Teagan Kearney: Writer

Allie & The Djinn Chapter 2: WTF!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Fri, 23 Jan 2026 13:25:00 +0000

Hi there, lovely readers,

Thank you so much for visiting my blog, and I'm genuinely grateful you found your way here.

Here is Chapter 2 of Allie & The Djinn, a fantasy novella in the subgenre of magic realism. I would also categorize it as an action-adventure romantic thriller. So, bring your suspension of belief, make yourself comfortable and find out what Allie really thinks about her new situation!

ALLY & THE DJINN - CHAPTER 2: WTF!

Allie was alone, washing her hands, squinting at herself in the mirror, thinking what a mess she was and wondering when she last washed, when she heard the voice.

What the fuck? She glanced around. Nobody. She’d definitely heard someone speak. Oh, no. Was she hallucinating? This was bad. She checked her feet, legs, torso, and arms. Other than the need for a super-hot shower—because, boy, she stank—she felt surprisingly well. Healthy, even. Saliva pooled under her tongue at the memory of the coffee and pastries she had just consumed. Her belly and brain hadn’t experienced such delights for a while and decided that, for breakfast, they’d been sensational. She shook her head as if to dislodge—or deny—her senses’ gratification.

“I said, greetings, O fair one. Perhaps I should introduce myself first. I am Quareem Min Alsahra, the most powerful djinn in all the known kingdoms.”

She screamed long and loud.

***

Allie blinked. She felt wonderful. Light as air—or more like a delicate cotton-wool ball floating across a gorgeous blue sky. She took in the white walls and sheets, a small window up near the ceiling, the patient gown she wore. She was in a hospital, drugged up and safe. The hallucination had disappeared. She closed her eyes and slept.

When she woke again, reality returned. For some unknown reason, she’d experienced an auditory hallucination, started screaming, and hadn’t stopped until the medics arrived and jabbed her with a needle. After which, everything had gone dark.

She scanned the room. Yes. Same pale walls as before, and whatever they’d shot her up with, she sure wouldn’t refuse another dose. What she didn’t understand was why she no longer craved oblivion.

“Hey, hot babe!”

What the fuck? She was hearing voices, which meant the delusion was real. She wasn’t imagining it. Strange choice of words, though. The only person who’d ever referred to her as a hot babe was a skinny kid with braces she’d gone on a couple of dates with when she was fifteen. This must be what a psychotic episode was like—odd memories from her past come back to haunt her.

“My dear Allie, fear not, I am as alive as you.”

“Prove it. Why can’t I see you?”

A tidbit of information surfaced. Names had power. “What’s your name?”

“I am the one and only, the great Al Quareem Min Alsahra, a very powerful djinn, and I am at your service.”

“Whatever. So, you’re the greatest… er… what did you say you were? A djinn? Is that a genie-in-the-bottle kind of thingy?”

Christina Aguilera came to mind. Would he dance for her, or was she expected to show him some moves? She sucked in a deep breath, but before she let rip a second earth-shattering scream, his hand was around her throat, a vise-like grip rendering her silent and immobile. Frozen except for the ability to blink, always an advantage—dry-eye syndrome and all that.

A vague memory of someone telling her about this sense of being paralyzed that often happened when people were falling asleep. She’d understood this was a ghost trying to take over your body.

“I. Am. Not. A. Ghost! Now, if you promise to behave and not scream, I will explain who I am and why you are able to hear me. Can you do that?”

The grip around her neck tightened, not quite cutting off her oxygen supply. Allie gave a mental nod. If this creature wasn’t a spook, it had to be a demon.

“I. Am. Not. A. Demon!”

Allie managed a few more twitches, hoping he got the message she understood he wasn’t a devil, and he relaxed his hold.

“Okay, okay. I understand. Not a ghost. Not a denizen of hell. Not a human either, so who or whatever you are, get out of my head.”

“My name is Quareem al Mustapha, the greatest of all the djinn known to mankind. Genies are the lesser wish-granting branch of our species. Djinn are much more powerful.”

“I don’t understand why I conjured up a djinn, and I certainly didn’t give you permission to move into my head.”

“My darling Allie, you did not conjure me. I chose you. Would it reassure you if I showed you how I am as real as you?”

“Sure. Why not?” This should be fun. Maybe she could have a career as a TV magician?

“You are foolish. Watch.”

Right in front of her, a whirling, golden-tinted cloud appeared, thickening as she watched, transfixed. Her jaw fell even more when a shape became visible inside the mist, solidifying into a drop-dead gorgeous young man with black hair curling down over his shoulders, bright blue eyes twinkling at her, and a lush pair of smiling lips.

“You approve?”

Allie’s belly heated, a flush rising through her chest until her cheeks were rosy. She coughed. “Mmm… I suppose so.”

“Apologies for the absence of my extremities.”

Allie’s gaze dropped from the enticing face, skimmed broad shoulders and six-pack, slid past the bulge in his pants to muscular thighs and below… to a golden swirling mist that hid his calves and feet.

Quareem sighed and waved at the billowing mass. “Part of the curse my race are compelled to endure when we manifest in your world.”

“I guess it’s better than no dick or minus your head.”

“You are rude and not funny.”

“How do I know that this”—she jutted her chin at his gleaming physique—“isn’t also an illusion?”

The djinn glided toward her, an action that didn’t involve his thighs and was oddly disturbing, and held out his right arm. “Touch me.”

Allie reached out, her fingertips grazing his warm, golden-brown skin. The heat emanating from his body made her skin tingle. With a swift yank, she grabbed his wrist, pulled him close, and sank her teeth into his hand, expecting her upper and lower teeth to connect—because a phantom couldn’t be real—shocked as she met an obstacle, his flesh, and, as she bit down harder, bone.

“Aagghh!” Quareem yelled, flicking a flash of lightning at her.

Once more, she found herself nailed down and unable to move, her lips glued to Quareem’s skin as he inserted two fingers from his left hand into her mouth, pushed down on her jaw, and extracted his hand.

He studied her, meeting her dismayed gaze, amusement creeping into his eyes. “Ha! You continue to think I have sprung fully formed from the depths of your addled brain?”

He flicked his fingers, and relief at being able to move once more loosened her limbs. She massaged her jaw.

“Accept your fate. We have bonded.” He rubbed the spot she’d bitten, and the indentations of her bite faded. “You accepted my gift and proved to yourself that I am real.”

What gift? What had he given her? Before she could question him further, the sharp tattoo of quick footsteps sounded along the corridor, coming closer.

Quareem flicked out of existence as a nurse, her nut-brown hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, her uniform starched to within an inch of its life, marched in.

“Good morning, Alicia. I’m glad to find you awake.” She picked up the chart attached to the rail at the foot of the bed. “How are you today?”

“Great. Hunky-dory. How soon can I leave?”

The nurse’s alert gaze told her the woman wasn’t easily fooled, so she summoned the energy to give her a genuine smile.

“After Dr. Fox gives the okay.”

“I was supposed to meet a friend, and she’ll be worried.”

Not a single friend’s name came to mind, except an echo of two high childish voices singing Liar, liar, pants on fire flickered through her mind. In this case, she told herself, the end justifies the means.

“How long will I have to wait?”

“Until we have the results of your blood test from the lab, and if they’re clear, we’ll discharge you. Are you hungry?”

Allie’s stomach grumbled. “No use in pretending otherwise, is there?”

“An orderly will be along shortly with your breakfast. Anything else?”

“I want to have a shower first. Where are my clothes?”

“Oh, they’re in the cupboard in the bathroom.”

Allie pushed aside the question about who was paying for the private room and walked into the bathroom, her legs shaky.

She couldn’t believe the dirt that flowed down the drain and how sweet she smelled after stepping out of the shower. Her dreadlocks had disappeared, and her waist-length copper tresses fell in smooth waves. In the cupboard, she found a brand-new lacy black silk bra and matching panties.

A pair of mischievous blue eyes twinkled at her. She growled, pushing him away. As she had no choice, she put them on, annoyed at the perfect fit.

Next, she pulled on the bright pink sweatsuit and pants—not her first choice of color—the material sliding cashmere-silk soft against her skin. She was cleaner and perkier than she had been for some time. Bathing and hair washing had fallen down her priority list because of the intense craving for… something… she couldn’t remember what… she took to ease… ease what?

Before she could follow the trail of perplexing vague images, an olive-skinned, dark-haired man—possibly the most good-looking doctor she had ever seen—entered the room.

“Ah, I’m Dr. Fox, and I’m glad to see your condition has improved this morning, Miss O’Reilly.”

Allie nodded. He sized her up, from her damp hair to her bare toes. She shivered as the sensation of being internally scraped ran through her body, and she caught the barest hint of a crimson spark in his eye as his gaze left her and returned to her chart.

Dr. Fox might be dishy, and he was also someone—or something—more than he appeared. She cleared her throat, breaking the trance he’d cast.

“So, I can leave?”

“Yes. There’s a form for you to sign at the nurses’ station at the end of the hallway. Your lab results show you are a healthy young woman, Miss O’Reilly. I see your notes mention you had a recent bereavement; therefore, my advice is you should see a grief counselor. Undealt-with sadness and despair cause unforeseen and destructive effects on the psyche and could have contributed to your recent episode.”

He searched his pocket, his eyebrows drawing together when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. “I was sure I’d put the card in my pocket. Wait here. I’ll return in a tick.”

He flashed a row of sharp, pearly whites that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Bereavement? Grief counselor? What was he talking about? Whatever he meant, she didn’t care. Hospitals were places where a lot of bad karma went down, and she needed to leave and get far away as soon and as fast as possible.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

She watched him stride out, slumping in relief as he closed the door behind him.

Five minutes later, in her new matching pink sneakers and feeling as if she was walking on air—those ads really were true—she marched down the hallway, signed the release forms, and started for the exit.

***

Thank you for reading and I hope you are enjoying the story so far. The next chapter will be posted soon(ish). If you don't want to wait to find out what happens next, Ally & The Djinn is available for FREE from my Shopify store: teagankearyey.com and from all major retail sites such as Amazon, Kobo, B&N, etcetera.

Stay safe and well,

Warmest wishes,

Teagan. 😊

Ally & The Djinn Chapter 1: Seismic Shift

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sat, 10 Jan 2026 11:45:00 +0000

Hi there, lovely readers,

Thank you so much for visiting my blogsite, and I'm genuinely grateful for every click that brings you here.

I realize that when I posted the prologue I said, come back next week for Chapter 1, and it's now weeks later and I haven't posted the chapter. My apologies. While I live with a certain amount of organized chaos, occasionally (I may be glossing over reality with that word) it's more chaos than organization. But my good news is that I have been busy and my latest WIP, a science-fiction is set a couple of millennia later in the same universe as the Saoirse Saga, is now with my wonderful editor, Lois Dacus. So, without delay, here, as promised, if a bit belatedly, is Chapter 1 of Ally & The Djinn.

ALLY & THE DJINN:

CHAPTER 1: SEISMIC SHIFT

Allie waited on the sidewalk, clenching her fists, her fingers—nails bitten down to the quick—pressing into her palm. Chris was late. As usual. Allie cursed him under her breath. The sudden scraping sensation under her skin, the painful crawling down her spine, the squeezing sensation in her lungs—all were a red alert. The urge to scream pushed up from her belly, through her chest, and swelled in her throat. She swallowed half a dozen times, pushing everything down and silencing the assault. No way was she going to have a meltdown in the middle of Main Street, despite her entire body crawling with ants, each possessing razor-sharp, red-hot pincers that tore at her flesh.

Where the fuck had her dealer gotten to? He’d insisted on ten o’clock. She turned and peered into the coffee shop behind her at the clock on the wall. Ten past, and no sign of him. The blazing sunlight gave her a massive headache, even after borrowing Jenny’s black sunglasses. Sorry, Jen. My eyes are way more bloodshot than yours. She tossed the mental apology in her friend’s direction. Jenny had recognized her in the street one evening and taken pity on her, and she’d experienced Jenny’s sudden bursts of temper more than once. The idea that she might throw Allie out was unwelcome because she preferred not to think about the crack house she had lived in previously. Yet In any event, she would be back at the apartment before Jenny got home from work, as long as Chris appeared soon. If he didn’t, she would be well and truly screwed, and annoying Jenny would be the least of her worries.

A frisson of electricity shot through her. Her hair stood on end. She shivered as goose bumps ran up and down her arms, as if an alien presence had passed by too close. Her mother’s witchy genes rarely manifested, yet when they did, she knew to pay attention. Granny’s hunches and sightings were more serious, and she’d spent her final days in a nuthouse. Right now, something freakish had ratcheted up her heightened state of hypervigilance to new levels of of suspicion.

She straightened up, aware of the soothing sensation of the morning sun warming her face and body. Hell’s bells, she was hungry. Hell’s bells and a bunch of parsley! Hell’s bells? Where had that come from, let alone the parsley? She’d never said that phrase in her life. Some kind of change had taken place; she could feel it down to her joints, as Granny liked to say. How had it happened, and why, and what did it mean? As a white fog clouded her mind, she focused on her scuffed sneakers, the stains on her torn jeans, and caught a whiff of herself. Man, she stank. There was another smell, too, that she couldn’t quite place.

†

Son of a starving djinn, Quareem thought, the aroma evoking memories. Marketplaces, conversations of many kinds, some more pleasant than others, people telling stories, jokes. A quick flash surfaced: sipping strong brown liquid from a small, delicately painted china cup as he sat on a balcony overlooking a city of pale domed buildings glinting in the sun as slender golden-skinned beauties served fragrant sesame seed cakes and refreshments. He had been there with someone. Who? A woman? The slice of memory faded, while the scent tickling the nose of his current host remained tantalizingly real. Yes, he remembered. The substance emitting that enticing, irresistible fragrance was coffee.

†

Another wave of… sparkly lightness with a flash of dazzle… passed through her. As she stared at the busy pedestrians, the traffic noises reduced to a buzzing in her ears, she wondered where the odor drifting up her nostrils and into her olfactory centers came from, because it was driving her crazy. She turned and, with no conscious volition, strode toward the door and entered the shop. As she approached the counter, the server looked up, eyes widening as he registered her grimy gray T-shirt, the sweat staining her armpits, and the auburn dreadlocks gathered in a loose bun on the top of her head. He spoke to a point over her shoulder. “What can I get for you today?”

His disdain made her want to smack his smug face, but then she wouldn’t get what she wanted. She smothered her irritation. “A venti Blonde, black. Extra shot.”

The man’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “For here or to go?”

“For here, and two of those.” Allie pointed at a tray of golden, curved pastries.

“Plus two chocolate croissants. That will be eight thirty.”

Allie dug in her jeans pocket and fished out a hundred-dollar bill. What the hell? Where…? She blanked. Nothing was important except sipping that heavenly beverage.

He took the cash, handing her change over. “Name?”

What was this? The inquisition? “Alicia.” This was weird. Nobody had ever called her Alicia except her mother, and she only used her eldest daughter’s full name in a particular tone to express her displeasure.

“Wait at the end of the bar.” The barista signaled his dismissal by turning to the next customer.

Where else did he expect her to wait? Hover near the ceiling? The whimsical thought brought a smile as she pictured herself—no, it wasn’t her; it was… the memory vanished. Fuck. If withdrawal had begun, she would kill Chris and skin him alive when she got hold of him. An image of lightning zigzagging from her fingertips and Chris crumpling to the ground flashed before her, followed by a sharp stabbing pain in her head. She swayed.

“Are you okay?” the stylishly dressed businessman standing behind her asked.

None of your business. Fuck off, she thought. “I’m fine,” she muttered, saved by the barista’s shrill tenor calling out her name. Nothing worse than what she considered a waste of time and energy—a conversation with someone who had no relevance to her life, now or ever.

Half an hour, two more croissants, and another giant cup of the primo barista brew later, she sat back, amazed at the satisfaction and contentment flushing through her. The corner window seat had a view of the street and the other customers in the bar. While eating, she checked both out, eyes swiveling left, then right, finding only the usual hustle and bustle. She scowled at the leather-jacketed, bald guy standing on the sidewalk glaring at her. He seemed familiar, and when she tried to work out why, her ability to think had ceased functioning.

With his shrewd, beady eyes glued to her, the man stabbed a finger at the watch on his wrist and, with a sharp, aggressive gesture, beckoned her.

Whoever he was, he wasn’t anybody she wanted to be friends with, and if he was still there when she finished her breakfast, then she would give him an earful. Mmm…that might not be for a while, because she was thinking of having a final pastry and a last gigantic cup of that beautiful beverage. First, though, the bathroom. She stood up, refrained from giving him the finger, and instead ignored him and headed for the bathroom.

She was alone, washing her hands, squinting at herself in the mirror, thinking what a mess she was and wondering when she last had a shower, when she heard the voice.

†

A female. Young, yes, that could work. Not that he had a choice. A nearby Hunter meant he was safer to stay where he was until there was less risk. What’s more, he’d never resided with a female before. The Fates must have offered him this chance for a reason. Aside from the subtle promise of her magic, would she want to dominate and manipulate others to fulfill her desires as most women did? A human full of material ambition made the ideal keeper, as their greed enabled him to shape them to his will. This human appeared to have no aspirations for position or money. The only images he picked up from her befuddled mind reminded him of wealthy patrons lying on comfortable couches, smoking opium from pipes, while her disheveled clothes and erratic, scattered manner of thinking, jumping from topic to topic without a break, had more in common with those he’d seen collapsed in alleyways, their pipes glowing in the dark as they inhaled. She put on a good show. In contrast, he was not sure what he might find behind the shield she had erected between herself and the world. Fortunately, it had taken no time at all to remove her obsessive craving for crack—whatever that was—which placed her in his debt.

He would do a thorough analysis of her thoughts and memories when she slept and her barriers were down. Most important, and rare to find, she possessed an immense amount of dormant magical ability. Regrettably, she had no idea of her untapped talent, so he was unable to use it. He would teach her; she would be grateful and grant him permission to access that glorious energy to replenish his own somewhat depleted store.

More essential to his survival, though, she could mask his presence from those who hunted him. He shuddered at the memory of the Hunters’ flickering scarlet cloaks. They would shackle him more tightly if they caught him again. Better to die than return to the emptiness, the nonexistence, of a Hunter’s prison.

Right now, he had to connect and entice her into agreement, because he needed to hide. Preferably with somebody who would submissively comply with his orders. An accomplice, really. Did he even have enough power to take her over? He shook his head. How had his life and safety come to depend on a mortal woman? One who, apparently, did not appreciate a steaming bath and fragrant soap.

He fixed his attention on the present. Alternating the bitter, smooth, hot liquid he sipped along with the delicious taste of combined flour, butter and sugar sent his tongue into long forgotten drools of ecstasy. He gazed around and, while the café’s occupants wore unrecognizable and bizarre outfits, he understood the status of those imbibing alongside him.

He decided that the females dressed bizarrely in skin-tight leggings and short cropped tops and wondered, what was the point in having an imagination? Perhaps that faculty had dimmed, and men in this society needed to see every lump and bulge of flesh to arouse themselves. The men, in contrast, seemed to wear looser pants of a rough-looking material and baggier tops. How odd. The women revealed their assets while the men hid theirs. He saw no ragged clothing, or signs of dirt or obvious disease. Their auras indicated satisfaction and low levels of worry about money, love and other such mundane concerns, which he had solved for himself an eternity ago.

However, the foul pungent stink of urinals had not changed, in spite of the overlay of a chemical designed to mask the pungent aromas. He watched his host study her reflection—and judging by how her nose wrinkled—even she didn’t like the rank pong of her body. Oh, well. Here’s hoping she won’t have a heart attack and fall dead, ‘cause that would be a serious inconvenience for me. Here goes. “Greetings, fair one.”

***

Thank you for reading and I hope you are enjoying the story so far. The next chapter will be posted soon(ish). If you don't want to wait to find out what happens next, Ally & The Djinn is available for FREE from my Shopify store: teagankearyey.com and from all major retail sites such as Amazon, Kobo, B&N, etcetera.

Stay safe and well,

Warmest wishes,

Teagan. 😊

Ally & The Djinn

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Fri, 26 Dec 2025 11:47:00 +0000

Hey there, lovely readers,

This year is clearing its throat, tapping its watch, and pretending it doesn’t mind being shown the door. I still have a couple of unfinished promises on my to-do list, and at least one resolution is hiding behind the couch. Yet, somehow, this feels like the right moment for a story to begin—not with a bang but with that silent pause where something ordinary is about to lean sideways and become irresistible.

What follows is a tale where magic has the decency to act like it belongs in this universe, and, as the old year packs its bags, this story looks forward, not backward. So settle in, make yourself cozy in your favorite reading spot, bring your suspension of disbelief, and consider this a friendly invitation to take a little time out from normality!

ALLIE & THE DJINN

PROLOGUE

Quareem raised his hands, the walls of his tiny prison cell expanding with the movement, and concentrated on chanting every syllable with flawless pronunciation. After all, his goal wasn’t to end up as a sandworm in some wasteland, was it? After completing the spellbreaker, he waited.

No sound of a heartbeat, because the sorcery that placed him here had left him suspended outside of time and space.

I do exist, a quiet voice inside his head insisted, although, as far as the rest of the universe knew, his life had stopped the second the Hunters had trapped him and slapped their null cuffs around his wrists.

He counted: one, two, three. The unmitigated sensory deprivation would have driven him mad if not for the sanity of numbers—and he gasped as a bolt of lightning sliced through him. A sudden violent shivering had his teeth clacking against each other like knucklebones, and his heart slammed against his rib cage, beating an erratic rhythm—then a sideways shift and a glistening iridescence lit up his cell.

The next minute, he was… elsewhere.

He flinched as thunderous growls and blaring horns blasted his eardrums and squinted to limit the sharp sunlight piercing his eyeballs, before gradually opening his eyes wider and wider as he tried to make sense of the bewildering scene in front of him.

Metal boxes on wheels in various sizes and colors streamed by inches from where he stood, emitting a variety of honks, toots, and snorts. Men and women sat inside the raucous machines, their gazes fixed on the vehicle in front. People wearing outlandish outfits hurried along the sidewalk.

He drew in a long, slow breath, coughing as acrid, fusty fumes entered his lungs. This wasn’t the pure, clean air of his desert home. So what? There was always a price to pay, and he didn’t care; he’d gained his freedom! He ran fingers over his face, through his hair, and patted his smooth cheeks. He stretched, and unused muscles and tendons expanded and released. His body was solid, no doubt about that, and somehow light, his bloodstream fizzing with bubbles. Water leaked down his smooth, golden-brown cheeks. A sensation he couldn’t identify coursed through him.

A flash of insight revealed it wasn’t the bewildering sights that blinded his vision, nor the cacophonous sounds invading his brain through his ears, nor the folk rushing along the busy street; it was the wild mixture of their emotions that overwhelmed him. Little did they know that their fears, anxieties, hopes, and loves all seeped out through their skin into the atmosphere. Such a porous membrane to contain such a wealth of power, and for a djinn with his abilities—when they were at full strength, that is—so easy to access.

He grinned. He had succeeded. Of course, he, the great Al Quareem, once acknowledged to be among the most powerful djinns to grace his society, most certainly wouldn’t cease to exist because he garbled his own spell—a spell that had taken eons to remember, hidden from his own mind by the Hunters’ hex. Granted it had been difficult, until at last he had remembered and escaped. He wanted to laugh and dance, but while he had liberated himself from their dungeon, his jailers would have known the instant he disappeared. His new, unfettered state would surely provide multiple opportunities, and he would rather die than allow them to incarcerate him again.

The beat of a drum and the tinkling of small metal cymbals accompanied by a rhythmic chant caught his attention. The words were in an ancient language he once knew and he sought the source.

Intrigued, he turned and was distracted by the faintest whiff of something else. Something different. Alien. He spun around, searching, sniffing. Yes, there. He glimpsed the shimmer of a red cloak, sliding past on the other side of the veil that separated the Hunters’ world from this one. Fear, a dark wall, rose inside him. How could they be onto him so quickly? He froze, his limbs refusing to respond, and his heartbeat accelerated, ricocheting around his chest, thundering through his body.

A man clutching a bulky leather case to his chest banged his arm as he hurried by, breaking his trance. Quareem lifted a finger, pointed, and let it drop before the pain began. He sighed. No more blasting of defenseless humans—one of a hundred reasons the Hunters had incarcerated him.

He scanned the crowd, primed to move, to run, the urge to hide overwhelming him. He needed someone vulnerable. Ah! There. He cringed. His master, Shaitan curse him forever, would have beaten him senseless for considering a dirty beggar—and a female at that. This would be one of the lowest steps he had ever taken. As a desperate fugitive, he would have to accept what the universe offered.

***

I hope you enjoyed the beginning of this story and come back next week for Chapter 1. If you don't want to wait to find out what happens next, Ally & The Djinn is available for free from my Shopify store:

https://bit.ly/4pbqrS0

Stay well and safe.

Warmest wishes,

Teagan.

The Disappointment Dilemma - Starting the Wrong Book

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Thu, 30 Oct 2025 16:13:00 +0000

WHEN CHAPTER 1 BETRAYS YOUR TRUST

In my previous post, I said I would show you how to make sure your next book matches up to your expectations. We all know that time is a precious commodity, and we’ve all been in the situation when we finally have some peace, we’re sitting in our favorite reading spot (window seat, perfectly positioned chair or stretched out on the couch) with a soft cozy blanket and beverage in hand, ready to escape into another world…

But by chapter two — or sooner — we’re checking our phones, sighing and wondering where it all went wrong. Maybe the story drags, or the characters feel stereotyped, like cardboard cutouts, and the latest plot twist? Well, we saw that coming three pages ago.
Yes, reader disappointment is an emotion we’ve all felt— and none of us are eager to repeat that particular experience.

So, here’s a quick trick from one booklover (and author) to another, try this before committing to a full read:

THE 10-MINUTE BOOK TEST:

1. Read the description — but skip the hype words.
Look for what it’s really about, not just the marketing sparkle.

2. Skim the first page. You’ll know right away if you’re drawn in by the tone, voice and mood.

3. Flip to a random page in the middle. If it still holds your attention, that’s a keeper.

This little ritual (the short-term pain of delaying the choice of a new book vs the long-term gain of waiting and finding a better one) can save hours of frustration, and your chances of finding your next read have shot up dramatically. Now you and your next read really do deserve that blanket and beverage combo.

Now that you know how to pick the right book… Next time, I’ll show you how to make sure you never run out of them.

UPDATES

Allie couldn’t believe this was the fifth day in a row Quareem had devoted to teaching her how to fight. As if that wasn’t challenging enough, each day he demonstrated with a different type of sword: an Arabian scimitar, a Japanese katana, a European broadsword, and a modern rapier. The names confused her, and she ended up giving them nicknames: the thin, bendy one; the massive one she could barely lift; the slender curved one; and the short, thick one with a curved blade.

This is an excerpt from Allie & The Djinn which is currently available for preorder on Amazon, Kobo, and many other digital retailers. I’ll be honest, I don’t get very many preorders, but it increases the book’s visibility, so my thinking is, why not give it a go?

In the meantime, I have 3 days left for advertising and promotion before the release date. It’s around this time I get excited about sending another book out into the world. Then it’ll be on to the next one.

Until then — may your next read be exactly what you were looking for, whether that’s gripping, enthralling, entertaining, etc., and transport you to another world.

Warmest wishes and happy reading.

Teagan.

(aka Author & Chief Book Disappointment Prevention Officer)

Too Many Books, Too Little Time

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sun, 26 Oct 2025 09:48:00 +0000

How to find the story that's calling your name!

Hey there lovely readers,

I hope you and yours are well and enjoying the seasonal changes. Here, in the Scottish Highlands, the trees are displaying their glories in shades of lemon through to deep copper. However, the leaves on the cherry tree outside my window have already turned a crispy brown. Another windy storm and the winter view to the distant hills will reappear. This time of year makes me feel philosophical about life as the temporary nature of the world (here today, gone tomorrow, as they say) is clear to see.

The other day, I was looking for a new book to read, and I realized that being a reader today is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, there’s a universe of stories waiting for us—epic space operas, heart-racing thrillers, dark domestic dramas, and romantic adventures that make our hearts skip a beat. On the other hand…so much choice.

This results in spending a long time, endlessly scrolling with too many tabs open, and too many “Top 100” lists to plough through.

But by answering these three questions you can narrow down the field and find that next book—fast:

1. Mood: What do you crave right now? Suspense? Romance? A touch of danger?
2. Setting: Are you drawn to gritty city streets, mysterious suburban secrets, or far-off galaxies?
3. Time: Do you want a quick evening read or a story to get lost in all weekend?

If you spend a little time thinking about and answering these questions (though sometimes the answer pops into your brain immediately), you’ll narrow the field down and can start searching for the books that actually fit your mood.

In my next email, I’ll show you how to make sure your new book delivers—so you’ll never again start a story that fizzles out halfway through.

Of course, if you’d rather skip the hunt entirely and save time, that’s where my bookstore comes in. 👉 teagankearney.com I have 18 eBooks, including thrillers, urban fantasy, sci-fi, romcom, cozy supernatural mysteries, and more. Whether you’re after a romantic escape, a dark psychological twist, or an epic space adventure, I hope you’ll find something that speaks to you.

UPDATES

Allie & The Djinn’s cover is complete, and you can read the Prologue by visiting my website: Teagan Kearney: Writer
Here's the blurb:

One djinn and one junkie, both desperate to escape their past. What could go wrong?

Quareem, one of the most powerful djinns of his time, has finally escaped the Hunters’ prison cell and is looking for a host. Allie possesses a wealth of untapped hidden magic but spends her days chasing oblivion to ease the pain of losing her family in a tragic accident.

When Quareem jumps into Allie’s mind, they strike up a mutually beneficial arrangement. That is, until the Hunters arrive…

Blending dark fantasy, romance, and myth, this novella explores the limits of magic, memory, and love’s redemptive force. Perfect for fans of Deborah Harkness, Nalini Singh, or Anne Bishop, this tale delivers a rich, emotional adventure filled with danger, desire, and destiny.

The book will be released on 31st October 2025, a perfect day for a supernatural tale with magical creatures, don’t you think?

I’ve switched newsletter platforms to Klaviyo, which will help me stay in closer touch and share updates more smoothly. And as a thank-you, new Klaviyo subscribers will receive one of my audiobooks for free! Please sign up to my newsletter here: 👉 teagankearney.com

In the meantime, keep reading, stay safe and have a great week.

Teagan.

Preview of New Release: Allie & The Djinn!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Fri, 17 Oct 2025 07:53:00 +0000

Please find below an excerpt from Allie & The Djinn, my upcoming release. My latest book, a novella, is a modern-day magic realism romfantasy which will be published on the 31st of October. After all, what better time to publish a story featuring magical creatures!

One djinn and one junkie, both desperate to escape their past. What could go wrong?

Allie & The Djinn will be available for pre-order soon!

Read a sample:

Allie & The Djinn

PROLOGUE

No sound of a heartbeat, because the sorcery that placed him here had left him suspended outside of time and space.

He counted: one, two, three. The unmitigated sensory deprivation would have driven him mad if not for the sanity of numbers—and gasped as a bolt of lightning sliced through him. A sudden violent shivering had his teeth clacking against each other like knucklebones, and his heart slammed against his rib cage, beating an erratic rhythm—then a sideways shift and a glistening iridescence lit up his cell.

The next minute, he was… elsewhere.

He drew in a long, slow breath, coughing as acrid, fusty fumes entered his lungs. This wasn’t the pure, clean air of his desert home. But so what? There was always a price to pay, and he didn’t care; he’d gained his freedom! He ran fingers over his face, through his hair, and patted his smooth cheeks. He stretched, and unused muscles and tendons expanded and released. His body was solid, no doubt about that, but somehow light, his bloodstream fizzing with bubbles. Water leaked down his smooth, golden-brown cheeks. A sensation he couldn’t identify coursed through him.

He grinned. He had succeeded. Of course, he, the great Al Quareem, once acknowledged to be among the most powerful djinns to grace his society, most certainly wouldn’t cease to exist because he garbled his own spell—a spell that had taken eons to remember, hidden from his own mind by the Hunters’ hex. But he had at last remembered and escaped. He wanted to laugh and dance, but while he had liberated himself from their dungeon, his jailers would have known the instant he disappeared. His new, unfettered state would surely provide multiple opportunities, and he would rather die than allow them to incarcerate him again.

He inhaled deeper and caught the faintest whiff of something different. Alien. He spun around, searching, sniffing. Yes, there. He glimpsed the shimmer of a crimson cloak, sliding past on the other side of the veil that separated the Hunters’ world from this one. Fear, a dark wall, rose inside him. How could they be on to him so quickly? He froze, his limbs refusing to respond, and his heartbeat accelerated, ricocheting around his chest, thundering through his body.

He scanned the crowd, primed to move, to run, the urge to hide overwhelming him. He needed someone vulnerable. Ah! There. He cringed. His master, Shaitan curse him forever, would have beaten him senseless for considering a dirty beggar—and a female at that. This must be one of the lowest steps he had ever taken, but as a desperate fugitive, he would accept what the universe offered.

†

My Shopify Store is Open!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Mon, 04 Aug 2025 18:32:00 +0000

Yes! I am thrilled! My eBook store, teagankearney.com, after lots of faffing around and fixing this and sorting that, is - at last - open!

Please check it out, and see if you spot a story you fancy escaping into for a few hours. There are exotic urban fantasies, futuristic sci-fi, a dark, twisty domestic noir, an entertaining romcom...and much more beside.

The Official Launch is coming soon with lots of bonus content, massive discounts and special offers. Sign up on teagankearney.com for my newsletter with upcoming dates along with special offers, discounts and bonus content.

See you soon!

Courage Under Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Thu, 06 Jun 2024 09:56:00 +0000

As D-Day approached, I remembered a short story, Courage Under Fire, I'd written some time ago. Although my story takes place during WWI, and D-Day was during WWII, I wanted to share this story.

The idea came from a visit to the War Museum in London when I was a teenager, and my older brother had dragged me along with him. While he meandered, eyes wide, gawking at the weapon displays, I found myself almost in tears reading accounts of outstanding acts of bravery performed by soldiers awarded medals of honor in WWI.

Many years later, I remembered those stories and my reaction, so while Courage Under Fire is a work of fiction with names, characters, places and incidents either a product of my imagination or used fictitiously, the inspiration came from a real event.*

Courage Under Fire

Eddie clutches at wisps of his dream. Summer. His ma smelling of babies and herbs. He shivers, curling hedgehog-like into a ball, something he did when he was small after Da came home and battered anyone who said anything he took umbrage with. Even those harsh childhood memories appear rosy compared to what he is encountering now.

‘Time, lads.’ The sergeant’s heavy hand taps Eddie’s shoulder before moving along the trench. For such a big man, his movements are tender. The mercy of the hangman for the condemned.

Eddie pulls the coarse blanket up around his ears to keep the freezing cold at bay. The need to empty his bladder forces him to move. While he waits his turn at the latrines, the stink of feces mixed with quicklime curls up his nostrils, filling his mouth and belly with nausea. At least he’s not seen Jameson’s face for a few days.

Eddie thrusts aside the memory of his field punishment: tied to a gun wheel two hours a day for eleven days—awarded for a brawl started by Jameson. He won’t forget that in a hurry. After returning to his position, he finishes his bully beef and biscuits before sipping the cold tea that tastes of turnips. He relishes the rare moments of quiet before the day’s action.

‘You ready?’ his mate, John, whispers.

Eddie nods.

Both kneel. ‘Our Father who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name ...’

Eddie glances up and down the line. Most have put their rifles aside, and a gentle murmur rises as, with eyes shut, minds turned inward, they pray.

‘No one is an atheist when the bullets start flying,’ John had told him once. ‘Then everyone prays.’

The ack ack ack of enemy weapons knots Eddie’s guts, the fear familiar. Training kicks in, and he grabs his Lee-Enfield, checking the bolt-action mechanism, the ten-round box magazine, cartridges, cylinder and bayonet.

He dismisses the seditious whisperings, appearing daily now. But they return. The bastards move us like pawns while they sit far from the front line. This is just a game for them. It’s not their guts being smeared into the soil. But if you question, hesitate or, God forbid, lose your wits, your own side executes you. He clenches and unclenches his hands, feeling the cold metal of his weapon against his palms, as he remembers Willis, a private condemned to death as a traitor after walking away from the battlefield, stunned and in shock. Jameson had volunteered to be on the firing squad, but it was the contemptuous sneer on his face as he aimed his rifle at Willis that sticks in Eddie’s mind.

‘2nd Battalion,’ the sergeant growls, ‘move up the fire steps.’

The men surge up the rough ladders lining the wall and fling themselves to the ground. The angled top protects them as they lie on their stomachs.

Eddie tenses. There’s nothing that equates to warfare. Before the action, adrenaline primes you. You lie motionless, but alert, poised, every sense heightened. Each sound you hear draws a response from a nerve somewhere in your body. You don’t dare think this might be the last few seconds of life, because if you did, you’d remember your loved ones, and lose the hate you hold on to because you need it to kill.

He stares out at No Man’s Land. If he half closes his eyes, he can almost believe he’s with his Da in Chelmsbury Woods; an early morning mist creeping along the ground, frost nipping at his fingers, and cold seeping into his bones as he lies concealed in bushes, holding Da’s old rifle and waiting for a rabbit or squirrel to happen past.

The earth shudders as a barrage of artillery pounds targets, and choruses of mortar detonations swell to a deafening volume.

‘Fire’ bellows the sergeant.

Eddie raises his head, scanning the area; he aims and discharges his rifle. Bullets scream through the air. Empty the magazine; reload and fire. Again and again.

The Huns are too distant to distinguish individual features, but close enough to see rows of steel helmets and glinting bayonets.

Eddie pauses, rubbing his numb fingers. Something catches his eye. He squints. ‘Look! There! Isn’t that Housby? ’ he mutters to John.

Housby had fallen too near enemy lines for an attempted recovery even under darkness. That was two days ago when they tried—and failed—to storm their adversary’s position.

Sure enough, where Eddie is pointing, barely distinguishable from the churned, frozen sludge, John sees a brown-gray lump twitch. “You’re right, lad.”

But Eddie’s up and moving.

'Hey! Eddie! Stop! You can’t save him. They’ll shoot you,’ John yells after him.

Eddie doesn’t stop, keeps racing forward.

'Cover him, lads!’ John orders.

Eddie moves in stops and starts; bent, scuttling crabwise, he scuffles sideways and forwards, his heart pumping so hard he thinks it’ll rupture. Then he trips, and his face smacks the earth as shells whistle by far too close to his ear. The wounded man groans; Eddie scans the injured soldier and realizes he’s not Housby. It’s Jameson.

More shells detonate.

Eddie freezes. What if John’s right? What if he doesn’t survive? The thoughts crowd in, and he can’t control the violent temors running through his body. Oh God, I don’t want to die out here in this freezing hell of muck and mud. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Not yet, dear God. Please. Why am I risking my life for that rat Jameson? Have I come too far to go back? Then he hears Ma’s voice: ‘You always got to try, Eddie. All you got to do is try.’ He seesaws. Should he save himself? Or try to rescue Jameson?

He makes a scurrying, scampering, mad dash toward the prostrate man, ignoring the incessant shellfire and shots screaming past. Somehow, he reaches the fallen soldier. He crouches and sees black blood oozing from Jameson’s wounds. ‘Jesus, you’re a mess,’ he whispers.

Jameson whimpers as Eddie heaves him up onto his shoulder.

Balancing Jameson’s weight, trying not to breathe in the smell of festering wounds, Eddie locks eyes with the Boche soldier facing him, not twenty feet away.

The young, blue-eyed, dirt-smeared lad, who couldn’t have been a day over sixteen, if that, has him in his sights. But he’s frozen with fright. This must be his first battle.

And Eddie knows that look. Once, out hunting with Da, there’d been a deer, a creature whose grace captivated him. Eddie recalls the soft innocence in the animal’s eyes as it looked up, sniffing for danger—oblivious to death’s approach. Da, impatient, snatched the gun from his hand and, with one sharp shot, secured enough meat to feed his hungry brood for a week.

Eddie winks at the German lad and grins through cracked lips.

The youngster manages a stiff nod.

But Jameson is heavy. The same as the deer Da had forced him carry home. A full-grown doe is a heavy weight for a thirteen-year-old boy, and twice he fell. Da stood, his expression hard, and watched without helping each time Eddy labored to rise. It took an hour to walk the mile to their cottage. Afterwards Da made him skin and butcher the animal while he sat and smoked his pipe. But Eddie’s committed. No-one is going to butcher Jameson.

Incoming Howitzers whine and lights flash as they strike their targets: excruciating cries echo from both sides as heavy mortar rounds find soft flesh which explodes outwards. The sound of aircraft overhead adds a deeper bass growl to the awful cacophony of battle.

Eddie recognizes that not a single shot from behind comes anywhere near them. They are blessed; their return a miracle.

John scrambles out and rushes toward them. Grabbing Jameson’s arms, he lowers him from Eddie’s back and together they half-carry, half-drag the unconscious man to safety. The three of them slide in a tangle of limbs into the trench. A rousing cheer erupts from the men, who, hardly believing what they’d just witnessed, had expected Eddie to be killed at any minute.

‘Bloody fool!’ barks the sergeant as he takes Jameson off them. Carrying him like a babe in his brawny embrace, he moves up the line, throwing more words over his shoulder. ‘You’re a bloody fool, Eddie, but a bloody brave one!’

***

Thank you for visiting my blog and reading the story. You can find my books and audiobooks on the relevant pages (click on the tabs at the top of the post) and I also publish on the following platforms:

Substack: bit.ly/3RDtTHh Medium: https://medium.com/@teagankearney1

To read about the fearless soldier who inspired this story, visit Wikipedia and seach for Abraham Acton.

Stay well, stay safe and keep reading.

Best wishes,

Teagan,

FYI: I have published previous editions of this story under the title, Eddie's War, but I flashed on this new title this morning, and it just fit a whole lot better. 👍

Interview with Monica Nash: Narrator of The Serendipity Game Audiobook:

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sun, 16 Aug 2020 12:44:00 +0000

Teagan Kearney · The Serendipity Game

I'm delighted that the audiobook edition of The Serendipity Game is now available to listen to and enjoy!

The Serendipity Game is a romantic comedy and here's the blurb:

When Casey meets Jake sparks fly. But Casey has no idea that Jake’s soon-to-be ex-wife, Elena, is using her to extract more than the pre-nuptial agreement from Jake. While Jake and Casey spend time together, Elena changes her mind about the divorce and plans to eliminate her competition. A drama-packed, entertaining romcom that will have you rooting for the feisty Casey and praying for her HEA.

The audiobook is available at Audible: https://adbl.co/2XX4tYZ

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3g1aMBb

Also from iBooks at the Apple Store

Monica Nash is the brilliant actor who narrated and produced The Serendipity Game audiobook. She is a graduate of the prestigious Bristol Old Vic Theatre School. Monica is a pleasure to work with and I cannot believe I had the good luck to have one of my books narrated by her. Thank you, Monica!

Interview with Monica Nash

1. Could you tell us a little bit about yourself?

I was born in Reading and grew up in Berkshire where my parents taught at a boarding school. I come from a large family and was very fond of climbing trees, cycling and playing endless games with my sister and our large collection of dolls. For the most part I enjoyed school, particularly English, Art and History.

2. Did you always want to be an actress and what drew you to the performing arts as a career?

I was always in school plays and loved performing in general as a child, but for years my great passion was ballet. I loved the music and the costumes, but most of all I loved the storytelling. It was as a teenager that acting took over as my primary interest. I knew then that I wanted to act professionally, and never seriously considered any other career.

3. When did you first perform and where did you train?

As an undergraduate studying English at the University of Bristol, I was heavily involved in the drama and music scenes. Later, I went to Bristol Old Vic Theatre School, where I studied for two years. My first professional acting jobs were in 2014.

4. Who are your influences?

I have drawn inspiration from many people over the years, from family members to school teachers. My greatest professional influences have been certain members of staff at drama school, and, more generally, actors ranging from Samantha Morton to Emma Thompson to Joyce Grenfell. I am influenced by any great piece of theatre that I see.

5. What do you do to prepare?

It depends on the project but generally speaking I jump straight in with the script, and do any research that needs to be done as I go along.

6. What are your strengths as an actor and how do they contribute to the style that makes you unique?

I have always been confident with language, and my English degree has been an enormous help to me. I am good at spotting the rhythm of a line and knowing how to deliver it effectively. This is useful in both comedic and serious roles, and I always try to be a performer who can pass seamlessly between comedy and drama at the drop of a hat.

7. What fears/anxieties do you have about your work?

Actors always worry that they are not getting enough auditions, and I am no exception! In this line of work, financial stability is never guaranteed, so that is sometimes a concern. I am also worried about the way this industry has historically treated women, although I do think that it is improving.

8. What has been your greatest accomplishment as an actor and what impact did that success have on you?

My greatest achievement is that I am still working and making my living in this industry six years in! Probably my greatest specific achievement was successfully learning to walk on stilts, from scratch, in only six days, for a theatre role. It definitely made me more confident about learning new skills and gave me more faith in myself that I could rise to a challenge.

9. How does recording an audiobook stretch you as an actor and what was the biggest challenge you faced in recording The Serendipity Game?

Recording audiobooks is unlike any other form of performing since you do it alone without fellow cast members to inspire you and buoy you up. ‘The Serendipity Game’ in particular has a large cast of characters. Flitting seamlessly from one voice to another was probably the greatest challenge.

10. What did you like about Casey in The Serendipity Game?

Casey has had a difficult childhood and has come out of it as a very independent and spirited woman. She is loyal to her friends and stands up for herself. These were all great aspects to bring to her character.

11. If you had the chance to perform any role in any play or film, who would you choose and why?

There are far too many to choose from, but it’s probably a toss up between Eliza Doolittle in ‘My Fair Lady’ and Cruella de Vil in ‘101 Dalmatians’. Eliza is a richly comic part but also a nuanced character who goes on an incredible character journey, of a kind which is hugely rewarding to play. Cruella is a straightforward, larger than life, insane, bloodthirsty villain (with fantastic costumes) – who doesn’t love playing one of those?

12. Who do you look up to?

I love the work of directors like Josie Rourke, Emma Rice and Vicky Featherstone. The actor I most look up to, in terms of her range, emotional clarity and career choices, is Lesley Manville.

13. What is your next project?

I am working on another audiobook called ‘Hello’, a psychological thriller, and I am in rehearsals for an outdoor concert performance of Sondheim’s musical ‘Into the Woods’, playing Cinderella.

14. Where do you see yourself in ten years’ time?

Still acting! Hopefully with a rich and varied CV, having made many more wonderful friends.

15. What do you do when you’re not performing or recording audiobooks?

I have done various other non-acting jobs over the years. At the moment I am doing some online tutoring, as well as writing and performing some comedy pieces for a podcast. Outside of work, I sing with a chamber choir called Vivamus, spend time with my family and friends, drink copious amounts of tea, and see as much great theatre as I can.

16. What does your perfect Sunday afternoon look like?

Probably a longish walk ending up at the pub followed by watching a movie on the sofa with friends.

If you want to find out more about Monica you can contact her via her website: https://www.monicanashactor.com/

The Serendipity Game: A Sneak Peek

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Thu, 06 Feb 2020 23:28:00 +0000

After a lot of dithering and, as this is my first romcom, there has been a lot to dither about, I realized Valentine's Day—the perfect opportunity to release my book—was fast approaching. From vague, ah, um, what do I want to do next out-of-focus thinking, everything clicked into place and I had my deadline. My editor, the proficient and extremely supportive, Lois Dacus, had already sent the final edits, all that remained was formatting, the cover and a final title (this blog is not called 'writing my novel - no working title' for nothing) to be decided.

That was two weeks ago, and I'm thrilled to let you know The Serendipity Game, an entertaining, drama-packed love story will be released on the 14th February - Valentine's Day!

When hard-working office temp and part-time barmaid Casey Jonson attends a party hosted by billionaire Jake Leinster, little does she realize the irresistibly attractive stranger she hooks up with is the man himself.

But Casey has no idea that Jake’s soon-to-be-ex-wife, Hollywood actress Elena Elska, is using her as an unwitting pawn in a scheme to extract more than the pre-nuptial agreement from her billionaire husband and, unforeseen by Elena, Jake and Casey fall for each other.

Elena uses the paparazzi to further her agenda, and Casey and Jake’s all-too-brief moment of wild abandon lights up social media. Over the following days, hounded by journalists, Casey becomes increasingly desperate as she loses her job and is forced to go on the run.

After Jake locates Casey, they spend time together, discovering if their attraction for each other is more than a moment of passion. Meanwhile, Elena changes her mind about the divorce and puts into play a plan to permanently eliminate her competition.

And here's a peek at the first chapter:

The Serendipity Game ©

Teagan Kearney

Chapter 1: A Traffic Stopper

The clamor of central London’s traffic receded as Casey followed Ian into the cobbled mews off Bond Street; even the stifling midday heat seemed less oppressive. Terraced houses with pots of colorful blooms outside painted doors on one side faced the exclusive boutiques lining the other.

Casey lifted the damp hair off her neck. Two hours ago, Ian had called and asked if she would like to accompany him to an annual party hosted by his billionaire boss, Jake Leinster. Apologizing for the last-minute invitation—the party was that evening—he insisted on buying her a designer dress of her choice to make up for the short notice—or in case she didn’t have an outfit to wear. The blatant bribe worked. Galvanized in pretty much the same manner as if she’d stuck her finger in an electric socket, she zipped in and out of the shower, ran a brush through her tangled knots and grabbed a hairband that snapped as she sat in Ian’s car, finger-combing the heavy mass into its usual high ponytail. Now her neck and back were clammy and limp strands clung to her flushed face.

“Ah, there it is.” Ian pointed to a shop where the letters I-ME, written in gold on a gray background, glittered in the sunshine. The window display featured one item; an almost transparent maxi dress over a nude-colored skimpy bra and thong worn by a headless model in front of a black backdrop.

There’ll be sparks if he thinks I’m wearing that, Casey thought in amusement as Ian opened the door, gesturing for her to enter. She sighed with relief as the air-conditioning raised goosebumps on her arms and she breathed in the soothing sandalwood incense.

The shop had white-painted hardwood floors and walls featuring blown-up black and white photos of models in dramatic poses on the edges of cliffs and in front of icebergs. Three chrome plinths displayed items—a single shoe, a handbag, a jewel-encrusted bracelet—and a few rails, each with three or four outfits, stood against the walls.

A little different from Primark and no price tags. She knew what that meant and wondered how much Ian was willing to shell out to impress his boss.

A rake-thin shop assistant, ironed hair, heavy kohl and mascara, purple lipstick, yellow python-print leggings and a black bandeau, sauntered toward them. “Mr. Westley?” She addressed Ian, her vowels plum, and ignored Casey.

“Yes, and this is the young lady who needs a special outfit.” Ian smiled the charming practiced smile, Casey was learning, he used when he wanted something.

“I’m Carlotta. Call me Lottie.” The young woman responded to Ian’s charisma by batting her eyelids, her eyes flicking from Ian’s navy striped blazer to Casey’s tatty jeans and well-worn trainers. With a twitch of an eyebrow, she implied that, whereas Ian was a ten, Casey was a four at best, and her lips twisted in a sneer as she took in the words I’m not yo’ mama emblazoned across the faded red T-shirt.

Casey clamped her lips together and thought of walking out, but the opportunity to see how the one percent lived didn’t often arise—in fact, had never materialized and probably never would again, so she stayed.

Two weeks ago, Ian had walked into The Drunken Bull, where she worked weekends as a barmaid because her day job, receptionist temping for an office-staffing agency, scarcely paid the bills. At six foot one, with dark blond hair, an Alex Pettyfer lookalike, he was hard to ignore. His gaze skimmed the clientele before spotting Casey and promptly heading for the bar. By closing time, she’d agreed to let him take a selfie and go out on a date with him.

As Ian left, Greg, her boss, warned, “I’d watch that one if I was you,” but she’d shrugged off his advice and gone out with him anyway. They saw a foreign film with subtitles, not her usual scene but she enjoyed it, and they dined at an upmarket restaurant well beyond her financially challenged budget. Unlike every other date she’d had, Ian was a perfect gentleman, kissing her on the cheek when he dropped her home, assuring her he’d call.

Yet despite his display of self-discipline, Ian’s glib patter sparked an alert; he was a player, the kind Casey would normally take a detour around the block to avoid, but her social life had gone AWOL, and she succumbed to his charm. The month before, she’d ended her previous relationship—a record at eight months—because, as she revealed to Marnie, her best friend and the mother of her three godchildren, Billy was getting clingy.

“More like he wants you to commit,” Marnie retorted.

Billy made her laugh; and when he’d taken her to the rock-climbing wall in the local leisure center as his guest, she relished the challenge. Missing out on the rock wall was a major regret, but she wasn’t searching for a life partner. Left on the steps of the local church as a newborn and growing up in the state care system, Casey didn’t believe in happy ever after.

“This way,” Ms. Skinny and Smug ordered, leading them into a private room with a three-way mirror, two rails packed with designer clothes, a changing cubicle, a table and a couple of chairs with enough space to walk up and down. “Melanie, your fitter, will be with you shortly.” Carlotta-call-me-Lottie turned to Ian. “Coffee, tea, champagne?”

“Casey?”

Champagne? And end up agreeing to wear the outfit on display in the window? “Coffee. Large soy

latte, extra shot, thanks.”

“Make that two,” Ian added.

“Why don’t you look through the selection we’ve put out and see if there’s anything you want her to try on?” Carlotta gushed.

Casey glared at the python-clad buttocks twitching from side to side as she sashayed out. Regretfully, her killer laser-eyed superpower remained inactive.

Ian rifled through the rack and held up a black version of the dress on display in the window. “What about this one? With your strawberry blonde hair and those baby blues, you’d look stunning in this.”

Baby blues? Did he think he was in an American gangster movie? Casey raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a respectable party? No, thanks.” That dress would invite a walk of shame if ever a dress did. She pulled out a pink chiffon number that caught her eye.

Ian’s lips thinned. “You’re not in a pageant competition, either.”

Melanie, older and with an air of competence, arrived with their coffees. Her experienced eye studied Casey’s figure, and without hesitation she pulled out half a dozen dresses for her to try.

An hour later, frazzled by Ian’s dismissal of her preferences and her rejection of his, Casey wobbled out of the cubicle in a pair of chili-red Jimmy Choo strappy sandals with six-inch heels, wearing an off-one-shoulder, chili-red silk dress that Melanie described as bandage-style because of the figure-hugging, wraparound layers of satiny material.

Ian’s gaze raked Casey from head to toe, lingering on her curves as he said, “That’s the one. You’ll knock ‘em dead in that, baby, and win me a few kudos with my boss.” He came and stood behind her, “Here.” He lifted her hair into a loose bun on top of her head. “A traffic stopper is what you are.”

Melanie chimed in, adding her approval. “Few women can carry off that particular style,” she enthused, “but you have the perfect figure.”

At five foot six, slender with long dancer’s legs, slim waist and a generously perky bosom, the dress made her figure look fabulous and the color suited her perfectly. She turned this way and that, examining the view from the front, side and rear. She would have to practice taking tiny steps; otherwise, she’d topple and faceplant. Not the kind of impression she wanted to make. Without Ian and Melanie’s input, she would never have picked a dress that exposed her figure so much, but she would only wear it the once, so why not? Besides, tomorrow or the day after, she’d sell it on eBay and pay for the basic management skills course she had her eye on and, if there was enough left, for a rock-climbing course. She wanted more out of life than answering phones and was willing to work hard to achieve her goals. She regarded Ian. “Let’s go with this one.”

“Lucy will be at yours at six to do your hair and makeup, and I’ll pick you up at seven-fifteen,” Ian reminded her as they left the shop, bags in hand, and headed into the sweltering London streets.

“How much did this lot cost you?” Casey asked. She’d tried to see the amount on the cash register when Ian gave Lottie his credit card, but he moved, blocking her view.

“Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours about that,” Ian replied with a wink. “What do you imagine expense accounts are for?”

The tiniest nitpicking doubt waved a hand. She ignored it. Putting her trust and commitment issues with men aside, she had agreed to go and she would keep her word.

***

The book is currently available at the following digital retailers:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ShhLvO Kobo: https://bit.ly/2OzHLl1
Apple ibooks: https://apple.co/2SnN2xo

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/2SmEaIc

Have a great week, be kind to others and to yourself and keep reading.

Best wishes,
Teagan.

Healer's Magic on Audible!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Thu, 21 Nov 2019 16:00:00 +0000

At last!

Healer's Magic was the second book I wrote and self-published on Amazon, but the journey, for one reason or another, from book to audiobook has taken much longer than I anticipated. In fact, I managed to publish seven other audiobooks before this one!

Nonethless, I am very happy to annouce that the audiobook is now availalable on Audible, Amazon and iTunes. Click the link to hear a sample: https://bit.ly/37qGVPC

Healer's Magic is FREE as an audiobook with Audible's 30-Day Trial: https://adbl.co/2OL01HJ

A powerful healer. A treacherous enemy. A deadly conflict.

Tatya's world slides into chaos when a demon consumed with the desire to control her power attacks those she loves. She refuses the local master vampire’s offer of aid, as he's just turned her best friend into one of the undead. She needs allies, but who can she trust in the battle to destroy this dangerous enemy?

If you like urban fantasy laced with mysticism, fast-paced action, and stubborn independent heroines, you'll love this fresh innovative take on the vampire/demon myth.

'Healer’s Magic’ is Book One in the 'Kala Trilogy'.

Here's what reviewers are saying about this epic paranormal thriller.

"An intoxicating work of creativity, passion, imagination and danger...stretches the boundaries for this type of fiction in new ways...fresh and original." Gillian Hancock, Indie Book Reviewer.

"An interesting concept ... great energy that whisks us along...genuine and authentic." Laura Clarke, Indie Book Reviewer.
"Addicting, multi-layered story." Layla Messing, Indie Book Reviewer.

***

The ebook edition is also FREE and available to download from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords, Prolific Works, Story Origin etc.

Best wishes, be kind to yourselves and others and keep reading!

Playing with graphics

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Thu, 29 Aug 2019 18:42:00 +0000

As an indie author/authorpreneur/self-pubbed author*, I sign up to a lot of newsletters, especially those that have insights into any relevant areas of the book publishing/marketing industry. One dropped into my mailbox today from BookTweeters.com which stirred my interest.

The email was about a website called BookBrush which allows authors to create images for marketing their books. The Free Plan allows 3 downloads per month, so I clicked the link and spent a happy hour clicking buttons and experimenting. You can view the results below. I'm not a professional, although, I use Adobe photoshop for my book covers and for my ads, and I found this amazingly quick and easy to use.

Here are my results:

I'll tweak these a bit more and, especially in the second one, would like to play around with the font, but next time I won't click the Download button twice on one image as it counted as two downloads! There are 2 plans, the Limted Free plan and the Plus plan which is $8 per month, paid yearly ($96).

If you like learning new skills and want to give BookBrush a try, check it out here:

https://bookbrush.com/

And if you're looking for someone to help you promote your books, check out BookTweeters.com

Best wishes,

Teagan.

*self-pubbed, for those who don't know, refers to self-published authors, not writers who choose write their books in pubs (tradition British drinking places).

Special Weekend Freebies!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Fri, 16 Aug 2019 20:19:00 +0000

Hi everyone!

This weekend I'd like to share these free books with you. Some are mine, some are written by other indie writers and you can download as many as you want. Take this opportunity to fill your ereaders with some great summer reading.

Veiled Planet (a sci-fi romantic thriller) and One Summer in Montmartre (a time-slip Women’s Fiction) are FREE until the 18th August.

Both Smashwords and Kobo have had sales of my three box sets in the last couple of months, and until the 18th August, you can pick up the Kala Trilogy Box Set, the Adept Solutions Box Setand the Saoirse Saga Box Set for $2.99 each on Amazon. So, head on over to your local Amazon website and pick up some free and discounted books.

And if you haven't done so already, then please download these permafree books from your favorite digital retailer.

If you're an avid reader, please check out August’s Giveaways where you can download as many books as you want and fill your ereaders with plenty of summer reading.

Dean Foster’s August promo has a fabulous collection of Sci-fi and Fantasy books, all neatly organized according to genre, which makes finding your favorites real easy.

http://sffbookbonanza.com/freebooks/

Check out this brilliant group giveaway for action and adventure in far-flung universes.

https://bit.ly/2ODy4Va

Be kind to yourself and to others and keep reading.

Best wishes,

Teagan.

New Release: Song of the Fae

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Mon, 11 Mar 2019 19:47:00 +0000

Song of the Fae is live! Yeah!

I'm always nervous and excited as the release day of a new book approaches, hoping readers will enjoy the results of my hard work and imagination. After the book goes live, there's a slow deflation and a sigh of sadness as I say goodbye to characters whose dramas have occupied my internal landscape for the past months.

Now, it's up to you, dear readers, to see if the book meets your expectations.

Here's the blurb:

First a prisoner, then a fugitive, now Roshène must earn her freedom.

Roshène’s blood is powerful, but she’s trapped in a nightmare without memories where her every move is controlled by a demonic sorcerer. When a chance to escape appears, she seizes it and flees.

Alone and with no one to turn to, Roshène accepts help from Hunter, a Fae guardian. Together, they undertake a hazardous journey to safety: the prize—the return of her memories. Along the way, she becomes increasingly dependent on and attracted to Hunter.

In exchange for their protection and help, the Fae will demand payment. But the question haunting Roshène is, will Hunter turn out to be just another jailer or her savior?

Song of the Fae, a gripping romantic thriller, takes you on an exhilarating journey into a marvelous urban fantasy world.

Reviewers say:

"A perfect start to an exciting new series!"

"A wonderful start to a series I have fallen in love with."

"Hunter and Roshène rock this story!"

As a new release, the book is currently sale for 0.99c, so pick up your copy today!

Song of the Fae, Book One in the Fae Heritage series, is available from:

Amazon Barnes & Noble iBooks Kobo Smashwords

Have a great week and best wishes,

Teagan.

Ancestral Secrets now on Audible!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Thu, 29 Nov 2018 20:23:00 +0000

I'm really pleased that Ancestral Secrets, the third book in the Adept Solutions Series of Investigations for the Magickally Challenged (surely that's one of the longest book titles?) is now available as an audiobook. Yeah!! Currently Stars & Ashes is being recorded by the same narrator, Apryl Renee West, which gives me confidence as I know she does a great job.

Ancestral Secrets, like all Audible's audiobooks, are free with a 30-day trial.

Check out a sample here: https://adbl.co/2QYPt7o

Also available on Amazon and iTunes.

The Good, the Bad and the Freebies!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sun, 21 Oct 2018 19:12:00 +0000

First, the good which is short and sweet! It’s great a feeling when the hard work you put it pays off, and Madaxa’s Heir has been the best release I have had so far. Yeah!

Now, the bad which is not so short and not sweet at all. I have made a copyright infringement complaint to Amazon because someone has copied, pasted and uploaded a book I unpublished in January 2017. The book in question is an early version of Healer’s Magic (under its first incarnation as Tatya’s Return). Whoever it is has even used my name, but Amazon confirmed it’s not been uploaded from my KDP account, which means any sales won't be going into my bank account. I unpublished this book 2 years ago and re-released it as Healer’s Magic after paying a reputable editor a whole lot of hard-earned money. So please do not buy this book. Amazon is taking its time removing the book from sale, and I have asked them to block sales while the dispute is ongoing – but have had no confirmation they are doing so. As you can imagine, I have cursed this nasty cheat more than a few times, but, hopefully, Amazon's copyright department will sort this out sometime soon.

Thank goodness it's time for the Freebies! I have three series and have made the first in each series free. So if you don’t already have Stars & Ashes, Hekate’s Chalice or Healer’s Magic, then pop over to your favorite digital retailer and download one or all of them for free!

FREE at your favorite digital retailers!

I have also released the three series as box sets ($4.99 per box set), and if you fancy bingeing on your favorite, now you can.

Only $4.99!

And, last but not least, if you’re looking for some new authors, check out this great science-fiction and fantasy giveaway… you never know what little gems you might find!

http://sffbookbonanza.com/freebooks/

Until next time, be kind to yourselves and to others, stay well and keep reading,

Best wishes,

Teagan.

Madaxa's Heir is Live!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sun, 30 Sep 2018 14:19:00 +0000

I'm super thrilled to let you know the final episode in The Saoirse Saga, Madaxa’s Heir, is now live!

This is always a moment of shivering excitement and a certain degree of terror as all the hard work of the last few months, interrupted by moving house, finally comes to a conclusion as the book is published.

I do feel sad when a story ends because something which has occupied my mind and my days for months has come to an end, and I shall miss these characters: but I’m also happy because sharing them with readers like you completes the process.

When the one you love betrays you, who can you trust?

Protected by a holy warrior and pursued by bounty hunters and the emperor’s assassins, Kia is hiding a secret the emperor can never find out—she is carrying his grandchild. After giving birth, Kia has to leave her daughter and resume her duties as a member of Prince Rial’s personal guard.

Discovering Rial has betrayed her shatters her trust in him, but when a rebel force attacks the emperor’s fleet, Kia must put aside her personal feelings and stand by Rial’s side as he aids his father.

During the battle, she seizes an opportunity to free herself, and the galaxy, from the emperor’s tyranny. Is this one throw of the dice a mad gamble that will result in her death, or can she—against all odds—achieve the ultimate success?

The final explosive episode in the fast-paced action-packed Saoirse Saga is on sale at 99c for one week only. On the 7th October the price will be 2.99, so pick up your copy today!

I’d like to give a special thanks to the awesome members of my ARC team—you guys rock! Thank you for everything.

And here are the links:

smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/897373

kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/madaxa-s-heir

B & N https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/madaxas-heir-teagan-kearney/1129617409

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/madaxas-heir/id1437176792?mt=11

amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Madaxas-Heir-Saoirse-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B07HLR8V8W

amazon.uk: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Madaxas-Heir-Saoirse-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B07HLR8V8W

amazon.com.au: https://www.amazon.com.au/Madaxas-Heir-Saoirse-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B07HLR8V8W

amazon.ca: https://www.amazon.ca/Madaxas-Heir-Saoirse-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B07HLR8V8W

Until next time, be kind to yourselves and to others, stay well and keep reading!

Best wishes,

Teagan.

Featured!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Wed, 01 Aug 2018 09:57:00 +0000

I remember when I was young, sometimes at Christmas or on birthdays, I’d open a gorgeously wrapped present and be filled with amazement and satisfaction when I saw the one item I’d been praying someone would give me.

It isn’t my birthday and Christmas is still some way off, but I opened an email the other day that gave me the exact same feeling of surprise and delight. And, no, I hadn’t won the lottery, which would be truly miraculous as I don’t play because I can’t bear the weekly disappointment, but it was from Instafreebie, (if you don't know about this site, check it out). They'd written to let me know that they’d chosen Stars & Ashes to be featured on their blog, email, and social media on the 1st of August, as well as on their homepage for the week! Yeah!! (I admit there was a lot of jumping up and down and grinning like an idiot for a while.) For an indie publisher like me that was definitely a wow moment. Traditional publishers have way bigger budgets to promote their authors, so to be given this platform is a wonderful bonus.

So, if you haven’t already got it, you can download the full version of Stars & Ashes from now until the 8th August on Instafreebie. After that only the preview will be available.

Take a minute and check out my book and the many other great books available.

http://blog.instafreebie.com/see-it-first-cheri-lasota-lee-isserow-and-teagan-kearney/

Stay well and keep reading,

best wishes,

Teagan.

http://blog.instafreebie.com/see-it-first-cheri-lasota-lee-isserow-and-teagan-kearney/

Hekate's Chalice now on Audible!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sun, 17 Jun 2018 13:53:00 +0000

Yes, my audiobook venture continues with Hekate's Chalice now live on Audible!

Here's the blurb:

A stolen artifact. An imminent deadline. A tenacious investigator.

JB runs a private detective agency, but if business doesn't pick up soon, he'll have to close the doors for good. When someone steals Hekate's chalice, JB and his maverick team jump at the chance to track down the supernatural object. They're resourceful and determined, but can they outsmart wizards, witches, and daemons before the client's deadline expires?

If you like gripping mysteries interwoven with generous doses of magic and humor, then you're going to love this imaginatively creative world. Hekate's Chalice is the first volume of the Adept Solutions series.

Audiobook listeners are a discerning eager audience, and if you're a writer and haven't already got your books available in this format my advice is do it! An interesting challenge comes into play with a narrator entering the equation. Not only does your story have to satisfy but where one person may hear a smooth honeyed tone, another may find the same voice monotonous and boring. In the end though, the listening experience is, just like reading or eating or your favorite color, a personal and subjective one.

So here's the link for you to check out the sample for yourself:

https://www.amazon.com/Hekates-Chalice-Adept-Solutions-Book/dp/B07DCWPLNY/

You can listen to the book for free with Audible's free trial, and get another book, too.

Stay well and best wishes,

Teagan.

New Releases, Audiobooks and an Early Easter Sale!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sat, 24 Mar 2018 16:53:00 +0000

One Summer in Montmartre audiobook is live! I thought about doing an audiobook for a long time, but hesitated to take the plunge. However, after a reviewer's encouragement (thank you, Steve!) I finally went for it. As my first audiobook it was a real learning curve, but I’m thrilled with the final result. One Summer in Montmartre was also the first book I published on Amazon in 2014 and has a special place in my heart. There's also a large print version for those who are visually impaired but still enjoy reading.

Here’s the blurb:
Paris 1873: Despite being a devoted husband and father, Luc Marteille, a charismatic Impressionist artist, becomes obsessed with his young model, Hélène. Flattered by his attentions, she becomes torn between Luc and her fiancé; and faces a decision that could destroy the lives of everyone around them.
Paris, 2007: Grieving over the death of her son, and with her marriage in trouble, Anna's life is falling apart. When a long-hidden love letter is discovered in the back of her favorite painting, she seizes the opportunity to go to Paris. Intending to research Hélène, the mysterious recipient of the letter, she is thrown together with the arrogant François. Dependent on his help, Anna realizes the tension between them is attraction. Should she continue a lifetime of playing it safe or listen to her heart?

You can download the audiobook as one of two books in a free trial with Audible:

https://www.audible.co.uk/ or https://www.audible.com/

I hadn't planned to publish another new book this week, but I recently pulled together and polished some short stories I’d written, and my marvelous editor returned them sooner than expected. So I'm thrilled that my first short story collection, Untender Lives, is live!

Here’s the blurb:
Five compelling stories about five women who face very different challenges—some more common, some less so. From a young rock singer, who wonders if her dream of success is about to disappear, to a billionaire, who’s looking for a shortcut to salvation, this entertaining mix of genres is perfect for a quick read.

The book is now available at all amazon stores and free with Kindle Unlimited.

And last, but by no means least...an EARLY EASTER SALE!!

If you want to grab a bunch of my books to read immediately or over the Easter break, now’s the time to go for it. From today Saturday 24th March to 26th March the following books are free or part of a kindle countdown deal.

Happy Easter reading!

To download: go to your country's amazon page, type in Teagan Kearney in the search box, click on the book(s) you want, and when you arrive on the book's page, download and enjoy!

This weekend, the following books are FREE :

The following two books are part of KIndle Countdown Deals:

The Kala Trilogy countdown deal starts 24th March. One Summer in Montmartre countdown starts 25th March.
Both books are 99 cents the first day.

That's all for now, folks. I'm off to start Book Three of the Saoirse Saga, and in the meantime, a genuine thank you for your invaluable support. Have a great Easter break.

Stay well, keep reading and best wishes,
Teagan.

New Release! Yay!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Mon, 05 Mar 2018 15:40:00 +0000

ANCESTRAL SECRETS is LIVE!!

Ancestral Secrets is now available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited for those who subscribe to that program. Yay! The last few days have been hectic, and at one point I wasn’t sure I’d make my deadline, (I’ll spare you the details and myself some embarrassment) but somehow everything has come together.

Early reviewers of Hekate’s Chalice, the first in the series, asked for more relationship development between the characters so, although there’s a crime to solve, I’ve tried to satisfy readers in this respect. Here’s the blurb:

Blackmail, double dealing and dubious secret organizations. Solving one problem one is doable for the Adept Solutions crew but dealing with all three will be a challenge.

Someone is blackmailing three of the most powerful citizens in Tropolis; the mayor, a master vampire and a ruthless crime boss, and all three have hired the Adept Solutions agency to find the perpetrator.

Unfortunately JB's investigative team are not at full strength. Jason is in thrall to Zhanna, the faerie, Nikki's worried about her new husband cheating on her and JB's father is dying. He's also distracted by his new relationship with Gemma, the fourth member of the group. Added to the mix, two secret organizations, with conflicting agendas, have surfaced in the city.

Can the team put their personal difficulties aside, track down the blackmailer and outwit their rivals before their clients' secrets are revealed?

Here are the links:
US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07B3JQJFX
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07B3JQJFX
Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07B3JQJFX
Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07B3JQJFX

If you like cozy mysteries interwoven with entertaining doses of magic and humor, then you’ll love this urban fantasy novella, and if you haven’t read any of the series, Hekate’s Chalice, Book One is free to download - click the Newsletter Sign Up tab at the top of the page to receive your free copy.

In the meantime, keep reading, stay well and best wishes,

Teagan,

January Bonanzas!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Wed, 10 Jan 2018 13:11:00 +0000

January Bonanza with Giveaways Galore!

Don't we all love freebies? So check out these great giveaways.

What have you got to lose? And you may discover a new favorite writer!

Something Wicked This Way Comes

An absolutely fabulous collection of paranormal tales and previews:

https://www.instafreebie.com/gg/WRYAr1esXfu5gWvj2708

And for Science Fiction fans...

Welcome to the Future

Take a journey into the unknown with this specially chosen

selection of sci-fi gems.

https://www.instafreebie.com/gg/dPW9AnJ86Nqwskq0bSHK

ENJOY!

Season's Greetings!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Mon, 11 Dec 2017 09:59:00 +0000

This year has been a very busy one, and today I'm super excited that the second episode of the Saoirse Saga, Awakening Defiance, is live! Yeah! Lots of smiley faces and jumping up and down alternating with release day jitters. I'm exuberantly happy at sending my latest story out into the world, but there's always a moment of sadness at leaving the characters and world I've created... but if that's my only worry, I'm counting my blessings.

Here's the description:

Kia wants more than survival. She wants vengeance and her freedom.

Kia has joined Lord Rial’s elite guard and is collecting secrets. Secrets that can get her killed. The pretense of being Rial's consort offers some protection, but neither of them trusts the other. When the chance for retribution on her father's betrayers comes, she takes it. But there is a price to pay.
Her feelings toward Rial change, and Kia is shocked when she discovers the emperor’s schemes include experiments on his son. If her ambition to destroy the emperor is to succeed, she must rescue Rial. But are her desperate last minute plans enough to save him?

The book is 0.99c and here are the links:

https://www.amazon.com/Awakening-Defiance-Saoirse-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B077RBQ7ZN

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Awakening-Defiance-Saoirse-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B077RBQ7ZN

***

If you haven’t yet started the Saoirse Saga, I’ve also released Books 1 & 2 in a two-for-one deal at $1.49.

Here are the links if you enjoy compelling action-adventure tales with a tenacious heroine who doesn't know the meaning of defeat.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0782Z8ZV5
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0782Z8ZV5

***

I'll soon be back in my warm cosy writing cave as Book 3 of Adept Solutions with JB and his maverick team is half planned, and ideas for Book 3 of the Saoirse Saga are popping into my head at the oddest moments. So, it's all go and it's all good.

In the meantime, stay well, keep reading and best wishes!

I did it again!

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Fri, 10 Nov 2017 09:50:00 +0000

The day your book is published is an exhilarating and nervous one. You sigh with satisfaction because you've somehow managed, after a lot of sweat and tears, to achieve something you could only dream of ten years ago. Then, with your fifth (or is it your sixth?) coffee in hand, you check the websites, make sure your promo links work, and check the websites again, knowing you'll be doing this all day.

Okay enough with the introspection, here's the first chapter of Stars & Ashes, Book One in the Saoirse Saga. If you like it, here's the link: https://tinyurl.com/y8ronwh4 The book is $0.99, and I'd love it if you enjoyed the first chapter enough to pop over and follow Kia's thrilling journey!

Chapter One: Invasion

The class of eight and nine-year-old girls and boys, their faces rosy with effort and eyes shiny with pleasure, straightened their thin brown tunics, wiped a hand or two across a sweaty forehead, stood tall, and bowed to the teacher.

Kia returned the bow. They were eager to please, and it took nothing but a kind word of encouragement for them to blossom. “Thank you, disciples,” Kia intoned the solemn, formal dismissal, then couldn’t hide her smile. “Okay, you’re dismissed, off you go. Don’t forget your homework.” Her eyes twinkled with satisfaction.

The ordered formation broke and became a fluid mass of grinning children surging for the practice hall door.

Little Diago threw her a wave and a wink as he went, making her laugh. The lad showed a lot of promise, and Kia thought he had a bright future if he practiced, which she could tell he didn’t always do. A swift glance around the hall—neatly stacked mats, the floor swept—and satisfied everything was as it should be, she tossed her waist-length pale-blonde plait over her shoulder and headed out pleased with the afternoon’s class.

The srilao hall was in the older section of Sestris amid the narrow, cobbled twisting streets near the port, and the temple was close by. Late afternoon and the city dozed, dreaming slow dreams in the warm lull between noontime and evening, though the streets were never completely silent.

She had time to stop and make an offering to Cossanta, the golden four-armed patron Goddess of srilao devotees before buying the sweetfruit and berries for the tart her mother wanted to make that evening.

Training for the Southern Continental Championships last month was the hardest thing she’d ever done and winning had been beyond her expectations. The Goddess deserved as many offerings as Kia could manage. Returning to Sestris, standing in the packed town square under the blazing midday sun, and hearing the roaring cheers as the Head Elector—her proud father—placed the golden medallion around her neck, had been dizzying. Yet the class of under ten-year-olds was the most rewarding assignment she’d been given in her training to become a srilao teacher.

Srilao was both a martial art and a dance form, and practitioners were fighters, gymnasts, and dancers who could earn their living performing and teaching in any of the three branches: champions were those who proved they possessed superior skills in all the forms.

She’d put the key in the lock and was studying the round metal symbol on the door, her gaze tracing the three whorls emanating from the center, about to turn the key when the siren screamed, sending every startled seabird in the vicinity flapping into the air. Later she would remember that moment; how the city crouched, waiting, how time elongated, the feel of the cool gray metal in her hand, the grain of the pale ashwood door, the warm breeze stirring the hairs on the back of her neck. When birds fly, something this way comes. Beware, the old saying went. Her other hand clutched the medallion underneath her tunic. She would remember because nothing was ever the same afterward.

At first, the ear-piercing shriek confused her. Then the world stopped. This rhythm of wailing blasts meant one thing—invasion. The thought ignited a chain reaction, and she twisted the key, hearing the lock click, stilling as a fleet of low flying craft skimmed the rooftops, and a wave of heated air buffeted her. A single thought. Home. She needed to get home. Her mother was strong and capable, but the twins would be scared.

The synchronized regulated thud of boots was loud in the thrumming silence after the siren, and she froze at the sight of the menacing line of black uniformed soldiers. They marched, six abreast with weapons raised, along the narrow street toward her, herding a bewildered frightened crowd in front of them.

“Citizens of Sestris, this is the Nadil-Kuradi Empire taking control,” an emotionless voice boomed. “Please leave your houses, head for the main gate, and wait outside the city walls. Those disobeying this order will be shot.” The soldiers marched closer.

She was too late. Dark visors hid their faces, but she’d no doubt one, or more, had their phaserifles trained on her. Kia thrust the key in her pocket. How polite and typical of the Xaruntian conquerors to say please as they ordered you to surrender or die, she thought, fighting the blind panic threatening to overwhelm her. She recited the pre-fight invocation under her breath, pulling on every bit of training she’d learned since childhood to stay calm. Bit by bit the black wave receded, and she continued putting one foot in front of the other.

The srilao practice hall was near an intersection, and as she passed the shops and houses, doors opened and more people joined the shuffling fearful throng, accompanied by the loud, monotonously repeated command to comply. As they neared the main gate out of the city, the streets were packed. The normal city smells of street flits, food stalls, sea or sand—depending on the wind; the mix of innumerable odors given off by a city full of people was replaced by the acid scent of fear. Everyone had seen the holovid or heard about the Urkat massacre where every house, village, and city on the planet had been obliterated on the orders of the Emperor Teyrn because its inhabitants had defied the might of the empire. The message was clear, and no Sestrian was foolish or brave enough to try that stunt.

Kia shot a look behind her. She saw a second, and then the third row of armed soldiers. She heard doors being smashed as the invaders went house to house, checking for anyone hoping to avoid detection. The soft pff of a weapon firing, followed by the cutting off of a child’s sobbing followed her along the street. Had they captured her father? Dear Goddess, please let him have escaped. Kia kept moving, her fists clenched and her jaw aching from gritting her teeth too hard.

She thought of little Diago, worry shivering through her. She had to trust all the children had made it home. Why hadn’t they been warned? The entire population had known one day the emperor’s spaceships would appear in the pale lavender sky like a plague of dusky aljarads out of the desert. The insects appeared every few years and stripped the city’s trees and gardens. However, unlike the insects, these aggressors wouldn’t fly out over the ocean and disappear. The vast amount of accessible rich mineral deposits had guaranteed that, even with Emankora’s position at the far end of a galaxy arm, the world was too rich a plum not to be plucked. Accordingly, some of those in positions of power, including her father, had made plans for this eventuality, always with the hope they would never be needed.

Kia staggered as the realization hit her. A traitor in their midst must have uncovered the Elector's schemes and sold them out to their enemies. Her father had refused to disclose his plans to her, saying he’d bring her in after she started the Electoral training program the following year. Yet the invader's sudden appearance demonstrated their sleepers must have already been in position. She stumbled and would have fallen, but the woman next to her reached out and steadied her.

“Be strong. This is no more than the beginning.” The woman was lean and worn down with hard work, and her lined sun-browned face gave nothing away. “Life will get a lot worse before it gets better.” Her harsh expression softened for a moment before she strode ahead.

As the multitude reached the large tree-line square adjacent to the Main gates, they came to a standstill, the sheer mass of people making it impossible to move any farther.

Kia could see the elaborately decorated pink sandstone arch, but the enormous crowd filling the square milled in confusion with mothers clutching children’s hands, soothing their cries, huddling beside their husbands, and both old and young afraid of what was coming next. Most of these people had been among those who celebrated her triumph, as her success was their success. These were the citizens who had voted for Madaxa Xefe over the previous twenty years, first as councilor then as Head Elector, but today their gazes slid elsewhere, and they trembled, scared for themselves and their families.

Judging by the number and positioning of the troops, Kia estimated they’d first encircled the town and moved inward, sweeping everyone before them: another sign that no matter what defensive measures the resistance had organized, the empire’s agents had eliminated them. Her father and his cohorts had seriously underestimated the enemy’s ability to neutralize their strategy. Or they’d overestimated their people’s loyalty. If she had to choose, she’d favor the former. The sun had moved low toward the horizon by the time Kia, trapped in the midst of the thirsty hungry crowd, stumbled forward, at last able to see what was causing the blockage.

A three-row-deep line of soldiers, with their weapons trained on those passing before them, stood on both sides of the short road leading to the gates, where two men, who looked more like officers than regular infantry, questioned everyone and tapped answers into their comunits.

If they’re here, they’ll target my family, her father had said, and here’s what you’ll do.

When her turn came, the black-visored man stared at her. “Name?”

She studied her red leather sandals. “Kia O’Afon.” O’Afon was her mother’s family name, and afon meant river. Her mother came from the remote south where the land was green and forested, unlike the central desert that stretched out and covered half the southern continent behind Sestris. The mineral rich desert, mined by the Sestrians for centuries, provided a living, trade, and was the reason for the port’s existence.

“Age.”

“Twenty-three.” At least Jared wasn’t here. Her older brother had gone north on a trading expedition with Keyon, his best friend. Brown eyed, serious Keyon, who last time they’d talked had told her if she didn’t say yes to his offer of partnership soon, he would always love her but would look elsewhere.

The questioner leaned in, snapped his fingers in her face. “I asked you your status?”

She flinched. “Single.” Focus, she told herself. This wasn’t the time to daydream about what ifs.

“Family?”

“None.”

“None?”

“I’m from the south, and I'm here for work.”

“Guess that explains your coloring.”

Kia took after her mother and with her pale blonde hair and irises so dark the pupil was barely discernible, her looks marked her out. Native Sestrians had darker hair, green or blue eyes, and paler skin. He held a scanner to her eyes and checked his comunit again.

Kia held her breath.

“That way. Go left.” He pointed through the gates.

Altering the civic records to give her a new identity had held up under inspection. She breathed out.

Outside the walls, another avenue of black-visored figures waited.

Kia subtly altered her posture, slumping her shoulders and scuffing her feet instead of striding. One-on-one in unarmed combat, she stood a chance. Her average height and slender build were deceptive because she was well-trained with lightning fast reflexes and hadn’t yet met an opponent whose body she couldn't read. As she walked, she sensed the hidden eyes assessing her. Tales of the Nadil-Kuradi Empire’s cruelty toward its new vassals were endless. Crush and crush again, until there was nothing left but blind obedience to the emperor.

Far too quickly she reached the end of the intimidating gauntlet, and a phaserifle directed her left. On the flat expanse of dun-colored sands beyond the town, she caught a brief glance of the fleet of spacecraft that had brought their vanquishers. Teaching in the hall, she hadn’t heard their arrival over the excited cries of the children practicing. Some looked bigger, most likely troop carriers, and nearby were a dozen or more fighter craft. As if Sestris possessed the capability to fight anything military, let alone an interstellar space fleet of any size. She hitched a breath at the thought of the same scenario happening all over Emankora.

Kia joined a large group of young men and women sitting on the ground guarded by yet more soldiers. They were separating people into groups. Where were her mother and sisters? She scanned the area, but it was several minutes before she spotted the women and younger children.

“You.”

Kia looked up to find the barrel of a phaserifle about a handspan from her face. She swallowed.

“Look down and don’t talk. See him.” The soldier pointed his weapon over to the right.

Kia’s gaze alighted on the body of a young man who lay unmoving as blood pooled beneath his head.

“He did what you’re doing. Looking for his kinfolk. Don’t. From here on, you are nobody. You have no family or friends. You belong to the emperor body and soul.”

Kia looked down. Body, maybe, soul, never.

The sky darkened, the temperature dropped, Osupa rose in isolated splendor, and still they sat on the cooling earth as the invaders catalogued the townspeople. The youth’s lifeless body was eventually dragged away, and while they were all were aware of what was happening, they were powerless.

Kia passed the night in a frozen stupor listening to the faint intermittent wails of children or the barking of a command. If you needed to relieve yourself, a soldier escorted you past the outer line and trained his phaserifle on you as you did your business. Animals, Kia thought, raising a hand when her bladder was about to burst. Animals. That’s all we are to them.

Rumor had it the empire used neural implants to boost the speed of their reactions, physical strength, and endurance. The soldiers’ behavior, impervious and vigilant throughout the night, appeared to confirm the story.

As the predawn sky turned gray, then pink, she heard hammering in the distance. Sweet Goddess, what was happening?

With shouts of ‘Stand,’ and swift use of phaserifle butts to ensure compliance, the guards harried the cold, stiff prisoners to their feet. They soon found out what the noises meant. A raised platform had been thrown up, high enough that even those at the rear could witness whatever was about to take place.

Kia’s heart drummed faster, and she glanced at those standing near her, meeting the frustrated gaze of a tall young man. She blinked in acknowledgement, and he returned the signal, but any further communication stopped as a sleek dark airship flew low over the gathering.

“The Emperor Teyrn’s Heir,” one soldier hissed, “Lord Rialoir himself!” The guards nearby stood straighter as their eyes tracked the small fighter, but movement on the makeshift stage drew their attention away from the new arrival.

Kia watched, blinking hard, not wanting to believe what she was seeing as four men and four women were marched onto the platform.

A groan of collective sorrow rose from the townsfolk.

Kia’s heart stopped. Her legs trembled, and she locked her knees as she recognized the figure in the center. Her father. She couldn’t look away. He would want her to witness. To witness and remember.

“These people are all traitors. Their families have been executed.”

Kia gasped, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush as sobbing broke out in several places. She’d have fallen if a hand hadn’t gripped her upper arm, holding her upright. All she could see was her mother’s face: one minute chiding, cross with her rebellious daughter, the next, smiling and proud of that same daughter’s achievements—and always loving. But Lilia and Alsling, her curly-headed lively young sisters, always up to mischief, and the sweetheart twins of her parents’ later years, would have been with her mother. This wasn’t possible; it couldn’t be happening. They should have had enough warning to flee before the invaders arrived. What had gone wrong? No, no, no, her mind reiterated, refusing to accept reality.

“Hey!” A soldier thrust the butt of his weapon into the young man's chest, shoving him away from her. He staggered backward and quickly raised his arms high in the air.

The guard turned toward her, and her muscles shivered with the effort of controlling herself.

“These men will be executed.” The speaker announced.

Kia’s attention jerked back to the dais. Her father was too distant to be sure, but she would swear his gaze roved the silent tense citizens, and rested on her, before passing over his people.

A soldier walked out and stood at the edge of the platform facing the city’s Elected with his back to the captive Sestrians. He raised his phaserifle and eight soft pffs sighed through the air.

Kia burned the image of her father slumping to the platform with a small circular mark in the middle of his forehead into her mind, and her heart broke at the knowledge that his bright intelligence and the warmhearted gaze he turned on the world and its antics were gone forever.

***

Click the link to buy this enthralling story today: https://tinyurl.com/y8ronwh4

Veiled Planet Revealed

noreply@blogger.com (Teagan Kearney) — Sat, 24 Jun 2017 07:58:00 +0000

After an intense week of editing, tweaking, and formatting, I uploaded Veiled Planet to Amazon yesterday. Pressing that 'Publish Now' button is always a thrilling, yet nerve-wracking moment.

I want to let you know that the book is $.99 for its first week of release (until the 30th June), after which the price will be $2.99) or free if you're with Kindle Select.

Here's the first chapter of the book, and I hope you enjoy the start of Kara's journey.

Chapter One: An Encounter

Kara squinted, peering through the tall, thin jezebel trees. Their bare pallid trunks crowned with wide red leaves provided shade from the midday sun, but not from the heat, and she periodically wiped the sweat off her forehead before it dripped into her eyes. She could see where the upward trail led, but there wasn’t a single olive green cadet uniform in sight.

“Hey, wait for me!” Kara winced at the saw-edged whine in her voice, but they should have waited. The core element in this test was cooperative functioning as a team, and leaving someone behind broke the first rule of colony survival—you didn’t abandon anyone. If she didn’t catch up, she’d drop back to bottom ranking in her class. Not the result she wanted after she’d spent the last year clawing her way up two paltry places. Where in the universe were they?

Kara blew out a breath of frustration, ran her sweaty hands through her short hair, and put her sulk on hold. Lifting one foot at a time and putting it down while scrutinizing the ground for signs of spring-beetle occupancy took every bit of her attention. The small pyramidal mounds were thankfully absent. A bite from the insect, while not life threatening, could swell to horrible proportions. Her study of the insects last semester had given her far too much insight into the varying sizes and discomforts of post-bite swellings.

Two corco birds flew high above the canopy, cackling to each other as their heavy wings beat the air with a soft thump thump. They were herbivores, although there were still many unknown species of plant and animal on the planet awaiting detection and classification.

Kara halted for a second to observe their ungainly flight. Next year she would begin studies in her chosen subjects—botany and biology. She ignored the flush of guilt at the thought of the tiny gold speckled plants which had caught her eye. She was fully aware this wasn’t a field trip, but the urge to pop a couple into one of the specimen bags she always carried had been overwhelming. That was probably when she’d dropped behind, but one way or another, she would finish this course. If it had to be without the support of the rest of the class, so be it.

Since she’d become a student at the academy two cycles ago, she’d had plenty of experience of being the outsider. Joining the class late, because she’d remained with her father after her mother died, made her different from the rest. Friendships, cliques, and lines of allegiance were already long cemented by the time she arrived. Her shyness had been interpreted as unsociability, and her absorption in her studies seen as boring. Then there was her lack of interest in team games. She had what was called a delicate build which translated into a lack of enthusiasm for the more physical aspects of cadet training. Kara didn’t consider herself weak, she just wasn’t the least bit interested in throwing her classmates onto the practice mats and giving loud shouts every time she did so. The local flora and fauna were far more fascinating, and at least they couldn’t make nasty remarks about her within her hearing.

Her pack contained a map of the route, water, an emergency medical kit, and enough basic rations to ensure survival. Naturally, there was no comunit because calling for help defeated the point of the exercise. The original treaty with the Maruts, the planet’s indigenous hominids, prevented a true survival experience because they were forbidden to go beyond their settlement area, but now, alone—even though she was within a two-day's walk of the colony—this so-called practice was worryingly more authentic than she’d anticipated.

Fifty cycles ago, the Triumvirate gained permission from the Maruts for a colony on the planet, and the settlers’ situation was still far from permanent. Dangers from the flora and fauna, a variable climate, and the planet’s position at one end of a galaxy spiral placed it in the category of a limited outer world. But for Kara, it was home.

She mentally ran through the list of worst possible dangers as she continued up the trail. The small red-humped salamanders were dangerous when they were in heat and defending their territory, but thankfully this wasn’t the season. Kallin bears hadn’t been spotted anywhere near this location for the last ten cycles, and this area wasn’t on the seasonal migratory route of the Maruts. However, these were merely a few dangers on a long list. She shunted these thoughts aside, lumping them together with her irritation and resentment.

Kara ignored the mid-day heat as the hot Hamarkhian sun beat down on the forest, and wiped away the sweat trickling into her eyes with the back of her hand. She listened for indications that her companions were up ahead. Nothing. Her heart started to pound and she sucked in small puffs of warm air as she heard her father’s instructions in her mind. If you’re out there alone, be alert and don’t think about anything else except for what’s around you. Focus on the next step that’ll get you back to safety. Survival is a matter of breaking down the major objective of staying alive into smaller, achievable tasks.She closed her eyes for a minute breathing slow and deep till her pulse slowed and her flight impulse subsided.

If she didn't complete the exercise but retraced her steps to the starting point by going back down the hill, the entire unit would fail the exercise, drop their group rating, and have to repeat it after the term ended. This would give the other cadets more reason to resent her than they already did. If she finished the course, they wouldn’t achieve top ranking, but at least the assignment would be complete. Memorizing the route had been part of the preparation, and all she had to do was continue up the mountain to the summit, turn left and follow the trail till she arrived back at the spot where they’d camped last night. Easy.

Ignoring the burning ache in her calves, she pushed herself and walked faster, clinging to the small hope that maybe a couple of cadets had been instructed to wait for her at the top of the hill. Yet a knot of anxiety remained, no matter how frequently she told herself everything was going to be fine. After another spell of steep climbing, the thinning trees warned her she was approaching the edge of the forest. She’d catch up with them soon. The trouble with fear is it doesn’t stay boxed away.

Abruptly the forest ended, and a stretch of bare red rock led up to the summit. Here and there, the hardy brownish native moss had secured a grip, giving the landscape a burned mottled appearance and the slight breeze lifted small curls of dust. But there was no sign of any cadets.

Thank the stars this wasn't the storm season, although on Hamarkhis no season was without irregularities as weather patterns were notoriously unstable and hard to predict. If a storm had unexpectedly blown in from the desert, the group leader, Nina, would have received notification as she had a comunit for emergencies—which was no help to Kara.

She would have loved to collect more specimens but was far too aware of the price she was paying for her last stop. She listened and checked ahead before leaving the shelter of the trees. The low drone of the forest’s inhabitants rose and fell behind her.

Where in the universe had they gone? Sixteen trainee cadets on a routine survival exercise couldn’t disappear. Practical jokes were the warp and weft of dorm life but this wasn’t funny. Anything might happen. Kara’s anger skyrocketed, and she stormed ahead with her eyes fixed on her goal as outrage fueled the last half klick to the summit. Well, no one was going to be laughing when she reported this to Commander Trench.

As she mounted the final slope, she forgot her predicament and gasped in pleasure at the view. Row after row of red jagged peaks, crowned with snow, marched to the horizon. These mountains were the start of the Founders Range and covered the northern third of the continent.

Pre-settlement surveillance had discovered the Maruts pastured their herds of satyrs in valleys peppered throughout this range. An anthropologist among the first colonists had nicknamed the herbivores satyrs, a creature out of an ancient fable, as a joke, and the name had stuck. However, the Maruts didn’t keep satyr herds for their meat, but for their coats which molted seasonally; they used the thick satyr wool and satyr hides for clothing, housing, carpets, tents. They milked the satyrs as well, which produced at least half a dozen food products. The satyrs were the basis for their way of life, and without them the Maruts could face extinction.

Kara searched the slope below. No sign of her team-mates. How had she dropped this far behind? She hadn’t been that slow, had she? She started walking, but half-way to the summit, her stomach started making loud noises, and she figured she ought to eat. Basic survival training began early. The necessity of staying hydrated and fed was drummed into children living in a world of hidden hazards.

She didn’t bother about the spring-beetles―the forest was their habitat―but sat on a handy outcrop of rock and stuffed the bland emergency rations into her mouth, glugging the tepid liquid from her water bulb. The concentrated bars of essential vitamins and minerals were light to carry and quick to digest, and she brushed the final crumbs off her hands ready to face the downward trail. She would have to get moving if she wanted to reach camp before darkness fell.

Then she heard it.

A low growling, some distance away, behind and below her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she recognized the sound. It was one every colonist was familiar with, but only through educational holovids. She turned, and froze as a huge red and green kallin bear emerged from the forest. Kara stared, stunned, then pinched her arm hard. No, she wasn’t hallucinating.

The beast raised its giant snout and sniffed the air. Catching her scent, the animal paced toward her, paw by gigantic razor tipped paw.

Kara’s training kicked in, and she pressed the adrenaline patch on the underside of her arm, releasing its one dose. As the hormone mixture flooded her bloodstream, enhancing her responses and donating an artificial mental clarity, she recognized she had no way of escape, and was unlikely to survive this encounter. A rapid stream of thoughts flashed through her mind. If only those in charge of such matters had anticipated needing more than one adrenaline boost. If only the others had waited, together their prospects would have been better, and what a story that would have been to tell her father. Rage at her classmates’ carelessness swept through her, and she cursed them a second time.

Tracking the giant predator’s progress, Kara removed the stunner from her belt with careful slow movements.

The animal began to charge, gaining momentum as it grew closer.

Logic and reason informed her there was no way she could outrun the beast, even if she’d been in the forest, as its formidable sense of smell would allow it to track her scent as easily as following a lit pathway. She remembered the kallin bear’s swiftness and natural weaponry made it one of the dominant mammals on this planet. She very nearly smiled; her last moments and all she could summon up were facts from a biology lesson.

She raised the pistol, it had a range of approximately a quarter of a klick, but she was a lousy shot. Martial arts, self-defense, in fact, any of the physical skills that helped the colonists survive fell into the category of no ability and even less interest. But while Kara intellectually understood the longer she delayed the more she increased her chances of hitting the creature, her hands shook as she observed the slavering mouth and sharp canines as the bear increased its speed.

The bear’s fast rolling gait made it hard to get a fix on a vulnerable spot, but she zeroed in on the left eye. She aimed, fired, and hit the animal in the shoulder. Damn. She fired another shot. The stunner had ten more shots before it needed recharging, but the rabid predator closing in on her clearly had a quick lunch on its mind. Her next shot hit the upper chest and made not a whit of difference to its approach. She fired again, and the stun charge struck close to her first shot. The animal’s pelt shivered, but it came on relentlessly. An irrational urge to flee seized her, but the bear would outpace her in minutes, if not seconds. No, she’d stand and face her death. She fired repeatedly. With each hit the creature keened, an eerie high-pitched moan, began to slow but didn’t stop.

She kept count in her head. Three shots left. Nothing worse than thinking you have ammunition you haven’t, their instructor had joked at every session as he hammered the necessity of this procedure over and over into their brains.

The bear finally slowed and part of her mind continued analyzing the animal even as the gap between them narrowed. She noted the unkempt fur, emaciated hide, and the prominence of its ribcage. The beast must be far from its home territory, making it more dangerous as its need for her warm-blooded flesh was greater.

At this distance, she couldn’t miss, and, as the bear closed, she could see its red pupils and smell its rank fetid breath. She pumped out the last shots, clinically observing the bear’s pelt shimmer and quiver, as each shot hit home, yet she still managed to miss its vital organs. After the last shot, and impelled by an undeniable primal compulsion, she turned and fled—her last chance as the adrenaline boost would only last for another few minutes.

After inhaling the delicate flavor of a prospective meal, the bear, galvanized by the sight of its prey escaping, intensified its pursuit.

Kara scrambled and slithered down the escarpment, trying to avoid the small boulders and stones littering the surface. She hit a patch of shale and lost her balance. Sharp stones scraped the skin off her arm as she slid. Stumbling to her feet, she threw a backward glance at her pursuer and noticed the bear had slowed. The stun shots had finally had some effect, and she’d gained a tiny lead. She sucked in a deep breath and took off running.

Then it happened. Her foot landed on a small rock, and as her ankle turned, she lost her balance and toppled sideways. A fierce stabbing pain shot up her leg as her full weight bore down on the twisted ankle.

The bear stalked toward her, its massive claw-tipped paws moving softly on the slope. She tried to get up but arrows of agony shot up her leg. She hadn’t panicked, and had given her best, but she was going to die. If her father could have seen her, he would be proud of her. Shortly she would join her mother.

The last of the adrenaline drained out of her body and she shut her eyes as the backlash of fatigue hit. Shaking and terrified, she curled into a fetal position, and squeezed her eyes tight as she attempted to block out the awful sight and sound of her approaching death. She lay paralyzed, expecting to feel the kallin bear’s teeth and claws rip and shred her skin and muscles at any second as it prepared to feed. Please let it be quick, she begged.

***

If you enjoy stories full of drama, action, intrigue with a romantic twist, and a strong heroine, then click the link and enter Kara’s world today.

Amazon.com: http://tinyurl.com/y9o3boh7
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Thank you so much, because writers need readers!

Stay well, keep reading, and best wishes,
Teagan.