The Key Keeper's Secret

 

 

Magic is real. Monsters are hungry. And Zoe Frost is already marked.

The Key Keeper’s Secret

The Zoe Frost Chronicles Book 1

by Edgar Thorn

Genre: Urban Fantasy

A Shadow demon tried to kill me. Now it's master wants to finish the job...

I was just supposed to be going to the annual Magicians' Winter Charity Ball. But pretty soon I was neck-deep in a world of murderous monsters, secret societies, and time-travelling lunatics.
And if I can't figure out the truth, everyone I love is going to die.
With BFF Courtney by my side and boyfriend Blake showing his true colours, my quiet weekend turned into a total nightmare. And somehow, it's only the beginning...

The Key Keeper’s Secret kicks off The Zoe Frost Chronicles — a 13-book series of fast, funny, magical short reads packed with danger, adventure, bad guys, and monsters.

 

**Get it FREE 12/26 – 12/29!**

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I was almost at the exit when a hand grabbed my wrist.

At first, I thought it was a pushy homeless person asking for money.

They do that sometimes.

So, instead of screaming my head off, like a normal woman, I used a go-away spell.

Something designed to make humans leave you alone, no matter the situation.

One of the first spells a magician learns.

But, nothing happened.

The grip around my wrist got tighter. The fingers dug into my flesh. Hurting me.

Panic surged through my body.

This shouldn’t have been possible.

At the same time my body began to feel heavy and weak. Like I’d been drugged.

“Get off me,” I said, though my voice sounded distant, like it was coming from down a very long tunnel.

I tried another spell. But, still nothing. Like a light switch had been flipped off.

“Where is it?” the man hissed.

His voice was horrible. Like nails on chalkboard.

I looked into his face and for the first time saw the person who was attacking me.

Except, he wasn't a person at all.

He wasn't even a human.

There were two black holes where his eyes should have been. His skin was a horrible green-grey colour. Tight against his bones.

“Where is it?” he repeated, close enough for me to smell his breath.

It smelled of death.

“Where’s what?” I said. “Let go of me!”

But the weakness was growing. I was having difficulty keeping my eyes open.

My tongue felt like a big, fat walrus laying down in my mouth.

Before I knew it, I was on the ground. The thing was on top of me. Pinning me down so hard I could barely breathe.

I was sure I was going to die.

If only I'd stayed in bed with Blake, I thought. None of this would be happening.

“Blake,” I whispered.

“Where is it?” the monster snarled. “Tell me!”

Tears started running down my cheeks.

I turned to look him in the eyes. Not that he had any. But maybe he'd believe me if he could see I really meant it.

“I don’t know,” I said, “you’ve got the wrong person!”

He made a ghastly, whistling sound.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the worst. But suddenly his hand let go of my wrist.

The weakness disappeared, and the weight that had been pinning me down vanished.

Carefully, I opened my eyes and saw the monster standing beside me, wobbling gently from side to side, his hands covering his ears.

There was a man holding him by the collar.

A huge, tall man wearing a top hat and a tuxedo. Like he was just on his way to a wedding.

Even in the rain I could see the ice blue of his eyes.

Piercing and deadly.

“Canum sali luet ria, pani rostum luet si,” he bellowed, casting a spell, “Canum sali luet ria, pani rostum luet si.”

The words kept getting faster and faster. He spoke with a powerful, rhythmic venom.

Then, in one swift movement, he punched his fist straight through the monster’s chest.

His hand came out the other side holding its heart.

I turned my head away, afraid. And when I looked back they had disappeared.

Both of them. Without a trace.

Edgar Thorn writes fast-paced urban fantasy set in modern London, blending magic, danger, and dark humour.

 

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High Couch of Silistra

 

 

High Couch of Silistra, first of the notorious Silistra Quartet, brings us to a realm where thought alters probability, where creativity is inextricably linked to the urge to own and dominate, and where the universe itself is amenable to a focused mind.

Rooted deeply in humanity’s mythic past yet unaware of the planet Earth, High Couch of Silistra begins one woman’s mythic quest for self-knowledge – with surprising results.

High Couch of Silistra

The Silistra Quartet Book 1

by Janet Morris

Genre: Dystopian Epic SciFi Fantasy Romance

Biology shapes reality...

One woman's mythic search for self-realization in a distant tomorrow...

Her sensuality was at the core of her world, her quest beyond the civilized stars.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler.

"Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure." - Charles N. Brown, Locus Magazine

"The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in tomorrow's universe" 

- Frederik Pohl

"The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris' Silistra series... Estri's character is most like that of Ishtar who describes herself as "'a prostitute compassionate am I'" because she "symbolizes the creative submission to the demands of instinct, to the chaos of nature ...the free woman, as opposed to the domesticated woman". Linking Estri with these lunar and water symbols is not difficult because of the moon's eternal virginity (the strength of integrity) links with her changeability (the prostitute's switching of lovers). [...]

Morris strengthens the moon imagery by having Estri as a well-keepress because wells, fountains, and the moon as the orb which controls water have long been associated with fertility, [...] In a sense, she is like the moon because she is apparently eternal, never waxing or waning except in her pursuit of the quest; she is the prototypical wanderer like the moon and Ishtar. She is the eternal night symbol of the moon in opposition to the Day-Keepers [...]

 At her majority (her three hundredth birthday), she is given a silver-cubed hologram letter from her mother, containing a videotape of her conception by the savage bronzed barbarian god from another world. [...] If Estri's mother then acts as a bawd, willing her lineage as Well-Keepress to her daughter, then Estri's great-grandmother Astria as foundress of the Well becomes a further mother-bawd figure when she offers her prophetic advice in her letter: "Guard Astria for you may lose it, and more. Beware of one who is not as he seems. Stray not in the port city of Baniev ...look well about you, for your father's daughter's brother seeks you". Having no brother that she knows of does not stay Estri from undertaking the heroic quest of finding her father."

 - Anne K. Kaler, The Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine

 

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I am Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, former Well-Keepress of Astria on the planet Silistra. I have begun three times to tell this story, and three times I have been interrupted. This, then, the fourth attempt, will surely prove successful.

Perhaps you have heard of Silistra, the planet that was catalyst to the sexual revolution in the year twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and four Bipedal Federate Standard Time, or of the Silistran serums that lengthen life and restore vitality in virtually any bipedal life form, or perhaps you have at some time contracted the services of a Silistran telepath, or a precognitive, or a deep reader. It is possible that you have in your own home the scintillating, indestructible web-cloth woven by our domestic arachnids, or have seen holograms of our golachits, those intelligent builder-beetles who exude from their mouths a translucent, superhard substance called gol and create from this gol, under the guidance of the chit-guards, the formidable and resplendent structures in which we live and work.

And perhaps you have seen no web-cloth, no gol, never been ill, and are not interested in sex. If so, you may never have heard of Silistra.

I carry Silistra in my mind’s eye, here under this alien sun. In my mind alone can I look out the east window of my beloved exercise hall in Well Astria and see the sun’s rising burst upon the jewel-like towers and keeps of the Inner Well and a thousand rainbows arc and dance in the greening sky.

Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in 1976 and published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris Morris or others. She contributed short fiction to the shared universe fantasy series Thieves World, in which she created the Sacred Band of Stepsons, a mythical unit of ancient fighters modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. She created, orchestrated, and edited the Bangsian fantasy series Heroes in Hell, writing stories for the series as well as co-writing the related novel, The Little Helliad, with Chris Morris. She wrote the bestselling Silistra Quartet in the 1970s, including High Couch of Silistra, The Golden Sword, Wind from the Abyss, and The Carnelian Throne. This quartet had more than four million copies in Bantam print alone, and was translated into German, French, Italian, Russian and other languages. In the 1980s, Baen Books released a second edition of this landmark series. The third edition is the Author's Cut edition, newly revised by the author for Perseid Press. Most of her fiction work has been in the fantasy and science fiction genres, although she has also written historical and other novels. Morris has written, contributed to, or edited several book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national security topics.

Janet said: 'People often ask what book to read first. I recommend "I, the Sun" if you like ancient history; "The Sacred Band," a novel, if you like heroic fantasy; "Lawyers in Hell" if you like historical fantasy set in hell; "Outpassage" if you like hard science fiction; "High Couch of Silistra" if you like far-future dystopian or philosophical novels. I am most enthusiastic about the definitive Perseid Press Author's Cut editions, which I revised and expanded.'

  

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Sonja Gunters Holiday Romance

 

Curl up with the best of both worlds: modern-day romantic twists on your favorite holiday classics, now available in cozy audiobooks!

Avoiding My Merry Birthday

by Sonja Gunter

Genre: Contemporary Holiday Romance, Magical Realism

What would life be like to share your birthday with millions of people?

Gloria White was born on December 24th—Christmas Eve—and is celebrating her 35th birthday when things go terribly wrong. Single and with no love interest in sight, she leaves work only to find her car won’t start. The arrival of the tow truck brings Nick Klaaws, who she has known since grade school, as the driver.

Shocked at seeing him, she loses her balance, falls and hits her head. This brings on a visit from a ghost resembling her boss, Mr. SC Rouge. They travel back in time, where he shows her that her soulmate has been in front of her the whole time and takes her to two possible futures.

Once back in real time, will fate allow Gloria to make the right choices for love?

 

**Now available as an audiobook!**

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Ending the call, she manually unlocked the car door and got into the driver’s seat. She tried the ignition, just for the heck of it, but the engine did not even make a grinding noise. She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, and cried out, “Ouch.”

It hadn’t been worth the effort. She massaged her hand. Deciding to make the most of her time, she checked Facebook to see if anyone had left her a birthday message there. When none came up, she clicked her off her phone and sat in a lonely silence.

An unusual bright light reflected in her rear-view mirror. Squinting, she tried to make out who had joined in the parking lot. Was that the tow truck? How could help have arrived so soon? A low hum of music seeped through the air. Frowning, she tilted her head for a better angle to hear where it was coming from. 

“Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh...” 

Grimacing at the driver’s choice of songs, Gloria slid out of the driver’s seat to watch a red tow-truck with a wreath on the grill come closer. The Christmas music was now blaring so loud she was tempted to cover her ears. The driver must really like the age-old song, she thought.

The truck stopped in front of her car, and she bent over to retrieve her purse from the car.

 “Ho, ho, ho. I heard you’re having a problem.”

The deep voice struck a chord to a long-ago memory from her childhood. 

“Aren’t you into the holiday spirit?” She straightened and turned. “Sorry you had to come out on Christmas Eve—”

Gloria flung her arms outward to gain some balance as she felt herself falling. “Ohhhh, nooooo...”

Unable to evade the expected outcome, she held out her hand as she hit the ground hard. Her body jerked and then fell backward, causing her head to hit the pavement. Pain like a mother migraine surged from the back of her head to her forehead. She felt strong arms wrap around her upper body, lifting her. Before the expected blackness took over, she was able to fixate on a familiar pair of blue eyes. 

“Nick?”

Who’s Been Naughty or Nice

by Sonja Gunter

Genre: Contemporary Holiday Romance, Magical Realism

Northern Polar Printing Company’s President, Zane Ashcroft, is in love with the Vice President, Annie McGrath. From their first encounter, both knew they were destined to be together. At the annual Christmas party, Zane, who dresses up as Santa, intends to propose to Annie after dinner. A recent argument concerning Nick, the janitor, and a shocking development thwarts his intentions.

Will Annie get that long awaited chance at love and happiness and risk being on Santa’s naughty and nice list?

 

**Now available as an audiobook!**

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“There’s no need for you to come inside. We need a break from each other—time to think about our relationship.”

He heard her choke over the last words. She still didn’t look at him.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and left the car. He watched her walk to the front door where she paused. He held his breath as he waited for her to turn, but she didn’t. She opened the door and went inside, closing it behind her.

Zane hit the steering wheel. Granting her request was the hardest thing he’d done in a very long time. Light snow began to fall as he drove across town to his home. Several ideas came to him on how to resolve their argument.

Flowers? No, too predictable. Box of Norman Loves Chocolate? No, too cheesy.

More things came to mind, but as the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas” played on the radio, it triggered a plan. He’d use cards as the twelve days before his proposal. The numbers would work if he started tomorrow. He’d have to swing by Walgreens before work.

His two-story brick house loomed in front of him. It was not his home any longer. He’d been spending so much time at Annie’s and making her home theirs. Opening the door, cold greeted him. He cranked up the thermostat and went into the kitchen, starting the Krups’ coffee machine. It spitted and hissed. He reached for a coffee cup as the doorbell rang.

“Coming!”

Spilling the coffee he’d just poured, he hurried to the front door, unsure who it could be.

“Mr. North?” Zane eyeballed a red limo parked in the street. It stood out like a beckon against the grayness.

“Zane, I hope I’m not disrupting anything.”

“No, no. Come on in.” He held open the door. “Sorry about the chillness, I turned up the heat.”

“A little cold isn’t going to hurt me.”

“I don’t have much in the house to offer you. I haven’t been grocery shopping in days. I just made coffee, would you like a cup?”

“That works for me.”

Zane led him into the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time Mr. North had shown up at his doorstep, but tonight of all times was odd. He poured another cup of coffee and wiped up the earlier spillage from the counter top.

“I know it’s late, but I flew here right after concluding business with Mr. Moonracer. I felt not everyone was happy at my announcement.”

“You’re right. Annie… Ms. Ashcroft, didn’t like being kept out of the loop,” Zane confessed and sat in one the high back chairs.

“Oh, I see.”

Leaning on one elbow, Zane rested his head on his hand. “As a matter of fact, she’s fuming.”

Mr. North laughed and went to the refrigerator. He took out a carton of cream and poured some into his coffee.

Zane wondered when he’d gotten that. He hoped it was still good.

“She’ll understand soon. She’s been on my Nice List for a very long time. I’ve kept an eye on her.”

Zane straightened his shoulders. “A Nice List? I’m not a kid. This whole day has been peculiar from the start. Now it’s ending even weirder. I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but now isn’t the time for your—”

“Zane, the time has come for you to know the truth.”

Mr. North pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and laughed as he pulled his earlobe.

A delightful smell of cookies flooded the kitchen. Zane inhaled and stared wide eyed at him.

I was born and raised in the cold and beautiful Minnesota, but I escaped to Illinois for seventeen years to raise my two boys, and now I call Florida home. My husband Andy, who’s always been my hero, has put up with my late night computer typing and endless stacks of papers with my stories on them. We have one furry friend as family: Chip, a sixteen year old ragdoll cat.

Life has been full of ups and downs, but I’ve made it through the hard times. I love to travel and go to Disney World to trade pins.  I’ve been a bowler for many years, and you can catch me writing my next novel at the lanes.

I encourage you to check out my web site, www.sonjagunter.com for more info and don’t be surprised if I let my Norwegian heritage come through in my stories.

Go Vikings! You betcha!

 

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Fur, Fangs, and Mistletoe

 

 

When a struggling single mom and her adorable toddler get snowed in with a grumpy wolf shifter, Christmas magic starts working overtime.

Fur, Fangs, & Mistletoe

Christmas Cove Book 1

by Jessica Coulter Smith

Genre: Paranormal Holiday Romance

Escape to Christmas Cove, a cozy small town where magic, shifters, and holiday romance collide.

After a painful breakup, Riley is ready for a fresh start in Christmas Cove. All she wants is a peaceful life for herself and her two-year-old daughter, Sabrina. Love isn’t on her holiday wish list. When she’s stuck in a blizzard, help arrives in the form of Alex Conors -- a protective, brooding werewolf.

Snowed in with a grumpy shifter and a crackling fire, Riley begins to see the gentle heart behind Alex’s fierce exterior… and Alex finds himself falling for the brave single mom who awakens something he thought he lost long ago.

Hot cocoa and toddler giggles turn strangers into something more. But when Riley’s past resurfaces and threatens the safety she’s found, Alex will have to prove that loyalty, love -- and pack -- are forever.

A warm, emotional holiday romance filled with shifter charm, second chances, and the magic of Christmas. Ideal for fans of protective alphas, found family, and heartfelt happily-ever-afters.

 

🏠 Small-town charm & found family
🐺 Grumpy wolf + sunshine single mom
👩‍👧 Adorable toddler moments
🎁 Snowed-in & forced proximity
💕 Fated mates and holiday magic

 

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The sedan’s engine rattled -- a sound Riley had learned to distinguish from its other mechanical complaints over the past three states. This particular rattle meant she’d make it another fifty miles, maybe more if she kept her speed steady. Her knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel somewhere around the state line, and she couldn’t remember now how to relax them. The GPS showed their arrival in Christmas Cove, and Riley’s shoulders tensed further, an automatic response to any declaration of reaching a destination.

Dusk had settled over the town. Main Street stretched before her, lined with Victorian storefronts that belonged in a Thomas Kincade painting. White lights twisted around lampposts, and wreaths hung at precise intervals, each decorated with the same combination of pine cones and red ribbon. Fresh snow dusted the sidewalks in a way that seemed too perfect, too deliberate. Riley checked her rearview mirror again -- the same compulsive glance she’d made every thirty seconds for the past six hours. Empty road. No one following. No one cared where she went.

She drove slowly past the Sugar Moon Café, noting its warm glow and the silhouettes of people inside. Past a bookstore with a display of holiday romances in the window. Past a hardware store already closed for the evening, its owner probably home with family, sitting down to dinner, living a normal life. The thought made something twist in Riley’s chest, but she pushed it down. Normal was a luxury she couldn’t afford to want.

The residential streets branched off from downtown. Riley followed the GPS directions, checking the crumpled paper in her cup holder against the street signs and the directions from the GPS. One too many times, it had taken her the wrong way. Oak Street. Maple Avenue. Someone had named these roads with an almost nauseating wholesomeness, as if determined to prove the town’s charm. She turned onto Pine Ridge Road, where the houses grew sparser and the forest pressed closer to the road.

A small sound from the backseat made Riley’s gaze dart to the mirror. Sabrina stirred in her car seat, her head rolling to the side as she woke from the nap that had mercifully consumed the last hour of driving. Riley watched her daughter’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness and the strange lights outside.

“Mama?” Sabrina’s voice carried that quality of toddler confusion. Not quite upset, but teetering on the edge of it.

“We’re here, sweetie.” Riley forced warmth into her voice, though her jaw ached from clenching. “Look at all the pretty lights.”

Sabrina pressed her mittened hands against the window, leaving tiny smudges on the glass. “Lights!” She bounced in her seat as much as the straps would allow. “Pretty, Mama! Pretty!”

“Very pretty.” Riley’s smile felt tight on her face. She wanted to share her daughter’s uncomplicated joy, but she kept scanning the streets, cataloging escape routes, noting which houses had lights on and which sat dark. Old habits. Necessary habits.

The GPS announced their final turn, and Riley’s breath caught. The cottage stood at the end of a short gravel drive, a small structure someone’s grandfather had most likely built and barely maintained enough to keep standing. A single porch light illuminated the front door, and beyond it, the forest loomed.

Riley pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy, broken only by Sabrina’s humming as she kicked her feet against her car seat. Riley sat motionless, her hands still gripping the wheel, and studied their new home.

The cottage was smaller than the photos had suggested. Single-story, with a chimney that leaned slightly to the left. The windows were dark, revealing nothing of the interior. Snow had drifted against the front steps, undisturbed except for what looked like animal tracks, probably a deer or raccoon. The porch railing needed paint, and one shutter hung at an angle.

But for now the house was theirs. For six months, at least, with the first month paid in advance with money Riley had saved from extra shifts and skipped meals. Six months to figure out what came next. After that, she’d have to either renew the lease, or move on to another town.

“Out, Mama!” Sabrina had moved past patient and into demanding. “Out now!”

“Just a minute, baby.”

Riley scanned the neighboring properties. The nearest house sat quite a distance down the road, its windows dark. On the other side, nothing but forest. The isolation should have comforted her. Fewer people meant fewer questions, fewer chances of being found. But instead, it made her hyperaware of how alone they were. No witnesses if something went wrong. No one to hear them scream.

She shook her head, dislodging the thought. Nothing was going to go wrong. This was a fresh start in a quiet town where nobody knew her name or her history. Where Sabrina could grow up without her mother constantly looking over her shoulder.

Jessica Coulter Smith is an acclaimed romance writer with a passion for storytelling. Her works showcase the power of love and its ability to transcend boundaries, capturing the hearts of audiences worldwide. With a unique writing style and perspective, Jessica continues to inspire and entertain readers from all walks of life.

Find her online…

 

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Celebrating Yule

 

 

The longest night teaches us that darkness isn’t the end.

It’s the place where light is born again.

Celebrating Yule

The Celtic Wheel of the Year Book 2

by Rionna Morgan

Genre: Teen & YA Holiday Fairytales and Folklore

The long-awaited Winter Break has finally arrived, but Ronan and Croia, 12-year-old twins, find themselves struggling instead of cheering. There is a new kid at school whose cruelty has left deep wounds.

Ronan's protective instinct towards Croia clashes with his own confusion about what it means to stand up and defend, to fight, or to walk away. On the longest, darkest night of the year, Croia and Ronan’s beloved Irish grandmother, with her gentle insight and patient heart, helps Ronan through the dark storm of his emotions and prepares a special evening for all.

Surrounded by his family—Croia and their new sister, their mother and her new husband—Ronan’s strength and inner peace is tested when an unanticipated guest arrives. Throughout the evening Grandmother continues to help and guide. She weaves stories with strands of folklore and threads of old beliefs, spinning them together, bringing the ancient to the present. While immersed in the traditions of the Celtic holiday of Yule, Ronan learns what it is to see past the darkness.

Come feel the warmth of the hearth and the power of wisdom. Join the journey of the ages through the cold of winter, beyond the shadows of darkness to what comes after and celebrate Yule.

Bonus Materials: Celebrating Yule includes recipes for the traditional Celtic Yule meal.

 

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Ronan squeezed his hands tight and looked out the window. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his mind, but he just couldn’t. The anger kept building.

            Out the window and beyond, into the fields beside his house, snow was falling, that glorious, amazing December, winter break snow. He could see deer walking gracefully along the fence line. In his yard, the tall cottonwood trees stood stately and quiet, their bare black limbs stretching up into the grey-white sky. Huge flakes, perfect flakes, fell easy and gently to cover the ground with another layer of fresh powder.

            Normally, he would be out there in it, racing around, laughing, and chasing his sister, Croia, and coaxing Kenna, their new sister, to come play. But not today. And not any day since the first snow.

            Around him at the table, he could hear Croia and Kenna chatter with their grandmother, Brighid, who had come from Ireland to spend the year with their family. They were laughing and telling each other about their school day as they sipped their tea.

            After-school tea had become an instant tradition when Grandmother arrived in October. Every day, she made some amazing treat and brewed a pot of hot Irish tea, all ready to be enjoyed when the three got home from school.

But Ronan couldn’t bring himself to enjoy today’s raspberry teacake, normally one of his favorites. It just felt like sand in his mouth. The tea was too bitter, and no matter how much sugar and cream he added, he couldn’t get it right. So, he set his teacup down and looked out the window.

            “Do you want to talk about it?”

            Ronan heard his grandmother’s quiet voice ask. He looked around and was surprised to see Kenna and Croia gone and the table cleared. He glanced over and saw Grandmother’s kind eyes watching him, waiting. Right then, he wanted to jump out of his chair and scramble into her arms like he’d done when he was little. He knew if he did, she would hug him and hold him, and everything would be alright.

            But he wasn’t little anymore. In a year, he’d be in high school. He was supposed to be a man. Whatever the hell that meant. He blushed at the use of the word, feeling sheepish that he’d say such a thing in front of his grandmother, even if it was in his own mind, and she couldn’t hear him.

            But what the hell did it mean? He couldn’t even properly defend his own twin sister. She cried and ran to him for help, and all he did was put his arm around her and help her walk away. All he did, as that new kid hurled insults and mockery after them, was walk beside her and help her get in the car with Kenna. All he did was hold Croia’s hand in the backseat as tears streaked down her face as Kenna drove them home. Every day this week, that’s all he did. Which is different than what he wanted to do.

He wanted to punch the guy’s lights out, knock him flat for making his sister cry. He knew he could do it. He was strong. He even spent time thinking about how he’d make a fist, draw his arm back, and pow—hit him right across his mean face.

“I don’t know, Grandmother.” Ronan scrubbed his hands together and wiped his hair back.

“Okay.” Grandmother patted his hand. “I am here.” She picked up her teacup and took a sip.

“I am so angry!” Ronan blurted. “There’s this new kid at school, and he’s super mean. He’s made Croia cry every day this week. He’s in a couple of our classes, and he says snide things there too.”

Grandmother set her tea down and leaned forward in her chair.

Bonus Author Giveaway!

Celebrate the spirit and magic of Yule with Whitney Morgan Media! In the spirit of the season, they’re giving every participant a prize—including chances to win an autographed copy of Celebrating Yule: The Celtic Wheel of the Year Series – Book 2 and exclusive author swag from Rionna Morgan!

Enter here: https://deformity.ai/d/GdT4YeEfTPix

Rionna Morgan is an international, best-selling novelist, poet, and recognized icon in the Web3 literary space.

Creator of The 7 Love Stories, a digital collection making literary history, her work bridges tradition and innovation, with recent features including a digital poem showcased in Paris.

As owner of Whitney Morgan Media and former Editor-in-Chief of Vagobond Magazine, Rionna empowers writers and builds vibrant communities where stories and creators are celebrated and honored.

Her writing appears with Simon & Schuster, Mythic North Press, and in features like Celtic Life International and Fortune dot com.

A sought-after speaker at NFTNYC and the Academic Web3 Conference, she lives between Montana and New York, always dreaming up new worlds.

 

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