A peek at something brand, spanking new.

I’ve been working on a new book/series/universe for a sum total of two days, and absolutely loving it. It might all come to nothing, but it will, at minimum, get my focus back on the creative and get me out of the slump I’ve been mired in for the last couple of weeks.

The raw, untitled excerpt below is unproofed, unedited, and offered up just for fun. My first present tense narrative, so it is undoubtfully a rough read in places, please be gentle with me.

Random shot of MCD’s backyard: the first crocuses of 2023. [A late bloom this year].

The girl at the counter is maybe fifteen. Tiny but long-limbed, her multicolored scraggly hair hides her face as she bows her head over a greasy plate of fries. But I’d seen her deep blue, almost violet eyes as she cast her gaze around the cafe upon entering. Her two companions, who couldn’t look more like stereotypical bikers if they tried — leather jackets, beards, and club patches and all — are easily three times her size. Their grip on her upper arms is beyond proprietary.

The violet eyes are as rare as the power the girl has simmering in her veins.

But it’s the glimpse of the raw skin on the girl’s wrists I catch when she pushes up the sleeves of her overly large, ratty sweater that disturbs me more than the eyes or the power I can feel all the way from the other side of the cafe.

I touch the amulet I wear under my own sweater. Unlike the girl’s hand-me-down, my sweater is a luxuriously soft, thin-knit black cashmere, intentionally oversized and tailored to be figure flattering. For spending the day in the car and the cooler weather, I paired it with merino wool-lined faux leather leggings and lace-up handmade black leather boots.

The girl’s legs are bare. And dirty. If she’s wearing shorts or a skirt, I can’t see either. She isn’t carrying a purse nor does she appear to have a phone. Though anyone else her age — magically inclined or not — is usually glued to at least one device at all times, even this deep into the so-called wilds of the Cascadian territories.

The cafe had gone silent when the trio had entered. And the murmur of conversation is slow to pick up in the aftermath of their bombastically noisy arrival. An older woman had hustled out from the back kitchen area, smiling broadly — wearing the expression like it was armor — and nudging the other, young, female server aside to take the bikers’ orders. She — the owner of the cafe, I assume — ignores the violet-eyed teenager.

Everyone ignores the girl wedged between the bikers perching on the stools at the front counter. Their huge thighs press against hers, caging her between them as they mow through their burgers.

The younger server, her curly blond hair streaked pink and pulled up in a bun, sets my Caesar salad in front of me, cocking her hip against the edge of my table, effectively blocking my gaze of the girl and the bikers. Deliberately?

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“Anything else?” she asks stiffly, her pad in hand and expression guarded.

I glance at the salad. It’s taken longer to make and serve than the burgers and fries the trio ordered. Served in a large bowl, the creamy dressing is so thick it’s difficult to discern the green of the lettuce. I should have known better than to order a salad in a roadside diner.

I open my mouth to ask for the bill. But then, my magic speaking for me, I say, “A chocolate milkshake and chicken strips … to go, please,” instead.

The server frowns.

Not completely aware of what I’m doing — born on an innate knowing, the certain to be stupid and utterly foolhardy plan unfolding with each choice I make in the moment — I reach into the side pocket of my bag, pulling out the fold of twenty dollars bills I’d shoved in the side pocket before leaving Seattle. The ‘Wilds’ aka the stretches of neutral, and not-so-neutral territory, between the major cities still prefer cash exchanges. Though the cafe is outfitted with a fairly sleek tablet set to the side of the cash register on the far end of the counter, near the front door. Peeling three green holographically stamped bills from my short stack, I set them on the edge of the table. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.”

The server’s gaze flicks over me, then across my table to take in the brand new top-of-the-line phone and the designer sunglasses set next to my elbow. Both items are ridiculously expensive, but though I could, now, rather suddenly, afford such things, I didn’t pay full price for them. I don’t pay full price for anything. Beyond the windows, the sky is gray, rain threatening. But I’d wear the sunglasses in the bright interior of the cafe if I could get away with it. My eyes are perpetually sensitive to light. And for those who know what they are looking at, they firmly mark me as other. In this small outpost, at least. The sensitive sight is one of the drawbacks of the type of power I wield as effortlessly as breathing. The other not-so-effortless castings and manipulations I can do, again a fairly new unlocking of my abilities, come with a far steeper price.

The server is still checking me out, or rather trying to figure me out, shifting her gaze to the large black leather bag on the bench seat beside me. It’s more understated but also worth more than the phone and sunglasses put together.

I add another twenty to the pile of bills on the edge of the table, though it is possible that doing so will make me even more memorable. My actions are being guided by that same flicker of knowing, and unless it comes with a miasma of death and destruction, I usually follow my own innate senses.

Hell, to be completely clear, if only to myself, I usually follow whichever way my magic leads, headlong into mayhem and heartache.

The server sniffs offishly then picks up the eighty dollars and tucks it into her bra in a practiced and minimal move. A tattoo rings her wrist. At first, it appears to be a string of daisies, like those necklaces that some kids make in movies and storybooks. A purely intentional choice, given that her name tag also reads, Daisy. But, hovering at the beginning of what is starting to feel like a major knowing, my unintentional focus reveals a shimmer of numbers hidden underneath, etched into the delicate skin of the underside of her wrist. The numbers are a slave tattoo. The shimmer only someone like me can detect is a twist of fate manacled around her wrist. It’s old and stretched, though she herself is in her early twenties at most, and she’ll wear it — her entire fate anchored in it — until she greets her death.

I look away quickly before she notices and understands what I’ve seen of her.

I shouldn’t have stopped for lunch, pulled so far off the highway. I should have driven straight through from Seattle to Portland and then cut out to the coast. Not because I’m vulnerable or memorable, but because I shouldn’t get involved.

The server tucks her pad in the pocket of her white apron, her gaze flicking to the window, to the parking lot. Two huge motorbikes — the massive noise makers the bikers pulled up on — occupy the spot directly across from the front door, but the server curls her upper lip at the 1972 Silver BMW 3.0 CSI parked in the very last spot adjacent to the windows, to the booth I’m currently occupying, instead.

“Nice ride,” she sneers, either pissed or jealous. Hard to tell.

“My uncle’s,” I say, only partly lying. Mostly because he’s dead, I never met him, and he’d been just a few more generations removed than ‘uncle’ implies.

She snorts, stepping away and crossing around the counter — instead of in front of it, which would put her in arms reach of the bikers — to input my new order on the tablet at the far corner of the counter, next to the cash register. She makes an obvious effort to gaze into the kitchen through the passthrough window, instead of looking ahead of herself while walking. Beyond simply ignoring the bikers and the girl, she’s actively trying to avoid drawing their attention.

I wonder how much market share the local biker club holds in the local slave trade. Then I shove the thought away. Not my business. Really, really not.

I, contrarily, instantly set my gaze on the violet-eyed teenager again, already knowing without actually formulating a plan, that I am about to do something really stupid. I am about to follow a prompt from the universe, snag a thread of fate and twist it to achieve an outcome that isn’t technically mine to direct. Likely more than one thread, and in hindsight, I’d already swayed onto this path rather thoughtlessly, from the moment I pulled off the highway and taken a fifteen-minute detour.

But at least I’d have a milkshake and chicken strips, right? Yeah, I just went with the random requests that occasionally filtered through me from the universe. Well, most of the time.

– Conduit 1, an Alternate Universe Urban Fantasy, first draft

Updated April 27, 2023

Click here for Chapter One, Part Two

Click here for Chapter One, Part Three

Click here for Chapter Two, Part One

Click here for Chapter Two, Part Two and Three

Amplifier 6: ineffectual murder

*SPOILERS* *SPOILERS* *SPOILERS**SPOILERS**SPOILERS**SPOILERS**SPOILERS*

“Open the other doors,” I demanded of the healer.

“I don’t have the authority,” she said, actually quivering. She didn’t seem to know where to look, flicking her fear-widened eyes between Christopher, Aiden, Daniel, and me.

“Asked and answered, Socks,” Christopher said mildly.

“Yeah, but you’re so pretty clairvoyant,” Becca cooed without looking up. “Emma gives off a more I’ll-rip-out-your-heart-and-eat-it vibe without even trying.”

Christopher snorted.

“That would be a highly ineffectual way to murder someone,” I said stiffly.

Everyone gathered laughed quietly.

Not including the healer.

Which was fine, because I really hadn’t been joking.

– Endings and Empathy (Amplifier 6), fourth draft

Are you new to the Amplifier Series? The first book in the series is Demons and DNA (Amplifier 1) but there is also a prequel, The Amplifier Protocol. Or click this link for the entire reading order of the Adept Universe (and how the Amplifier fits within it).

#QuickFAQByMCD: the preorder will be available just as soon as all the scheduling is confirmed (likely late March 2023). And yes, this is the final book in the Amplifier Series.

Amplifier 6: I’d torn myself away.

A cool rage unfurled in my belly.

I’d walked away.

Well, I’d torn myself away. Literally obliterating everything as I left.

But now someone had figured out how to force me to return.

That someone was going to seriously regret getting my attention.

–excerpt: Endings and Empathy (Amplifier 6), second draft

*MCD note* no release date for Amplifier 6 yet, but likely March 2023 b/c of the upcoming holidays and my Tenth Anniversary Kickstarter for Dowser 1 in Jan 2023.

Amplifier 5: Chapter One, Part One

Keeping slightly back from the bedroom window that overlooked the backyard and the gardens so the sorcerer and the dream walker wouldn’t catch me spying on them, I watched as Aiden bent his head, all his concentration fixed on listening to Opal. He was so much taller and deadlier than the little witch. Yet everything about the gesture indicated that every facet of the sorcerer was currently focused on our … daughter. Our soon-to-be daughter. Because that was the choice she’d made.

I just had to get through the next three days.

The coven witches didn’t care that Aiden and I weren’t officially married yet — that wasn’t what was holding up the release of the adoption papers. But they did want to meet Opal, as part of inducting her into the coven.

And that was Opal’s choice as well. She’d gotten friendly with a second-year witch, Juniper, during their last few weeks at the Academy. Though Juniper was a year ahead of Opal, she had sought out the young witch after the invitations had been issued for the coven retreat.

Juniper was also being inducted into the Godfrey coven, and Opal had decided to join her.

The little witch had informed us of that decision with her typical bright confidence. And even when I tried to confirm that she wasn’t choosing that path only for fear of losing me, of losing Aiden and Paisley and Christopher, she’d stubbornly jutted out her chin and reiterated her decision.

Outside, Opal was holding out her hand, palm down, as Aiden took a step back. A light-blue shimmer of magic appeared under the dream walker’s hand, and she started moving along the edge of the garden fence. Slow steps. Her head was bowed. From what I could see of her expression, her body language, she was serious and focused.

She was looking for a grounding stone, which she needed for the induction ceremony. The coven had supplied a list of necessary items as soon as Opal had asked to take part. So I’d spent the last week collecting everything she needed, including a tailored cloak in the coven’s specified color, royal blue, that had to be ordered from a witch who specialized in such things.

Aiden glanced up at the window, catching me spying. He flashed me a grin. I smiled back. Thankfully, the expression wasn’t forced even though I was nervous.

Yes, nervous.

I had led a squad of genetically enhanced Adepts through life-threatening missions multiple times in the first twenty-one years of my life. I’d run from those who’d bred us, who had controlled us. In the process, we’d annihilated the secret compound in Peru where we’d been raised — along with all the research that had gone into creating the Five. Then, for eight years after that, I’d kept myself, Christopher, and Paisley one step ahead of those who would have enslaved us for our magic. I’d built a home. I’d learned that I was actually capable of love. I’d managed to not outright murder my soon-to-be father-in-law — one of the Collective who’d made me — and had actually saved his life from an immortal entity calling itself ‘the mother of the dawn.’ The Hallowed.

And I was nervous. About meeting witches of the light.

The kind of witches who held their annual coven gathering at a five-star resort on the beach, and who gathered flowers and made healing tinctures and all that other sunshine-and-charm sort of magic.

Those witches made me nervous.

Because I held way too much power. And, if I was being completely honest with myself, I had a habit of beheading first and asking questions later.

Actually, I rarely bothered with the questions.

Except for Opal.

For Opal, I would do anything.

“I’m heading out,” Samantha said from the doorway behind me. “I’ll keep you posted.”

I turned. The dark-skinned, dark-haired telekinetic was wearing black cotton pants and a tight black T-shirt instead of her usual leather. Due to the warm weather. She had a small duffel bag slung over one shoulder, her laptop and other tech gear in a hard case. Also all black. She was on her way to join up with Daniel, aka Fish, somewhere in Europe. She had delayed the trip — more than once — because she’d wanted to see Opal before she went.

“Well,” she sneered, “I’ll keep Christopher informed.”

I nodded, crossing back to the bed, where I had two suitcases lying open, one for me and one for Opal. They were packed for the coven retreat. For the third time. Opal had arrived home last night with Aiden’s youngest sister, Ocean, and had needed all her laundry done. And I was bringing way too much.

Samantha huffed. Then she dumped her bag on the floor, crossed to me, and slung her now-free arm around my neck. Taller than me, she pressed her face to the side of my head and held me for a moment. Power shifted between us, mostly simmering around the blood tattoo on my T4 vertebra. A tattoo that tied the telekinetic to me — for life, as far as we’d been able to figure out. “You could at least hug me back,” Samantha muttered into my hair.

I wrapped my hand around her forearm, skin to skin, and my other arm around her waist.

She rocked me slightly. And I allowed the contact, though more magic flared between us. Even when I wasn’t actively amplifying Samantha, I was still feeding power to her. That passive transfer had always happened to some extent, for anyone who spent any regular time around me. But it had gotten much more difficult to suppress since the Hallowed had triggered my latent empathy. Somehow weaponizing it.

As if I needed more weapons at my disposal.

“If we find Bee,” Samantha asked softly, almost tentatively, “we can bring her back, right?”

“We’ve talked about it. Extensively,” I huffed, slightly pissed that she was bringing up the topic. Again.

There were many, many reasons that the Five couldn’t, shouldn’t reunite. And the biggest one, not including Christopher, was out in the yard right now looking for a grounding stone that ‘spoke’ to her. Her tie to her home.

I would never do anything that might compromise the security of Opal’s home.

“There’s that other property,” Samantha murmured. “It’s a blank slate. Now that you’re done with it.”

She meant the Grant property, claimed in the aftermath of Opal, Jenni, and me being kidnapped by Ruwa, Aiden’s ex, and the collapsing pocket of the demon dimension. “It’s in Opal’s name.”

“We’ll lease it.”

I sighed. “You don’t know that this new lead will even pan out,” I grumbled.

Samantha released me, grinning. Like she’d won this round of the debate. “It will. Knox is getting glimmers.”

“Christopher is constantly getting glimmers.”

Samantha scooped up her abandoned bag and stepped out into the hall. “Got to say my goodbyes.”

She was jogging down the stairs before I could say anything else. Not that I actually had anything else to say. Samantha had been living at the farm full-time for the last few weeks, ever since she’d hauled Christopher to Europe, following another lead on the whereabouts of Amanda, aka Bee. The telepath who made the other four of us the Five. But that lead had gone cold, assuming it had ever been warm to begin with.

I knew that if Bee didn’t want to be found, it was best to leave her alone. Any telepath of power couldn’t be compromised or taken against her will — not for long, not for the eighteen months she’d supposedly been missing. And as far as I knew, Bee was the most powerful telepath in the world.

So she wasn’t responding to emails? I didn’t respond to emails either.

By choice.

I zipped up my suitcase, refusing to repack it a fourth time. Lani would arrive in a few minutes. The part-time intuitive/full-time mechanic was taking the drive up to Tofino on the west coast of Vancouver Island with us, but hadn’t agreed to do more than simply meet with the Godfrey witches. Or as she’d put it, surf, eat fresh crab, and baby herself.

Ocean was joining us as well. Aiden’s sister had applied for an internship with one of the Godfrey witches over the summer. Then she’d head back to the Academy for the first year of her specialization in potions.

Christopher and Aiden were rather put out not to be included, but coven gatherings were witches-only events. Except for me. Because I was Opal’s guardian, the witches couldn’t stop me from coming, though I had no plans to participate in any of the weekend’s sessions or lectures.

As I was closing Opal’s suitcase, Paisley lumbered into the bedroom, currently in her extra-large blue-nosed pit bull form. Shoulders rolling and ears flattened on her head, she made a point of not acknowledging me as two tentacles flicked out from her neck and wrapped around the handles of the suitcases.

“Thank you,” I said, running my fingers over her head.

She dodged my touch, abruptly turning back the way she’d come with the suitcases suspended off the ground.

Speaking of those who were pissed about having to stay at the farm instead of meeting the witches.

I didn’t miss the irony.

Everyone in our household wanted to go, except me.

Shaking my head at the demon dog, I grabbed Opal’s new backpack from her bedroom — a bright-orange, boxy-shaped, vegan-leather bag that was an end-of-year gift from Aiden. Then I headed downstairs myself, trusting Paisley to put the suitcases in the trunk of the Mustang rather than absconding with them. The backpack was one of multiple gifts my dark sorcerer had bestowed upon the little witch the moment after she returned home with a bright smile, and a suitcase stuffed full of dirty clothes.

PREORDER NOW

– AMAZON – KOBO – APPLE BOOKS – BARNES & NOBLE – SMASHWORDS –

Amplifier 5: Lemon Ginger tea

I’ve updated the list of teas (and ginger snaps) featured in the Amplifier series (click the previous link), but here is the tea featured in Instincts and Impostors (Amplifier 5)!

MCD personal note: I drink this tea every morning. And really believe it helps with my stomach/digestion issues.

Lemon Ginger. Lemongrass, Ginger, Licorice Root, Orange Peel, and Black Pepper.

*Note: this excerpt has been EDITED to avoid possible spoilers, so it won’t match the scene in the book exactly*

Aiden returned with coffee for himself and Christopher, and hot water for me. I looked at him questioningly. He tugged a reusable tea bag out of his pocket and slid it across the table to me.

I shook my head at him. But willing myself to accept the offered distraction, I raised the loose-weaved bag to my nose and inhaled. Lemongrass, ginger, orange peel, and a hint of licorice and black pepper.

“Lemon ginger,” I said, lips twisted into a smile despite my resolve to remain in an utterly pissy mood until [redacted]. Aiden had packed me tea from home and tucked it away in the safe in his study, just so he could pull it out of his pocket at the perfect time.

“One of your favorites in the morning.” The dark-haired sorcerer pinned me with one of his soul-searing looks. “I’d offer you sugar …”

“But I don’t add it to this tea.” I dropped the tea bag into my hot water. My heart was hurting, even as I tried to smile at my dark sorcerer. If I was being completely rational, it was actually the muscles of my chest, and therefore my breathing, that were constricted due to a chemical reaction to Aiden’s sweet gesture. It felt like pain, though. [redacted]

“Why don’t you ever smolder like that in my direction, sorcerer?” Christopher complained teasingly.

Aiden huffed a laugh.

– excerpt from Instincts and Impostors (Amplifier 5)

PREORDER NOW

– AMAZON – KOBO – APPLE BOOKS – BARNES & NOBLE – SMASHWORDS –

Amplifier 5: Paisley goes surfing

I felt an excerpt coming on so I put up a poll in the Facebook reader-run fan group – yes, apparently I have a thing for polls right now – and rather predictably, Paisley won by a landslide. So here is a fairly spoiler-free excerpt from Instincts and Impostors (Amplifier 5) including everyone’s fav demon dog!

“Emma!” Opal cried. Her shout was gleeful but more than a little concerned.

I spun toward the surf, already running.

Paisley had somehow acquired a surfboard, and was trying to drag it into the pounding surf while also climbing on top of it.

Knee-deep in the water, Juniper was watching her with both hands clamped over her mouth.

Opal was jumping up and down next to the other young witch, the waves nearly knocking her over, one after another. “Not like that!” she snapped, half-laughing and half-lecturing as she made a grab for the nose of the board Paisley was trying to mount. “You’re too heavy!”

A male wearing a half-wetsuit was striding down the beach toward the trio, his focus intent, though he wasn’t close enough for me to see his expression.

Aiden was already moving to intercept the newcomer with an easy smile plastered on his face and his hand extended. An offer to shake hands, not an overture to casting a spell.

I closed the space between me, the witches, and the demon dog, wading into the roiling surf. I made a show of grabbing Paisley’s collar and ‘helping’ her out of the pounding waves. She chortled, playing along.

Opal and Juniper rescued the surfboard, dragging it back toward Aiden and the surfer, who didn’t seem particularly distressed now that he was chatting with the sorcerer. Aiden could be as charming as he was deadly, so I wasn’t terribly surprised that he could so easily smooth over the oddity of having a surfboard stolen by a pit bull.

“You’re soaking wet,” I chided Paisley.

She snapped at my hand playfully.

I lowered my voice. “And for future reference, the waves are strong enough that they should have knocked you over.” I hit the word ‘should’ hard.

Paisley eyed the crashing waves, our ankles getting more and more buried in the sand under the onslaught. Then she snorted dismissively.

I tucked my hand under her chin, forcing eye contact. “Opal could have gotten hurt.”

Paisley blinked up at me, then over at Opal. Who was apparently in the process of interrogating the surfer about where she could rent a board and what he would recommend for a beginner.

Paisley pressed her nose against my wrist, clearly apologetic.

“I know,” I murmured. “I would never hurt her either, but we have to remember she wasn’t … bred like us.”

– Instincts and Impostors (Amplifier 5), chapter two

RELEASING AUGUST 30, 2022

PREORDER NOW

– AMAZON – KOBO – APPLE BOOKS – BARNES & NOBLE – SMASHWORDS –

The Amplifier Series is set within the larger Adept Universe but can be read separately. The main series starts with Demons and DNA (Amplifier 1) but there are two prequels (bundled together) as well. Click here for the full/recommended reading order of the Adept Universe

Amplifier 5: with or without blades

I’m working through a smoothing pass on the fourth draft of Instincts and Imposters (Amplifier 5) over the next few days, then the book goes off for line and content editing. I came upon this little snippet in a brand new section that I wrote based on the story editor’s notes. It made me smile, so I thought I should share.

It’s just so … Emma.

“Dream walker,” she said in that clipped accent. “The Dunkirk coven is well known for its dream walkers. Yet you choose the Godfreys for your foundling.”

I considered decapitating her.

I didn’t even need my blades, I could —

Aiden squeezed my hand, amusement rolling off him.

Right. Witch games.

– Instincts and Impostors (Amplifier 5), fourth draft

No release date yet! But I’ll have the preorder up sooner than later … just as soon as I get all the scheduling lined up.

Amplifier 5.5: got something better to do?

Wow! Two updates from me in two days! I’m feeling rather productive!

I just sent Recon Mission: Bee (Amplifier 5.5) aka Zans’ novella off to the sensitivity reader, Natasha Lane. And I’ll forward her notes along with the manuscript to SFG (the editor) once she turns around on her read. Yay!

I’ve also started a search for a Black female narrator for the audiobook. Tia Rider will continue to narrate the main Amplifier series books – double yay!

And! Gene Mollica Studios has all the particulars for the book cover, so hopefully, I’ll start to see art soon as well. I’m excited!!

This is all a long-winded way of saying, I’m most definitely avoiding doing my taxes. Ugh. And now, I really don’t have any excuses. Sigh. Though I am going to play around with one of my Space Opera ideas, and brainstorm/outline Amplifier 6 over the next couple of weeks as well.

Oh! [I announced this on social media already] The sticker sets have all been mailed (as of late last night). Still waiting for the next round to be delivered to me, then I’ll relist.

How about a Zans snippet to celebrate? [I absolutely adore all the Fish/Zans interaction in the novella!]

Fish stood, crossing past me and into the tiny bathroom. He flicked on the light.

“I checked in there,” I said pissily.

He ignored me.

Like always.

I considered pulling out my phone and playing a game.

Fish stepped out of the bathroom, glowering. “Clean.”

“We grab our stuff from the motel and leave,” I said.

“We reach out to my contact,” Fish said, his tone dark. “And when we confirm he sold us out, we hunt him down.”

I sighed, heavily.

“Got something better to do?” Fish asked caustically.

I smirked. “Well, Emma might want some help with the wedding.”

He stomped away.

– Recon Mission: Bee (Amplifier 5.5), third draft

Are you new to the Amplifier Series? Start with Demons and DNA (Amplifier 1) then maybe jump back and read the prequel, The Amplifier Protocol.

Are you new to the Adept Universe? The first book in the recommended reading order is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Bloody Magic (Dowser 1).

Amplifier 5: my magic beckoned

I’m pleased to announce that I just dropped Instincts and Imposters (Amplifier 5) into the editor’s inbox for story editing (the first stage of editing, also called developmental editing). To celebrate I thought I’d share a tiny snippet that Michael highlighted with a laughing face when he beta read the book last week.

Aiden flashed me a knowing grin. He couldn’t read my mind, of course, but apparently my magic beckoned whenever I was thinking of him in a certain way.

So … pretty much whenever I laid eyes on him.

– Instincts and Imposters (Amplifier 5), third draft

Are you new to the Amplifier Series? Start with Demons and DNA (Amplifier 1) then maybe jump back and read the prequel, The Amplifier Protocol.

Are you new to the Adept Universe? The first book in the recommended reading order is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Bloody Magic (Dowser 1).

Amplifier 5.5: you get that a lot

I’m working through the second draft of Zans’s novella, Amplifier 5.5, and I wrote the first draft long enough ago that this little bit of perfect dialogue (if I say so myself) caught me unawares and had me laughing out loud. So I thought I’d share. Amplifier 5.5 will be bundled with Amplifier 5. I’m hoping for an August release date but it’s way too soon to firm anything up yet.