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Between
-- EXCERPT: As the sounds of the conversation finished drawing me out of my slumber, I stirred and opened my eyes. I was lying in bed in my room at home. The golden sunlight of late afternoon was streaming in through the window at my right, casting a glow upon three people who stood at the foot of my bed. The people were talking amongst themselves, seeming not to notice that I was watching them. Ignoring the dull ache in my head, I pushed myself up to a seated position. “Kade?” I mumbled in weary confusion, rubbing my eyes. “Is that you?” All three of them snapped their heads in my direction. I stared back. I didn’t recognize the other two members of the trio, but the person who stood farthest to the right was definitely Kade, the same hot-guy hallucination I had seen when I drowned the evening prior. As before, Kade wore a gray t-shirt and jeans, and his dark hair was slightly tousled. This time, though, Kade’s brow was furrowed in a way I didn’t like. A sense of apprehension crept over me. Something was wrong—something even more wrong than the fact that I was apparently experiencing auditory and visual hallucinations, that is. 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by:
The Liars Beneath
-- EXCERPT: It was almost midnight when I heard the knock against my window. Three soft and consecutive thuds, all of which match the beat of my heart. Why he chose that way to get my attention instead of texting, is a mystery. The kind of mystery I was way too amped up to question. I wasn’t excited in the sense that I like him and want to spend time with him or anything. At least that’s what I told my racing heart when I first saw his smile from the other side of the glass. He’d been crouched on his belly on the roof of our porch like a stealthy spy, and the sight was something I’d never forget. I’d thrown a hoodie on over the Tee I’m dressed in, pairing it with some denim cutoffs. Then I tossed my hair up into a messy bun and slid on some cherry Chapstick—but only because my lips were chapped. That’s it. No other reason whatsoever. Once my Docs were on, I slid out my window and met him head on, the two of us jumping the five feet off the low hanging roof. I’d giggled uncontrollably when he landed on his butt instead of his feet, and he’d nearly pulled me down with him when he tried grabbing my laces. That would be the last time I’d ever not tie my boots. “Guess what?” he whispered when we started to walk away from the house. “I researched your family tree today and found out that you, Becca, are the biggest sap.” He ended that statement with a tap to my nose. My freaking nose, for God’s sake. He’d booped me. My response—one which had been paired with a hard thump to his equally as hard abdomen: “You’re so dumb, you planted a dogwood tree and expected a litter of puppies.” We both laughed at how stupid we sounded, yet at the same time it felt good to just be goofy. Or dare I say, normal. Though that word--normal—was a bit of a stretch when it came to the two of us anymore. After that, Ben took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and proceeded to lead me to where we are now: the middle of the cornfield. I trail my fingers over the silky corn stalks, marveling at their height and the way the midnight moon reflects off the green color. Nothing about this spot eases my frazzled nerves, of course. It doesn’t give me peace of mind like it once had when I’d come out here with Rose either. It’s kind of like the alcove in that sense—a spot tainted by a bad memory, despite the many good memories trying to override it. Ben moves closer, our shoulders brushing. “What are you thinking about?” he asks. “Stuff.” That no longer matters. A time and a place and a memory that’s long past. “Rose said you guys used to hang out here a lot.” I shrugged one shoulder, unwilling to indulge in what happened the last time she and I had been out here. It’s not a huge thing, smoking weed and all, but for some reason, I don’t want Ben to know that it’d been my bucket list item, not Rose’s. It shows my age—how I’d been so young and inexperienced. Not that I care what he thinks. “It’s nice,” he continues. “Quiet too. I can see why you liked it.” “We did some of our best thinking out here.” Thinking that was more along the lines of Rose smoking joints, while I stood by to keep watch. “Hmm.” He nods, kicks the toe of his foot into the dirt. “I’m gonna go to that party on Saturday,” he tells me out of the blue. I frown. “You think that’s smart after beating up Adam like you did?” “Yup.” “Why?” “Because Adam’s gonna be there.” He looks away, but I don’t miss the flex of his jaw—not even in the dark. “I don’t trust the guy.” I turn him around by the shoulders, forcing him to stand in front of me. “What’s there not to trust, exactly?” “Lots of things.” “Like what?” “I’ve got facts that need exploring.” His lips purse. “Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “Because you’re suddenly a detective now. I forgot.” Adam wouldn’t hurt a puppy, let alone be behind Rose’s death. He used to talk big, but his love for my best friend was endless. Without a doubt, I know that’s who her secret boyfriend was. I just don’t get why they never went public. “I’m more of a private eye, actually.” He covers one eye and curls the corner of his upper lip, making an argh noise. “That’s a pirate, not a private eye, dork.” “Either way, they’re both sneaky, right?” I sigh, wondering if he’s always been this weird. Cocky, a smartass, and a huge instigator—that’s Ben. Not funny. 
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Spindrifts
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Fania’s Journal: An excerpt from Spindrifts by A-M Mawhiney © 2021 I’m supposed to write in my journal every day. Sure. Like that’s the best use of my time. They said it’d be a private place to think, but I’ve wondered about that. I can think in my head without writing my thoughts. Just in case, I always use my disconnected tablet for the real journal, encrypted with three protective codes and in a language I developed myself. I know this might be over the top, but I’ve felt better knowing no one can read my actual journal. So, people can read how excited I am about my apprenticeship, but privately I’m totally dissed. I really want to learn about people From Away, and instead I’m apprenticing with Granny, my great-grandmother, who’s spent most of her life close to home in her research laboratory, two miles down an ancient mine shaft. It used to be where they studied mysteries of the universe! How the heck did that work? I’ve always loved Granny. I’ve felt as though we’ve had a special relationship, and I’ve missed spending time with her. I just never thought they’d give me a responsibility so far removed from what I really want to be doing. Ezma told me I’ve many skills and a strong aptitude for analytical thinking. I know what that means. It means sitting in an underground lab every day for the rest of my life. I guess I wasn’t very good at hiding my feelings because Ezma felt she had to remind me what Granny does is very important. Then she asked me a curious question. “Do you know what she does?” Well, of course I do! I explained, “Granny is the researcher who found the serum. She said it was a fluke.” That comment made Ezma laugh, hysterically almost. “Well, Fania, you’ll find there’s a lot you can learn from Alicia. I hope you’ll keep an open mind.” When I boarded the transport to head home after two years at Immersion, my patch reminded me to change my timer back to the village’s schedule. The health patch is a misnomer; it’s actually an up-to-date example of bio-merged nanotechnology. This latest gen’s so far advanced compared to the primitive models my grandparents used when they were young—those things they wore on their wrists. Now the healer implants the technology at birth where it merges with our brainwaves. It has reciprocal transformational capabilities, but I’ve been told there are limitations so it can’t change the basic personality or natural abilities of anyone. The patch transmits and receives communications, monitors personal health data, and provides all my reading materials. Everyone in our territory has them, so far as I know. 
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Moon Scorned
-- EXCERPT: Asher stood beneath a long-needle pine. When I paused, he strode forward, letting the moonlight touch his gorgeous features. He cupped my face with his warm hands. Likes him, my wolf sighed. “Missed you,” he whispered. “You, too.” My heart rate picked up to double time. His lips captured mine, softly at first, then harder and with growing need. I wasn’t sure where this was going between us, but I did know one thing. Cats might rule and wolves might drool, but Asher was my catnip. Whenever he touched me, I purred. “Jeez,” Shorty groused through the screen door of the food truck behind me. “Don’t be doin’ any of that crap so close to my truck. Go on with you. Take a walk on the beach or something. Kids.” Pulling away from Asher, I snorted out a laugh. I gazed up into his warm brown eyes that sparkled solely for me and held out my hand. “Take a walk with me, Ash?” I asked coyly. He told me I was the only one who could call him Ash. He took my hand and tugged me close, wrapping his arm around my waist and holding me against his warm frame. Likes, my wolf sighed again. Likes him lots. Asher guided me around the truck, across the sidewalk, and out onto the sand. During the day, crowds of humans mobbed Old Orchard Beach. Once the sun had set and the tourists headed to their rented condos and hotels, the locals could breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy the quiet. And late at night, especially when the moon bathed the sky with her milky gaze, wolves like me and Ash could run. I kicked off my shoes and shimmied out of my jeans and long-sleeve shirt—I wisely wore thin shorts and a tank underneath. Asher watched, his smoldering eyes tracing my every curve as I moved. We’d come close to going all the way but hadn’t done it yet. I wasn’t sure why I resisted. He made it clear he wanted to. The heat simmering in my veins told me I did too. I guess I wanted to wait. We’d only known each other for a few months. He had to leave for college soon, but he said he’d come back for each of his breaks. We had plenty of time to do things then. “Shift?” he asked. Yesss, my wolf sighed. She rose and stomped her paws, eager. The first time I shifted, it felt like my skin turned itself inside out, ripping muscles, tendons, and breaking my bones to morph five-four, skinny old me into a gorgeous white wolf with steel gray tufts on her ears and the tip of her tail. Go for it, babe, I told my wolf, stepping back in my mind. She leaped forward, jumping into my skin. Ash joined us, and I could feel his grin as our wolves touched noses then rubbed necks. Likes so much, she said. She gave him a wolfy grin and raced toward the water, charging a wave and yipping with joy. He followed, only a bit more sedate. When she kicked up her feet and ran through the shallows, he kept pace, nipping at her ruff and huffing with pleasure. They ran for what felt like forever, and it recharged my soul. Shifting might turn me inside out, but it put me back together again after, making me brand new. My wolf flopped on the sand and rolled, shimmying her back to scratch an itch. Asher’s wolf stood nearby, watchful. As protective as Ash. Time’s up, I finally said. She’d run and play with him all night long if I let her. I wanted to, but Ash would leave for college in three days, and I needed to be with him more than I wanted to breathe. We morphed back. Ash gathered me into his arms. His kiss drank me in as the final push settled, turning me back into what I was before. My wolf changing back to me. His wolf into him. Us. I moaned, pressing myself fully against him. We eased apart, and he took my hands with that special gleam in his eyes he shared solely with me. Things couldn’t get any better than this. Sometimes, I dreamed we were fated. A feeling I couldn’t define sped across my skin, leaving goosebumps behind. I told myself it was nothing. The wind with a hint of the crispness of fall. A bit of stray magic lingering in the air. It couldn’t be us. Nothing would come between me and Ash. 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by:
Thorn of Secrets
-- EXCERPT: On Thanksgiving Day, the Thibodeaux family gathers—courtesy of my gram’s married name. Aunt Cass, Dari’s mom, and her father Drew are here. So is Uncle Clemens, the eldest, with his wife, and my older cousin, Kenya. Gigi’s oldest daughter, Corine, has made it, too, which is a relief. She has always been the mediator between her two younger, bickering sisters. Aunt Corine’s son, Ryan, accompanies her. Even Gigi’s younger sister and her husband have made the trip. Finally, the last to arrive is my birth mother, Charlotte. Ever since she wouldn’t give me a straight answer about believing me, I’ve been referring to her as Charlotte. She no longer gets the privilege of me calling her Mama. Her arm is laced through her significant other, Regan, and my older sister is by their side. One big happy family—in hindsight. Grandma Thibodeaux is thrilled to have everyone together. When Cassandra sneers at Charlotte in greeting, an uneasy feeling washes over me. A storm is brewing—its shape forming in Aunt Cass’ eyes. There has been bad karma between them, and I have no clue why their beef started. Dari and I glance at each other quickly, picking up on the tidal waves. For Gigi’s sake, I hope that for this evening, they can let bygones be bygones. Gigi’s formal dining room has an elegant vibe. Dari and I put in a lot of work cleaning and decorating. The aroma of fried turkey, dressing, and candied yams fills the air. I introduce my daughter to my extended family. Gigi hasn’t shared the specifics of who her father is, and for that, I’m grateful. For now, I’d rather ease into it. I’ve only recently taken the first step with pressing charges. I put Justice down for a nap, turn on the baby monitor, and take a seat next to Dari. Our mama’s may be at odds, but she’s my best friend. My cousin, Kenya, plops down on my other side. Everyone begins passing around the food, stuffing their plates. I scan the room, swallowing the mothball in my throat. There are bound to be fireworks. Aunt Cass is still shooting daggers at Charlotte. Dari’s dad, Drew, is oblivious to the tension, or he’s choosing to ignore it. Dari smirks. Kenya eyes them skeptically. Regan hasn’t looked up once since he sat down—he finds the food on his plate more interesting. My other cousin, Ryan, licks his lips at the meal in front of him. Tanya glances over herself, snapping a selfie in her phone. Typical! Clearing her throat, Gigi asks, “Who would like to say grace?” “Clemens can say it,” Charlotte bellows. “He’s the oldest.” “Very well,” Uncle Clemens replies. “Let’s bow our heads.” He says a beautiful prayer, and then everyone starts to dig in. For a while, all that can be heard is the clinking of utensils. Breaking the sound of mouths chewing, Charlotte exhales. “Now is as good a time as any to share my wonderful news.” Everyone’s heads snap to attention. Charlotte lifts her ring finger, revealing her gorgeous diamond engagement ring and announces, “Regan and I got married last week in Las Vegas. It’s official.” Gigi’s eyes widen. Obviously, this is news to her. Kenya’s jaw drops, and Dari makes a garbled sound. Aunt Cass glowers at Charlotte and Regan. The table grows as quiet as a church in Hades. They have been engaged for months, and I don’t have any ill-will toward Regan. I’m just kind of shocked they still went through with tying the knot with everything going on. Regan will soon have confirmation that Justice is, indeed, his granddaughter. Their marriage makes Justin and me official stepsiblings. Things between us will be even more complicated. I wonder if Justin knew about the matrimony and felt it was our parents’ place to spring the news. Finally, Aunt Cass breaks the silence. “Are we supposed to congratulate you?” Charlotte scrunches her nose. “You’ll never change. Still jealous, holding grudges until your grave.” Regan’s Adam’s apple bobs. He looks seconds from bolting for the door. “No, you’ve just always thought you were better than me,” Aunt Cass snaps. “Your words, not mine.” “Please, don’t start, you two,” Aunt Corine chastises them. “Let’s respect our mother’s home,” their older brother, Clemens, chimes in. Okay, what is this about? Dari’s eyes dart to mine. I shrug, with nothing to offer. Their rivalry is propelling to the forefront of the evening’s festivities. Tanya places her cell down, now all in the mix with her brow knitted. “Sorry, Mama. I meant no disrespect toward you,” Aunt Cass apologizes to Gigi. “You can’t help yourself,” Charlotte sneers. Aunt Cass’ head jerks backward. “Like you can talk. You’re a backstabbing whore, who cheated with my finance.” 
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Two Truths and One Liar
-- EXCERPT: Dean Hammond straightens a stack of papers then looks up. With a severe lift to her eyebrow, she scans those of us present, and then says, “Oliver Groff was found dead in his office at 3:22 pm, shortly after his last class of the day.” A weight in my stomach sinks just as it did when Arpad made the announcement in the dining hall. Questions roll through my mind and collide when the realization hits me full force. He was alive, teaching earlier today, making dire pronouncements about how basically everything sucks. Boy, was he right. Now, he’s gone. The circumstances were different the first and second times someone in my life died but the familiar emptiness, the void, vacancy returns—or maybe it never left. “Yeah, we heard—” George’s tone tells me he wants to say something more about loss and tragedy, something sentimental perhaps, but he’s hard-wired for nonchalance as the campus crush and most likely to smoke, hook up, and skip classes. Caroline clasps her hands in front of her chest. Her knuckles pale. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” She pauses. “He was an…efficient teacher.” I imagine she struggles to think of a nice thing to say about Groff. I sneak a glance at the others because I can’t be the only one wondering why we’re here. Arpad already announced the news in the Refectory. There’s a good chance not everyone was there. Hammond inhales. “Francisca Thompson-Sanchez, nice seeing you again.” Francisca’s expression doesn’t suggest the feeling is mutual, although she is wearing a mud-streaked rugby uniform and likely feels as out of place in the plush office as I do. “Can you please tell me where you were from the end of English class until now?” Hammond asks. She focuses on something on the wall behind the dean but her hands tremble slightly. “I went to talk to Mr. Groff after class, but he looked, um, busy. Then I went to the bathroom.” She glances at Caroline. “Uh, then my dorm, followed by rugby practice, and then the Refectory.” Arpad writes rapidly on a yellow pad. Hammond’s penetrating gaze lands on a math whiz, gamer kid whose dorm room is by the day student room in my dorm. “I was at the Library then Refectory.” He speaks clearly, but he’s all-over sweaty. “Tazmin King?” Hammond says, going down the line. “Taz,” she corrects. Eyeliner stains the space around her big brown eyes like she’s been crying. “After class, I went to my dorm and then dinner. If Oliver died, it was because of a broken heart,” she blurts. Emotion streaks across her features, but she captures it and makes it disappear. “And how would you know that, Tazmin?” Hammond’s tone is dark. “It’s none of our business,” she answers. Then it’s as though she ghosts even though she’s still in the room with us. Hammond barely conceals a look of disgust. “Moving on. John?” “Maybe the professor was tired of his life and wanted to escape. Suicide? Or maybe he just wanted out. Faked it. On a plane to Tahiti.” By Hammond’s pinched expression, I instantly realize this is the wrong answer. My sweat now rival’s Toshi’s. I cannot get kicked out. I cannot afford to go back to Burningham. Whatever this is about… I cannot lose my spot here. “No, we found the body. Poetic though. However, the question was where were you this afternoon?” Accusation fills Hammond’s tone. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I misunderstood. I was in the dayroom at my dorm, Varth Dader, then lacrosse practice in the lower fields.” She glances at me dismissively and nods at Caroline. I know all too well not to allow relief to replace the nerves inside. Best to stay alert. “I was with the Promenade committee, finalizing some items for tomorrow. Wait. You’re not canceling prom because of this are you?” Typical Caroline, always concerned about her agenda. The goth girl, Taz, narrows her eyes. “It should be after the tree went up in a blaze and now Oliver, I mean Professor Groff, is dead.” Hammond hardly looks at them. “Ladies, that’s none of your concern. Now, George. If you please.” “I was in the student center. You can ask Mrs. Carson.” He smirks. Likely, he was hooking up with someone. “Do any of you have a reason to want Oliver Groff dead?” Hammond’s question is like a stone thrown in a lake. The ripples of this implication could be devastating. 
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