New Release: Spelled In Blue

Blurb:

Amanda moved to Ravensfield for a fresh start, but before that can happen she needs a handyman to fix a few things around the house. While searching for one in town, she falls victim to a town conspiracy. Someone is out to get her and the members of the town council. But that isn't the only thing. The town's residents aren't what they seem.

With everyone being a suspect, Amanda isn't sure who to trust. Although, Simon, the handyman helps her out in a pinch. Just when she thinks she might be safe, everything turns on its head and Amanda doesn't know who to turn to. The danger grows. The death toll rises. If the killer isn't found soon, then she might be next.



Excerpt:

The light she parked under sputtered in and out. Amanda set her bag and her purse in the passenger seat. An older red Ford pickup pulled up beside her. The brakes squealed as it stopped. Amanda winced from the ear splitting sound echoing off the surrounding buildings. The door opened and the driver got out. At the same time, a searing pain hit her shoulder. A large pop sounded in the parking lot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw red blossoming on the right shoulder of her T-shirt. 

“Shit.” She clutched the edge of her truck as her knees buckled.

“Whoa! I got you.” A man grabbed her arm. She looked up into dark brown eyes and a bright smile.

“What just happened?”

“Someone shot at you.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know why.”

“I need a doctor.”

“It doesn’t look too bad. I think the bullet grazed you. There isn’t a doctor around here, but I can stitch it up for you.”

No doctor. A wise ass for a shopkeeper and now I’m getting shot at. “Isn’t it convenient you showed up right when this happened? Where are the cops? Why would someone be shooting at me?”

“You’re in shock. Come on. Let me help you. I’ll make sure the locals know about this if someone hasn’t called it in already. Howard, the sheriff, will take a bit to get down here. He lives on the other side of the town. I’ll tell Guss to call him and send him my way if you want me to look at that for you. I—”

The glass in her passenger window exploded. Amanda jumped. “Fine. Going with you is better than being shot at. What the fuck? Who would be insane enough to—?”

Another bullet skimmed off her savior’s roof closer to him this time.

“Get in.”

“My purse.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her purse. “Here, don’t worry about the other stuff.” Another bullet pinged off his hood. “Time to go.” Amanda moved around his truck and climbed into his passenger seat. He leaned over her and pulled out a bunch of napkins from the glove box. “Put these on your shoulder to help with the bleeding. Constant pressure.”  He started the truck and peeled out. He kept his gaze on the road and one hand on the wheel. Her savior stuck his free hand out. “Simon.”

“Amanda.” She looked at his hand while she pressed the wad to her shoulder. 

“Right.” He put his hand back on the wheel. “Amanda, nice to meet you. What brings you to our quaint little town?”

“Long story. I wouldn’t call it quaint.”

“Why? Getting shot at wasn’t on your agenda when you moved here?”

Amanda didn’t answer. Instead she braced herself as he took the corners at breakneck speeds. By the time they pulled down a long driveway bordered by tall pine trees on both sides, she had no idea where she was. Simon helped her out of the truck and into the house.

“Don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t expecting company. Come into the bedroom. Sit.”

Amanda gazed around the room. Laundry and tools were scattered in front of an old fireplace. A stack of books leaned against a ratty armchair. An old beveled mirror hung on the wall above a bureau. The bed was unmade. Thick black curtains covered the windows. She perched on the bed, holding the wad of napkins to her shoulder. Simon dashed into his bathroom and came out with a first aid kit.

“Is this how you woo all the women you meet? Bring them to your cluttered bedroom and offer them free first aid?” Amanda tried to stop her voice and body from shaking. She half expected another bullet to come through his window. It didn’t seem real until she was in his truck driving away from hers. Now she sat in a strange man’s bedroom trying to figure out who shot at her and why. No one knew her in town. The only person who knew where she was happened to be her lawyer. 

“Funny. Hey, I’m going to need you to take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to clean your wound and see how deep it is.”

Buy Links: 

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Smashwords

Free Books, A New Release, & A Chance to Win Books for a Year!

That's right. Free books. I know you're wondering how in the world to get those free books.

First off, I wanted to let everyone know I am alive. Between being sick, having a busy day job, and life, I've been slack on the blog. So that being said... I have a new release that's out just in time for Christmas called Krampus to the Rescue.

 This is out with Changeling Press and it coincides with Winning Books for a Year!

Blurb:

When Jack Frost appears at Krampus' house asking for help to save Santa, Krampus knows with his arch-enemy gone, Christmas could be his for the taking. But Jack is willing to sweeten the deal, so Krampus goes to help Jack on his mission.

What they find is the Elves running amok in Christmas Town and Mrs. Claus held prisoner. Racing against time, Krampus must face an even darker energy to rescue Santa.

How to Win Free Books for a Year with Changeling Press!

The Prizes:

Naughty Nights of Christmas -- Twelve Changeling winners will receive one e-book of your choice from ChangelingPress.com.
Five Christmas Magic winners will each receive Free Books For A Year -- Five winners, one e-book a month, 12 books each for 2018 from ChangelingPress.com.
Two Christmas Magic winners will receive one book a week all year -- Two winners, 52 e-books each, for 2018 from ChangelingPress.com.

The best part -- all you have to do is buy any Christmas themed book at ChangelingPress.com between November 24th and December 31st, 2017, and you're automatically entered to win.

The Not So Fine Print:
Naughty Nights of Christmas Winners are eligible to win more than one prize.
Winners will be chosen randomly from purchasers of books in the Changeling Press Christmas Theme at ChangelingPress.com.
Each Christmas e-book purchase made at ChangelingPress.com between November 24th and December 31st 2017 when the winners are announced counts as an entry.
Winners will be announced December 31st at our annual Changeling New Year's Eve Party, held on the Changeling Bar and Grill, and the Changeling Facebook Page.
Winners may choose any Changeling Press E-book currently in production at ChangelingPress.com at the time the prize is awarded.
Free e-book download links do not accumulate, and will expire if not used within 30 days from the date on which they were awarded.
Christmas Magic titles will also be available for purchase at Amazon.com, BN.com, Kobo, and iTunes. Purchases made at these locations will not count as contest entries. Only purchases made at ChangelingPress.com between November 24th and December 31st, 2017 will be eligible for prizes.


So those are the rules if you want to enter to win some free ebooks for  2018.

Here is the other way to get Free Ebooks!

Check out the Instafreebie links below for some cool books.

https://instafreebie.com/free/ynWa89wc8H1PlSllaeZ3

https://instafreebie.com/free/D4kpJ


So now that you've seen all the ways to get some free books. Make sure you go get them. We all need stuff to read especially for the holidays.

Remember to check out my Newsletter for the most updated stuff on what's going on with me.

Happy Holidays!

Crymsyn Hart

New Release: Krampus Does Dallas

I know what you are all thinking. Krampus is running around doing horrible things in the city of Dallas. History tells us he loves to eat children and is the evil side of Christmas. I like to see him in a little bit of a different light. This has made me delve into his world.

Hope you enjoy my version of Krampus. And no, he's not in Texas.

BLURB:

Krampus never thought he would find someone to care for again. Then he met Dallas when the rodeo came to town. Surprises continue with the new man in Krampus' life when Stephen shows up looking for Dallas.

Krampus won't let Dallas out of his sight, but when Dallas is called back to the rodeo, Krampus is in for the ride of his life.

Excerpt:

"Have a good evening." Krampus moved through the crowd that had gathered around them. He entered the town. The shops had closed up for the day. The road was dry and in need of rain. The only rowdy place was the tavern. He slid inside. Few people noticed as he walked in, but they didn't say anything when he sat down in a corner booth. He sat back and watched the place fill with the laborers of the town. A waitress came by and set a mug down on his table.

"You sit at a table, you gotta order food."

"Fine. Bring me whatever's on the menu."

The waitress came back with some kind of stew and bread. He dipped the bread into the broth and took a taste of it. He coughed at the seasoning. Besides having an overabundance of pepper, it was edible. His stomach growled. He thought about his interaction with the owner of the rodeo. He'd bought a bull. Why the hell did I buy the bull? I don't need it. Now I'm stuck with the beast. I'm sure it's had a taxing life.
 
He glanced up from his meal when the noise level dropped. A group from the rodeo entered the tavern. One of the thugs who had stopped him approached the bartender. The group followed behind him.

"A round of ale for the lot."

The bartender crossed his arms over his chest. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Your kind ain't wanted here. Best if you get out before I have someone throw you out."

"We have a right to be here just as anyone else." The thug sat at the bar. The rest moved into a table that emptied out since they had come in. The rodeo participants all looked as though they had a difficult life. All were tanned and wrinkled from years in the sun and hard work. Krampus didn't envy them. The tension in the bar grew. He sat back. The bartender and the other patrons surrounded them.
A cloaked figure slipped past them and hovered by Krampus's table.

"Why don't you sit here? It looks like everywhere else is taken." Krampus found himself saying.

 The man looked at him. "Why do you care?"

"I don't. Sit or don't sit."

Krampus pushed the plate aside and laid a couple of silver coins on the table. They would more than cover the cost of his meal and the ale. He didn't want the waitress to hassle him any longer. The man glanced at the coins and the unfinished bowl of stew. He sat down and reached for the stew. Then the stranger pulled his hand back.

"You going to eat that?"

"Have at it."

The stranger's hands were dark, almost like polished black marble. His arms were decorated with long-healed-over scars. The man took the bowl and brought it in close to him, protecting it. When he ate, the hood of his cloak fell away, revealing a bald head, a strong jaw and a flat nose. His eyes were gold when he looked up at Krampus. Something in that gaze stirred Krampus's desire.

"What?" the man asked around a mouthful of bread.

"Nothing. I just noticed you were hungry. I could make it worth your while if you wanted to come back to the house with me."

"So you can fuck me? I'm not a whore. I see how you're looking at me."

Krampus held back a smile. "No. I wasn't considering sex. I just meant I have better food than what you have there. Plus, you can sleep in a bed. It looks like you might need it. No strings attached."

The other man eyed him. "I thought you said you didn't care."

"It's obvious your companions don't care about you or you would've come in with them. And you wouldn't have been hiding your appearance. I'm surprised you're still with them. Of course, I could be way off on my observations. Come or not, but I'm leaving." Krampus got up from the booth and left the tavern. After he rejoined the darkness, the tavern door slammed shut.

"Where are we going?"

"Follow me."

Buy Links:

Amazon 
Nook 
KOBO


Make sure to sign up for my newsletter to get monthly updates on what is going on with me.

New Release - Sheltered Angel

Sheltered Angel is now out with Changeling Press and everyone else.

Get your copy today. 

BLURB:

Polly is running a fund raiser for the local animal shelter when she meets Vaughn, who wants nothing to do with what she's selling. Instead, he sends her to hell, believing she's a succubus.

But Polly's really a witch hybrid with a soul, and Vaughn's boss wants her alive. When Vaughn tracks her down again at the shelter, he discovers she's guarded by her faithful Corgi/Hellhound Sugar. Determined to get answers, Vaughn learns there's more to her than meets the eye, yet his resentment toward her grows until he discovers her ultimate secret.

Polly can't help her growing attraction to Vaughn, even if he's keeping something from her. As much as he doesn't want to protect her, he's forced to. Hell wants her back and will do anything to get her.

EXCERPT:

Polly knocked on the door. She tried to look cheerful while clutching a catalog of Christmas cards, gifts, and other assorted holiday gifts, to her chest. Raising money for the local pound so they could provide food and shelter for homeless animals was important to her. But she cringed every time someone slammed a door in her face.

Footsteps approached and the door opened. A jaw dropping, sexy, tall man stood there. Everything about him was solid. Polly was imagining herself licking him up and down to satisfy some of her inner cravings.

"Go away. I don't want any." The impatience in his baritone voice was evident.

"But I'm not selling anything."

He lifted a dark eyebrow. "Really?"

"That's right." She tried to sound upbeat and not come off like a plastic blonde with nothing going on between her ears.

"I doubt it. I can smell your desperation and cheap perfume."

Motherfucker. He might be sexy as hell, but he is not calling me cheap. Her blood boiled. Polly's fangs extended behind her pursed lips. She shoved them back up with her tongue so he wouldn't see them when she talked.

"It's not cheap. What I have is for a good cause. It's for the local --"

Big Sexy slammed the door in her face.

"Animal shelter. All proceeds go to feeding and providing healthcare." She finished her sentence and her smile dropped. Walk away and move on to the next door. You'll get someone eventually. Think positively.

The demon inside of her reared its head. "Show him who he's talking to. Make him buy shit for the cute, cuddly puppies."

Polly drew herself up and pushed the inner voices away. It got tiring fighting her dual nature. It felt like she had three people warring inside of her head. Her. The succubus and the angel. Polly thought of herself as the quintessential cartoon character with the miniature angel and devil sitting on either shoulder.

The more she thought about the man, the angrier she got. Fifteen doors she had knocked on so far. Not one of them hid a kooky cat lady who would spend all her money on the dozens of cat cards or rolls of wrapping paper sporting kittens batting at dangling ornaments. The day had been a bust. This guy is going to spend money for a good fucking cause.

Polly turned back around, took in a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

"I told you I would win," her dark half muttered.

The angelic side turned its back. Polly shoved them both back into their corners of her mind. She knocked on the door again and tapped into the succubus part of her.

The door opened. Big Sexy had a towel around his waist while he towel-dried his hair. "I told you I don't want any."

"Come on, sir." Polly put a hand on her hip and purred. She caught a whiff of him, like cloves mixed with the deep scent of the woods. Water droplets dribbled down his chest. His green eyes narrowed. Her otherworldly charm didn't seem to be working. This man should have been putty in her hands by now.

"I told you, I'm not interested in anything you're selling. Go away and buy a different perfume. Whatever you're wearing reeks like sulfur. What's it called, Ode de Rotten Eggs?" He waved his hand in front of his nose to remove the scent.

Shit. It's not working on him. Her sweet grin drooped. She clutched the catalog. Time to resort to other measures. She dropped her succubus powers. Her veins ran cold and energy crackled around her as she pulled it from the atmosphere. All sound fell away as she concentrated. With a flick of her fingers, the man's towel flew from his hand and wrapped around his neck. The ends twisted until his face reddened. Veins pulsated in his temples.

Polly stepped closer. The top of her head came to the center of his chest, making him at least six-eight. She poked him in the ribs. "It's because of you stuck-up assholes the shelters can't save all the animals they want. I'm trying to do something good here. I'm so sick of arrogant jerkoffs smashing doors in my face. You're going to buy something." She shoved the catalog under his nose.

The power of Big Sexy's will pulled on her control, but she maintained it. The key was keeping the intention. His burgundy face and bugged eyes showed the force he used to fight her influence. And she intended to bend him until he spent money. Instead, he ripped the catalog from her hands.

He glared at her. Polly didn't break their eye contact. This wasn't about the puppies anymore. This was personal. She balled her hands into fists and fixed her will on that towel staying around his throat. Big Sexy gripped the fabric and tried to pull it away again, but she kept it there. Her nails dug into her palms as he fought her until he gained the upper hand.

He pulled the towel far enough away from his neck and he whispered, "Ab angelis, mando vobis daemonia ire in gehennam." By the angels, I command you demon, go back to hell.

A flash of heat ripped through Polly...

BUY LINKS:

Changeling Press
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
KOBO
iBooks

New Release: Claiming Cupid

Here is an except from my newest short with Changeling Press called Claiming Cupid I wanted to share with everyone.

Blurb:

When Krampus' gingerbread men bring him a man caught in one of his nets, all thoughts of eating him fly from his mind. Krampus learns his guest is Cupid, the Incarnation of Love.

With Cupid missing from the real world all love is at stake of evaporating. But Krampus intends to claim Cupid for his own -- even if it kills him.


Excerpt:

"Master."

Krampus looked down at the one who had disturbed him. A two-foot-tall, battle hardened gingerbread general with a missing gumdrop button and a bite taken out of his head. A frosted eye patch had been filled in where his raisin left eye had once been. His edges had started to crumble the way cookies did. They could fix that by charring the cookie edge, but Krampus wasn't sure how long this cookie had left to serve him.

"What do you want? Has some of the livestock escaped again? Did you catch one of your men snacking on my humans again? I've given them enough warnings not to be lenient. I do get a hankering for gingerbread once in a while."

"No, Master. Nothing like that. We found something in the nets. It didn't look like a sugar plum fairy, so I wanted to bring it to you."

"Let me see it." Krampus was intrigued. His gingerbread hardly ever brought him something interesting. Sugarplum fairies were a delicacy and went well with human meat pie, but they were difficult to snare even with the finely woven nets he had cast in the garden. At the thought of their sticky sweetness, Krampus' mouth watered.

His gingerbread men, along with a couple of toy tin soldiers, dragged in something caught in a golden net. The creature was unlike anything he had ever seen. It looked human. Was the same size as one of them, but it had large white fluffy wings. One of the tin soldiers took something slung over his shoulder and presented it to Krampus. "We found these on him."

Krampus bent down and took a golden quiver of arrows with feathered hearts on the end and a large bow from the soldier. It was tiny in his large fingers. This being was not from his world. If he was then they would have been the same height, but Krampus could fix that.

"Release him and leave us."

 The tin soldiers left the room, but the general remained.

"Uh, Master?"

"What is it?"

"When you're done with him, me and the boys were hoping we could have the leftovers. He looks tasty." The gingerbread general licked his lips, revealing needle teeth.

"If there is anything left, then yes. If I keep him, you're welcome to three of the human stock. But wait for my orders on that."

The corner of his mouth twitched trying to hide his excitement. "Yes, Master. Thank you." The general left the room and closed the door.

Krampus slowly unwound the fine golden net from the strange creature. He took care when removing the weave from the large fluffy wings. When he untwined the strange being, he turned him over to find the most perfect specimen of humankind he had ever seen. Shiny bronze skin with light blond hair that curled around a heart-shaped face. Perfectly pouty lips were relaxed in unconsciousness.
A nasty gash across his forehead marred the beauty of this captured angel. Dread rolled through Krampus as the recognition set in. If this being is a real angel, I'm in for some shitty luck. He had to make sure this creature recovered. First thing to do was to make him the same size as Krampus.
The realm he lived in made him a giant. When he interacted in the human world, he was a looming figure of seven feet. To mortals he brought here, Krampus towered twenty feet tall. This creature was no ordinary human. He lifted him in both hands and laid him on the sofa. The angel appeared to be a small child as he lay on the couch. Krampus waved his hand over the being.

The cold grip of the spell sapped his energy. His powers had waned because Christmas had passed and spring would soon be upon him. They would return in full force as the summer turned to fall. The room frosted over in a white film to include the angel. Once the film cleared, the angel had grown to match Krampus. He found a rag, got a bowl of water, and pressed it to the cut. The blood came away easily.

Once he was done, Krampus took in the rest of the angel's physique. His abs were toned and expertly cut. Gold shorts clung to his hips and left nothing to the imagination. His desire stirred as he studied the bulge hidden by the golden cloth. He tore his gaze from it and admired the shapely thighs and calves. Brown leather sandals encased his feet and twined around over his ankles and were tied with a neat heart-shaped bow.

Nothing else about him seemed to be hurt. Krampus hoped his wings were intact. The golden net was meant to snare the sugar plum fairies and break their wings.

"What are you and why did you wander into my realm? Unless you wanted to become a real live tree topper for me next year."

Buy Links:

Changeling Press 

Amazon Kindle

Nook

Writing from The Hart Chapter 3

I haven't really blogged much this year. Why? Well no real reason and many reasons I guess. My life is mostly boring. The exciting stuff goes on inside my head which is where I like to keep it. I've had my fair share of exciting when I was a teenager and in my mid-twenties. And I'm happy to be leading the boring life. One of the more quiet aspects about my life I don't talk about in public much is I'm a psychic medium, clairvoyant and empath.

This wasn't something I woke up one day and said hey wouldn't it be fun to be. It's not something I can completely turn off or ignore. Tried that and it didn't work out so well. Because of the experiences I've had they have influenced my writing which is one reason I feel so at home writing paranormal. Besides having an interest in vampires and ghosts in general I'm also pagan so that plays into my writing as well. And lately I've been writing about grim reapers. Again personal experience there too which is hard to explain without sounding crazy. But then again when you tell someone that you hear voices in your head that aren't your own  - or your characters'-then you get strange and funny looks.

It's always amusing when in my day job we get talking about past job experiences and of course I always tell them I was a psychic because well hey I still list it on my resume since it helped put me through college. Most find it interesting and ask me about it. Others I'm sure thing it's all - wooo-- and I'm talking out of my ass.

However, yeah, no. The place I used to work at is still in existence. And it was just a little over a year ago that my mentor, friend, old boss, passed away and it really struck home. Alex was one of the most kindhearted people I had met, stern, crazy, and a whole other host of things that made me want to kill him at times and hug him. And of course  he might be gone from the world but the bastard still owes me money. LOL.

I found Alex on the old Compuserve online chat rooms where he was running a psychic development classes. And at that time I was still in high school and dealing with all this crap with home life and well with these crazy ass things going on with the ghosts in the various apartments I lived in, the typical shit from being a teenager, and everything else. We talked for months and he invited me into Boston to interview with him. So my mom and I went cause at this time I was a couple months from graduating high school and Alex had no idea I was so young. He had me do an interview with on the psychics there which constituted of reading her cards. I had no fucking clue what I was doing. Not really. But he hired me that day and I started 3 days after I graduated high school. It helped my college was three blocks away.

Four and a half years later I had to part ways with the Tearoom because it was my time, but in those years I met so many wonderful people who have stayed with me even today. Some have also gone from this world and left a hole in my heart. But life goes on and I see the occasionally in dreams.

How does this all work into my writing besides shaping my plot lines? Well it spawned a series of books called Soul Reaper Series. I came to a point in my life i knew I wanted to write and it takes a lot of energy to birth a book and do readings. So I had to chose reading or writing. The books won out.

In many ways I am happy how things turned out. And I always wonder if I should go back to doing readings, but I'm firmly reminded that writing is my path and while I'll never get rid of my abilities they are more just another side of me.

Check out other chapters in Writing from the Hart

Chapter 1
Chapter 2


Also my Current Releases are:
Reviving The Dragon
Worlds Apart
Death's Revival

I'm always happy to talk about my personal ghost stories and past psychic experiences, but I no longer do readings professionally.

Writing From the Hart

So I've been writing now "professionally" for about 9 years, well 8 years and 6 months. I count my writing year starting in September. Not sure why, maybe because it's the same time I actually moved to Charlotte, although that was 14 years ago now. I've been writing since I was a kid because I always loved to create stories.

During the years that I have written anything, there have been times where I have come stopped for a second and thought, "Do I really want to quit writing?"

I'm not talking stopping writing altogether because I don't think I could do that, but stopping it as a business and sending stuff out into the world and see who reacts to the crazy that has sprung from my head. Sometimes seeing the sales are disheartening because yeah I would love to quit the day job and write full time. There are also the days where I get into a funk and just say screw it. My writing sucks. Everything I do sucks. Why do I even bother with it anymore? I don't get much of a response from people so, who is going to miss me if I stop writing? I am a small fish in the huge and ever widening sea of authors and what does it matter if I cease sharing part of my own slice of crazy.

It would certainly make my life easier and give me time back so I can pull away from the computer.

But then I give it a day or so, and even if the question still lingers in the back of my mind to dispose of everything, the stronger sense in me is to keep on sharing. Not because I know I'm going to make millions. But because I love sharing the words I create with everyone. No matter how disheartened I get.

As a teenager, I would write stories and shove them in my friends' faces to force them to read what I had done. Although sometimes the marketing aspect of it makes me feel that way too, I try not to get down and dirty splashing every other post on social media with the diatribe of "Buy My Shit" cause we all know that gets old. Fast.

I guess what I've been trying to say over the whole thing is that no matter what my mind says, I am following my heart. Even if you are thinking about giving up the writing, just stop and think a minute.

It isn't about making the money or seeing how many books you can sell. It's about giving into the instinct within your heart and appeasing the screaming muses so you can get your story out there. Even if you decide to step away from the publishing industry, don't give up writing.

Coming Soon from Charon Coin Press - A Deathly Undertaking

Hello Everyone,

On the day before I am trekking to Mid-South Con, I wanted to announce that I have signed on for a new series called The Undertaker Chronicles with Charon Coin Press. The first book in the series is entitled A Deathly Undertaking. The second book is called Follow The Ink. The third book is something I'm working on now.

Needless to say, I am very excited to be joining the family of such a great house. I am also thrilled because within the series are a few very unforgettable characters, namely one of them being a resurrected, mummified left hand who loves anything with boobs.

His name is Omar and he'll be with me at Mid-South so come and find me if you wanted to be petted.

Now here is a bit about A Deathly Undertaking. Enjoy.

Blurb:

Darria Savege is an undertaker's assistant. When her boss is killed, she assumes the job of undertaker and all the strange things that goes with it. A necromancer is trying to retrieve an item in her curio cabinet along with the key tattooed into her arm so he can release Medusa and her sister's from limbo.

All the while Darria is learning about her new position, she awakens a mummified hand named Omar who becomes her familiar. She works with a grim reaper named Oliver who collects the souls of the bodies she works on. And she has to do her job all the while trying not to get killed, figure out what the necromancer wants, and how to keep Medusa from escaping into her world.

Excerpt:

First she would have to set up the roll around tray that Mr. Archer used. Those tools were easy: pliers, wrench, blow torch, stake, mallet, silver scalpel, and forceps. She left a spot open for the last thing she would have to get, but first she turned her attention to the center of the room where Mr. Archer would focus all of his attention.

This one looked normal enough, blond hair perfectly arranged around her head. A smear of emerald eyeshadow on her lids matched her dress. Soft slightly marred pink lipstick was stuck to the woman’s teeth. Her green dress showed her curves and covered her legs down to her calves. One of her black pumps was missing and she wasn’t wearing any stockings. However, the bullet hole in the center of her forehead was a dead giveaway that she was well...dead. That and the faint curls of black smoke still steaming from the wound where the silver reacted with the corpse’s flesh. 

It was tough to believe this woman could turn into a ferocious beast on the full moon. Trying to picture her on all fours covered with fur brought back memories of some of the bad horror movies Darria had seen as a child. She didn’t know too much about how werewolves ticked because she had never seen one alive before, except that silver could hurt or kill them. But this was one of the varieties of creatures that had come through the undertaker’s cellar to be processed. And she wasn’t allowed to talk about any of them. So she kept on about her work and right now she had to be sure the cellar was set up correctly for her boss.

She glanced at the tray of tools. All were neatly arranged in their exact spot because if they weren’t she would have hell to pay later. The remainder of the instruments was kept under lock and key and she guarded that key with her life. Darria trailed her fingers over the tattoo on the inside of her right elbow. The lines of the tattoo, along with the rest of her sleeve, were sleek and defined. Darria played her fingers over the outline of the key tattoo until a violet shimmer appeared on her flesh. Once it lit up, the key became solid and plunked into her palm. The metal was warm as she held it. When the undertaker had given it to her, it resembled a normal key she would slip into any lock. It hadn’t been anything special, just a gold key that she could have picked up any hardware store. 

However, when she accepted her job, it transformed into what it was now. Darria ran her finger over the three arches on the top of the key. A surge of energy arced along her skin, causing the small hairs to rise along her arm. It gave the ravens etched into her flesh an amethyst hue. A small smile turned up her lips. It was nice to take a moment to relax and admire the simple symmetry of her job and the duties that went with it.