscious decision or whether fate will intervene to take that decision from my hands is unknown as I write this. Perhaps that is for the best, for it frees me to say the words that are in my heart and in my mind, unencumbered by any foreknowledge of what may transpire.

As I look at the familiar handwriting, tears well in my eyes, causing the words on the page to blur. No less a blur are the events of the past week. It’s hard even to remember that a mere nine days ago I was enjoying a pleasant holiday with family and friends at my parents’ country manor. It’s still difficult to take in the fact that, despite all our efforts, Ralf has taken his vengeance by taking my father’s life.

For one thing I’m grateful – that I was there at the end and that he knew I was holding his hand as he passed into the next world. After he took his last breath, the silence in the room seemed to last an eternity. No one moved for a very long time. Finally, the bishop had no choice. He stepped to the side of the chair where I sat next to my father’s bedside. Placing his hand on my shoulder and looking across the bed at my uncle Rupert, he said very quietly, “I have no special instructions.”

In our tradition, the king’s will is lodged with the bishop for safekeeping in the vaults of the church. A king may specify the succession for two generations in his will. If he does so, he provides the bishop with a separate document of special instructions to be read and acted upon before the next king is declared. If he doesn’t, the rules of primogeniture apply.

The bishop stepped back to the head of the bed and turned to address the room. Quietly, but with great authority, he intoned those dreadful words of transi-

tion. “The King is dead.” Then, looking directly at my elder brother, John, “Long live the King.”

Rupert and I each made our way to the new king and delivered the ancient pledge of loyalty.

A state of affairs that so many had tried and so much had been done to forestall was now upon us.

My brother is ill-suited by temperament, intellect, and attitude to be king – a fact of which we were all reminded as we watched his response to the bishop’s words and our pledges. He held his head high, looking down his nose to accept our pledges rather than deigning to bend his neck. His chest puffed out like a peacock seeking a mate . . . so much that one could easily imagine the tail feathers fanned out in grandiose display behind him.

He then gave the bishop what seemed to me a rather menacing look. Undaunted, the bishop moved slowly to the door that exits into the private reception room where the lords of the kingdom were gathered. Opening the door, he once again intoned those fateful words, and John walked into the outer room, followed by the rest of us. At almost the same instant, the opposite door opened and Gwen, my wife, rushed to my side, followed by Richard, one of my four great friends since childhood, all sons of hereditary lords of the realm. Richard and Laurence are heirs to the Devereux and Montfort domains, respectively. Phillip has already become Lord Thorssen, his father having perished alongside King Harold when their party was mistaken for the advance guard of a rebel force during an unfortunate expedition in the Kingdom Across the Southern Sea. Alone among my mates, Samuel Ernle will never be a lord, being the third son in his father’s large family; but he’s distinguished himself in the knighthood, most recently as Captain of the King’s Own Guard.

The lords made their pledges, which John accepted with the same haughty demeanor he’d shown to me and our uncle. “Devereux,” he addressed the first lord of the realm in a commanding tone.

“We’ll have the funeral two days hence and the coronation the day after.”

Lord Devereux couldn’t suppress his look of complete astonishment. “With all due respect, Your Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Grace,” he began.

And then my mother completely lost her composure – something I don’t believe I’ve ever seen in my entire life. “Nooooooooo,” she wailed, running to John and beating on his chest with her palms. “No, no, no, no, no. You can’t do that. He was your father. He was our king. He deserves your respect.”

John couldn’t even deign to offer comfort to the woman who gave him birth and who now was overcome with grief at the sudden loss of the man she loved. Rupert rushed to her and gently pulled her away from her son. She turned into his arms, tears flowing down her cheeks, and laid her head on his chest, sobbing. He led her back to where Gwen and I stood alongside his wife, Catherine, and the women did their best to console her. “Ignore him, Alice,” said Rupert. “Devereux will see that it’s done properly.”

The bishop spoke up. “My son, your mother is right. This is not about you. It’s about the people.

They won’t think well of you as their new king if you fail to allow them to grieve the passing of your father.”

I was surprised how deftly the bishop managed to pander to John’s self-importance while still telling him that the funeral was not about his personal glory. I recall wondering at the time how much was his own insight and how much my father might have prepared him for what to expect from John. Undoubtedly, some of both. There’s equally no doubt this was all about John. He wanted the crown firmly on his head before anyone could come up with a reason why it shouldn’t be placed there.

“Very well, Bishop,” he replied. “The funeral one week hence as usual. But the coronation will be on the following day.”

Both Lord Devereux and the bishop were still dismayed. As first lord of the realm, it’s Devereux’s responsibility to organize both events. And tradition holds that the king’s will is opened and read by the bishop on the day following the funeral.

“Again with respect, Your Grace,” Devereux began.

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This time, he was interrupted by Gundrea, John’s wife, our new queen. She walked straight to her husband, stood facing him with both fists clenched at her side, and said, “No.” Taken aback, John could only look at her and say, “What?”

“No,” she repeated, even more firmly. “I want my father see me crowned.”

When John brought Gundrea here from the Eastern Kingdom as his wife – disregarding royal protocol that the sovereign must approve marriages – she was just fifteen, illiterate, and from a culture where bathing was still considered a dangerous undertaking, so a nose-hair-curling stench wafted in her wake and that of her two companions. Since John had promised her father not to consummate the marriage until she was sixteen, my father could have had it annulled and found a more suitable match. He chose, instead, to use the situation to try to teach his heir some lessons of kingship. Sadly, as with most everything Father tried to teach John, the lessons were ignored.

Father insisted that Gundrea be prepared for her future role as queen. Brother Nicholas, a monk who grew up on our border with the Eastern Kingdom, was enlisted first as her translator and then as her tutor. Though she has improved, she still hasn’t mastered our language.

She was given no choice but to adopt our practices of cleanliness. At first, she would wear only black and only the shapeless style in which she’d arrived. She tried to resist my mother’s insistence that her new gowns should be more fashionable, but in this matter, too, she was given no choice.

John kept her with child until she finally gave him an heir two years ago. Now that he feels the succession will never come to my line of the family, he has little use for her.

“You can be crowned anytime,” John replied dismissively. “It’s my coronation that’s important.”

But Gundrea was not to be swayed. “No,” she said again, this time with a little stamp of one foot. “I want my father see you crowned then see me crowned. I want my father proud of my husband and proud of me. Must send message. He must travel. We wait.”

“And what if I don’t agree?”

“We wait. I not ask much. I . . .” She paused, trying to

| PAMELA TAYLOR | come up with the right word. “I insist this.”

“Oh, alright,” John was clearly not pleased. “But no more than one week. The funeral one week hence.

The coronation a week after that.” Gundrea stepped back, somewhat mollified.

“Devereux,” John resumed his haughty manner.

“There’s no need for a fancy coronation. We’ve spent too much of the Treasury’s money on those of late.

I won’t sequester at the monastery. No long procession . . . just from here to the church. No fancy decorations that cost a fortune. Only the nobility and the royal family present . . . the proper way of a coronation. No elaborate feasts in the town. The people can see to their own celebration if they want one. It’s not our duty to pay for that. No fancy banquets either.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” replied Devereux, still clearly nonplussed.

Again, Gundrea spoke up. “Must have banquet. Honor new king. Honor my father. Must have banquet.”

“And what if I say no?” asked John.

“Queen is in charge of banquets,” she said. “Will have banquet.” This is a side of Gundrea none of us has ever seen. We had no idea she retained such intense loyalty to her father or that she was willing to stand up to her husband.

“Then it will be a small banquet,” John acquiesced grudgingly. “I’ll decide how much money can be spent and that will be that. You have my orders, Devereux. I expect them to be carried out.” With that, he marched across the room and left us, Gundrea following, her head held high and the hint of a triumphant smile on her face. I can only imagine how he must have chastised her once they were back in their apartment.

DON’T MISS THE FIRST 2 BOOKS OF THE SERIES

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Uncaged welcomes Sara Vinduska Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest release is the third book in the Fateful Justice series called Retribution. Can you tell readers more about the series?

Well, it didn’t start out as a series. I finished the first book and just wasn’t happy with the ending. I knew the main character’s story wasn’t finished. So, I rewrote the ending and immediately started on the next book. Then I started getting interested in some of the secondary characters and it grew from there. The books are all romantic suspense and Lash, the original hero, is kind of the common thread throughout all the books.

Uncaged: How many books are you planning for the series? Do they read well as standalones?

O

riginally from Kansas, Sara Vinduska is a romantic suspense author and aspiring farmer in Wyoming. Her other passions include yoga, soap making, good red wine, and K-State football.

Stay Co n n e c te d

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I’m finishing the fourth in the series now and have five more started, so at least nine! And yes, they all read as standalones. That was definitely a goal of mine. I wanted each book to be able to be read on it’s own without cliffhangers.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

I’m almost done with the fourth book in the series, titled Reclaimed. It features a secondary character from the second book in the series as the main character this time. He’s a bull rider, so I was able to work in a scene set where I live in Cody, Wyoming. Our town’s nickname is the Rodeo Capital of the World since we have a rodeo every single night from June-August!

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle? You were planning on attending Wild Deadwood Reads this year. Since it’s been cancelled, are you planning on attending in 2021?

Day to day, my life hasn’t changed a lot. My husband already works from home. I work at a bank, so even though our lobby is closed, we have remained open, doing everything through our drive up and online. I have really missed getting together with friends at

restaurants, getting massages, and my yoga class.

And travel. My husband and I love to travel and were planning to go to South Africa this month but have had to postpone it. Hopefully we’ll still get to go later this year.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

This was going to be my first Wild Deadwood Reads and I am so sad it was cancelled. I was really looking forward to it. But, keeping everyone safe is more important and I will definitely be there next year!

Oh, yes! They’ve killed people, gotten themselves killed, battled addictions, turned into a main character and demanded their own book, the list goes on. Definitely not what I originally planned, but they seem to know what they’re doing even when I don’t. My characters continually surprise me and I love it.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I would have to say J.R. Ward. To this day, The Black Dagger Brotherhood is one of the best series I’ve ever read and the books definitely inspired me. I have them all on a shelf in my office.

I love hiking, riding our horses, cooking, reading, and yoga. I also love to travel. There’s nothing like visiting someplace new to spark creativity!

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Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

Right now I’m reading Hidden Betrayal by Diane Benefiel and the latest Oprah magazine.

To me, it’s being able to entertain and move readers with the stories I love to write. Of course, I’d love to be able to do it full time. But, even if that never happens, the main thing is to enjoy what I’m doing and hopefully bring enjoyment to my readers. I can’t not write. It’s my passion.

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I love the feel of holding a physical book in my hands. I feel like I experience the story much deeper when I read a physical book. I do love the convenience of ebooks, especially for travel.

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Thank you to everyone who’s bought, talked about, read or reviewed my books. I appreciate each of you and I love getting feedback!

Enjoy an excerpt from Retribution Retribution Sara Vinduska Romantic Suspense As a former Navy SEAL and bodyguard to one of the world’s top Hollywood actors, John Hoyt thought joining the FBI was a logical next step. He never imagined his first case would nearly cost him his life and put him face to face with the one woman he was willing to die for.

Angelina Nobles has spent her career in the FBI living up to the legend of her father. Now, on her most highly publicized case, she’s partnered with a man who infuriates and intrigues her like no other has done before.

Can the two put aside their differences long enough to stay alive and solve a complicated case involving a corrupt politician, arson, murder and drugs? And find love in the process?

Danger and intrigue make a powerful aphrodisiac in Retribution.

Retribution continues the story of Lash Brogan and his friends. Join them in a world where fate’s not fair, but justice and true love are certain.

Excerpt Hoyt met Agent Nobles in the parking lot of the field office at 8 a.m. At least she was on time, he thought as they both parked and made their way to the bureau car they’d be taking to Casper, Wyoming where Senator Westmoreland lived when he wasn’t in Washington, DC. Hoyt was surprised to see she was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt like he was, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

Having acquired the car keys from Ward the night before, Hoyt unlocked the brown Chevy Impala and stowed their bags in the trunk. Agent Nobles raised an eyebrow as Hoyt rounded the car and opened the passenger door for her. “Thank you,” she said.

Hoyt didn’t respond.

“Mind if we stop for coffee?” she asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Hoyt had been up since four, had already worked out and downed two cups of coffee. But it was over a four hour drive to Casper. More caffeine couldn’t hurt.

He pulled into the next coffee shop with a drive through he saw. He ordered a tall black coffee, surprised for the second time that morning when Nobles asked for the same. He’d fully expected her to request a caramel mocha almond milk something or other.

They drank their coffee and drove in silence, which suited Hoyt just fine.

When she’d finished her coffee, Nobles unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned into the backseat, and started pulling files out of her briefcase.

Hoyt fought to keep his eyes on the road in front of him and not on his new partner’s jean clad ass as she bent over next to him.

“Got it,” she said, moving back into her seat and buckling back up. She opened the file. “Figured we could at least talk about a game plan while we drove.”

“Sounds good,” Hoyt said. At least she hadn’t tried to start the twenty questions ‘let’s get to know each other game’ like most women. Surprise number three.

“An officer with the Casper police department first contacted our local Resident Agency four months ago when an informant heard whisperings about the senator’s involvement in a recent increase in drug shipments in the area.

“The senator recently made several large purchases, including a brand new Mercedes SUV and a condo in Jackson Hole. His wife’s a high school teacher and even with his salary, they’re living way outside their means.”

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Hoyt grunted in response.

“We’re scheduled to meet with the agents at the Casper Resident Agency at nine tomorrow morning. They’ll brief us on what they have so far.

Even though it’s their area, the agent in charge is new and they’re comfortable with us taking the lead,” she continued.

That sounded just fine to Hoyt. He smoothly maneuvered the car around a slow moving minivan and focused on the open road in front of them.

Hoyt pulled into the hotel parking lot exactly four hours after they’d left. It was a decent hotel with an attached restaurant and bar, not fancy, but not a dump either. Just like the bureau car he’d driven there. And the building his office was in. Like the clothes most of the agents wore. He had no idea what that said about his new career choice.

He scanned the half-empty parking lot, then the interior of the hotel as they made their way to the front desk, pleased that Agent Nobles was doing the same. She had good situational awareness, he’d give her that.

After getting their room keycards, his for the fourth floor, hers for the second, they headed for the elevator.

“I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a drink. Want to meet in the bar in fifteen minutes?” she asked.

Surprise number four. “Sure,” he said, because he couldn’t think of a reason to turn her down and because a drink sounded damned good.

Ang got to the bar before Hoyt. It was still mostly empty that early in the day. She ordered a glass of white wine, took a long swallow, and sighed with pleasure. She hoped over a few drinks she could get to know something about her new partner.

Normally they didn’t give new agents a high profile case like this, but she supposed with Hoyt’s apparent military background and the support of Agent Calhoun, he was the right man for the job.

There would be a lot of pressure to end this case quickly. But she wanted to know more about who she’d be working with.

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Ten minutes later, Hoyt made his was towards her, leaned against the bar, nodded hello, then ordered a beer.

Ang kept sipping her wine. The strong silent type of man usually annoyed the hell out of her, but it worked for Hoyt. Of course, if they were going to work together, they would have to talk to each other.

“Have you been here in Casper before?” she asked.

He shook his head. “You?” “No.” They finished their drinks quickly in silence, ordered refills.

“Let’s grab a table. Order some food,” Hoyt suggested.

“Sounds good,” Ang said, following him across the room with their fresh drinks.

Hoyt led the way to a table in the corner of the still mostly empty restaurant. He ordered a burger and Agent Nobles ordered a salad. Not a surprise.

He could tell his new partner wanted to talk. It was so much easier working with guys. He knew he was attractive enough that he’d never lacked for female companionship when he wanted it, but he avoided relationships like the plague. And he’d never had a female friend or partner. They’d already talked about the case on the drive, they had a plan of attack for tomorrow, so he really had no idea what to say to her.

“What did you do before joining the bureau? Military, right?” she asked after they’d eaten.

He took a drink, didn’t answer.

“How long have you been in the bureau? Did you transfer in from somewhere?”

“Why all the questions?” Hoyt finally asked, trying hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“I’m just trying to learn a little about who I’m working with.”

His knee brushed against hers under the table and he felt a spark of electricity surge through his body. And that was a definite surprise. An unwanted one.

feature authors

contemporary romance

Melissa Stevens

Carla Swafford

Kimberly Beckett

m e l issa stevens Please welcome Melissa Stevens Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest releases are from the series, Demented Souls. Can you tell readers more about this series?

Thank you so much for having me at Uncaged. It’s an honor. About Demented Souls, the Demented Souls are a motorcycle club that runs part of Tucson, Arizona.

They’re mostly rough, crude guys with hearts of gold, and more than a few secrets. Each book focuses on the romance of a different brother, but you get to revisit couples you’ve seen in earlier books and see how the brothers change over time. There is a lot more to them, but I’ll let them tell you their secrets.

N

ew York Times bestselling author Melissa Stevens has published more than thirty unique books since her first book was released in 2012. Working in the stands at her children’s baseball practices and in the car waiting to pick them up from school, she’s worked to get the stories and people who live in her head onto paper for other people to crave.

She enjoys figuring out how to make a romance work, despite the challenges of two sometimes very different people and difficult situations.

She lives in southern Arizona with her husband and children, where she reads, knits and spends time with her family when she’s not writing.

Stay Co n n e c te d

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Uncaged: How many books are you planning for the series? Do they read well as standalones?

The last book that came out, Sadist was number five.

I’ve got plans for at least ten, but there could be more.

And they all read well as standalone. No book relies on knowing what happened previously to know what’s going on and what’s happening in this story. Of course, the story is richer if you read them in order.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

Right now I’m finishing up book six in the Demented Souls series, Gizmo. It will be out in early July. After that I have a couple more things on my plate. The fifth book in my cougar shifter series (White Mountain Chanat) as well as more Demented Souls and hopefully another Highland County Heroes book should round out my year.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle? I know you were scheduled to be a part of Wild Deadwood Reads. Since it’s been

cancelled, are you planning on taking part in 2021?

I’ve had moderate changes. Like everyone else, I’m avoiding going out more than I have to, but now I’ve got the two kids I have left at home finishing up their school year here. Where they can pester me all.day. long. And it’s not like they’re little. They’re 14 and 18!

It’s made for less productivity than I’m used to. As for Wild Deadwood Reads, my plan is to take part in 2021, but we see how well plans have been going. I also plan to go to 20BookVegas in November, fingers crossed that’s not cancelled too.

ever we can manage it. I read. I knit. I used to watch movies but not so much anymore.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

Readers that love my stories, fans that think of me like I think of Anne McCaffrey. Would I like to sell a lot of books and make a lot of money? Well, yeah, who wouldn’t? I’d love to be able to buy a new truck or a summer home, but I’ll settle for paying off the dishwasher and making people happy.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

Anne McCaffrey. As a teenager, her books are what inspired me. I wanted to be Menolly from DragonSinger. I loved Acorna. I read everything of hers I could get my hands on. It broke my heart when she passed away. I did get to meet her son last year. Spent over an hour talking to him. He’s very nice and I’ve enjoyed his books in the Pern series as well. Another author I’d like to talk to would be Dean Koontz. He was the first “general adult fiction” I ever read. And I’ve read most everything he’s put out up until the last few (I’ve been busy and haven’t read them yet) I’d love to pick his brain and learn everything I can from him.

I’ve been an ebook convert since before the kindle existed. For a lot of reasons but #1 is the ease. I have always been a rabid reader. And I mean rabid.

Before I started writing full time, I kept track of what I read for a couple years. Every year was over 300 books. When I was younger and the books were smaller, that number would be higher, but I’d never kept track and counted before. I like the aesthetic of reading a paper book but I love being able to put 200 books on my kindle and shove it in my purse or a pocket and be able to read where ever I am.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

Yes. Once the characters come to life and start doing what they want to do instead of what I tell them to is the best part. I was working on Jade’s Peace when I’m working along and I actually heard in my head…

“Watch out, my brother will be here tomorrow.” I was all what? You don’t have a brother. Sure enough she did, and he showed up… even better, he got his own book. (Risking Alex)

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Thank you. Thank you so much. I love hearing from you, I love that you like the stories and people in my head.

The best place to find my books is on my website http://melissastevens.us and I’m most active on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/melissastevensauthor/ but I’m also on Instagram https://www. instagram.com/melissastevensauthor/

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

You mean there are other things to life than writing?

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| FEATURE AUTHOR |

Enjoy an excerpt from Sadist Sadist Melissa Stevens Military/MC Romance Sadist made a commitment, one that didn’t include a woman, at least not one of his own, but was it possible he could have more?

Sadist had lived the last ten years with one goal in mind. To make this world safer for people like his family. He lived to protect his fellow Demented Souls, his club brothers. That didn’t leave room for the softer parts of life like a wife or family. He didn’t know if he could share the secret that kept his brothers alive. But who would be willing to let him keep those secrets from them?

Beth was just trying to get through a rough spot.

Between work and helping her parents, she was getting by but that was all. Then a tall, tattooed man walked in to her salon for a haircut. The last thing she expected was for the man who made her stomach flip to be interested in her. Until he came back and asked her out.

Can Beth and Sadist figure out how to make things work or will the secrets and misunderstandings be too much?

Excerpt “What was that?” Sierra, another stylist asked after a moment.

“Someone I did a cut for this morning.” Beth blinked, remembered the card he’d given her and looked down.

“Was he unhappy with his hair?” Sierra frowned.

“If he was, he didn’t say so.” It was glossy card 76 | UncagedBooks.com

with the words The Sadist Den written across it in what looked like neon lighting. There was an address and a phone number as well.

“Then what did he want?”

“He brought me some drawings and he asked me out.”

“Drawings?” Sierra moved closer. “Let me see.”

Beth didn’t mind letting Sierra look at the sketches, but for some reason, she didn’t want to let her handle them. Instead, she laid them on the counter. “These are what he brought. He said he drew them.”

Sierra looked down and looked them all over. “They look like they could be tattoos,” turning to look Beth in the eye. “It was Sadist wasn’t it?”

“You know him?”

“Not really, I know who he is though. He’s been coming in every few weeks for a while for a cut and trim, but he’s never come back like that before. And he’s never been anything more than polite.” She paused a moment. “Wait, did you say he asked you out?”

Beth nodded.

“What did you say?”

“Yes. I didn’t see any reason not to go.” Now she wondered if maybe she should have said no. Was there something wrong with him? Was he a jerk?

Sierra’s high-pitched squeal brought Beth back to the fact that her friend was talking and made her blink several times as the noise hurt her ears.

“Girl, I’ve been trying to get him to notice me for ages.

I’m not sure which is hotter, the tattoos or the beard.”

“I liked his tattoos, or at least the ones I saw, but while he’s nice looking, the beard isn’t a real draw for me.”

Beth shook her head. She didn’t really get the thing about beards these days. She didn’t mind them, but it

| MELISSA STEVENS | was like the uproar about bacon. It was good and all, but it wasn’t something to hold up on high and make everything out of. The line had to be drawn somewhere, and hers was at bacon milkshakes. A shudder ran through her at the thought of bacon milkshakes.

“You’ll have to tell me if he’s tattooed all over.” Sierra gave Beth a leering grin.

Beth just shook her head. She had no plans to sleep with him, especially not on the first date, but she knew better than to say so to Sierra. Beth had listened to her and some of the other girls in the shop talk about their escapades enough to know that they would think she was a prude. Instead she smiled and thankfully, the phone rang, saving her.

DON’T MISS THE FIRST TITLE IN THE SERIES:

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CATC H UP 78 | UncagedBooks.com

| BARBARA BRITTON | Catching Up with Barbara Britton Uncaged: Your latest release is Claiming Canaan, a book in the Tribes of Israel series. Can you tell readers more about this series?

I have been a Christian for decades, so imagine my surprise when a friend talked about a Bible story that I had never heard. Five orphaned sisters petitioned Moses to inherit their deceased father’s land. Moses hesitated and sought the counsel of God. God said the girls were right. If a man died without a son, his daughters could inherit his property. This was a change to history that I wanted people to hear since it was a new-to-me story.

My series follows the daughters of Zelophehad from their “big ask” to their inheritance of land. In Claiming Canaan, the girls finally get their land.

Uncaged: What are you working on now that you can tell us about?

I have a Historical that will release in June. “Until June” came from a story that I heard on an Alaskan cruise excursion over twelve years ago. A WWI veteran and his caregiver stayed in a remote lodge near Juneau and were secluded when winter came to Alaska.

I thought, a man and a woman alone in a lodge? My veteran is an amputee and his shell-shocked issues nearly push his caregiver to flee the lodge, except, she’s as stubborn as he. Throw in a lost Huskie, an overprotective ship’s captain, and some romance and you have “Until June.”

I haven’t abandoned my Biblical Fiction roots. Currently, I am typing another Old Testament story.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle?

You would think writers would have plenty of time to write during stay-at-home orders, but my house is full of family and noise. Distractions abound. Many authors are feeling depressed due to the pandemic and their creative streak is suffering. I’m not progressing as fast on my new novel as I would like. I’m spending more time trying to encourage and stay connected with people.

I miss meeting with my friends and extended family.

My Mom is on lockdown in a senior community, so I cannot visit her. I like to smile, and I find that I’m smiling at people when I’m grocery shopping, but no one knows because I’m wearing a mask. Wisconsin is warming up and I would like to get outside and enjoy the summer—with people.

Uncaged: Are there any promotional events for 2020 that are on hold for now because of the pandemic?

All of my writing conferences and author events have been cancelled through September. Some of the conferences are going virtual, but virtual meetings don’t have the same opportunities for networking and socializing. The print release for “Until June” may be postponed due to bookstores and libraries being closed. The June 11th e-release will go ahead as scheduled.

B

arbara M. Britton lives in Southeast Wisconsin and loves the snow—when it accumulates under three inches. She is published in Biblical fiction and enjoys bringing little-known Bible characters to light in her stories.

Look for Barb to venture into Historical fiction in 2020 with “Until June.” Barb is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, Romance Writers of America and Wisconsin Romance Writers of America.

Barb has a nutrition degree from Baylor University but loves to dip healthy strawberries in chocolate.

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| CATCH UP | Until June Barbara Britton Historical Romance/20th Century Releases June 11 When seventeen-year-old seamstress, Josephine Nimetz, agrees to take care of a WWI amputee in a remote Alaskan lodge to escape the influenza of 1918, there’s enough friction to melt the Mendenhall Glacier. Her position is only until June, and it pays well enough to overlook the hardship of managing a rustic home and a shellshocked veteran, Geoff Chambers.

Geoff makes it clear that he isn’t too fond of the “runt” sent to take care of his needs, nor of her painful mistakes. Dealing with a depressed and addicted amputee, pushes Josephine to the brink of leaving, if not for the money her salary brings.

But Josephine is a perfectionist, determined to get Geoff back on his feet—figuratively. Though, sending a rich, handsome veteran back into society may cost Josephine the man she has grown to love.

Excerpt Josephine strolled on ahead admiring the fuchsia fireweed with its pulled-cotton seedlings while Geoff maneuvered the path’s minefield grumbling with every I-can-do-this breath.

here,” she said.

“I come with my own seating.” He opened and closed his hands as if they had gone to sleep.

Red indentations marred his palms. Guilt hollowed her stomach. No matter what, she would push him back to the lodge. She didn’t need his hands butchered like his bottom.

“Ah, it seems the bears have left you some huckleberries.” Marching off the path to a bush brimming with dark-blue berries, she popped a few in her mouth.

“They’re almost too ripe and definitely too sweet for you.” She tossed a berry at him to lighten his mood.

His head jutted forward like a trained seal in a circus.

He caught the berry with his mouth, swallowed it, and grinned.

“Don’t miss and stain that beige shirt.” She tossed him another berry.

And another.

Both caught.

And eaten.

Clapping, she said, “I’ve never seen anyone catch three in a row before.”

“There’s not much to do in a trench.” His smile vanished. His gaze pinned her skirt to the nearest spruce.

He lifted the rifle from his lap. Slowly. Expertly.

He lagged.

“Come here,” he commanded. “And quickly.”

Her route ended at a creek. A blissful creek fed by a waterfall. The churning white water threw itself over a rock cliff and hugged the granite on its way down to earth. Mist cooled the air, the plants, and her face.

How could she move with a bullet aimed at her shoulder? Or was it her heart?

Geoff came alongside her.

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showcase Andrew Sanders

Pocket Poetry Pocket Poetry

Andrew Sanders Poetry Pocket Poetry is a glimpse at a person’s thoughts and feelings.

There is more to life than just existing, living day to day. There is art in life. And author Anthony Sanders is here to bring out the beauty in his daily living, hoping it will help readers and inspire more of them to entertain their own creativity in seeing more to the normal, average happenings in their own lives. His poems are his pieces of himself.

Art knows no bounds: it does not know age, race, or lifestyle. It comes from within one’s person’s heart and soul. And no matter how much a person avoids his art, he will always come back to it.

U.S. Review of Books “Dreams are the light of imagination and the brother of creation So dream big and maybe you can catch a nation” Fittingly titled, this book is a collection of heartfelt poems that the readers can quickly digest while relishing the poet’s use of imagery and symbolism that consistently evokes emotions and paints an image in the reader’s mind. Sanders’ collection of musings 82 | UncagedBooks.com

and reflections do not necessarily adhere to any consistent poetic rhyme scheme or technique in most poems; nevertheless, the poet demonstrates a knack for using repetition as a means of emphasis and to get the reader’s attention. Notably, “I Can” uses the phrase repeatedly to motivate dreamers and, more importantly, encourages them to believe in their dreams. For the most part, as the poetry compilation progresses, the poems’ speaker is bold and unafraid to speak his mind. From introspective thoughts that range from mental health to spiritual poems about God, Sanders’ passion and authenticity shine clearly through the pages.

There is little doubt that the author has invested a piece of himself in his poems. In “Song,” the depth of the message that words and music last an eternity—even though the singer, composer, or writer does not—is powerful, and anyone who has ever written to feed their inner artist is likely to connect instantly. Interestingly, Sander’s poetry rarely dwells on despair and struggle, even when that is what the poem is about. Instead, he creatively disguises these themes within the umbrella of overcoming adversity, exemplified best in “Stand Tall.” Seemingly describing the hurting individual as “a broken lighthouse,” he cleverly shows how the lighthouse continues to shine with purpose despite its cracks, standing resilient through all that can be thrown at it.

In most cases, the poetry is extremely forthright and easy to understand for the layman, but the occasional outliers in Sander’s compilation make for memorable reading. In particular, Colorblind,” on the surface, just depicts a speaker reflecting on a life void of color. Digging deeper, however, a lack of color can have numerous interpretations, from breaking free of a purposeless, mundane life to being colorblind by treating humanity in the same manner regardless of color. In the same vein, “The world is true” shows complexity and understanding that is rare for someone entering the second decade of their lives. He suggests, candidly, that how one perceives the world is heavily predicated on the mind. Concepts like reality and truth are filtered through the lens of the mind and individualized

based on how the brain has been conditioned through experiences.

Overall, Sanders’ has a strong handle of imagery, and he wields that ability seamlessly in poems like “Don’t be scared.” Despite only being three lines, the reader is left to his own devices as he conjures the image of a burning field, and the speaker simply, even hauntingly, watches instead of fleeing the inferno. The simplicity in Sanders’ poetry allows readers to kickstart their own creative, imaginative juices, which will ultimately render numerous visions and interpretations of the imagery portrayed in his poetry. The use of imagery and repetition is further emphasized in spiritual poems like “Letter God” and “God Said.”

In many ways, Sanders’ encourages his audience to battle and overcome their fear, a feeling that manifests itself in the form of hate, failure, rejection, etc. Using his own example, conveyed through the written word, he demonstrates what authenticity and being true to yourself look like.

Undoubtedly, his intention is for readers to find their authentic selves so they, too, can experience that unfiltered exuberance and embrace their true identities. Tantalizingly simple yet profound in its own right, the author’s collection is a thoughtprovoking journey.

A

nthony Sanders is a 20-year-old man from North Carolina. He spent his whole life running from art because his family wants him to do something to make money. When he realized he had no real chance to get into a university, he opted for community college. He got more and more depressed until he went back to his first love of art. He sang and wrote but his writing was never well received; all except his poetry. So, he plugged it in and here he is with his book.

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C

arla Swafford loves romance novels, action/adventure movies, and men, and her books reflect that. And that’s not all, she’s crazy about hockey, and thankfully, no one has made her turn in her Southern Belle card. In 2015, Carla received RWA’s Pro Mentor Of The Year Award.

Her books have won awards and been a finalist in several contests. Her first two books in The Circle series were on Apple’s top ten best seller lists second only to Nora Roberts (Romantic Suspense) and E.L. James (Exotica). And her first three books stayed on Apple’s romance top 100 list for nearly a year.

She’s married to her high school sweetheart and lives in Alabama.

Stay Connected

carlaswafford.com

car l a swaff o r d 84 | UncagedBooks.com

Uncaged welcomes Carla Swafford Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! Your newest book, Fake Play will release on June 30th. Can you tell readers more about the book?

One of my favorite tropes is marriage of convenience. And one of my favorite set ups is for a couple to get drunk and wake up married. Where at? At Sin City, Las Vegas, baby! So all of that led to my newest book.

Two strangers wake up in the same bed after a night of partying in Las Vegas to discover they are married.

Connor Ellison, one of Atlanta Edge’s best wingers and biggest prankster, is given an ultimatum by the coaches and the PR department. He must stay married until the end of the run for the Cup or be available for trade.

Lily Jones wants nothing to do with the insane demand. But he convinces her the best decision is to play along. If they remain married and pretend to be in love, he offers to save her family’s ice rink from bankruptcy. Anyway, it’s only until the end of the hockey season. Then they can go their separate ways.

Easy-peasy. No way will they go to the finals. No way will they truly fall in love.

Uncaged: Whether your books are suspense, MC, or sports – the one thing in common with them all is romance. What inspires you to write in the different sub-genres?

It’s kind of funny, but simple. Different publishers.

I wrote mercenaries for Avon Impulse and Avon Red for a three book contract. The first book was my debut book picked up from their slush pile.

After that contract and between agents, I sent in a submission to Loveswept. The editor liked the story, but asked if I would be interested in writing an outlaw motorcycle club book. I said sure. If it’s Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | romance, I can do it. Ended up with two books for them. By the way, I topped off that series with a self-published one, making it a trio.

For now, I’m concentrating on self-publishing only.

With a full time job and being a caregiver to my 88 year old mother, I decided making my own schedule is best.

While on the self-publish route, I’ve written a couple books about a sport I fell in love with a few years ago. Hockey. Book one was Crossing The Line. And as you mentioned earlier, the second one, Fake Play, is coming out June 30.

And I just started last year, a new romantic suspense series called the Southern Crime Family. The first book is titled Jake. (Psst! It was the submission I sent to Loveswept originally.) I hope to have the second one completed by December. It’s the middle brother, Sen. Then Ethan should be out next year.

Each book is a standalone, but the various bad guys

86 | UncagedBooks.com

in the stories have a connection, so you will need to read in order to get the full impact. No cliffhangers, but a few threads of the plot isn’t solved in each book until the last one.

All part of having the freedom to choose what I write.

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

Oh, yes. I’ve started on the second book in the Southern Crime Family series. He’s half Vietnamese and his love interest is deaf. The research is so interesting. My husband’s uncle was deaf since he was a baby. And I have a friend whose husband is Vietnamese.

Oh, in this series, each couple has a particular sexual quirk. In Jake, he loved to spank and the heroine loved being spanked. I haven’t decided in the second book what it will be. But oddly, I already know the youngest brother’s particular hang-up. Nope. You’ll have to wait to hear about that at another time. Ha!

| CARLA SWAFFORD |

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle?

A good bit. Presently, I work my day job from home. Fewer interruptions for sure. That’s nice.

But I miss going to restaurants during lunch.

Cooking isn’t my speciality.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

This got me tickled. I’m one of the fortunate few who has done that with her three all-time favorite authors. Linda Howard, Anne Stuart, and Sherrilyn Kenyon. Linda was a member of one of my Romance Writers of America chapters for several year. So I was lucky enough to have several conversations with her. She downto-earth, smart, and kind. Anne was a speaker at a local luncheon, and I was assigned to pick her up at the airport and drive her to the hotel.

Alone in the car, we had a wonderful chat, and yes, I asked lots of questions. A wild, crazy, delightful person. And sweet Sherrilyn. She loves her fans and I’m one. She was the first person I called when I sold my debut book.

They have all encouraged me to write. Maybe not in so many words, but by the books they write and I enjoy. I do have more authors I admire and would love to sit with to discuss their process and where they get their ideas. Mary Balogh, Louise Bay, and Cherise Sinclair. What a combination, huh?

Every author I read, I learn something new, and I’m always excited about meeting every single one. I never want to be blasé about this business.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began?

I’m sure I have though I can’t think of a specific one. Being mainly a “write by the seat of my pants” author, the characters in my books often surprise me. A twist will appear out of nowhere, and most often it will fit the plot perfectly. That’s fun when it

happens.

If it causes the story to stop, it tells me I need to start the scene from scratch. She/he has done something out of character.

I guess because months will go by as I think and piece together the characters in my mind. Once I’m ready to write, they know how to tell me their story.

As many authors will tell you, we’re not the creators, but the conduits of their lives.

Creepy, heh?

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

Reading, watching TV, traveling, filling my well of inspiration. Maybe one day I will have time for a Issue 47 | June 2020 | 87

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| CARLA SWAFFORD | hobby. Between working, writing, and visiting family, it doesn’t leave much time for anything else.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

I guess this is where I should say, I write for the pleasure of having other people read my books. Well, that is true, but I would like to make a living at this. Nothing fancy. Just so I could own a couple houses, a dozen super expensive cars, and a yacht. Ha! Yeah, right. Don’t we all dream that. But seriously, I’ve always said if I hit the New York Times Bestseller List (sadly, that’s now only with hardback books), I would finally get a tattoo.

So I guess success equals tattoo for me. *smirk*

self-publishing boom is we have so many books to choose from. And thankfully, many are like me and read a hundred or more books a year. So thank you for giving mine a try, and I hope it made your day a little exciting and sexy.

Enjoy an excerpt from Fake Play Fake Play Carla Swafford Contemporary/Sports Romance Releases June 30

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

All of the above and yes. Presently, I’m listening to Mary Balogh’s Only A Kiss. Love her books and I sometimes wonder if Rosalyn Landor’s, the narrator, talent with male voices helps the emotion along. Both women are geniuses in my opinion.

In paperback, I’m reading Kerrigan Byrne’s The Hunter. Actually, loved it in audio and decided to read it too.

Different experiences.

In ebook, I’m reading Rexanne Becnel’s The Maiden Bride. I’ve read it years ago, but came across it in ebook and decided to do so again.

And yes, I read lots of historical romance.

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Goodness, I have to say the first half of this question is the hardest to answer. There is so much to say, but to keep my feet off the soap box and my knees from the ground (As in begging! Not the other. Have you been reading my books or what?), I have to say thank you.

Thank you for reading my books, writing kind things, and even to those who said the opposite, at least you gave them a try. One of the wonderful aspects of the

Two strangers wake up in the same bed after partying in Las Vegas to discover they are married.

Connor Ellison, one of Atlanta Edge’s best wingers and biggest prankster, is given an ultimatum by the coaches and the PR department. He must stay married until the end of the run for the Cup or be available for trade.

Lily Jones wants nothing to do with the insane demand. But he convinces her the best decision is to play along. If they remain married and pretend to be in love, he offers to save her family’s ice rink from bankruptcy. Anyway, it’s only until the end of the hockey season. Then they can go their separate ways.

Easy-peasy. No way will they go to the finals. No way will they truly fall in love.

Excerpt Chapter One Lily I wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth.

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Why aren’t my eyelids lifting? I rub at the itching and swollen feeling with my knuckles.

What’s up with my arms and legs? They weigh a ton and ache like a son of—ugh, the throbbing around my skull pulsates in time with my heart.

When did I get the flu?

No. Not flu.

Flashes of memory flicker through my sore brain.

Drinking. Laughter. I’m certain I went partying with friends after my flight arrived in Las Vegas.

That’s right. I’m in Vegas.

Even before landing, Elise, Kimi, and I talked about how exciting the weekend would be as we never did something so outrageous and spur of the moment. The round trip tickets were unbelievably cheap, and we planned to save more by sharing a room.

The trip to Sin City was a first for me. Sin City.

So different from Atlanta. Plus it would help me to forget about my troubles back home and just be a girl without a care for a couple days.

With some effort, I open and close my eyes. I force clearer thoughts to the forefront, despite the throbbing in my head, in an attempt to recall details of the last few hours.

Celebrating in Vegas after a New Year’s Eve hockey game is the perfect place to let go. The hotel where the party was being held had been crazy full and loud, so much fun. Lights glittering as dancers bump and grind against each other. People laughing, smiling, drinking without a thought about tomorrow.

Elise, my oldest friend, as in since the third grade, knows everyone, and she introduced me to several tall good-looking, athletic men who play for the Atlanta Edge Hockey team. They played the Vegas team and won. So everyone was keyed up. And actually, I did know the players, but most didn’t remember me, and the few that did, I was barely recognizable to them. Short dresses and sparkly jewelry are not my usual attire. So I danced and danced all night into the early morning, letting myself go like never before. Two—or was it three?—margaritas later, the night became fuzzy, but I do remember laughing a lot. More 90 | UncagedBooks.com

than I have in…well, five years.

The party was sponsored by several local charities that NHL supports. Elise had managed to get us invited days earlier in Atlanta after meeting the captain of the Edge, Ryan Schmid. The man is gorgeous. Good enough to lick.

But my best friend called dibs.

Oh goodness, my head hurts. The room nearly glows with white light from the windows.

As soon as I gently press fingers to my temples, I realize it’s the wrong thing to do. Spikes of pain shoot behind my eyeballs.

Yep. Way too much fun and alcohol.

The long groan coming from my mouth echoes into what sounds like a cavernous room.

Wait. With three females sharing a budget-minded room off the strip in Vegas, there is no way anyone can think of it as roomy.

Finally, my eyes clear enough to see I’m not in the low-rent room I shared with Elise and Kimi. This room is spacious. The bed faces floor-to-ceiling windows with only gauzy curtains closed against the bright sunshine. Furniture fit for any mansion is scattered throughout the sitting area. A small table with two chairs placed in front of one massive window gives it a picturesque look.

A black bra swings on the back of one chair as air blows from a nearby vent. I realize it’s the one I packed to wear underneath the fancy new dress I purchased for the New Year’s party.

My ebony silk sheath lays in a heap on the floor.

Another groan floats into the air.

I stiffen.

What? Not me. And certainly not Elise or Kimi. The sound is too deep, too male, and too sexy.

Sexy?

I recognize the timbre, but in another context. Pleasure? A memory of callused hands sliding over my shoulders and down my back. My last relationship has been years ago. So who? My head aches too much to think that hard about it.

The bed moves.

Earthquake? Or am I still drunk, and it’s my imagination?

Once more a rumbling groan fills the room and the

| CARLA SWAFFORD | bed shakes again.

That isn’t my imagination.

I carefully turn to see the other side of the bed.

Holy crap. Connor Ellison sits up on the edge of the bed and stands to stretch. Holy crap. He’s butt naked, every inch of his back, ass, and thighs bare and beautifully sculpted to its finest.

How do I know Connor, the star right winger for the Atlanta Edge, from his backend? Maybe my memory’s coming back, but I’ve been admiring him from afar for nearly two years, since he was traded and brought over from the affiliate in the northern part of New York State. I even have a private Pinterest board with pictures of him. Of course, many are without his shirt and gear during locker room interviews.

He strides over to open a door. From where I watch, lying on my stomach, head at the foot of the bed, a little catty-cornered on the mattress, I see a commode.

He stops in front of it and spreads his legs slightly and pees. One hand on the wall above the tank, he shakes his head as if to clear his mind and he groans.

I close my eyes long enough not to see…you know… the flow. Gross.

Maybe I’m still a little drunk for I’m looking again.

Thankfully he finished.

He remains in the same spot, staring at the wall. A blush warms my face. Not just because he didn’t shut the door, but I can see his balls, full and well-formed hanging between his legs. For some perverted reason, that’s the sexiest view I’ve ever observed in my twenty-eight years. Geez. I’m so not myself.

Closing my eyes again for a few seconds, I hear him flush, and then wash his hands. Fascinating. A man who believes in cleanliness.

When I lift my eyelids, he’s walking toward the bed.

I force my attention up from his beautiful appendage. He hesitates. So he finally sees me. He stops and looks around and brings his gaze back to mine.

“Oh, f**k.” One big hand scrubs his face and then he uses the back of a wrist to rub his eyes. And then thrusts his fingers through thick chestnut hair. After a heavy sigh, he says, “Darling, you need to go. I have a bus and plane to catch in a couple hours.”

Great. He doesn’t remember my name. Isn’t that special?

“Lily. My name’s Lily.” I sit up and whimper.

The room’s spinning. I’m not much of a drinker.

“Nice to meet you, Lily. I’m Connor.”

“I know.” My mouth is so dry. “You’re Connor Ellison, winger for the Atlanta Edge. I’ve seen your picture everywhere in Atlanta.” I’m not about to explain I’m part owner of the rink his team practices in.

“All right.” His gaze moves from mine, over my nude body—I jerk the sheet’s corner to my breasts—and then he surveys the room. He purses his lips. “Excuse me, but I need to get my shit together.” He walks over and picks up a pair of dark dress pants from the floor near my feet. For a couple seconds, I watch as he pulls them up and over a firm ass sans underwear.

Lightheadedness comes over me, not from the view, goodness knows it’s a wondrous sight, but my body alerts me as to how I mistreated it the night before. I bend over.

With hands on my knees, and my head nearly between them to keep from throwing up or fainting or both, I take in slow breaths. That’s when I see it. The biggest freaking diamond ring with matching wedding band. On my finger.

I straighten, lifting my hand in front of my face.

“What? Is this real?”

It has to be a fake. Some type of joke.

I look at Connor. His confused look tells me he’s as clueless as I am.

My face and body become hot as a July day in Vegas and my stomach roils. I waste no time and streak to the bathroom. The startled expression on his face barely registers before I lean over the commode and barf. I close my eyes. I’ve learned from experience, I will throw up until I have the dry heaves if I look at what comes out of me. Yep, I’m one of those people who throw up when others do and even worse when it’s me.

“You don’t look pregnant,” he says, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

What an Einstein.

“No. I’m not pregnant. I don’t drink often. Either it’s something I ate or the amount of alcohol.”

“Okay. Hold on. I’ll be back.”

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | Carefully, I place the commode lid down and flush. Then I rest a cheek on the cool surface. In a couple minutes, I’ll get up to take a shower. For now, I need to stay still until I’m in control of my body. My stomach actually feels better, though slightly sore.

Somehow I fall asleep like that for who knows how long. When I wake, he’s standing over me.

He still has the dress pants on and nothing else.

My gaze follows the sprinkle of hair on his chest down to a thin line at his waistband. My attention is riveted to where it disappears.

“Here. Drink this.” He offers me a glass. I blink and look up to his face.

Did he noticed I looked at where his pants are open at the zipper?

He taps the cold glass against my shoulder. “After you finish it, you’ll need to drink water. There’s a bottle in the fridge. I figure the nausea is worse than the headache.”

“Thanks.” I lift my hand and take it, bringing it to my mouth. Bubbles tickle my nose. Surprised, I move it away and rub off the fizz from my skin.

“What is it?” It smells familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Ginger ale. It’ll help your stomach. Plus you need liquids in you. Alcohol dehydrates.”

“Yeah.” I sip at the drink.

“Go slow. You don’t want it to come back up.”

I nervously gulp. The thought alone makes me queasy.

“Hey, careful.” He stoops in front me and brushes my bangs to one side. I must look like hell.

When a drop of condensation drips from the glass onto my chest, I gasp as a swallow of the drink is going down. Choking, I realize I’m naked on the bathroom floor.

He slaps me on my back, not too hard, but enough for me to automatically straighten and thrust my breasts into his face as I try to move from his touch. Isn’t that just great? Let’s compound my embarrassment.

“You want the water instead?” His eyes focus on the display. A small smirk comes to his lips.

I hunch over and cross my arms over my chest 92 | UncagedBooks.com

without dropping the glass. That’s when I see the rings again.

“What about these?” I stick my hand in front of his face, redirecting his attention.

He pulls his head back.

“F**k. Why didn’t you tell me you’re married? I don’t do married girls.” He stands and smooths his hair back from his face. “I don’t need that kind of trouble.

Hell, that’s the last thing I need.” He moves into the bedroom, and my gaze follows his movements as he paces the floor, mumbling. I try to keep my attention off how his pants hang, showing the male cleavage at his hips. He stops and glares at me. “I have to leave.

Hurry. Get dressed. Who do you belong to?”

“Belong?” What century does he live in?

“Yeah, like husband, wife, or whatever. Who’s going to try to beat my ass, or sue me for breaking up your marriage? Shit, shit, shit. I don’t need this.” He begins to pace again. “Why does it happen to me? One last night before I walk the f**king straight and narrow, that’s all I asked. Shit, if PR finds out what I did, sleeping with a married woman, and tells coach, my ass will be on waivers.” He turns to me and scowls.

“You probably don’t even know what that means and don’t give a f**k.”

“In your case, it means that the Edge will make you available to other teams, that is, your contract and privileges. And if more than one team wants you, the one with the least points can claim you.” If anything, my dad ensured I knew everything about the game he loves. For that matter, I love it too though he mostly ignores that fact.

Connor stares at me as if I spouted the secret to winning the Stanley Cup. I want to laugh, but I’m still sitting on the bathroom floor—stark naked. Crap. I snag a towel from the shelf near the sink and wrap it around me. Warmth seeps in. Between having no clothes on and the chill from the tile, my skin has cooled to the point I’m shivering.

“From your accent, I figured you didn’t know anything about hockey.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s how much you know. I don’t have an accent. You’re the one with an accent.” I refer to his occasional harsh consonants from the northeastern states.

| CARLA SWAFFORD | “What? Me? How can you say, I don’t have an accent, Miss Southern Belle?”

Ignoring his sarcasm, I walk by him toward the other end of the room as I take another sip. He warily keeps an eye on my hand. What? Did he really think I’ll waste good ginger ale by pouring it on top of his arrogant head? Though the idea did cross my mind.

Gathering up my clothes from the table near the windows, bundling them to my chest and using the crook of my arm to keep them in place, I jerk my bra off the chair with my free hand.

That’s when I see it.

Hand shaking, I nearly drop the glass when I place it on the table next to the sheet of paper that caught my eye. The black print on blue-and-white paper blurs as I scan it and proceed to read it three more times. It looks official. My heart pumps so hard, I’m afraid it will burst. I glance over my shoulder toward where he remains staring at me.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, feet planted apart, arms crossed over his broad chest, looking all masculine and sexy as hell. Damn him. One dark eyebrow quirks up.

“You need to leave, sweet cheeks. I really don’t want your husband causing trouble. I never f**k married women,” he says with an undertone of derision. He snatches up his shirt from the end of the bed and jabs his arms into it. When I stay, frozen in my panic, he asks, “What do you have there?” His tone sounds a little nicer as if my expression has him concerned.

Despite my frozen shock at what I discovered, in the back of my mind, I note that his shirt remains unbuttoned. Each muscle on his chest and abs are gorgeously carved. Have I touched them? My fingers twitch with the desire to do so.

“Are you okay?” His worry filled words bring me back to my senses. The fear of what the paper means has probably caused my face to pale. I know I feel scared.

“Here’s the answer to the twenty-five thousand dollar question. At least, that’s how much the rings costs,” I say in a tiny voice. The paper trembles as I hand it over. “Look at the receipt attached to it. Now we know where they came from.”

“What the f**k?” He does the same as I did. His gaze

runs across it over and over again before he lifts his head. His eyes fill with such anger, I take a step back. “What joke is this? Who put you up to it?” His attention goes back to the sheet in his hand as he shakes his head. “I don’t know any of these people.” His gaze drills into mine. “Your name is Lily Ana Jones?”

I nod. “That’s me.” Pointing a finger at the writing, I continue, “It’s no joke. You signed it, too.

The witnesses and officiate are no one I know. So I think you and I really did this. That is, as far as I know. And from what that says, my name is now Lily Ana Ellison.”

He drops into the chair as if his world ended. The marriage certificate floats onto the floor.

“I’m f**ked,” he mutters.

DON’T MISS THESE TITLES:

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ki m ber ly beckett

E

ver since she can remember, Kimberly Beckett has loved horses.

She wore out 4 rocking horses before she was 5 years old, and as she got older, she read every horse story in print, from Black Beauty to The Black Stallion.

It wasn’t until she got her first job as an attorney for the federal government, however, that could afford to buy her first horse, and she hasn’t been without at least one ever since. She has been riding dressage for several years and has earned her United States Dressage Federation Bronze Medal. When she wasn’t reading about horses, she was reading romance novels, and her favorites always involve an alpha male Hero riding a magnificent horse. Kimberly has now found a way to

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combine her love of horses with her love of romance by writing her own version of equine-facilitated happily ever afters. She truly believes that Horses Heal Hearts. She lives in southwest Ohio.

To find out more about Kimberly’s Horses Heal Hearts series, and to keep up with her next release, please visit her website, www.kimberlybeckett.com and sign up for her periodic email updates.

Stay Connected kimberlybeckett.com

Uncaged welcomes Kimberly Beckett Uncaged: Welcome to Uncaged! You write a series that includes horses, which of course is close to my own heart called Horses Heal Hearts series. Can you tell readers more about the series?

Of course! Each book in my Horses Heal Hearts series features a different equine discipline. The first book, Dressage Dreaming, is obviously about dressage, Racing Toward Love, horse racing, Lionel’s Leap of Faith is set in the world of International Show Jumping, and my next book, Her Forever Love, due out in August of this year, features Therapeutic Riding. In my series, the characters are brought together by amazing horses that are integral parts of their lives.

Uncaged: Are you plan on continuing the series, and if so, how many books are you planning for?

Yes. The entire series will consist of five books. Book #4, Her Forever Love, is due out this August, and the final book will be issued in the spring of 2020. I don’t have a working title for book #5 yet, but the heroine will be Hailey Warren, who is the younger sister of Jessica Warren, the heroine of Dressage Dreaming. The equine discipline in book #5 will be polo. Hailey goes to Oxford university and falls in love with the captain of the Oxford polo team. Should be fun!

Uncaged: What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

Her Forever Love is now in editing, and I should be able to reveal a cover and a pre-order date very soon.

The heroine is Liz Randall, who was also introduced to readers in Dressage Dreaming. She is Jessica’s dressage trainer, and is returning home to Columbus, Ohio to teach dressage and run her therapeutic riding facility.

There she meets her high school sweetheart, Jason Merrick, and the two of them get a second chance at love, but not without a few bumps along the way.

Uncaged: How has the coronavirus pandemic changed your lifestyle?

It has. My day job is as an attorney for the Department of Defense, and I am telecommuting full time now. Before, I worked in an office and only teleworked sporadically. I’m actually enjoying the alone time.

Uncaged: Past or present, which authors would you love to sit and have lunch with and why?

This is probably cliché, but I would love to sit down with Jane Austin and get to know her as a person. I love that she was a trail blazer of sorts of her time, and was so very good at communicating to a modern audience how difficult it was to be a woman in Regency England.

I also would love to have a chance to sit and have a leisurely lunch with Grace Burrowes. I met Grace when she sponsored a Scotland With Grace writers’ retreat to Scotland and would love to have some quality time to sit down with her and catch up.

Uncaged: Have any of your characters ever done something that you didn’t intend when you began? *Laughs* Yes! Although I’m a fairly strict plotter, sometimes a character will surprise me. *Spoiler alert* I had not intended for Lionel Hayes to be a sympathetic character when I started writing Dressage Dreaming, but as I wrote him and started to understand his POV, I redeemed him and he actually has his own book in the series. That was unexpected.

Uncaged: What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I love to read, of course, and lately I’ve rediscovered jigsaw puzzles. I’ve finished one 1,000 piece puzzle since I’ve been in isolation, and I am a little over halfway through a second.

Uncaged: What does success as an author look like to you?

Success for me would be for as many people as posIssue 47 | June 2020 |

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| KIMBERLY BECKETT | sible to read and appreciate my books and to learn, if they didn’t know already, how amazing horses are and how they have an incredibly powerful impact on the lives of their owners and those who interact with them.

compete head to head for Tempest, they discover the tension between them is not just about the horse, but about the strong attraction neither of them can deny.

Uncaged: Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

Because I’m a voracious reader, I prefer ebooks, because my home library shelves are full to overflowing with books that I can’t bear to part with. Because I’ve been working full time and feverishly finalizing book #4, my TBR list is incredibly long. I have just finished Grace Burrowes book, A Woman of True Honor, and have books by Christi Caldwell, Marie Force, Lexi Blake, Julia Quinn, and Sabrina Jeffries waiting to be read.

Uncaged: What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

My biggest request of fans would be that if you read and enjoy my books, please leave an honest review on Amazon, Goodreads, Bookbub, etc. I love hearing from my readers, and they can reach me through my website: www.kimberlybeckett.com.

Enjoy an excerpt from Dressage Dreaming Dressage Dreaming Kimberly Beckett Contemporary/Sports Romance A once in a lifetime horse, but only one of them can have him.

For very different reasons, Michael Stafford and Jessica Warren need the right horse to fulfill their dreams to compete in international dressage, and the black stallion Tempest is that horse. When Tempest’s owner requires them to

Excerpt Chapter 1 A loud, rhythmic banging noise shattered the glorious dream of his past Olympic glory, and Michael slowly woke and made the agonizing transition from perfect bliss to cold, stark reality. An earsplitting voice invaded his foggy, alcohol-dazed state “Oy! Mike! I know you’re in there, man.

Open up!”

“Bloody hell!” Michael groaned, as his head throbbed in pain. “Stop that pounding, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Michael pulled himself up off the overstuffed leather sofa upon which he had apparently crashed sometime in the early morning hours after finishing off his last bottle of scotch.

His mouth felt like it was lined with cotton, and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His head was pounding in time with the beat of his heart, and his walk was unsteady as he took the first few steps toward the door.

The clock on the wall showed it was ten o’clock.

Even the slow, steady ticking away of the seconds was painful to his head this morning. He gradually made his way to the door as he tried to mentally bring himself into the present. Now, a year later, Michael was living in the refurbished manor house on the farm in Surrey that he had purchased with the money he had earned as a result of his Olympic success. He had turned the small farm into a dressage training yard and boarding stable and christened it Stafford Oaks Farm. It was what he and Emma had dreamed of that night, the best night of his life. So much had happened since then.

As he moved toward the door, Michael scanned the compact living area that had once been the family parlor and noticed piles of dirty clothes and dishes strewn about the room. He hastily tried to move some of the worst of it out of the way. He gingerly Issue 47 | June 2020 |

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | opened the curtains of the window closest to his front door and squinted into the late morning sun to see who had so rudely awakened him. Lionel Hayes, his best friend for nearly twenty years and a fellow dressage rider, stood outside and peered back, motioning to the door. “Do you mind?”

Michael opened the door. “Lionel, you sod, what the hell are doing here?”

Lionel pushed his way into the room. He was a bit taller than Michael, but much thinner, almost gaunt in appearance. His blond hair and blue eyes were stereotypically British as was his long, thin nose, and prominent square chin. “I tried to call you on your cell phone an hour ago and you didn’t call me back. I got worried. What in God’s name have you been doing?” Lionel grimaced as he looked around at what had once been a neat and tastefully decorated manor. He wrinkled his nose “This is disgusting.” Then Lionel noticed the empty bottle of Scotch on Michael’s coffee table. “Now I know what you’ve been up to, trying to drown your sorrows in drink yet again. Well, my friend, it’s not going to work, and I’m here to make sure you don’t end up in the hospital with liver failure.”

Lionel walked around Michael’s home, opening curtains and cranking open several windows to allow a cool morning breeze to circulate through what had been a hot, stuffy home filled with dirty laundry and dishes and smelled like a cross between a men’s locker room and a garbage dump.

“Look, Lionel, I think I’m entitled to an occasional drinking binge considering everything that’s happened to me in the past year.” Michael’s mind immediately flashed back over the year that had passed since he had experienced the best day of his life: winning a gold medal at the Olympic Games held in his home country. Since that day, his life had been nothing but a series of setbacks and disappointment. First, the owners of Romeo, the gifted stallion he rode to a gold medal in the Olympics, decided to take the horse out of competition immediately after the Games to make a tidy profit breeding him. Without Romeo, Michael wasn’t able to continue to compete internationally, and was having a great deal of trouble find98 | UncagedBooks.com

ing another horse as talented to ride in Romeo’s stead.

Without the public exposure competition gleaned for him, his Olympic fame began to fade. His fiancée, Emma, who had enjoyed the glitter and attention he drew immediately following the Olympic Games, became bored with their lives after Michael moved out of the spotlight. It wasn’t long before she began acting suspicious of his relationships with other women, accusing him of being unfaithful to her. Nothing could have been further from the truth, and he had tried to explain to Emma that he had to travel to teach clinics and market his skills as a trainer, but all she seemed to be able to see were the many women who clamored to meet him and get close to him. Her suspicions baffled him, because he took great pains never to be alone with any of the women he met through his clinics and loved Emma too much to cheat on her with any other woman.

Michael still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened between them, but everything seemed to fall apart right after the Olympic Games. Before the Games, he and Emma were on top of the world, looking forward to a life together living on his training yard in the country outside London, where he would raise and train horses for himself and others in dressage, and she would continue working in the city for a prestigious law firm. He was certain they loved each other unconditionally, although he must admit in hindsight that their relationship wasn’t perfect. Still, he felt betrayed, and had vowed to himself never to give his heart so foolishly ever again.

Michael picked up the tabloid from his coffee table and showed it to Lionel. On the cover was a picture of Emma with a one of Britain’s most famous footballers. She was laughing and looking at him adoringly, and he seemed to enjoy her attention, smiling down and holding her close, with his arm around her waist. “I can’t go anywhere without some reminder of Emma. While standing in line at the grocery store buying food for the week, I saw this in a rack next to the checkout line.” He pointed to the photo on the cover. “It seems she has a penchant for rich and famous men,” he said bitterly. “She used to look at me like that,” Michael fumed. “Just wait until you get injured or retire, friend” he told the man in the photos,

| KIMBERLY BECKETT | “she’ll drop you like a rock.” Unfortunately, although his head told him he had escaped a bad situation and should be grateful, his heart was still engaged, and he had tried last night to dull the pain with Scotch.

“Look, man.” Lionel threw the tabloid back on the table. “You’ve got to let her go and get on with your life.

You can’t let her be your ruin.”

Michael knew Lionel was right. His career and his life had gone seriously downhill since Emma left.

While he had once been scrupulous about his preparation for public appearances and had always been punctual for clinics and lessons, he was now either late or, even worse, a last-minute cancel or no-show for fully booked weekend clinics for which he had already been paid half up front. He had also started to be chronically late for lesson clients, and one of his two working students had left him in frustration. As a result, the invitations to do clinics stopped coming, and many of his lesson clients moved on to other trainers.

The agent he hired after the Olympic Games eventually dropped him. He had barely any income except for some horse boarding clients at his stable, and a couple of training clients who were also good friends and understood why he was acting out of character.

Even those clients, though, were losing patience. As a result, he was becoming alarmingly close to financial ruin. He was barely able to make the monthly mortgage payments on his farm, and had been forced to live a very austere existence, the occasional drinking binge notwithstanding.

As Lionel moved a pile of clothes out of the way so he could sit down on the sofa, Michael’s phone started ringing.

“Good God!” Michael groaned, as his head throbbed in pain. “What now?”

He picked up the phone. “Yes, what is it?” Michael growled into the receiver.

“Mr. Michael Stafford?” The clipped, and very formal male voice on the other line responded.

“Yes. This is Michael Stafford. Who is this?”

“This is Constable Eric Madden of the Surrey police.

We have your brother Ian Stafford in custody here at the station.”

Michael’s heart sank, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “What has my brother done, Constable Mad-

den? Why is he in custody?”

“Last night, your brother started a fight, and stabbed one of the patrons of the Rusty Nail Pub in Woking. The pub owner called us for assistance, and when two constables arrived in response to the Pub owner’s call, he resisted arrest. He punched one of our officers before we were able to subdue him. He also had been drinking excessively according to witnesses at the scene. We have him in custody. Unfortunately, the man your brother stabbed died at the hospital two hours later, so Mr. Stafford has officially been charged with manslaughter.”

Michael’s heart sank. “My God!” he exclaimed, “That’s simply not possible. Ian would never purposely hurt anyone unless he was defending himself.” Something must be seriously wrong if Ian had gotten himself into this kind of trouble. “How is he, Constable?”

“He has a few bruises from the fight, and he has a pretty powerful hangover, but otherwise, he seems to be physically all right, and no one else was seriously injured,” the constable replied. “He’s asked me to contact you. He wants to see you.”

“Certainly, Constable Madden. I’ll be right there.”

“Mr. Stafford, if I may, your brother has refused to speak with us about exactly what happened last night, and he has also not requested a solicitor to assist with his defense. I suggest you engage a solicitor to represent him at your earliest convenience. These charges are serious, and he may be facing life in prison if found guilty.”

“Thank you, Constable. That’s good advice. I’ll get on it right away.” Michael hung up the phone and looked at Lionel.

“I’m sorry Li, I have to go to the police station.

It appears my brother Ian has gotten himself arrested, and could be in some serious trouble.”

“Do you want me to come along? It might be nice to have some moral support.”

“No, but thanks for the offer. This is family business, and I don’t want you to get entangled in this mess. At least not until I get to the bottom of this.”

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| FEATURE AUTHOR | go to the police station looking like you do right now.” Lionel opened the refrigerator and searched for something he might be able to cook. “Do you have any eggs or milk?”

Michael shuddered at the thought of solid food hitting his much-abused stomach, but he knew Lionel was right. He needed nourishment, and scrambled eggs would work as well as anything.

“I do. If you look a bit, there should be both in there. Thanks, man.” With Lionel now occupied in the kitchen, Michael turned and went into the bathroom. After Michael left the room, Lionel could no longer suppress the malicious grin he had been hiding since he arrived at Michael’s home.

His plan was working. He was, slowly and surely, ruining Michael Stafford’s life.

Michael deserved it, of course. He had ruined Lionel’s life during the British Olympic trials a year ago. Michael and Lionel had been friends since they were boys, both having a love of horses, and sharing that love by working odd jobs for Michael’s uncle, who was a thoroughbred race horse trainer. Although they went their separate ways after graduating Secondary school, they met again at the British Olympic Team trials. Both of them had competitive horses, and it looked to be a challenging competition. Lionel’s horse was a talented off-the-track thoroughbred named Accolade he had trained with the help of his partner, Nigel.

Accolade was great, but after a few less than stellar training sessions, Lionel believed his horse was exhibiting some residual lameness in his left front leg that wasn’t responding to the approved methods of treating inflammation, so Lionel reconnected with one of his race track contacts and procured a corticosteroid currently on the banned substance list, to use on his horse. Lionel had gone out to the stabling area ostensibly to check on his horse, but instead injected Accolade with the steroid when Michael appeared and saw what he was doing. Lionel remembered the exchange like it was yesterday.

“Lionel, what the hell are you doing?” Michael demanded.

“Nothing. Accolade seemed to be a bit off this af100 | UncagedBooks.com

ternoon in training, and I just came by to give him an anti-inflammatory.”

“There are very few anti-inflammatories that aren’t banned for international competition. What is it you’re using?”

“Never mind, it’s something my home vet recommended for inflammation.”

“You need to clear anything like that with the Team vet, you know that. I’ll call him right away. You don’t want to get in trouble for something like this.”

“No, Michael, please.” Desperation and fear were clearly evident in Lionel’s voice.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Lionel, but you jeopardize all our chances if you make the Team and you’re doing something illegal. I’ve got to call the vet.”

Michael did just that, and Lionel was ejected from the trials and any hope of competing in the Olympic Games. He left the Olympic trials in very public disgrace. Word of his disgrace made it to the press, of course, and headlines all over the country trumpeted his willingness to break the rules in order to succeed.

Lionel’s reputation was ruined. As a direct result of all the negative publicity, Lionel and his partner and lover Nigel Crawford’s business suffered, and it became a chore just keeping their heads above water.

The reduction in income had seriously drained the couple’s finances, and the stress took a heavy toll on Nigel’s already ailing heart. Lionel watched helplessly as Nigel’s health steadily declined. Lionel had taken him to specialists in an attempt to stop the decline, but it hadn’t done any good. The only solution the doctors could offer was to find a way to reduce Nigel’s stress, and Lionel was helpless to do anything in that regard. The reduction in income had seriously drained the couple’s finances, and the constant stress caused by the relentless calls from creditors took a heavy toll on Nigel’s already ailing heart. One day, Lionel awoke to find Nigel’s lifeless body next to him in their bed.

He had died from a massive heart attack.

To add insult to injury, Michael had the nerve to attend Nigel’s funeral. Their conversation that day was burned into Lionel’s memory.

“Lionel, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Michael had said, extending his hand.

Lionel had been tempted not to shake it, but decided

| KIMBERLY BECKETT | that the others, who had been watching their exchange with interest, would have interpreted his gesture as petty and grasped Michael’s hand in his own. “Thank you, Michael. Frankly, I’m surprised you came. You weren’t particularly close to Nigel.”

“I know how important Nigel was to you. Lionel, and I wanted to be here to support you in your grief.”

Not knowing how to respond to that statement without cursing, Lionel quickly changed the subject. “Congratulations, by the way on your success at the Games.

You deserve all the acclaim you’ve been getting. You should be very proud.”

“About that,” Michael replied. “I’m also here to ask for your understanding and even your forgiveness for what happened at the Trials.”

“Understand? Forgive?” Lionel barely contained his rage. However, he was again very conscious that the two of them had an audience. He ruthlessly schooled his features to mask his inner turmoil. Nevertheless, his voice was strained. “Your actions in turning me in to the authorities ruined my life, and I’m not exaggerating. I’m an outcast, a pariah in my own country, forever marked as a cheater and a fraud. It will be some time before I ever even consider forgiving you, much less understanding your actions. We were friends, Michael. Did that mean nothing to you? You could have easily looked the other way, and no one would have been the wiser.”

“If you believe that, you’re incredibly naïve. The drug testing used by the authorities nowadays is so sophisticated that I have no doubt they would have found out about your drugging Accolade. You would never have gotten away with it, and when they eventually discovered that I knew and didn’t turn you in, your actions would have brought me down, too. And what if you had felt you had to do the same thing at the Olympic Games? Discovery there would have led to not only your own disqualification, but also the disqualification of the entire team. You must see that I couldn’t allow that to happen.”

Lionel refused to accept Michael’s excuse, and turned to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other guests to attend to. Goodbye Michael.”

Lionel watched from the corner of eye as Michael, evidently disappointed by Lionel’s response, left. Still

appalled that Stafford had the nerve to even be here when his actions had been the cause of Nigel’s death, it was then that Lionel made up his mind.

Without Michael’s interference, Lionel was sure he would have made the British Olympic Team, and have the medal that Michael now possessed, as well as all the fame, fortune and acceptance that went with it. As far as Lionel was concerned, the blame for Lionel’s disgrace, his failing business, and Nigel’s tragic death fell squarely on the shoulders of Michael Stafford.

From that day forward, Lionel plotted his revenge.

The first step had been to contact Michael two weeks after Nigel’s funeral to offer his apology for his behavior at the funeral, and to offer Michael his forgiveness and make an offer to renew their friendship. Michael accepted him with open arms.

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fang-FREAKIN-tastic reviews

feature author

JD Phillips

Enjoy an excerpt from: The Falling The Falling JD Phillips Occult Horror It was an ordinary night at Randall Patrick’s morgue until banging is heard from inside the cold storage.

J

jd phi l l ips D has been writing since childhood and has been self-published as well as picked up through small presses.

She enjoys making creepy dolls and communes with ghosts and cats in her spare time.

Stay Co n n e c te d

A fall victim brought in hours earlier has seemingly come back to life. Stranger yet the young man is unable to recall anything from before the fall but maintains the body he now finds himself in is not his own.

Soon Randall forms an unusual bond with the fall victim but as odd events and eerie happenings begin piling up Randy suspects it’s not a question of who the stranger was before his “death” but what - a realization sure to change Randall’s life forever.

Excerpt The world as he last recalled it consisted of waves of vibrant red, black, and indigo. Pulsing swells of energy both hungry and giving pushed and lashed out at him as he struggled to find some sort of calm within the storm. Everything and nothing made sense as he reached as far into the abyss as a soul could in hopes of finding something – anything – on the other side solid enough to grab onto before he fell in.

He remembered nothing between then and now save for an almost blinding blue-white flash of light shining all around as well as within. He was simply caught in the storm one second and lying flat here on a cold bed hard as cement the next seemingly quick as a blink though he had no way to tell how much time had actually passed.

He couldn’t, in fact, discern much of anything at the moment. The room around him was dark. Still. Quiet.

Too quiet, really, allowing him to hear the pounding of his own heart within his ears – hard and swift as though the organ had just undergone some great shock

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| BREEZY JONES | despite the fact he wasn’t the slightest bit out of breath.

The air around him felt cold and heavy. Thick. Close.

He sensed the surrounding walls were much too close.

So much so he could reach right out and touch them if only he dared to try.

Thousands of tiny needles pricked and burned beneath his skin as he willed his left hand to crawl out from under the blanket covering his body. The blanket was thin, little more than a sheet, really, but the fabric rubbed rough against his arm nonetheless as he managed to raise it up to freedom. It was his arm, he knew.

It escaped the blanket when he’d told it to, the hand flexed and balled into a fist to chase stiffness from the fingers on command, and yet he couldn’t help but notice a nagging sense of disconnect, numb and heavy, between himself and the limb. Almost as though it was more like some ill-fitting glove than flesh and bone and yet – He felt with too sharp certainty the smoothness of his skin as he called upon the right hand to lift and land upon his chest beneath the blanket. There were no obvious scars as best he could tell, no apparent reason for the growing uneasiness within his chest other than the fact his body felt like that of a stranger. Not overly toned but fairly fit – he gathered a number of details through touch alone but none called any images of himself to mind.

He ordered the left hand to land upon his cheek and found similarly smooth skin. No heavy wrinkles, no scars, only slight stubble around his mouth. Full lips, a sloped nose, soft brow, messy half-curled waves of hair atop his head – the details were all there beneath his fingertips but they meant nothing to him. His face was as blank as the darkness around him and the air ever heavier with every breath he took.

It occurred to him he ought to do something but what, exactly, was one to do in a situation such as this? He thought to sit up but then, aware of the unnatural closeness of the walls, opted to reach his hands out to either side instead. He reached as he’d reached beyond the storm only this time his hands hit upon walls as cold and hard as the bed beneath him mere seconds into their journey.

Instinct demanded he reach above as well as beyond his head. Both attempts garnered the same cold hard results. This was not a room, he realized, but a box

and that caused his heart to quicken for reasons he wasn’t yet entirely sure of. He needed to get out, he supposed, but couldn’t think of how he ought to go about making his escape.

In the end he pushed against the wall directly behind his head until he felt the entire bed beneath him roll forward. He came to an abrupt stop as metal clanged against metal and winced as the sound echoed loudly all around him. The ringing the clanging evoked within his ears was so great he was only vaguely aware of a muffled voice cursing somewhere just beyond his box. Someone outside.

Someone who might free him.

The pain lifting his leg in order to kick at the metal his bed had rammed up against was great – both from the needles of pain which fired from toe to thigh and the second shrill clanging as his kick pushed his bed up against the wall nearest his head – but the effort proved successful. Seconds after a fresh series of muffled curses just barely reached his ringing ears there was a loud metallic click and a flash of light nearly as blinding as that inside the storm flooded every inch of the box around him.

He couldn’t bear to open his eyes against the intensity of the light even when he felt his bed being rolled forward so quickly it almost made him dizzy.

A second heartbeat became audible, this one beating far faster than his own, while labored panting breaths sounded directly above him. Soon a sort of shade fell across his face as someone leaned in to take a closer look at him; the shadow made it safe for him to open his eyes.

The scream took him by surprise. Not his, he was certain no sound had passed from his own throat, but he felt it inside himself nonetheless. Fear and horror but there were softer thingsmixed within the sounds as well. Things like sympathy or maybe remorse. He was still struggling to comprehend the nature of the scream even as he looked to locate the source of it. A heavy-set young man with tan skin and curly dark hair doing all he could to avoid eye contact loomed above, casting the much needed shade over his face until contact was made and the scream somehow managed to climb an octave higher.

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a few seconds before the man turned on his heel and ran away, screaming now for someone named “Randy”. The light attacked his eyes the instant the screamer moved away, forcing him to cover his face with his hand as he processed what to do next.

The air here was warmer and less claustrophobic but he still felt odd. Uncomfortable. Cold.

Sitting upright on the hard bed proved more difficult than expected but only because his muscles were stiff and reluctant to do as commanded. Blips of pain stabbed and radiated along nerve endings all over his body but once he was up he found it easy to swing his legs over the side of the bed – or perhaps table was more like it, he thought, squinting at the shiny silver surface directly beneath him.

The light was easier to take now he was no longer facing it directly. Easier still once he turned his gaze to the room around him rather than the metal below. Easier, yes, but still unpleasant as he struggled to focus upon the darkened corner in the distance. Not that there was much to look at, really.

Plain white and mint green tiles spanned the walls and floors. Cabinets and odd tables of metal with drains and a desk in the distance were the only furniture to be found. The space he’d been pulled from looked a bit like a cabinet too, he thought – one of many square spaces stacked into rows along the wall.

There were too many cubes, all but his closed up tight with shiny metal doors. He wondered, briefly, if there were others like him inside any of them but the room was silent now the screamer had dashed into the hallway beyond and somehow he doubted screaming was a usual sort of reaction. No, there weren’t others like him in this place. He was alone here.

The sound of hurried footsteps came from the hall beyond. Two sets moving in tandem, one slightly faster than the other. Voices joined the pitter pat as they drew nearer, one breathless and panicked while the other tried to sound calmer than the speaker actually felt.

“I’ve seen bodies do all sorts of crazy things,” the calmer of the two was saying. “It’s freaky until you get used to it, yeah, but it’s just biology in motion.”

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“Don’t bullshit me, Randall,” the panicked replied. “I told you there was banging and when I went to check the dude looked right at me. Right. At. Me. It wasn’t any damn muscle spasm.”

“And I’m telling you, Ben, in five years on the job I’ve never seen anybody magically come back to life.

You just got a case of the newbie jitters, that’s all.

You’re lucky Decker’s not on tonight or she’d have your balls for taking off like you did. You know we’re not supposed to leave ‘em –” The urge to run and hide kicked hard as he heard Randy (full name Randall) place his hand upon the door knob. Randall and Ben, the calm and the panicked, would be inside within seconds. Randall would see that Ben was not simply a jittery newbie and then – What would happen then? He wasn’t supposed to be here. He realized now that was the reason he’d felt so odd when he first opened his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to be here in this body. This body wasn’t his to wear.

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R E V I E W S

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AMY’S BOOKSHELF

writeramyshannon.wixsite.com/bookshelfreviewS

Uncaged Reviews Midnight Desire

Shari Nichols Paranormal Romance Danger and desire collide to form an unlikely alliance between a witch with a sordid past and a special agent who might be her future.

While trying to escape her past, kick-ass witch Willow McCray dispenses her own brand of justice swiftly and without mercy, until she crosses paths with sexy Magickal Bureau of Investigations Agent, Alex Denopoulos. Now, she must use her powers for good if she wants to stay out of Hellios, the mage prison for those who have broken the Wiccan Rede of ‘Harm ye None.’

Uncaged Review: This is a paranormal romance that doesn’t pull any punches on the danger and the gore, and it’s got plenty of action, magick and romance. Characters are well developed in this story and Willow is a tough witch with a heart of gold that has strong psychic powers. Alex is a mortal that works for the Magickal Bureau of Investigations and is paired with Willow as his partner when the Bureau gives Willow the option of spending the rest of her life in Hellios (a magickal prison) or becoming a part of the team.

When her best friend is murdered, she is partnered with Alex, who detests witches. But the longer Alex and Willow are together – the more both of them will be able to resist the attraction.

As more witches are murdered, Alex will stop at nothing to keep Willow safe.

I was very glad to see this is the first book in a series. It’s got my attention and the twists and turns in this suspenseful fantasy that kept me whipping the pages on my Kindle to see what happens next.

I am fully in on this series. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Second Chance Summer Allie Boniface Contemporary Romance She can’t remember her past. He’s trying to escape his. Love may be their only hope.

Ten years after leaving home, the last thing Summer Thompson expects is to inherit her estranged father’s half-renovated mansion.

And the last thing she wants is to face the memories of the night her brother died, fleeting as they may be. Now a San Francisco museum curator, she plans to stay east just long enough to settle the estate and get rid of the house. Until she finds it occupied by a hunky handyman who’s strangely reluctant to talk about his past.

Uncaged Review: Second chances to make things right and to fall in love. This sweet romance has a bit of mystery, suspense and even a bit of danger. When Summer returns to Whispering Pines to get the house ready that her dad willed to her after he died, Summer will find that it’s not that easy to walk away and sell the house as she thought. Being sent away after a car crash 10 yrs ago that killed her little brother, Summer feels that the heartache in the town will be too much.

But she doesn’t remember what really happened that night, so to be able to put the past behind her, she will need to find out. And when she meets Damian and his family, things are no longer as clear cut as they were.

A nice story, even with a twist I didn’t see coming at all. This is a nice small town romance and you get to feel the emotional turmoil of Summer’s life, as well as Damian and his family. There is a HEA here, and it would have been nice to read an epilogue, since so much of Summer’s time in the book is confusion and sadness, it would have been nice to see a bit into the future of her being a bit more happy, but this is a charming story that shows you that you can go home again. Reviewed by Cyrene

Marquess of Malice Tammy Andresen Historical Regency

He’s known as the Marquess of Malice…can one little lady warm his dark heart?

Malice, as his friends and fellow gaming hell owners call him, doesn’t have room in his life for love. He’ll take a quiet bride, make an heir, and ship her off to the country. He’s picked the perfect little mouse for the job. The problem? When Malice asks her to marry him, Lady Cordelia refuses

Uncaged Review: A great addition to the series, this one brings us Chad and Cordelia, and Cordelia has always been in the shadows of her beautiful sisters, believing them to be more beautiful as she wears spectacles. Malice (Chad) has been the one assigned to watch over her to make sure she doesn’t tell on their ownership of the gaming hell. But Malice has difficulty getting through his past.

I really enjoyed this couple, and was rooting for them the whole way. I liked this one as much as the first book in the series, but it felt a bit rushed in places.

The twist near the end is a bit confusing because of the book before, but I won’t give away any spoilers. This series is very easy to follow along with and I think the author has a great cast of characters to choose from. It was fun to watch Chad fall in love with Cordelia despite himself thinking he could never love anyone, and the epilogue was a nice wrap up.

Reviewed by Cyrene

How to Save an Undead Life Hailey Edwards Paranormal/Fantasy Grier Woolworth spends her nights weaving spooky tales of lost souls and tragedies for tourists on the streets of downtown Savannah. Hoop skirt and parasol aside, it’s not a bad gig.

The pay is crap, but the tips keep the lights on in her personal haunted mansion and her pantry stocked with ramen.

Uncaged Review: Grier is a necromancer that is released from a magical prison that stripped her of her heritage, standing and inheritance and left her with PTSD, a sentient house and struggles to keep food in the house with her tour guide job at night.

Now she is just trying to blend in with the human world and stay away from the supernatural. Too bad they won’t stay away from her.

Interesting parts of the book – it has a very original concept, which I do like. Grier herself interests me also, there are some twists in the back part of the book that is intriguing, and it’s hooked my interest. Four characters have my interest, Grier, Woolly (the house), Keets (the undead parakeet) and Linus who we meet in the last pages of the book.

And the not-so-interesting – the world building needs some tightening up. It was confusing on some aspects all the way through the book. Hopefully it comes together better in the series. Her best friends, Boaz and Amelie. Dull. I liked them fine, but they were lackluster. And even though this has marketing as a “romance,” there is zero romance in this book, from my standpoint.

Overall, I’m going to continue this series, for now.

The pros have grabbed my attention, and I’m up for the next book. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Uncaged Reviews Dying Ember, Olden Ash River K. Scott YA/Fantasy/Occult

Salt and Silver River K. Scott YA/Fantasy/Occult

I’m Emily Mars, a girl made of darkness. I didn’t choose this life, but I sure as hell choose who I fight for.

SA dark spirit. An ancient warning.

Lives in the balance.

Seventeen-year-old Emily Mars is a Ranger, guardian of purgatory. Except ferrying lost souls to the Other Side while fighting off demons and hell fiends isn’t exactly a superglam side hustle. Mostly, Emily’s just glad to make it back from missions in one piece.

Uncaged Review: This series runs in episodes, and each episode is a novella length story. And it starts off pretty well with episode 1. Rangers are the guardians of the lost souls – they either send the lost souls or Waifs on to their new existence, or the souls will turn evil, into Vagari, who will destroy anything in its path. In this story, we meet Emily and Tad – Emily is a Ranger (in training) and Tad is her Sight, a gift that enables one to be able to see ghosts and into the Limen (the in between dimension, between the old life and new), Emily can only see the ghosts well when she enters the dimension with her soul.

The first of this series is setting things up nicely, with the story of a ghost who is close to crossing to the evil side, and Emily going to try to find this Waif’s dead sister so she can send them on. But both the brother and sister are too close to turning. There is some good action and I even started getting a handle on the characters, even in the short amount of space. Good start.

Reviewed by Cyrene

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After Ranger Emily Mars’ stunt in Asheville, taking on two Vagari all by herself, she’s off the bench and back in the game. All Emily wants is her aloof teacher’s approval―and to protect her friends and loved ones in the course of her duties patrolling purgatory.

Uncaged Review: In Season 1, Episode 2 of this series, the story is really ramping up and the world is becoming clearer. This episode deals with a school massacre, with a Vagari possessing multiple souls at a time, which is something they really aren’t supposed to be able to do. Emily will need the help of her Praeses (trainer/mentor) to contain this new threat. And when Emily’s little sister Lillie is involved, Emily puts herself in over her head to save her.

This episode may be a trigger for anyone that has suffered from a school shooting, so this is a word of caution. The author doesn’t bail out on the violence, and this episode even tops the first one, and maybe because I’m beginning to understand the world better, or the characters. Reviewed by Cyrene

Dark Moon Rising River K. Scott YA/Fantasy/Occult

Dagger at Dawnlight River K. Scott YA/Fantasy/Occult

A killing spell. A monster’s curse. One cruel choice.

They stole him from her. She’ll do anything to get him back.

A suicidal fever holds Sand Dollar in a death grip, and it’s Ranger Emily Mars’ job to stop the dark-magic curse before the next new moon― when the spell will strike again.

Breaking High Order rules, Emily and her Sight, Tad Beasley, enlist the help of a wandering spirit and a local homicide detective to locate the spellworker responsible for so many tragic deaths.

Uncaged Review: The storyline is getting more involved, more intricate. And I’m thinking that Emily is going to get in over her head with Matiu. This episode pours in more action, more danger and such a well laid out plotline, and as a reader keeps going with this series, they learn more and more about this world. You also can watch the growth in the character of Emily in every episode. d Trying to stop a suicidal spell, Emily, Tad and Detective Langley will be tested to their very limits. And it ends on a slight cliffhanger which made me immediately want to go to the next episode, but I’m not giving out any spoilers. Reviewed by Cyrene

Ranger Emily Mars has one duty: Ferry lost souls trapped in purgatory to whatever lies beyond.

But when someone kidnaps Tad Beasley, her best friend, running partner, and oathbound Sight, Emily abandons High Order protocol to save him.

Uncaged Review: I had to jump to this episode right away, to find out what happened from episode 3. That’s the sign of a good series for me, when I immediately want to keep reading. The stories are getting longer, the first 2 episodes read more like novellas, and now they are becoming normal length. Emily will need help to rescue Tad, and the Ranger that she meets in her dreams will help, but Emily is risking a lot to do it. This series borderlines the horror genre A lot of action and we see a lot of growth with Emily as her relationship with Tad, as not only her Sight, but as her friend is tested to the limit.

The world is getting clearer with each episode and the action is ramping up. The twists and turns these books take will keep you on your toes and I do like how the author is introducing new characters in each installment, but not too many to keep up with.

All in all, this is a good series and worth your time. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Uncaged Reviews Jungle Salvation M.A. Jewell Paranormal Romance/ Shifter

Well-meaning friends drag archaic jaguar shifter Matteo D’Cruz back into the human world. Almost trapped in cat form, the recalcitrant male narrowly dodges execution as a feral. Even so, his final end doesn’t concern him overmuch—until he meets the thrill-seeking Dakota Gorman, a latent shifter female.

Uncaged Review: If you’ve been out of the shifter worlds lately and looking for a book to jump back in with, or if you’ve never read a good shifter book, this is a great place to start. The characters are well developed and likable, and the plot is intense, suspenseful and well written.

Matteo is a tortured character, and having been living in his jaguar form before shifting back to human has made it dangerous to shift back to jaguar, or he may never be able to come back from that. When Dakota is kidnapped to be used to be a rogue military weapon, Matteo will work to bring her home, but will he jeopardize himself for love?

Action, steam, great world building put this book on the map to being a must read series.

Reviewed by Cyrene

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A Fair Trade Laylah Abrams Western Historical

Raised by his fur trapper father and uncles, Jack Briggs makes do with little more than a knife and flask. Alone now, he searches for a place to call home. And refined and beautiful Penelope Findley may be the person who can help him find it as he leads the Findleys’ wagon to Oregon.

Honor-bound by her marriage vows, Penelope snubs the handsome wagon leader whenever he shows an interest in her.

Uncaged Review: For a debut novel, the author does a great job with this book that sets up on the Oregon Trail. The characters are easy to like, with a bit of suspense and humor. When Penelope’s husband dies in an accident, Jack offers her safety with a marriage telling her about the free land available to married couples. Both of them have hurdles to jump to get to a HEA, and Penelope’s is a bit tedious at times and a bit too drawn out. But all in all, this is a really good debut novel and I’m looking forward to what this author brings out in the future. Reviewed by Cyrene

A Love Not Deceased Eric Kapitan Horror

Maggie knows how to grieve. She’s done it so often, but now after so many losses, she’s ready for a happily ever after. Unfortunately for her, what she wants and what life has in store for her are two very different scenarios.

Follow this dark, twisty romance that will make your toes curl and your heart stop! Discover where the lines blur between love, loss, and lust.

She loves him. She loves him not. She loves him so much; she can’t let go.

Uncaged Review: I have to wonder where authors of horror books are at in life and what they dream and fantasize about. I think the sensitive might be needing some extra therapy after spending some time in a mind like this author. And this author does creepy very well. This is a novella length book, so I can’t get into any major details, but imagine BDSM – I mean kind of creepy sex, obsession, horror and a twist at the end that has you shaking your head and wondering what the hell just happened, and put all this into a blender and you will have some semblance of this book. This is under KindleUnlimited, so if you like horror, and have that subscription service, give this book a shot. It’s fast, it will only take an hour or so, and see if you have the creepy sort of fun this author dishes out. Reviewed by Cyrene

Wild Side Shane Silvers

Urban Fantasy To become a Godkiller you have to awaken the monster inside you…

Almost a year has passed since Nate’s ex-fiancée woke up a Greek god intent on world domination and war. The problem? He doesn’t know which god. And the promised war hasn’t started yet.

With the Four Horsemen refusing to help, and an army of monsters living on his lawn, Nate resorts to the one thing he’s best at—pissing off demigods and Greek Heroes in hopes of jump-starting the war.

Uncaged Review: I was actually on the fence with this book, especially the first half as it was a tad on the confusing side when Nate gets an invitation to the Land of the Fae, which this dark land changes everybody in the group – Nate, Tory, Ashley and Sir Muffle Paws, and not so much Carl. It went far out there, even for the Temple universe. Not many people survive this land, and Nate steals back a mortal child that had been switched with a changeling fae child, that had been killed. Each person will find their wild side…and either come together with it and embrace it, or be lost forever. There are a few twists that I never really guessed, but that happens often in this series.

The second half of this book is where all the action really kicks up a notch. I was also glad to see Callie Penrose from the Feathers and Fire series back in this book. I like this match up much better than the one with Indie, many books ago.

Whether the author takes it in that direction is not known yet. This book will bring some endings, and some new problems. And I almost want to run over and grab book eight right away and remain in Nate’s world, but I think I need time to absorb everything first. Reviewed by Cyrene

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews Welcome to Piney Falls Joann Keder Mystery Lanie Anders has a perfectlyordered life.

From her half-foam latte to her marketing executive job to the creative writing course she takes for fun. She controls every outcome...until the night her home burns to the ground. With her world suddenly turned upside-down, she is so lost she can’t function Amy’s Review: A new life, new town, filled with secrets Keder pens a magnificent story in Welcome to Piney Falls. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. Lanie is a great character, and she becomes as intrigued as the reader into finding out the truth. A very wellwritten story, and I enjoyed it. A definite attention grabber. The thrills and intrigue is written clearly and the characterizations are engrossing. Told in first person, the story has an edge and great perspective. The title drew me in, but the story made me stay. The author’s technique of intense characters and great plotlines is a gift. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. This is supposed to be the first book in a series, so I look forward to whatever comes next.

I look forward to reading more by this author.

This book is a definite recommendation by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

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The Book of Revelations Idelle Kursman Contemporary Fiction The past is over and forgotten. Or is it?

Christine Goldberg has finally achieved a good life after years of upheaval. She has a loving husband, great kids, and a steady job at a Boston modeling agency.

Though still struggling to overcome her parents’ disappointment and her own feelings of failure, she tries to focus on all she has now.

Amy’s Review: Another great story Kursman pens a magnificent story in The Book of Revelations. I have read work from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were intense and very intriguing. This book deserves a second read! (and maybe more). The thrills and intrigue is written clearly and the characterizations are engrossing. It’s a powerful read, and so intense, with both heart break and heart fulfillment. This definitely kept this reader turning the pages. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next.

This author’s characters develop and interacts well with the other characters. I have fast become a big fan of (this author). I look forward to reading more by this author. This book is a definite recommendation

by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

Tales of the Siblings Not-SoGrim Various Fairy Tales Anthology Hollow Hills presents Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim, an anthology of fairy tale poetry and short stories. Various authors contributed fairy tale retellings, fun twists on popular fairy tales, or original fairy tale works for this collection.

The stories in Tales may each have their own separate theme, but what they all have in common is magic.

Amy’s Review: Grand Anthology Collection Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim is a grand anthology with a multitude of talented authors that have contributed to this collection. Some of the authors are new to me, while a few are ones that I’ve read before.

They each bring a magical, whimsical, thrilling story.

This anthology is worth the read, and sometimes you find that author that just draws your attention, where you might not have read their work before. These authors are great storytellers. Each story fits the theme of the book, and yet has its own touch and perspective. The characters are unique and interesting. Every story is worth a second read. I look forward to reading many more stories by these authors, whether their own title or within another anthology. This book is a definite recommendation by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

Inside a Dog’s Mind Michelle Holland Short Stories “Hey baby girl. How do you fancy coming home with me today?” smiles Jo.For a moment, I cannot believe what Jo has just said. Does she really mean it, or did I hear wrong?

Am I dreaming? Do I need to pinch myself? I have a hundred different thoughts racing through my head.This is the story of Penny, a stunning border collie from Ireland with a broken past.

Amy’s Review: Heart breaking and heart fulfilling Holland pens a magnificent story in Inside a dog’s mind: Penny’s Journal. I absolutely love reading Holland’s work, and this one was definitely a grand read. Penny is a border collie, and this reader finds how Penny’s mind works, also what she has had to endure. Penny was abused by her caretaker, which we find out right away. It’s a well-told story, and it brings a uniqueness that enters the “journal” of the dog. Made me want to just reach inside the book and pet Penny. A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. It is always a joy to read this author’s stories. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. This was an inspiring story. I love the perspective from this loving dog. A note that I like to mention is that fifty percent of the sales of this book are donated to dog rescue programs. I look forward to reading more by this author. This book is a definite recommendation by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

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Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews Angel of Mercy Melina Druga War Fiction She had her entire life planned until the Great War began and everything changed.

April 1914. Barrie, Ontario. Hettie Steward is feisty, educated, ambitious and stubborn. Her fiancé, Geoffrey Bartlette, the love of her life since childhood, has been a patient man.

He waited while she attended nursing school and worked a year, but now it is time to wed.

Amy’s Review: Interesting historical story Druga pens a good story in Angel of Mercy. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed this story. Taking place during WWI, the characters seem to fit that era, not only with deportment but also dialogue. Hettie is an interesting character in herself, as she is a nurse and has to deal with the perils and tragedy of war. A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. Hettie is a character that seems to keep a lot of her emotions inside, and that’s how she deals with her situation, and journey that gets her through this tumultuous time. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. This author’s characters develop and interacts well with the other characters. I look forward to reading more by this author. This book is a definite recommendation by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

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Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Miski Harris Gay Romance Staff Sargent Elijah Jackson, EJ to his friends, joined the Air Force hoping for refuge from the mess his life had become.

For almost ten years he enjoyed new life, success, and love, in spite of the closet he was forced to hide in by the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell military policy.

Amy’s Review: Romance and hidden secrets from within Harris pens a sexy story in Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were strong and very realistic. The author’s writing style fits this type of genre, and it shows a side that some may not be familiar with, especially with struggling with having to keep a secret, when you just want to be yourself.

There is a great chemistry between the characters, and a depth that makes them realistic and flawed. A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. This author’s characters develop and interacts well with the other characters. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. EJ and Dale have a connection, and it isn’t forced, which shows the writing skills of the author. It’s interesting how it all plays out. A great read. I look forward to reading more by this author. This book is a definite recommendation

by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

Shattered Lives Marilyn Williams Romantic Suspense Secrets... Lies... Betrayal A thrilling story of when deception and coverups intertwine the lives of three people.

Tami who is has kept a devasting secret from her husband that can decimate her marriage.

Amy’s Review: Great Story!

Williams pens a grand story in Shattered Lives. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed this story. The characters were incredible and very interesting. There is a great chemistry between the characters, and a depth that makes them realistic and flawed. A mix of romance and suspense, filled with vengeance and betrayal. It’s a unique story that brings its characters to life. A very well-written story, and I enjoyed it. The thrills and intrigue is written clearly and the characterizations are engrossing.

The title drew me in, but the story made me stay. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. I look forward to reading more by this author. This book is a definite recommendation by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

Seeing Ceremony Meera Ekkanath Klein Cultural Heritage Fiction This feel-good sequel to the award-winning My Mother’s Kitchen is all about family, good food, love and finding the way back home. Since the death of her husband three years ago, Meena’s mother has wanted to see her oldest daughter married and so she organizes Meena’s “seeing ceremony,” a ritual associated with arranged marriages.

Amy’s Review: Cultural and a great story Klein pens a great story in Seeing Ceremony: A Novel with Recipes. I haven’t read anything from this author before, and I really enjoyed it, and I learned more about the India culture. The characters were vibrant and realistic. I only know a little about the culture, and this is where I learned about the “seeing ceremony.” The author’s writing style shares the story of the author’s culture and brings it to life. Meena is a great character, strong-willed and intelligent, however, she does her best to honor her culture. This author is not just a writer but a great storyteller. It’s a great story to follow and try to figure out what will happen next. This story has a lot of different depths and levels, and I look forward to reading more by this author. This book is a definite recommendation by Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews.

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