First, let’s all pretend I know what day of the week it is and I didn’t miss posting this excerpt yesterday. All right? 😂 Second, every excerpt I post from here onward is rife with spoilers. All of the Conduit books pick up from where the last one ended. Like … without more than a breath between the end of one book and the beginning of the other.
Yes, I thought that was a great idea until it threw some possible complications into the overall timeline. But no matter! That is for the editor to sort out! 😜
This excerpt is from the second draft, unedited, unproofed, of Snag (Conduit 2). Please try to ignore any glaring errors, they will be smoothed in the editing process.
General content of note for the entire series (not necessarily this particular excerpt): explicit language, sexual thoughts/situations (eventual, sloooow burn, why choose), occasional on-page violence, memory loss, mention of child abuse (not main character), kidnapping. Please see the main page for Awry for a more inclusive list.
Chapter 1, Part 1
“No threads connect us,” I repeat numbly, listing toward Rought. He’s still gently holding both of my hands, and I’m not fighting him over it.
All the fight has drained from me.
I trace my eyes over him, anchoring myself in all the little details because everything else, every other revelation tumbling down over the next is too much. Dark blond hair, curling at his temples against naturally tan skin. Even barefoot he’s easily eight inches taller than me. He hides an intricate web of tattoos under his black T-shirt, including a memorial tattoo of a floral anatomical heart for his lost childhood love.
Marrow.
Me.
“No threads connect us …” I whisper again, my gaze on the feathers peeking out from the collar of his black T-shirt, kissing his neck. More tattoos decorate his forearms and the back of his hands.
Feathers because his inner beast is a gryphon. Half-eagle, half-lion. A guardian of the divine. Which is utterly and ridiculously appropriate because I’m … I’m …
I’m the aspect of a goddess myself.
Though that power is still unsettled within me, as if it hasn’t infused itself on a molecular level yet, hasn’t completely permeated my soul.
Rought tightens his hold on my left hand and draws it against his chest, so I can feel his heart beating. Steady and sure. His heat radiates through his shirt, warming my chilly hand.
And I know now … I know the other reason I haven’t felt wholly realized in a very long time. One of three reasons, at least.
Including the male staring at me in concern, in wonder, with the burnished gold of his gryphon ringing his blue-green eyes.
Rought.
My soul bound mate.
Mine.
I’ve been … rudderless, aimless, reckless. I thought that was just my nature. Because I was destined to be the next Conduit, pulled back from death numerous times because I had a duty to the fucking universe. Not truly a person, just a vessel in waiting.
And … also banished, I now realize, from the property, from the intersection point my aunt held. From the family that could have been mine …
“Thirteen years ago …” I murmur, starting to piece it together. Thread by thread. Maybe I can weave it all back together? In my mind, and then … gather the missing pieces of my soul?
Rought swallows harshly, drawing my gaze back to the tanned skin of his neck. “Yes. Almost thirteen years now …” The southern drawl to his accent is tinged with old grief. “… we had part of that summer together.”
His gaze flicks to the black and white photograph on the wall behind me. One of the numerous photos I just discovered in the second bedroom of the suite in the workshop/barn. Taken by Mack, the former occupants of these rooms and my aunt’s recently deceased chosen. Just white painted walls, worn wood floors, and at least twenty eighteen-inch, identically framed photographs.
All taken without our knowledge, according to Rought and my still incredibly hazy memories of the time I spent at the Gage Estate as a child through my teenage years.
I don’t have to turn to recall the photo that’s captured Rought’s attention over my shoulder. The moment immortalized within it, of which I have no actual memory, is already burned into my brain.
The three half-brothers and me by a campfire on the beach in black and white. Starlight overhead. And anatomical hearts tattooed across our chests.
“I died … that summer,” I say.
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember that either.”
“I do.” His thumb brushes against the back of my hand still pressed against his chest. His caress is tender, comforting.
It had been my instinct only a day ago now, to reach for him, to lay my hand across his chest, to touch him exactly like this at our first meeting. Or what I thought to be our first meeting. I’d stopped myself for a multitude of reasons. Because I don’t touch easily. Because anyone remotely aware of what the energy roiling around me portents, or the vibrant violet of my eyes indicates, are wary of my touch, of my mere attention.
I am a power in this world. And not by choice.
But, even without the threads that should connect us, I’d felt that urge, that need to touch him. To connect us. I felt it, questioned it, and tried to ignore it.
I tear my gaze from his neck, from the wretched sadness in his gaze, and look at his hand. His right hand holding my left. I twist my hand, maintaining contact with his chest — I’m not certain I can actually pull away right now. I brush my thumb across the scar on the pad of his thumb, my teeth marks.
He shudders under my touch.
A sliver of warmth cracks through the grief that has numbed me from within. I’ve lost so much … the framed photographs lining the walls of this otherwise empty room are a visual map of all that loss … yet …
Rought is standing here now, with me.
“You … loved me.”
“I love you,” he says, utterly intent.
The word, the steady assertion, fucking tears through me, taking the rest of my breath with it. And I welcome the sensation. I cannot remember a single person other than my mother that ever said those words to me. And truly meant them.
Then pain streaks through my head, through my eyes, and more tears take my sight.
No one loves me. No one can truly love me.
Because I’m not a person, not really.
“I’m the Conduit now,” I say dully. “I’m not the girl in the pictures. The girl you loved.”
“Tell me about the threads,” he rasps, speaking through whatever emotion clogs his own throat.
Confused by the topic change, I blink up at him. I’m still holding his hand. I should let him go. I know I should.
I don’t.
I don’t let him go.
It’s possible I’m suddenly and irrevocably unable to let him go, not ever again.
“Do you mean threads that should bind us?” he asks, clarifying because I can’t find focus, can’t find my voice. “Actual essence that you can normally see? Tell me about those, and how we create new ones if those have been taken from us.”
My chin trembles as I struggle to not be overwhelmed by the magnitude of that loss. “It’s not that … that’s not … it shouldn’t be possible to take those sorts of bindings. Even death … even the death of our physical vessel cannot … shouldn’t be able to snip those threads, those soul deep connections … we should … if we’re … soul bound mates are …”
He brings his free hand to my cheek, brushing away a tear while still barely touching me. “I will never ever be dragged away from you again, Zaya. Half dead myself or banned from the property, I will never —”
“What do you mean?” A chill slithers down my spine, my tears dry up in an instant. “Banned from the property?”
Rought snaps his mouth shut, grimacing.
“All this time,” I say, feeling like I’m clawing through a thick fog that I cannot actually shift, cannot actually find clarity within, but still piecing it all together bit by bit. “… you thought I was dead.”
“Yes.” He shakes his head. “No. I knew … my beast knew you weren’t.”
“You didn’t say anything.” My voice cracks. “Why?! Why wouldn’t you … And Rath … he … he must have recognized me?”
He exhales shakily. “You didn’t know me, Zaya. And I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to force anything that might cause further damage. I thought if I could show you, spend time with you that maybe you’d remember me …” He swallows again, then shakes his head. “And Rath. That’s not for me to say, or even to know.”
“Did you … were you involved in my death that summer?”
He blinks at me, slightly taken aback.
“Aunt Disa banned you from the property,” I say, clarifying.
“I tried to protect you,” he whispers. “I failed. I was … some of it is still hazy for me. I think I blacked out a few times. I didn’t have my beast then.”
“You saw me die.”
“Heard it … felt it …” His chest heaves under my hand. “Wished I’d gone with you when I woke up in the hospital a week later.”
I take a shuddering breath, still not processing everything at the same pace as it’s being revealed.
– Snag (Conduit), 2nd Draft
Are you new to the Conduit World? While it’s not necessary to read all the interconnected series, the ideal reading order is as follows:
Please note: it is very likely that the Conduit World books will be going into KU in the next couple of months (around the time that the preorder for Snag becomes avail). If you prefer to purchase directly from other retailers, or me, that won’t be an option while the books are exclusive to KU. Snag will be available directly from me before it hits KU, promise. Just FYI!
I’ve done a terrible thing. Or perhaps just stupid? I took my measurements to help (?) me with my movement goal. I’ve always loathed stepping on a scale, but with how my brain works – the constant need to achieve, achieve, achieve (aka work, work, work to the detriment of my health) – I think I need a tangible way to check in (monthly) and keep myself accountable.
Whenever my new daily word count is consistent, I pretty much completely stop moving. It’s often an either/or situation with how my constant headache tends to react. I’ve been trying to fit Pilates and/or a walk with Molly into my afternoons, but it’s just not happening. I’m either exhausted/in pain or desperately trying to finish some graphics or a newsletter or deal with a bit of my inbox.
But! Yesterday, my lovely coach, Roni, encouraged me to get my movement in first thing, even if I don’t do my full Pilates routine. And since I’m now in the second draft stage (🎉🎉🎉) with writing Snag (Conduit 2), I don’t have to struggle quite so much to focus through the pain (etc). New words are just harder to get out of my brain (always have been). I adore writing second and third drafts.
That is a very long way of saying, May 1st is perfect timing to add just one extra to my daily routine.
I’m still not allowed to add any other projects! [That’s just a reminder in writing for myself 😂]
My office has been relocated to the living room for my re-read of Awry (Conduit 1) today. I’ve got my notebooks and dark purple ink queued up for anything I need to jot down or double-check.
Okay! I’m re-reading Awry (Conduit 1) today as a bit of a treat (I might share fav quotes on my socials as I read), but also to make sure I’ve got Zaya’s voice in my head (and double-check for any missing threads) before I start the second draft of Snag (Conduit 2).
Oh! I’ll try to be more consistent with Teaser Tuesday starting next week. Do you prefer random excerpts (my fav scenes, etc) or would you like me to post consecutive chunks?
Just a little teaser that snagged my attention while writing today. As always, these are the first words on the page and subject to a lot of tweaking over the next four drafts.
Content of note: mildly explicit language
Because I need the conversation to move much, much quicker, I offer a truth of my own, “My bonds have been … stripped from me.”
The Outcast frowns deeply. “That isn’t possible, even if you rejected —”
“I would never,” I insist, because I know that at least. I know it.
The Outcast flicks his gaze — questioning and clearly angry — to Rath and then Rought. “What have you done? Is this why Reck isn’t here?”
“This is about you,” Rath says roughly. “About your fucking secrets and how they might have impacted us. You knew Disa. You knew Zaya wasn’t dead. You let us believe —”
“I don’t get involved with the Conduit’s business. I protect as much as she’ll let me, but I no longer have the right —”
“We’re your blood!” Rath shoves his chair back. Then, finding himself standing with all of our attention on him, he paces, clearly trying to level out.
“Sit,” the Outcast says after a strained moment. The command is mild but pointed.
Rath stiffens, clearly thinking about ignoring, or at least trying to ignore, the essence-enforced demand. But then he throws himself into the chair. It creaks warningly under his weight. His gaze on his plate, he attempts to finish what remains of his breakfast in a few, fierce bites. Clearly stifling himself now.
I hadn’t really understood, not until watching Rath struggle in this moment, what it must be like to be on the other side of this all. Abandoned and forgotten by his soul bound mate. By me. And then to find out that our elders, those most trusted to guide and protect us, had knowledge of it. If not, more nefariously, a hand in keeping us apart.
– Snag (Conduit 2), first draft, chapter nine
Are you new to the Conduit World? While it’s not necessary to read all the interconnected series, the ideal reading order is as follows:
Please note: it is very likely that the Conduit World books will be going into KU in the next couple of months (around the time that the preorder for Snag is avail). If you prefer to purchase directly from other retailers, or me, that won’t be an option while they’re exclusive to KU. Snag will be available directly from me before it hits KU, promise. Just FYI!
Just a little teaser that amused me while writing it today – with a few redacted lines because, you know, spoilers! As always, these are the first words on the page and subject to a lot of tweaking over the next four drafts.
Content of note: mildly explicit language
Rought’s phone vibrates with an incoming call. He swipes the screen to answer it before I can come up with a response to what I’m fairly certain wasn’t actually a question.
“You better not be fucking on the side of the fucking road,” Rath growls through the phone speakers. “I want answers now.”
One of those delicious shivers that apparently only Rath can trigger — while being a complete asshole over the phone — runs up my spine.
Rought side-eyes me, knowingly.
[redated][spoiler!]
Holding Rought’s gaze intently, I lean toward the phone and drawl, “I’m game if you are.”
A choked silence emanates over the speakers.
I tilt my head playfully — for Rought, because Rath can’t see me. “You like to watch, don’t you, dragon?”
Rath groans. “Fuuuck …!”
Then he hangs up.
Spinning the wheel and tapping the gas to get us back on the road, Rought chuckles, both pleased and amused.
“What?” I say like a total brat. “Am I wrong?”
– Snag (Conduit 2), first draft, chapter nine
Are you new to the Conduit World? While it’s not necessary to read all the interconnected series, the ideal reading order is as follows
I released my thirty-second novel yesterday, not including at least another dozen shorts, novelettes, etc. That number is staggering. And, honestly, I’m not surprised that I’m just a little tired. 😜
Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth (Part One & Part Two) was supposed to be a single offshoot book in my new Conduit World – a ‘fun’ side story. But that ‘fun romp’ not only turned into a robust duology but transformed from an idea about a royal matchmaking event to a treatise on grief, duty, and found family that took me just over a year to write. Though, combined, it is the length of three of my ‘regular’ books.
The release was quiet but lovely. And, as always, thank you so much for all your support.
So, moving forward …
I chatted about this before, but I’m refining my focus for 2025. With new words, and new books being paramount. More specifically though, now that I’ve released three books in the Conduit World, I can see that I need to market these urban fantasy why choose romance books differently. So there will be upcoming changes around how I publish my Conduit World novels when I release the next book (I’m still mulling over the exact logistics) (likely Amazon/KU only, paired with purchasing direct from me for an early release). But I’ll give you plenty of heads-up as I always do.
What’s next?
Snag (Conduit 2)! I’m currently writing the first draft of Conduit 2, having set an insane deadline of the end of March (aka the 1st quarter of 2025). Yes, I’m scheduling in quarters for 2025 (and perhaps beyond) so I don’t get quite so overwhelmed, hopefully.
I know the world feels like it’s on fire for all of us. But, more specific to me, I cannot believe that the USA is making moves to invade their most staunch ally and friend, Canada – and no, this is not some bluster or joke. [If you have no idea what I’m talking about, please take a moment to look for reputable news sources outside of the USA.] It’s almost unfathomable. I have no idea what life will look like if we go to war. [I could elaborate here, but I really don’t want to end up with an even worse headache than I already have when nothing I say or do will solve any of it.]
In the short term, my costs – proofreading, art, book covers, marketing services, etc – have increased by 45+% due to the financial strain this is putting on our economy in Canada. I’ve had to stop commissioning art and extras. And, unfortunately, my sales have also dropped. (Crazily, Nov and Dec 2024 were the worst sales months I’ve experienced since I became a full-time author)(I’ve been VERY lucky). Some of that drop is due to my larger readership (beyond my core readers 😘 ) being hesitant to pick up the Conduit World books (for various reasons). And some of it is due to people just not having money for extras right now. Including me.
Amidst all of this turmoil, it doesn’t help that writing, not to mention talking about/marketing my ‘little’ books, seems utterly frivolous. But all I can hope is that my books offer you the reprieve from the world that they give me while I’m writing them.
Sorry! This got a little heavy. But I guess I’m always reflective the day after a new release. 😀
Love and Light, as always. And thank you.
Meghan
MCD’s ‘Shelfie’. Just missing one paperback … but it’s on order!
A lovely reader mentioned that though she is an eBook reader (like me!) she likes to make mini ‘trophy’ books with the full wrap book covers, which made me realize that I never actually share mine (😭), so I will make an effort to do so on the book detail pages moving forward. [Please remind me if I forget).
Without further ado, here are the two paperback wraps for the Mirth Duology. If you’ve purchased my paperbacks in the past, you’ll note I’m moving away from the more traditional synopsis/author info back covers into quotes, which I think are prettier.
These covers are hand lettered by Alicia (aka Serif and Somnia on Instagram), and I can’t wait to get my hands on the set (book 2 will be available to purchase on March 13).
Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part 1 (purchase links)
Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part 2 (purchase links)
By reader request (😘) I’ve made Mirth, Part 2 available for preorder direct from me. Because I haven’t spent the time to figure out how to charge in multiple currencies (yet), the book is more expensive for my fellow Canadians (sorry!), as well as Austrailians and New Zealanders. For US and UK-based readers depending on the exchange rate, it might be slightly less expensive for you to preorder through me. Again, I see more of your hard-earned cash if you order through me, but I totally understand purchasing through a fav retailer (or if you already preordered)!!
MIRTH
Not even twenty-four hours after I walked away from my own matchmaking event, I’m sliding out of the converted classic Rolls-Royce Phantom that I absconded with from my father’s collection of cars. With a brief stop for some food and to stretch our legs, Roz and I have driven all the way from Waterfell Castle, my father’s seat of power, to Prague.
And yes, this pampered princess can actually drive. Fleeing kidnapping or assassination attempts would be rather difficult if I couldn’t, according to the head of the royal guard. Though Anne, my father’s chosen mate, had seriously freaked out when Raoul got my brother Armin and me both learning to ride motorcycles even while we were technically too young to have our licenses. Raoul and Anne hadn’t been bonded then, as they are now with each other, my father, and Eleanor — the two of them exchanging bites in the shifter way. And Anne had pretty much lost her mind seeing us grapple with bikes far too big for us.
Speaking of disgruntled protectors, my royal guard, Roz, slams the passenger door shut and crosses around to the front of the car to join me. Even while doing more than her share of the driving, my combat mage has had her lips perpetually pressed together in disapproval the whole trip. Ignoring the fact that I could have wandered off without notifying her at all, as I had done countless times before, trailing in Armin’s wake. Granted, he and I didn’t usually drive partway across Europe without letting anyone know where we were.
It’s midmorning. We’ve arrived earlier than I planned. Though the former estate is set on the edge of the city, the sound of the bustling metropolis is muted by the tall walls and the even taller, ancient-looking trees sporadically growing all across the front of the property.
Roz sweeps a dark-eyed gaze around the mostly empty visitor car park, then scans the ostentatious brick building set back on the property.
The Prague Phrontistery. Well, the main building, at least.
“It’s still spring break,” I say, only slightly exasperated as I retrieve my black designer backpack from the back seat. “They have security.” We had to cross through the wards at the gates.
Roz only grunts in response. Her thumbs are already flying over her phone as she sends out updates, most likely to my other personal royal guard, Greg, as well as their supervisor. The cat shifter is still in London at my request. Getting a phone to the children, Tommy and Kitty, whom I’ve inadvertently — and possibly inappropriately — taken under my protection. I should know the name of Greg and Roz’s royal guard supervisor, but I don’t. Though I have a sense that Roz might report directly to Raoul.
“The guard at the gate didn’t even ask you for ID,” Roz says sourly, not looking up from her phone. “And he’s new since we did our last security checks.”
“Well, that’s probably a good thing,” I say casually. “Since I don’t actually have any ID. In the traditional sense.”
Roz throws me a look. I just grin at her, then deliberately point to my thick-framed black designer sunglasses, indicating the purple-hued eyes hidden behind those vintage shades more than the glasses themselves.
She grimaces, her own dark-brown eyes only partially shaded behind sleek aviators. “Sorry. We’ve never traveled like this before.” She sweeps a hand down her body. She’s not in her royal guard uniform. Her casual outfit — dark jeans, leather jacket over a thin sweater, and kick-ass boots — was what she was wearing when I gave her exactly no notice before I stole the car.
In my defense, I was rather … distracted.
Right after I stole Armin’s ashes from my father’s study.
Right after I realized all the ramifications — or at least all the ones I hadn’t already spelled out for myself — of being my father’s only heir. All the reasons that I needed to accept and bond with a well-established bond group. I would need to help my father hold the intersection point. I would need to be grounded and steady enough to hold that point myself when the time comes. Because an imbalanced intersection point has worldwide ramifications. It’s a massive responsibility. One I was born and bred to undertake.
Honestly, giving Roz any notice at all was rather generous of me. Especially given that I took off from Lake Thun Castle without her, forcing her to race after me to Waterfell.
I sling my backpack over both shoulders. It’s comfortingly heavy. Anchoring. Still, it seems as though carrying a marble urn around in a backpack should be disconcerting.
I’m wearing a black cashmere-and-wool duster that falls to my lower calves and comes with a glorious cowl hood, over perfectly stretchy, straight-legged dark-wash jeans. The duster is more of a coat than a sweater, and I’ve layered it over a cobweb-thin, long-sleeved, tight-fitting sweater, then paired the entire outfit with sleek, square-toe ankle boots with a generous heel. I had found the entire outfit in prettily wrapped boxes in my rooms at Waterfell and thrown it on before I left. Clearly, the clothing was another courting gift from Sully, either sent to the castle before or during the matchmaking event so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed by too many gifts from him all at once.
And yes, despite leaving Sully and all my other suitors behind without a more formal goodbye, I greedily accepted the absolutely perfect outfit.
My heirloom pearl necklace lies warm against my skin. Armin’s emerald ring weighs down my right hand. But I already know I’m no longer the princess to whom both were gifted years ago. I’m also not all shiny and new.
I’m floating in the becoming between my recent past and my near present.
And that is … okay. I can slow down — my mind, my heart. I can take the time to … grieve. Hopefully in a healthier way than I’ve been doing so far. If only for the few days I promised my father.
Adult 18+ While choice vs. duty is a strong theme in the Mirth duology, Mirth doesn’t have to choose between her suitors, and they’re more than happy to lend a helping hand to each other as well.
Love, compatibility, and companionship aren’t a factor in my future. But I just need a moment, a few days, to accept everything else that comes with my blood and my position. Even if it never really was a choice — any of it — I need to embrace my fate as if it is. And that includes finally accepting the deadly power I wield.
The Mirth duology is set in the Conduit World. While it’s not necessary to read all the interconnected series, the ideal reading order is as follows.
Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part 2
Snag (Conduit 2)(coming next!)
Adult 18+. While choice vs. duty is a strong theme in the Mirth duology, Mirth doesn’t have to choose between her suitors, and they’re more than happy to lend a helping hand to each other as well. Content notes and a list of tropes can be found on MCD’s website (on the book detail page).
Tropes/themes: alternate/secondary world, magic, shifters, mages, matchmaking, forced proximity, found family, best friend, first love, love (lust?) at first sight, rejected mate, fated/chosen mates, choice vs. duty, slow and fast burn, multi-POV, why choose, multiple partners, polyamory (MMFMMM).
Note: There is no limited edition for this release (so no direct sales/BookFunnel). Sorry! I haven’t commissioned extra art or written a short for it (yet). I might do a limited edition printing of the duology later in the year (or in 2026). But I’m not supposed to be doing extras in 2025, and I’m already not curtailing myself terribly well.
Hello all! Some of you already know this, but I’m about to put in a paperback order to replace some of my older proof copies, and since many show up damaged (and therefore unusable) I often have to order extra anyway I thought I’d open up a waitlist for anyone interested.
There is a bunch more info over on the Google Form but in short: this is just a waitlist, I’ll contact you with shipping quotes, etc, and then you can choose to purchase or not. I’m closing the form on Jan 31, because I hope to ship on March 2 (when I go into Vancouver/Chit Chat, I can access better shipping rates). I’ll order as many books as I can, then cull the damaged copies to see how many of the ‘wish list’ I can fulfill.
MASSIVE SPOILERS BELOW! Sorry!! Second books are difficult to tease without spoilers.
“These people …” Coda’s fingers are flying over their keyboards again, likely trying to gain access to whatever tech is beyond the passageway. “They care more about your purple eyes than your rank or, like, the societal standards or whatever normally keep you relatively safe. You don’t have your entourage to protect you, Mirth. Wait for them, then we’ll all look for the boy.”
“I never actually needed anyone to protect me, Coda.” I squeeze Kitty’s hand. “I’m in disguise, you see. The pearls, the perfect smile, the sweet demeanor. The crown. Underneath, slumbering deep, deep down, I’m the one to be truly feared. And there’s only one way to wake me …”
Kitty squeezes my hand back, not the least bit scared of me.
– Mirth, Part Two – fourth draft
Are you new to the Conduit World? Content of note can be found on the individual book pages. The suggested reading order is as follows:
