Blocked. I hadn’t even found Lower World. Chest taut, I paced the attic. Usually, when magic didn’t work, it just didn’t work. But something else had happened tonight. Pages, rustling paper… a book? A Necronomicon? Impossible. The storm rose, howling. So Harry had a photo of a supposed Necronomicon. It didn’t mean that had been the book found on his body. “Urgh.” I stomped downstairs and booted up my computer in the kitchen. My usual sources didn’t have anything on a faux-Nec

The storm blew, a swirl of white. I struggled with the door to my stone and shingle home. An unnatural, colder draft flowed through the open door and past my ankles, “my” dead cat escaping for the night. Turning to the yard, I let my focus drift, stretched my sight into middle world. But the cat’s spirit remained invisible. I rubbed my temple. Would I see ghosts again? I was no detective. I needed that world’s aid now. Toeing off my shoes, I climbed to the attic. This had onc

I turned the sign in my window to CLOSED and switched off the lights. The street behind the damp glass brightened into view. Snow spun downward, softening the scene. What did that book have to do with me? I needed to know. Relaxing my gaze, I steadied my breathing. The holiday lights blurred. I reached with my other senses for Middle World, the world of the spirits. Doyle dated to the Gold Rush, and its streets were thick with ghosts. An SUV rolled past. Tourists, hand-in-han

The next day, I sat behind my counter and packaged a first edition Edward Gorey. Customers ambled through the bookstore, flipped pages, read covers. Selling rare books in an ordinary bookstore kept me the right amount of busy. I almost didn’t think about the dead man. A woman banged a dictionary onto the counter. She had Annie Lennox hair, blond, thick, short. She towered over me, and there was muscle definition beneath her mannish blue blazer. I forced my muscles to unbunch.

I rushed to open the bookstore’s front door. Connor strode inside. He pulled me into his corded arms, and for a moment, it was only us. No dead man. No book pointing to me as a possible killer. Just me enfolded in his woodsy scent. His sheriff’s parka rustled as we broke apart. I smiled up at him. “About time you got here, Hernandez.” He walked with me to the counter and laid a dried leaf on the book open upon it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. The sheriff had me tied

I don’t know why the sheriff let me go. And I never got to see that book. But I guess I couldn’t blame the sheriff for that. New Year’s Day, bleary eyed, I sat behind my bookstore counter and read old emails. A query from a competitor pretending to be a client (nice try). A New Year’s e-card from my sister, Karin. An author asking to do a book signing (yes). But no requests to meet in the forest or examine a rare book. The man had been a stranger, not from Doyle. Was the book

Sheriff McCourt planted her hands on the metal table and glared, an overgrown Shirley Temple with wide blue eyes and curly blond hair. I crossed my arms and pretended I hadn’t shrank backwards an inch or three. The metal chair creaked, giving away the lie. “Again,” she said. “I was in the woods—” “Alone? On New Year’s Eve? Did you and Deputy Hernandez break up?” I inhaled slowly and regretted it. The cinderblock interrogation room smelled of disinfectant. “It was a year walk.

How do you know you’re broken? When does suspicion become truth, or worse, self-pity? My boots sank into the powder, ice welding me to the earth. Moonlight silvered the clouds, mirroring the snow. Was I up or down, earth or sky? Mouth dry, head achy and spinning, I paused. For a moment I felt the other, roots extending from my feet into the hard earth, and hope sparked in my chest. Was this my vision? But the thought banished the strangeness of the scene. It was only me. The

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In Sight, Lenore begins the story on a Year Walk. The Year Walk (or Årsgång) is a Swedish tradition that probably dates back to medieval times. This vision quest can only be undertaken on special days, like New Year's Eve, and must begin at midnight. On the day before the walk begins, the walker must seclude themselves in a darkened room, stay silent, and fast (and possibly make other sacrifices). At midnight, the walker sets out to the town church (though some say one must a

Whew! The holiday season has kept Leo and I at the museum hopping. But we're not too busy to fill orders. So be sure to check out our online store and get an EMF reader for the ghost buster in your life. 1) Looking for a historically haunted house? The Forge Mansion in Womelsdorf, PA, is for sale! The mansion includes four bathrooms and... ghosts. 2) Haunting with the rich and famous --Jennifer Aniston admits she once lived with a ghost. 3) Were the prehistoric skeletons foun

Like so many other people, I've gotten swept up in the holidays (plus one of my sisters is getting married in a few days, which is it's own brand of festive chaos). This means that I've put writing new stuff on the back burner this month and am focused on editing. But there's so much to edit! 🎄Steeped in Murder - Book 1 in my Tea and Tarot cozy mystery series; 🎄Fortune Favors the Grave - the prequel to my Tea and Tarot cozies. (This will be exclusive to newsletter subscribe

Original, short fiction from The Perfectly Proper Paranormal Museum! Unforgiving, black and white photos of executed murderers stared down at me from the museum’s glossy white walls. Their glowers were nothing compared to Herb’s. Quivering with indignation, Herb deposited the museum cat on my checkerboard floor. The black cat darted to the haunted rocking chair in the corner and sprang onto its wooden seat. “I found GD outside.” The little man blinked accusingly through his c

We all know the song. Once you've heard it, you can't unhear it. It's an ear worm, golden rings and all. But when I started researching the actual 12 Days of Christmas to schedule the upcoming episodes of my new Doyle Witch project, Sight, things got confusing. First, there aren't 12 days, there are 14 days. The 12 Days of Christmas officially begins on Christmas Eve and end on Epiphany, January 6th. (This is good for me, because my Instagram/Facebook story has 16 episodes. I

Did you know the Victorians had a tradition of telling ghost stories on Christmas Eve? Maybe it's because winter was the traditional spooky season back in the day. Cold. Darkness. Not a lot of food. At the paranormal museum, starting December 1st, we're exploring the supernatural elements of the holiday season -- from St. Nick to Grylla the Christmas Ogress. So stop on by! In the meantime, here's your weekly roundup of paranormal news: 1) 2018 is the 30th anniversary of the S

The Gargoyle Chronicles launches in three days! I had a lot of fun getting reacquainted with Brigitte and Riga in this collection of stories, which includes a new Riga Hayworth novella. Here's a bit about it: The Gargoyle Chronicles Brigitte is Nevada’s bravest and most brilliant gargoyle – and there’s no better sidekick for metaphysical detective, Riga Hayworth, when it comes to solving supernatural crimes. In this quirky collection of urban fantasy short stories, Kirsten We

I'll be honest. It was a slow news week for the paranormal world, and I really had to struggle for these crumbs. I'm not asking for your pity, just explaining why this is so alien-heavy. 1) Several airplane pilots flying into Ireland spotted a UFO. The sighting is currently being investigated, though some are saying it was most likely a meteor. 2) Fed up with shadowy government investigators, a billionaire is funding is own initiative to seek alien life. 3) A doorbell camera

Whew! I'm relaxed and refreshed after some post-Halloween downtime. The San Benedetto Paranormal Museum is back in business with more paranormal news! 1) A sleep-away witch camp for adults? Have we reached peak witch yet? 2) Apparently not. Yet another article on how witchcraft is on the rise, because... feminism. (Honestly, there've been so many of these articles, I'm starting to feel guilty posting them here. Somewhere, some poor PhD student has got to be working on a thes

If you stopped by the San Benedetto Paranormal Museum last month then... you know. Paranormal museum's are popular in October. REALLY popular. My friend Harper talked me into flying with her to Italy for the week. She's researching her Italian roots, and I'm hoping to pick up something Italian and paranormal while I'm there. Italy was the birthplace of Tarot, so maybe I'll find a nice addition to our Fortune Telling room? But the museum isn't closed! My fearless assistant, Le

Fey Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo ISBN: 978-1-944767-34-1 This witch will do anything for a normal life with the man she loves. But when you’re on fairy patrol, normal is relative. Witch Jayce Bonheim has packed away her candles, crystals and cauldrons. With her boyfriend recovering from a hex, she’s determined to build a sane and magic-free life for them both. But when a horde of troublemaking gnomes invades the small town of Doyle, it’s up to Jayce and her magical