Dearest spooky-season-loving friends and life-long book devourers,
I’m keeping this one short, snappy and oh-so-juicy because I have exciting news.
In today’s post at MIRI AND THE MUSE—which serves as both my indie author newsletter and a personal journal into living a creative life filled with delicious glimmers—you will find:
A brief update from the writing cave
A dark and delicious offering from Rianna Burnett called “The Vampire’s Craving” - a freebie you can download and start devouring, stat.
And a teaser from my new release, DEMON AT THE CROSSROADS!
So if you want to devour a juicy snippet from my Halloween-inspired why choose motorcycle club romance, then keep scrolling.
But, before we get cracking, let’s take a brief moment to do a shout out to the season…
What are your plans this year, friends and fellow book devourers?
Have you already stocked your ereaders / TBR pile / streaming service with delicious spooky reads and movies for All Hallows’ Eve? Which books and other favorite shows are at the top of your list?
Leave a comment below or send me an email and tell me all about your saucy / spooky celebrations.
Writing this month has been somewhat chaotic. I’ve penned about 50% of a new prequel short story for the KNIGHTS OF DESTRUCTION told from Elizabeth’s POV set in the lead up to her first Halloween in the Dragon’s Den.
I can’t wait to get this holiday short out to you, toot sweet.
(Why, yes, that is a wink and a nod to a childhood favorite of mine. Do you know which one I’m talking about? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not Mary Poppins, but if you know the cast of that classic, then you’ll find familiar faces in this one too.)
Then, about a week or so ago, Mariah Thayer and I challenged each other to stop sitting on projects we’d been meaning to release into the wild and set ourselves a deadline of having at least one of them published by Halloween.
Inspiring? Hell yes.
A wee bit scary? Most definitely.
But also… Was getting this done so thoroughly satisfying that I had to stand up and do a booty dance? Abso-freakin-lutely!
Have to admit that I got only this release over the line by the skin of my teeth for All Hallow’s Eve... Even as I was writing this newsletter, I was still flicking over to my KDP dashboard and hitting refresh in the hopes that DEMON AT THE CROSSROADS had been pushed live.
And now… voila!
That’s not all my news, though.
Next month I’m going to start setting myself up for wide distribution with Draft2Digital so I can push this saucy tale out to book stores everywhere. The dream is, of course, to start selling my ebooks direct as well. But I’m taking this process step-by-step so that by the time next year’s signings roll around, my books will be available in lots of different ways for my readers to devour.
Um… Hello, libraries and indie book stores?! Yes, please!
My talented author friends and I have teamed up to offer our subscribers a tasty morsel every month (aka PNR freebie) and I’ve drawn the lucky straw because I get to tell you about Rianne Burnett’s book, THE VAMPIRE’S CRAVING. This dark prequel to THE VAMPIRE’S DESIRE trilogy will make for an addictive addition to your spooky season...
This extract comes from when Lilith, a crossroads demon and reluctant Heir to the Underworld, is summoned to Earth on All Hallow’s Eve to broker a particularly potent deal… One which will change the course of her immortal life.
I could have fought the summons—no being on Earth had the power to force me to abandon my true plane of existence—however, it was considered bad form to refuse a call. It also caused a shit ton of paperwork. Plus, much to my father’s chagrin, I took pride in my work. I had no problem with working my way up the pecking order on merit rather than bloodshed.
Dead center of the crossroads, I took corporeal form. The deserted highway cut through an expansive plain, but the land was elevated—if the dry but icy air catching at the back of my throat was any indication—so I figured I was probably somewhere in Montana. There were already patches of dirty snow lumped forlornly along the roadside.
“Son of a bitch.” I hastily cloaked myself in a warming spell while grabbing the towel to wrap it round my chilled middle, then glared at my bare feet, which were standing in a puddle of rapidly congealing liquid. “Not f*cking cool, dude. I don’t need your human juices all over me.”
A rough-sounding laugh gargled out of the guy who lay bleeding out on the road.
My nose twitched hopefully and my mouth began salivating, reminding me that I could live off blood alone on this plane.
Um… ew. And no thanks.
I took a large step to the side, freeing myself of the rapidly expanding pool of liquid, then rolled my eyes at the decidedly human brain-fart.
With a sigh, I conjured up my work attire. Shit-kicking boots, leather pants, a handy arsenal of silver weapons, a tank top, my favorite leather jacket, and the obligatory cellphone my overbearing father insisted I carry everywhere. Darned thing was magically linked to three planes of existence which meant that handy ‘lost signal’ trick didn’t work on Lucifer. My dark, shoulder-length hair instantly transformed from icy straggles plastered to my back into two dry and decidedly cute buns on either side of my head.
I nodded in satisfaction and took a look around to see what I was dealing with.
The tug on this summons had felt urgent, fueled by all the good stuff. Love, loss, bitterness and vengeance—even the chilly promise of death—flooded down the line, stroking my magic into a feeding frenzy.
Aside from the blood, I knew my mark was in bad shape because he’d toppled off his bike mid-intersection. Looked like his guts had tried to vacate his body, too. He was sort of holding them in with some difficulty. I felt a small and unexpected pang at the thought. The patch on his cut read President of the Shredded Dogs MC. Had to agree with the marketing. This giant certainly was cut, even if his skin was clammy with a hint of gray.
“You should take better care of your ride, Prez.”
A labored snort seemed like it would be my only reply, before the guy wheezed out a painful response. “Believe me, short stuff, I know.”
Wheels spinning piteously, his poor baby—a chrome Harley roadster with sweet detailing of a vicious looking wolf pack—was laying on its side in the gravel. Resisting the urge to use magic, I stomped over, hauling the bike back to standing before settling it reverentially on its kickstand with a fond pat.
“Thanks,” he rumbled. “Would’ve done it myself but I’m busy dying right now.”
The male’s self-deprecating chuckle stoked little flickers of life back into my soul.
“So I see. Well, time’s a-wasting, Prez. What can I do you for?”
His breath was coming in short, sharp pants. My scowl thickened. It wasn’t good form when the mark died before striking a deal.
Four or five of his pack lay scattered, collapsed in similar states of disrepair. Three of the assembled were already dead, staring up into the great beyond. Lucky bastards. Only two souls held on, clinging to life by a measly thread. Each of the fallen had tried to claw their way back to their wounded leader, too, before their bodies gave out.
The sight put an unexpected weight on my chest. Like trying to breathe underwater.
As a kindness, I righted each of their bikes in turn. One reached out to grab my calf as I passed. The feel of his firm grip sent a shiver down my spine. My magic jolted from my bones, quickly gathering like a tidal wave in the ether, as if to smother the shifter before I wrenched it back under my control.
What the actual f*ck?
My spine was tingling in warning, though no danger lurked in the shadows.
I spun in a slow circle, feeling watched.
It wasn’t the wanton death and destruction making me uneasy. I’d been summoned to plenty of desperate scenes before. Kinda part of the job description, really. After all, what sane person would trade their agency for a dangerous favor—owed to the Lord of the Underworld, no less—if their situation wasn’t dire?
Yet, something about this set up felt different.
Magical, even.
The edges of the night were sinewy smooth.
Like a trap.
I didn’t like it one bit.
“How are my boys?” the Prez barked, completely ignoring my question.
I snorted. Definitely the alpha, then. That was the bark of a guy used to having his questions answered and his orders obeyed. Stat. His dominance waves didn’t work on me, though. I took pity on him anyway because I could hear the genuine concern in his sharp tone. “Not gonna lie—”
“Rage—” he provided.
“—Rage.” I smirked at the road name. “The remains of your Shredded Dogs MC are not looking good. You lost a couple.” He grunted, like he’d already known, but the fresh wave of grief which washed over him was genuine enough. “But you got a few clinging on. Hope you took plenty of the bastards out on the way down.”
“Not enough,” Rage growled.
My blood quickened at the promise of further violence radiating from the fierce leader. Despite having one foot in the grave, the wolf clearly had plans—plans he was willing to back up with a potent deal, because here I was.
Official broker to the Underworld.
I paused in my rounds for a closer look at one of the fallen. The kid laying at the Prez’s feet—Road Captain according to his cut—looked far too sweet to be running with this crowd. Tough though, given he was holding on with a mangled leg. The shifter couldn’t be more than twenty two or three, a mere babe compared to the rest, and my heart squeezed at the thought of his life coming to an end.
“How you doing there, Beacon? Not sleeping on the job, I hope.”
The kid’s eyes flew open at the alpha’s bark. “Not gonna lie, Prez,” Beacon whispered. “Feel like an overworked shithouse at the Burning Man.”
The alpha chuckled. It sounded wetter than the last. Blood was pooling on his lungs.
My fingers drummed impatiently on my belt. Not for the first time, I wished I could simply let these guys move on from the mortal coil in relative peace. Whatever dying wish their alpha had made to summon me, couldn’t be worth whatever favor Lucifer—twisted son of a b*tch that he was—would make them pay.
My father had an interesting definition of benevolent ruler.
With a sigh, I crouched and brushed the sandy blond locks from Beacon’s forehead. A shocking zing, hot enough to burn, traveled up my hand when our flesh touched. I froze at the contact, but nothing more happened. Except a slow, hungry roll of my magic.
It wanted to suck from the sweet essence of this soul.
Bile rose up my throat as I sucked in a shaky breath.
“Don’t leave me, mate.”
The shifter’s aqua gaze, previously clouded with pain, now held mine with fierce concentration as he gripped my hand and refused to let go.
“Sorry, kid.” I pried his hand away with a bitter laugh. “I’m not the mating kind of girl.”
[Hope you enjoyed this teaser from DEMON AT THE CROSSROADS, an original work written by Miri Stone first published in © 2022. All rights reserved. ]
Happy reading, friends and fellow book devourers!
With love,
M.S. xox
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