This LGBTQ YA fantasy looks oh so promising and I have not doubt the story is fabulous if the exceprt I'm sharing today is anything to go by!
But when the bejeweled vase she just tried to hawk turns out to be a jinni's vessel, Rebel gets lost to her world and dragged within another. Now every magical being in the city wants the vase for himself.
Thrust into a game of cat and mouse in a world she never knew existed, Rebel must use her uncanny skills to find a way to free Anjeline the Wishmaker.
But wishes have consequences. And contracts. Anjeline's freedom could unravel a love like Rebel has never known, or it could come at the cost of Rebel's heart...
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From The Wishing Heart....
“Hand it over, pigeon.” The officer gestured to her bag.
Rebel sighed. How ironic. Could her life get any worse? “As you can see, I’m poorer than a vagabond.” She gazed down at herself. “There’s nothing in my bag except my hopeless dreams.”
“Is that why it looks so heavy?” His lips curved into a grin, and his teeth gleamed against his beard. He was a beast of man, his vast shoulders pushing the uniform to its absolute limit. “Don’t be foolish. Give it here, girl.”
“Woman. You hobnocker,” she spat, in no mood.
A chuckle vibrated in his throat. “Skinner said you were a spitfire and a slippery grift.”
Rebel stiffened as awareness caught up to her, the satchel heavy at her side. He was no officer. Even worse, this had trap written all over it. But was it Skinner’s trap, or whoever had been on the other end of that phone call— someone even more brutal? Her eyes darted about, scouting an escape. Nothing good ever happened when a girl was snatched off the streets from a henchman twice her size.
The man glanced at her satchel. “I’ll be taking that now.”
When in doubt, distract. “Fancy outfit just to rob me of a vase? You’re not overcompensating for something, are you?”
“Don’t play stupid. The vessel’s not the prize, we want what’s inside it.”
Rebel squinted. “There’s nothing inside it, you tool.”
“Wrong answer.” He growled, sounding more animal than man, and something changed in his features. His eyes glowed amber in an extremely inhuman face.
“What the…” She lurched back, her nose twitched at an odd scent, and dizziness emerged. Now wasn’t the time for her heart to hamper reality. “This has got to be the weirdest panic attack.”
“No attack, unless you refuse.” The man inched closer.
“Touch me and I’ll carve Repent on your chest.” Rebel fumbled at her belt, grasping the bone handle of her switchblade. She never actually used it on anyone, never wanted to.
“All’s we want is the vessel,” he warned. “There’s no need for it to go there.”
“You don’t want it to go there,” said another.
Shadows moved out from behind the man. A young female appeared, followed by a male version of her, both cloaked in animal-hide coats. The twins’ blood- red hair spilled over their shoulders like lions’ manes, the girl’s pelt trimmed in fur of equal shade. As they moved, between one second and the next, they shifted into a wave of rippling fur. Bones snapped out of place, and jet-black muzzles emerged from their faces, until they formed into four-footed shapes. Their backs contorted, and slowly, bone plates elongated down their spines like an armadillo’s shield.
They were not human. Not even close.
Werewolves.
“Wolves?” she voiced it aloud.
“Lycanthrope,” the man corrected. His eyes burned like embers as his ears tapered skyward, and his vastness seemed to increase compared to the others. Obviously, the alpha. “A thief knows a thief as a wolf knows a wolf. Didn’t legends ever teach you about the big bad one?”
Want more? Get your copy of The Wishing Heart today!
“Hand it over, pigeon.” The officer gestured to her bag.
Rebel sighed. How ironic. Could her life get any worse? “As you can see, I’m poorer than a vagabond.” She gazed down at herself. “There’s nothing in my bag except my hopeless dreams.”
“Is that why it looks so heavy?” His lips curved into a grin, and his teeth gleamed against his beard. He was a beast of man, his vast shoulders pushing the uniform to its absolute limit. “Don’t be foolish. Give it here, girl.”
“Woman. You hobnocker,” she spat, in no mood.
A chuckle vibrated in his throat. “Skinner said you were a spitfire and a slippery grift.”
Rebel stiffened as awareness caught up to her, the satchel heavy at her side. He was no officer. Even worse, this had trap written all over it. But was it Skinner’s trap, or whoever had been on the other end of that phone call— someone even more brutal? Her eyes darted about, scouting an escape. Nothing good ever happened when a girl was snatched off the streets from a henchman twice her size.
The man glanced at her satchel. “I’ll be taking that now.”
When in doubt, distract. “Fancy outfit just to rob me of a vase? You’re not overcompensating for something, are you?”
“Don’t play stupid. The vessel’s not the prize, we want what’s inside it.”
Rebel squinted. “There’s nothing inside it, you tool.”
“Wrong answer.” He growled, sounding more animal than man, and something changed in his features. His eyes glowed amber in an extremely inhuman face.
“What the…” She lurched back, her nose twitched at an odd scent, and dizziness emerged. Now wasn’t the time for her heart to hamper reality. “This has got to be the weirdest panic attack.”
“No attack, unless you refuse.” The man inched closer.
“Touch me and I’ll carve Repent on your chest.” Rebel fumbled at her belt, grasping the bone handle of her switchblade. She never actually used it on anyone, never wanted to.
“All’s we want is the vessel,” he warned. “There’s no need for it to go there.”
“You don’t want it to go there,” said another.
Shadows moved out from behind the man. A young female appeared, followed by a male version of her, both cloaked in animal-hide coats. The twins’ blood- red hair spilled over their shoulders like lions’ manes, the girl’s pelt trimmed in fur of equal shade. As they moved, between one second and the next, they shifted into a wave of rippling fur. Bones snapped out of place, and jet-black muzzles emerged from their faces, until they formed into four-footed shapes. Their backs contorted, and slowly, bone plates elongated down their spines like an armadillo’s shield.
They were not human. Not even close.
Werewolves.
“Wolves?” she voiced it aloud.
“Lycanthrope,” the man corrected. His eyes burned like embers as his ears tapered skyward, and his vastness seemed to increase compared to the others. Obviously, the alpha. “A thief knows a thief as a wolf knows a wolf. Didn’t legends ever teach you about the big bad one?”
Want more? Get your copy of The Wishing Heart today!
She’s best known for writing and producing the documentary short films focusing on homeless Iraq vets and LGBTQ+ issues in the military, which was selected by the North Texas Film Festival and featured on CURRENT TV. Her recent novel placed first in the paranormal category of the 2016 YARWA Rosemary Awards, and she continues to work towards giving a voice to stories that are needed, while facing magic and monsters along the way.
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