Here you will find links to all the various short stories I have in anthologies.
Tears for Terra with Rebecca McFarland Kyle in Kepler’s Cowboys
WWHD (What Would Humans Do) in Humans Wanted
Black Cat Blues with Rebecca McFarland Kyle – Lorelei Signal
Serpent’s Rest in Heat of the Midday Sun. Amazon
The Truth in Her Lies with Rebecca McFarland Kyle in Misunderstood – Amazon
Nix That with Rebecca McFarland Kyle
Spirit of the West – All appearing in Epona’s Children
Ratophobia with Rebecca McFarland Kyle in Under A Dark Sign – Amazon
The Toymaker – Amazon
Guardian. A Harley riding unicorn (yes, you read that right) battles a demon to save a boy’s soul. Amazon
The Martian Menace of 1897, in Science Fiction Trails 11.
The Saloon of Doom, in the Gunslingers and Ghost Stories anthology.
Brown and the Sand Dragon in the Different Dragons anthology by Wolfsinger Press
You can find my short stories Roses for the Devil and By Full Moon’s Light in the Bleeding Ink Anthology. This is an 18 and over Anthology as many of the stories contain adult content.
Excerpts – Safe for all age levels.
By Full Moon’s Light
Something snapped me out of a deep sleep. I sat up quickly, a surge of something I’d call adrenalin if I were human rushed through my body.
The phone rang.
I flopped back down on my bed and sighed. The clock told me it was 10am, my body told me to go back to sleep. I listened my body.
The phone rang again.
I reached for the cell, horrible invention, and managed to accept the call without damaging the phone.
“Kat! Want to go camping?”
“Uh…” My brain wasn’t quite up to speed. It took me a moment for the voice to register. “Cade!” I paused, “What?”
Kat helps her hunter friend Cade take on a dangerous werewolf, but will she be able to hide her secret from him one more time?
Roses for the Devil
Thorns tore long gashes down Verilyn’s exposed arms and shredded her clothing. The hot coppery smell of blood mingled with the musty, rotting leaves as she dragged herself through the dirt.
Verilyn gagged as the coppery, bitter taste coated the back of her throat. It covered other tastes – wheaty beer, vodka, expensive wine – vomit. She swallowed bile and put one hand forward, not even feeling the bite of fallen leaves anymore. She didn’t bother to untangle her hair from the rose bush, simply pushed forward, one hand, one knee after another, as she tried to escape. There was no path through the rose garden. It had grown wild, only cultivated around the mansion. No way out but the front gate. The roses were a better deterrent than walls, meters thick in places, wild, hungry for blood.
Is survival worth Verilyn’s soul?
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