Trick or treat, magick feat, give me something good to read!
It’s alive! I’ve teamed up with 13 fantastic authors who have each shared a brand new story from their supernatural sleuthing world and our anthology is available NOW for only 99c/p.
Cold Cases and Haunted Places: A Halloween Anthology of Paranormal Cozy Mystery Shorts
Feel that chill in the air? It's the most haunted time of the year, and these quirky mysteries need solving…
Sometimes you have to dig up the past, even if it's six-feet under. Solve cold cases, visit haunted locations, and investigate ancient legends in this spooktacular collection of paranormal cozy mystery short stories from your favorite witchy authors. And just in time for Halloween!
Anthology includes stories from:
Amorette Anderson, Sam Cheever, J.L. Collins, Cate Dean, Erin Johnson, Shéa MacLeod, Mona Marple, Nova Nelson, Summer Prescott, Rebecca Regnier, Trixie Silvertale, Lotta Smith, Lily Webb, and Kirsten Weiss.
Buy Cold Cases and Haunted Places to treat yourself to magical tricks today!
Oh, and did I mention these spooky sleuths will only be available for 90 days? So, grab your copy now and enjoy a spooktacular Halloween read!
Want a sneak peek at my story? Druid will feature one of your favorite witches, Jayce Bonheim, solving a whole new mystery.
All witch Jayce Bonheim wants is to scare up business for her coffeeshop at PaganCon. But then a druid in distress asks her for help, and the conference turns into a setup for murder. Can Jayce unveil a killer and stop an evil fey before her time runs out?
Keep reading for an excerpt below!
PREORDER HERE 👉 Cold Cases and Haunted Places
Happy reading!
Kirsten
*****
I wouldn’t be much of a witch if I ignored premonitions. But sometimes it’s tough to untangle magically bad feelings from stress, a rotten mood, or, say, a blinding fear of public speaking.
Here’s the thing though: after you’ve finished your first-ever lecture on coffee magic and you still feel the heebie jeebies?
That’s not good.
I scanned the people rising from rows of folding chairs and trickling through the tent’s exit. I’d had a good crowd. My lecture had gone well, even if PaganCon had listed me in the program as Jace Bonheim instead of Jayce Bonheim.
But a bead of sweat slithered down the back of my neck and beneath my berry-colored tank. I’d piled my hair on top of my head thinking it would be cooler. Now my skull felt like it was melting in the October heat.
I swept a pile of coffee beans into a paper bag. “And don’t forget your coupon for half-off on coffee at Ground,” I called to the departing pagans. “It’s the best coffeeshop in Doyle.” Also, the only coffeeshop. “We have iced coffees.”
A few people waved and grabbed my coupons on the table near the entrance.
I slumped against the podium. I’d survived my first PaganCon as a speaker. I could finally relax and enjoy the other workshops. So why was I still on edge?
After all, I’d set my protective bubble this morning, like always. Now I visualized earth energy streaming into my auric bubble, bolstering its protection. Because, hey, an extra boost couldn’t hurt. But it didn’t seem to help either. And even at the best of times, my protection was only good for keeping out minor magical annoyances.
My growing unease could be because my husband, Brayden, was on another continent. A paramedic, he’d taken a two-week volunteer gig in Afghanistan to work with local first responders.
It was totally the sort of thing Brayden would do, and I loved him for it. But it meant he’d miss Halloween tomorrow. Halloween—Samhain to witches—is my fav day of the year. Not because I’m a witch—because it’s freaking awesome.
A movement—or lack of movement—near the exit caught my eye. A slender, middle-aged woman hung back from the crowd streaming outside. She had smooth acorn-colored hair and wide, dark glasses that obscured much of her face.
She glanced away. Electric fans buzzed and rattled in the tent’s corners.
The last of the attendees wandered from the oversized tent. The woman bit her bottom lip, and her hands clenched and unclenched. She walked to the podium, where I gathered up leftover handouts. “You’re the Doyle Witch, aren’t you?”
I tensed. Uh, oh. “I live in Doyle.” My sisters and I had learned the hard way that not everyone interested in witchery played for Team Good Guys. So I wasn’t admitting to anything.
Though the coffee magic seminar I’d just finished was sort of a tip-off I practiced witchcraft.
“But you know about the…” Her gaze darted around the tent. “…fey.”
How the heck did she know that?
A hot wind whipped through the tent, and its flaps smacked against the canvas. A few remaining flyers lifted into the air and fluttered across the ground.
She stepped closer. Involuntarily, I took a step back.
“You defeated them,” she said.
Nuh, uh. I wasn’t falling for that one. “Defeated whom?” Heh. Whom. My writerly sisters had rubbed off on me.
She tilted her chin down and looked up at me crossly over her sunglasses. “Don’t play games. Why do you think you’re at PaganCon? Word gets out to people in the know.”
It did? Because I’d had to beg for this speaking spot. “What people, exactly?” I grabbed my macramé bag and slung it over my shoulder.
The woman straightened. Her slender hands, spotted by the sun, clenched again. “Robert Darian.” She said the name like a dark incantation.
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s my…” Her mouth compressed, and she shook her head slightly. “My torturer,” she choked out. “We did things. Terrible things. He lured me in. I know that sounds like an excuse, but Darian has powers. Real powers. He’s a druid, like me. We’re in the same order, so I thought…”
My stomach pitched. Order? In my experience, which was admittedly limited, gangs of magicians meant trouble. “You thought what?”
“The others in the order don’t know what Darian’s really doing, what he’s really like. He offered to teach me, and I was flattered. He’s high level. And at first everything was fine but then…” She gulped. “It was my fault. He offered me things I wanted. Wanted bad. And I fell for it. I let him tempt me, and it was wrong I know it was wrong but now I can’t get out.”
She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and stared past me.
The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I looked over my shoulder and tracked her gaze.
Want to read more? Get it for the Kindle HERE.