Misfits 1: paperback and yarn giveaway

GIVEAWAY CLOSED. Lucky #55 has been emailed!

I finally have my hands on a few paperbacks for Misplaced Souls (Misfits of the Adept Universe 1)! And, instead of running one giveaway at a time like a normal person would, I’m running THREE giveaways! Whoot!

First up: FOR KNITTERS!

Gorgeous book cover by Gene Mollica Studios, Cake in a Cup logo by Elizabeth Mackey, and yarn by MudPunch!

Are you interested in winning an autographed paperback of Misfits 1, Cake in a Cup stickers, and (!!) a skein of the self-striping sock yarn (fingering weight) mentioned in the book? [Goth Rainbow from MudPunch!][Mentioned by Mory to Gabby during games night.]

Yes??

To enter, simply COMMENT BELOW and let me know what you plan to knit (or crochet or weave) with this gorgeous self-striping yarn!

Not a knitter? No worries! Click this link to enter to win a knit hat, plus paperback, etc. Then head over to my Facebook page and tag-a-friend for a chance for both of you to win a paperback!

Likes and shares are always welcomed and appreciated.

Notes/Rules: OPEN INTERNATIONALLY. One entry per person. Only entries that follow the entry requirements will be considered. One winner will be selected by random number generator. Email addresses are not collected for any purpose other than to contact the winner. No purchase necessary.

Giveaway closes THURSDAY, JUNE 25, 2020 at 8pm PDT.

Are you new to the Adept Universe series? Click here for the reading order. Or click here for the Welcome! sequence.

Misfits 1: paperback now available

In the age of Covid19, everything having to do with paper and shipping has seriously slowed down (as it should be really), but I finally received the proof for Misplaced Souls (Misfits of the Adept Universe 1) and therefore the paperback is now available!

I am, however, still waiting on my author copies, so the slew of giveaways I usually do to commemorate a new release will have to wait a little longer. Though, make sure you’re on my mailing list (subscribe link under the cookbook image on the right of this page), as I’ll email when I finally get my hands on some copies of this beautiful book!!

Cover design by: Gene Mollica Studios
Interior formatting by 52 Novels
Mory perched on her favourite headstone with Ed. Yes! A sketch by Memo drawn specifically for the paperback! Squee! Though I promise to post it separately here on the blog as well (remind me if I forget).
Paperback chapter heading, aka more formatting bling.
Ed page break. Designed by Elizabeth Mackey. Also featured in the paperback version of Dowser 8.5.
And yes, I’m still using a 16-year-old shot that Michael took of me at Point No Point as my author photo. LOL

CLICK HERE FOR SYNOPSIS AND BUY LINKS

I also (finally) got some bookplates printed (for autographs). I just have to figure out how to set up an online store so you can order them from me. So, yeah … that will happen … soonish?

Misfits 1: the knitting

Mory knits. Rather obsessively. And I thought it might be fun to share some of the patterns she either knits or wears in Misplaced Souls (Misfits 1).

Mory’s go-to hat pattern: Snap by Tin Can Knits. Mory is knitting a slouch version of this hat with her own [K4/P4] check pattern thrown in for fun throughout Misfits 1. I’ve knit several Snap Hats myself and you can see them on my Ravelry page. I will also be giving away a couple of hats (cashmere!!) when I get my hands on the paperbacks for Misfits 1.

One of my first Snap hats …

Mory’s go-to pattern for self-striping socks: Smooth Operator by Susan B. Anderson. Mory is wearing rainbow socks, like these:

MCD’s Smooth Operator’s knit in Gauge Dye Works, White Light colour way. Ravelry Page.

Mory’s self-striping arm warmers: Palmistry by Stephanie Lotven. Mory is knitting a longer version than called for in the pattern in Misfits 1 with a skein of Black-Hearted Brimstone from MudPunch yarns. I’ll be giving away some self-striping yarn in May when I get Misfit 1 paperbacks.

My longer version of Palmistry, knit for author friend, Coralie Moss. Ravelry Project Page.

Mory’s large purple/pink/blue shawl: The Drifter by Tamy Gore. I haven’t knitted my version yet but this is the yarn I’m going to use:

I think I will start this shawl on release day! Yarn is from Black Cat.

Other knitwear/patterns mentioned:

Pearl Godfrey’s (light gray) Estonia lace shawl: Echo Flower Shawl by Jenny Johnson Johnen

Mory’s colorwork (mostly black with purple and light gray) sweater that she wears to lunch: Gardengate by Jennifer Steingass

Burgundy is wearing lace socks that Mory knit for her birthday: Spring Forward by Linda Welch

In the final scenes of Misfits 1, Mory is attemtping to learn the brioche stitch: Plumpy by Andrea Mowry.

Fun! Fun!

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

New to the Adept Universe? The first book is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1). Or click here for the entire reading order

Misfits 1: Envy in a Cup

I’ve added Envy in a Cup to the Adept Universe Cookbook (click the link to download the full PDF) but here is the JPG version for your quick viewing pleasure.

A dense but moist chocolate cake with lots of warm spice!

Author’s Note: I had a bit of an incident with my first test bake of Envy in a Cup, and the cake came out WAY too dense and almost weirdly moist. Michael ate them, of course. 😀 I noticed that my baking powder was newly expired, so I replaced it (and I urge you to do the same). But I had also used a new-to-me whole wheat pastry flour from Bob’s Red Mill. I remembered that the new pastry flour had also made for oddly overly moist banana bread, so I decided the issue with the cupcakes stemmed from the same cause. Problem was, I no longer had access to my regular (locally milled) whole wheat pastry flour, so I had to search for another flour. I settled on a fine grain whole wheat from Anita’s Mill. The cupcakes are still dense, but delightfully so!

Just a long way of saying, that, as always, feel free to use your favourite flour. Just make sure the batter isn’t overly thick (add a touch more milk to thin it, if it is) otherwise you might not enjoy the exceedingly dense cake that may result!

Envy in a Cup gets a massive thumbs up from Michael and me, so much so I’m going to add them to my top five favourites!! Which are, in no particular order, Cozy in a Cup, Lust in a Cup, Serenity in a Cup, Clarity in a Cup, and now Envy in a Cup!

Do you have a favourite Cake in a Cup cupcake?

Cover design by: Gene Mollica Studios

RELEASING APRIL 14, 2020

PREORDER NOW

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

New to the Adept Universe? The first book is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1). Or click here for the entire reading order

Misfits 1: the cupcakes

Just in case you missed it, Misplaced Souls (Misfits of the Adept Universe 1) is now available for preorder and will release on Tuesday, April 14. I’m so excited to share Mory’s first full-length book (she also narrates a novella in Dowser 8.5) and I hope you enjoy the necromancer’s POV!

If you’d like to ‘bake along’ while reading, here are the cupcakes mentioned in Misplaced Souls. Those marked with an asterisk can be found in the Adept Universe Cookbook, including the newly added Envy in a Cup.

  • Cozy in a Cup* – banana chocolate chip with dark chocolate buttercream
  • Allure in a Cup (new) – lemon cake with chocolate buttercream
  • Serenity in a Cup* – carrot cake with cream cheese icing
  • Rapture in a Cup – yellow/chocolate swirl with chocolate cream cheese icing
  • Envy in a Cup (new)* – cocoa spiced cake with spiced-cocoa buttercream
  • Heaven in a Cup (new) – white cake with coconut buttercream
  • Sass in a Cup* – chocolate blackberry cake with chocolate blackberry buttercream
  • Happiness in a Cup* – peanut butter cake with honey buttercream
A dense but moist cocoa spiced cake with spiced cocoa buttercream.

Will you be baking and reading on release day, aka Tuesday? I think I might!

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

New to the Adept Universe? The first book is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1). Or click here for the entire reading order

Misfits 1: Chapter One, Part One

Author’s Note: The Misfits of the Adept Universe series directly follows the events in the final Dowser trilogy. And, in my opinion, it is best read after the Dowser Series, including Graveyards, Visions, and Other Things that Byte (Dowser 8.5). Otherwise … SPOILER ALERT!

I stepped from the cab, lingering on the sidewalk with my satchel over my shoulder and a small duffle bag in hand until the taxi had pulled away. Combined, the two bags held every precious possession I owned, not including the magical artifact perpetually slung around my neck and currently hidden under my bulky red poncho.

The cab disappeared around the corner. But instead of traversing the front path leading to the house that corresponded to the address I’d given the cabbie — because I didn’t actually live there — I veered left. Jogging across the perpendicular street, I skirted the cul-de-sac that abruptly capped East Thirty-Seventh Avenue for vehicles, even as the road continued east for foot and bike traffic. The beads attached to the multicolored fringe of my hand-knit poncho clacked together, seemingly amplified against the fronts of the closely clustered homes of the residential area. 

In another couple of hours, residents would be returning from school or work. But for now, the street was dead quiet.

Practically running — or as close to running as I ever got, at least — I traversed the length of a tall chain-link fence. My heavy boots barely touched down as I crossed through the open metal gates that were all that stood between me and a wide concrete path. A step beyond that entrance, and the magic embedded within every centimeter of the sprawling grounds of Mountain View Cemetery welled up underneath me. 

I shuddered, suppressing a groan of contentment. Eyes closed, partially on my tiptoes, I paused to absorb the sensation. It felt intensified, perhaps due to how long I’d been away.

I was home.

I settled back on my heels, content to simply let the magic roiling under my feet just be. For the moment.

Mountain View Cemetery, spreading some ten city blocks north to south and two residential blocks east to west, might have been owned and operated by the City of Vancouver since 1886. But its magic belonged to me, grounded me. Even sustained me. Over 92,000 gravesites and 145,000 interred remains equaled a shit-ton of death magic. And all of it had been tied to me for over three years now, since a few days before my eighteenth birthday.

Ironically, I had claimed the cemetery — at both the witches’ and my mother’s urging — to keep my path on the side of the light, to balance my burgeoning magic. Everyone had been so worried about me being tainted. Worried about me going dark. And now, upon returning to the city, having completed training the magic that had everyone’s panties in a twist, the cemetery was still my first stop. Even before checking in with friends or so-called family, I’d needed to come to Mountain View. The urge had seized me as the wheels of the plane hit the tarmac, then had only intensified in the time it had taken to clear customs and wait in line for a taxi.

Feeling more settled and still hauling my bags, I took a path that cut through to the center of the property. The headstones were a mixture of raised and in-ground through this section, crafted from different types of stone and metal. A few family plots with larger memorials were randomly scattered throughout. My steps were quiet on the wet pavement, though my beaded fringe still clattered with each step. 

A few joggers traversed the many paths running parallel and perpendicular to me — not that I needed to worry about being seen. The magic that ebbed and flowed under my feet hid me from casual view. If someone didn’t know I was there, wasn’t looking for me specifically, my passing presence was absorbed by the energy constantly emanating from the cemetery. That inherent obfuscation would be the same in any graveyard, for any necromancer. But it was more concentrated at Mountain View because I’d claimed the property. Our magic was connected, almost symbiotic.

It wasn’t raining, but it had been earlier in the day. The headstones, the paved path, and the bright-green grass were all speckled with tiny droplets that hadn’t evaporated yet. Sunlight glinted from the petals of the flowers and the wreaths decorating a number of graves — tokens of grief, celebrations of a life lived, from those who visited their dearly departed.

I stepped onto the damp grass, weaving through a grouping of flush-mounted headstones and passing a three-foot-tall white concrete statue of a woman holding an urn, before I arrived at my favorite gravesite. I stopped there, gaze unfixed, pressing my palm to the top of the tall, light-gray granite headstone. Ignoring the fading name and dates etched into it, I listened. Waiting. Still feeling incomplete, but putting the pieces of myself back together. The pieces that made me the Morana Novak who called Vancouver home, who had claimed Mountain View Cemetery.

The pieces that made me Mory.

The pieces that made me the wielder’s necromancer — and everything that went with that title, that position within the so-called misfits who made up the Godfrey coven. The younger subset of that coven, at least.

I wasn’t the same Mory who had abruptly left Vancouver in the middle of February over a year and a half ago, less than a week after the offer to take specialized training at the Academy had hit my inbox. But I could still collect and keep the best pieces of that Mory before I announced my return. 

Before everything that had happened almost two years ago, I would never have expected to feel the need to do so. But here I was.

I waited to see if the sweet soul who occasionally haunted her gravesite would visit. I didn’t try to summon her or to pull her forth. I was too powerful to play at such things anymore. And if her spirit had finally moved on … well, that was the ultimate goal.

Oh, yes. I was a necromancer. From a long line of necromancers. A soul seer, to be specific. A rare specialty. A frowned-upon branch of magic, because screwing around with souls was as dark as magic could get, even for a necromancer. 

Unless that necromancer was trained and certified by the Academy, then gainfully employed by the witches Convocation.

Which I was.

As of just over twelve hours ago.

I wasn’t the necromancer of the Godfrey coven, though, which claimed all of Vancouver and beyond as its territory. You know, ‘The Necromancer’ in capital letters. That was my mother’s position.

A slight breeze stirred my hair, tickling my jaw and obscuring my vision. That hair was currently deep purple, shot through with shades of pink and a hint of light blue. It pulled my attention back to the present. No spirit or shade arrived or greeted me. I tried to not feel disappointed. 

Instead, I reached into my satchel for Ed, finding my undead turtle tangled up in three strands of yarn. A deep purple, a baby blue, and a multicolored speckle — all merino, silk, and cashmere — were woven around his legs and neck. I’d started a simple knitting project on the plane, and after a fifteen-hour flight from Latvia with a connection through Frankfurt, I was almost at the crown decreases on a marled slouch hat. I was knitting with yarn left over from the shawl I’d completed at the Academy, right before leaving for my final assignment. And yes, it matched my current dye job.

“Ed,” I grumbled. “We’ve talked about you building a nest in my bag.”

The red-eared slider blinked his gray-orbed eyes at me as I set about untangling him. His front legs were the worst. He had managed to weave multiple strands through his long nails. Magic glistened from his carapace — power I could see only because it wasn’t my own, and because it was particularly intense. That power gave Ed supernatural abilities that went beyond simply being the undead familiar of a necromancer. A soul seer.

I’d actually needed to register Ed with the Academy in order to keep him with me while on the grounds, along with the heavy necklace that I never removed, not even while showering. Such secrets were difficult to keep around dozens of Adepts who could feel the power of both Ed and the artifact without even being in the same room as me. And my magic was rare enough that I didn’t need to frighten new acquaintances with my mere presence as well.

Not that officially registering Ed or the necklace had eased that apprehension much. It also didn’t help that I was the only soul seer among the specializing necromancers. And that the Academy hadn’t trained another soul seer in over twenty-five years.

Ironically, the somewhat obsessive reputation I’d inadvertently built at the Academy with my near-constant knitting, along with my penchant for bestowing hand-knit socks, hats, and arm warmers on my fellow classmates, mitigated that tension far more than anything else had. I knit more than I could justify wearing, and almost everyone preferred to have warm toes, fingers, and heads. 

Despite finding myself slightly ostracized for my rare subset of magic at the Academy when I first arrived, I actually couldn’t pick up magic as easily as a witch or a sorcerer could. Being on the grounds of a cemetery allowed me to stretch my other senses much farther than usual, though. If an Adept — a person of the magical persuasion — passed me on the sidewalk of a busy street, I wouldn’t know it. But I’d know the instant anyone with magic in their blood set one foot over the boundary of a cemetery.

Anywhere else, I could sense other necromancers, of course. And spirits in all forms. 

And vampires.

But if an unknown vampire got anywhere near me, I wouldn’t be casually brushing shoulders with them. More likely, I’d be running. Screaming down the sidewalk in question. Even with the protections that I wore literally around my neck, tangling with a vampire wasn’t something any necromancer sought out. The ingrained rivalry between those magical species went back — as in, all the way back. With the vampires the ultimate victors. On all occasions. Being immortal, supernaturally strong, and able to beguile their victims gave vamps the ultimate advantage when it came to slaughtering those of my ilk.

An unknown vampire wouldn’t want to take the chance that I or any other necromancer could control them, bend them to our will.

Ed wiggled in my hands, having spotted the grass. He liked cemeteries as much as I did. He was undead, after all.

Death might be just another beginning — but what it was the beginning of, I couldn’t tell you. I could, however, talk to the parts of the soul that remained on this plane of existence. I could also raise the walking dead, human and animal — under very specific circumstances. I’d never tried it with a fish. They’d probably decompose too quickly.

The eighteen months I had just spent at the Academy had been all about proving that I could work with soul magic — not simply death magic — with a level of accuracy needed to get certified. As of completing my last assignment, in Latvia, I officially worked for the witches Convocation as a junior specialist. I was now a resource for the investigative teams tasked with policing a certain subset of the Adept. And also with cleaning up incidents that might draw the attention of the mundanes, aka the nonmagical people who outnumbered the Adept by a massive amount. Like, a million to one or something.

There were two other necromancers who called Vancouver, British Columbia, home. Danica Novak — my mother — and Teresa Garrick. Neither of them had required certification to prove their worth, though. To anyone. My mother had worked with the Vancouver coven since before my father died. Teresa Garrick’s presence in Vancouver was still relatively recent, but the Garrick necromancers were well-known badass vampire slayers. Or at least they had been until they’d all been slaughtered by rogue vampires twenty-five years ago. Teresa was the only survivor, and she’d been in hiding with the help of the witches until recently.

The Garrick family’s vampire-slaying gig turned out to be seriously ironic. Because one of the only three vampires I wouldn’t run from on sight was Teresa’s son, Benjamin Garrick.

Benjamin was the reason Teresa wasn’t in hiding anymore. He was the reason they lived in Vancouver, under the protection of the Godfrey coven. He was also one of the major reasons I hadn’t returned to Vancouver in over a year and a half, selecting work-study assignments and finishing a three-year program in record time, rather than coming home on breaks.

That and the empty house that would have been sure to greet my return.

Necromancers and vampires didn’t mix.

And they certainly didn’t date.

Or pine for one another.

And certainly not, in this particular instance, when the gorgeous Jasmine also called Vancouver home. Like Benjamin, Jasmine had also been recently remade. With the blood of the executioner of the vampire Conclave reanimating her. And though we’d never spoken of it directly, not in person or by text, Benjamin Garrick was enamored with the golden-haired beauty. And he would likely be so forever. He was epically focused like that.

But unlike Benjamin, I didn’t have eternity to wait for a crush to even think about glancing my way. So I’d left Vancouver and that unrequited crush behind, knowing that life changed so quickly that coming home would be sort of a new beginning.

Or at least that was what I was hoping.

Magic shifted, lapping against my toes from the direction of the cemetery’s main entrance on Fraser Street. An Adept of some power had just stepped onto the grounds. Facing in that general direction, I perched atop the granite gravestone, pulling my knitting out from my satchel. Ed gamboled around in the damp grass nearby, and I made a mental note that I would need to thoroughly dry him off so he didn’t decay. I knew that the power that coated him was more than just mine now, so perhaps that wasn’t even a possibility anymore. But it wasn’t a risk I would take either way. Ed was part of me. He held a sliver of my soul, so I took care of him. And he grounded me — or more specifically, my power — when I was away from Mountain View.

The latent aspects of necromancy couldn’t be turned off or on. My magic was constantly seeking and picking up the dead. The best I could do was mute the intensity, and redirect it. Hence, the creation of Ed. Most necromancers worked with bones or ghosts. Teresa Garrick preferred the corpses of birds. My mother was perpetually tethered to the ghost of her uncle. But being a soul seer, I had Ed, who was continually animated with my own life force.

More magic curled up from the damp ground, slipping up my dangling legs to churn around my hands. I finished straightening my knitting, further untangling the mess Ed had made, and took up my needles.

Sorcerer magic. At best guess.

I’d been away for a while, and though my magic was sharper than it had ever been — focused and full — I didn’t know the magic of the Adept traversing the grounds of the cemetery well enough to identify them.

No one knew I was back in Vancouver. I hadn’t even texted Benjamin or my witch friend, Burgundy, who was out of town herself at a healers retreat. I’d gotten on the first flight I could, but I’d wanted a soft landing. A gentle reintroduction. One that didn’t involve my mother, assuming she was even at home.

It could have been a random Adept approaching. The population of the magically inclined in Vancouver had grown over the last few years. But Benjamin, who made it his business to know such things — like, officially, with a title and everything — would have mentioned if there was a new sorcerer in town. Even though he was one of the reasons I’d left Vancouver, Benjamin and I had texted constantly while I’d been gone. The vampire, aka the chronicler, had maintained that connection, wanting to know every last thing about my training, and about the Academy itself. Vampires were not numbered among the staff or the students.

Thankfully, my weird susceptibility to Benjamin’s inadvertent beguilement didn’t translate through text message. If the vampire had actually wanted me — me, Mory, rather than the decades of knowledge I’d accumulated while passively living among the Adept — I might never have left Vancouver. And I would have been worse off for it. Untrained and jobless, not just feeling out of place like I presently was.

The sorcerer steadily cutting across the graveyard toward me might not have even been looking for me. But what were the chances of that?

He … him … his magic felt … forceful, insistent. Somehow self-assured. And definitely male. Though sex and gender was one of the first things I could intuit about a corpse, whatever point the person who’d become that corpse had occupied on both those spectrums, that level of sensitivity with the living was new for me. Nice.

I laughed quietly, anticipation welling. Tangling my fingers in the three strands of yarn, I began to knit, slipping the moonstone-skull stitch marker that noted the beginning of the round from my left needle to my right needle. I’d memorized the self-designed pattern so thoroughly that knitting it was practically just muscle memory. I had knit the same hat in different combinations of yarn many times, because it was perfect for using up leftovers from other projects.

I was home.

I was more powerful, more focused than ever.

I was ready to confront the next chapter of my life — perhaps even more ready than I’d thought. So maybe I hadn’t needed to gather the pieces of the old Mory at all? Maybe I was still her.

Mory.

Necromancer.

Soul seer.

I could control the dead. I had carved my way through an invading force of mythical beings, using the corpses of the elves the others in my team had killed as an undead shield. Then I’d untangled the soul magic that had powered an other-dimensional portal. A task that only I could have accomplished. Well, without blowing the entire city up, at least. 

I had worn the instruments of assassination, the wielder’s necklace, at her request, for days — while slowly dying. An artifact that powerful would have killed another at first touch. That was its actual purpose, after all.

I had survived.

With my own soul completely intact.

For years, everyone had watched me, waiting for any sign of darkness born from the trauma of my brother’s death and betrayal — yes, in that order.

But I didn’t dwell there.

I lived in the light.

So I smiled in the direction of the interloper on my territory, and I waited. Knitting happily, for ever after.

Let the sorcerer come.

I was ready for whatever request I knew he was bringing with him. Because there was no other reason to visit a necromancer in a graveyard. A dealer of death magic. A beguiler of souls.

Though it was unlikely that the sorcerer in question knew that last part. It was, after all, frowned upon. Even when properly trained and certified.

COMING APRIL 14, 2020. PREORDER NOW

AMAZONAPPLE BOOKSKOBO BARNES & NOBLESMASHWORDS

New to the Adept Universe? The first book is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1). Or click here for the entire reading order.

Misfits 1: cover reveal & synopsis

Are you really ready?

Oh, yes?

Well, then! The Misfits of the Adept Universe return in Misplaced Souls … on APRIL 14, 2020!!! YES!!! Taking place eighteen months after the events of Dowser 9, Mory launches a new series!

Cover design by: Gene Mollica Studios

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

Synopsis: Six years, three months, and two days ago, I was kidnapped by a black witch. Then forced to bear witness as she slaughtered witches and sorcerers across Europe, siphoning their magic and corrupting what she could of my own power in order to raise vanquished demons.

Five years, ten months, and twenty days ago, the dowser — Jade Godfrey — backed by a vampire, a werewolf, and a dragon, rescued me in London, England. A lethal quartet, who routinely flung themselves before death in order to save the world. Including me.

One year, nine months, and twenty-eight days ago, I untangled the power that fueled a dimensional portal used by an invading army of elves, helping to thwart a dark destiny while confirming that I wielded far more than basic necromancy.

After all I’d been through, the same powerful Adepts who had rescued me and worked alongside me waited, watching minute by minute. To see if the evil I’d endured was contagious. Because for a witch to go dark was one thing. But for a necromancer, going dark was something far more terrifying.

What with the potential for raising an army of the undead and all.

Six years, three months, two days, and five minutes …

Still not dark yet.

—————————

Misplaced Souls is the first book in the Misfits of the Adept Universe series, which is set in the same universe as the Dowser, Oracle, Reconstructionist, and Amplifier series.

The Misfits series directly expands on and incorporates the events and characters first introduced in the Dowser series. Therefore, for the best reading experience, the author recommends reading all nine books in the Dowser series, including Dowser 8.5, before digging into the Misfit tales. The first book of the Dowser series is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic.

Upcoming posts: Chapter one, part one. The cupcakes featured in Misfits 1. Envy in a Cup (recipe). The knitting featured in Misfits 1. Plus wallpapers/character sketches! FUN! FUN!!

Click here for the full reading order of the Adept Universe.

Misfits 1: A snippet of Ed

As I was working through my final read of Misfits 1 (before sending it to the proofreader), this made me smile:

Ed was perched on the edge of Tony’s desk, looking as though he was contemplating leaping off to get to me. He was wearing what appeared to be a tiny pirate hat on his head. I peered closer. The hat had been meticulously folded out of a bubblegum wrapper and secured with an elastic band.

“Tony,” I groaned.

Tony swiveled, glancing at Ed, then at me, grinning. “He likes it.”

–Misplaced Souls (Misfits of the Adept Universe 1)

Ed – the undead red-earred slider familiar of a necromancer (aka Mory) – from the Dowser and the Misfits of the Adept Universe series. Illustration by Memo (Instagram)

Apologies in advance and a snippet

I’m about to post SEVEN administrative posts on the blog, namely a welcome sequence. Hopefully you find it somewhat interesting, but I apologize in advance for spamming your inbox and I offer this snippet of Misfits 1 and a cool shot of a headstone that features heavily in the book in recompense.

“Where did you park?”

“On West Forty-First.”

“But you came in on Fraser.”

He went quiet for a moment, then asked in a deceptively casual tone, “How did you know?”

I laughed. “That’s for me to know, sorcerer.”

“And for me to find out?”

I grinned, feeling myself starting to flush again. What the hell was going on with my hormones? “I’m cultivating an air of mystery.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “With the undead turtle, the knitting, and the … “ He peered down at the colorful fringe of my poncho. “… beads clicking and clacking while you walk?”

“Yes,” I said haughtily. “You have absolutely no idea where to even start figuring me out.”

He laughed. A little uproariously for my taste. He sobered quickly though, murmuring absentmindedly, “mysterious through and through.”

I didn’t press my point.

Mysteries didn’t explain themselves after all.

– Misplaced Souls (Misfits 1), third draft

Misfits 1: off for story editing

I’m about to be sipping a hot chocolate, knitting by the fire, and enjoying a fav audiobook – One Fell Sweep, Innkeeper 3, by Ilona Andrews – but first, I wanted to share an excerpt to celebrate Misfits 1 being sent off for story editing (aka developmental editing) – YAY!

The snippet below is one of Michael’s fav (nonspoiler) moments from the book.

Mountain View Cemetary, Vancouver, BC. October 2019

He reached for me. And, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, I wrapped my arm around his again, leaning into him for comfort.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For breaking the rules. For me.”

“Misfits unite!” I declared quietly, trying to jest but not quite making it work.

He snorted. “Misfits. Right. I’m not sure how I got grouped in with the rest of you though.”

“I didn’t write the club guidelines,” I groused. “I just enforce them. Hence having your back.”

– Misplaced Souls (Misfits 1), chapter one, third draft (unedited/unproofed).