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All books purchased directly from me come signed unless requested otherwise.
All books purchased directly from me come signed unless requested otherwise.
She didn't claw her way out of three hells to be called a good girl.
Velzara was cursed for the apocalypse—stripped of her throne, her fire, and her dignity, then stuffed into the body of a black cat. She's spent nine lives trying to claw her way back. But when she discovers her curse wasn't punishment but the only thing keeping an ancient force from hollowing her out and wearing her like a doorway, "breaking free" stops being the goal. Staying hidden becomes survival.
Too bad the Warding House isn't cooperating. Its protections are failing, Elira's sealed memories are surfacing with dangerous implications, and the thing in the basement has started whispering Velzara's true name. Enemies who've been adapting for centuries are closing in—and they don't want her dead. They want her back.
Now a demon princess and her guardian must trust each other with everything—every secret, every fear, every involuntary purr—or lose the bond that might be their only weapon against forces that have broken eight partnerships before them.
The curse was supposed to keep her hidden. This time, she'll have to keep herself.
Mungus ate the end of the world. It tasted like chicken.
When Claire Pemberton's cat consumes a cosmic artifact that was supposed to be her thesis paperweight, she expects some digestive complications. She does not expect fish showers over London, traffic lights speaking ancient Sumerian, or a government committee determined to take her cat away for "containment."
Now Claire—an anxiety-ridden graduate student whose entire field nobody takes seriously—must navigate emergency bureaucracy, face down hostile treasury officials, and prove that love isn't a weakness in cosmic entity management. It's the only thing that works.
Her allies include a demon named Harold who considers paperwork a form of devotion, a government agent whose cat is learning to purr at pipes, and a professor who just discovered his thirty years of theoretical research are terrifyingly real. Her opposition includes a man who views kindness as a budget line item to be eliminated.
The committee votes. The containment order stands. And Mungus walks into a cage to protect the person he loves.
But Claire isn't done fighting.
The Cat Who Ate The End Of The World is a cozy fantasy novella about trust, bureaucratic absurdity, and the lengths we'll go to protect the ones who matter. It features:
A cosmic cat who thinks in italics about "food lady"
A demon with an enthusiasm for proper documentation
Fish showers, prophetic hamsters, and a missing Tuesday
Found family forged through crisis
The question of whether love is a sufficient basis for managing existential threats (it is)
Standalone novella. No cliffhangers. Contains one (1) deeply objectionable can of diet tuna.
A cat hits a spaceship viewport. In hard vacuum. Completely calm. Mouthing: "You missed the turnoff."
It gets worse from there.
Cargo hauler Jarik Venn just wanted to deliver freeze-dried rations and avoid toll stations. Instead, he rescued a reality-warping cat from the vacuum of space, became wanted in nine sectors, and accidentally destroyed a government starship with a weaponized hairball.
The cat's name is Brentley. He's a pathological liar, an escaped familiar, and possibly the most wanted being in three sectors. He's also Jarik's new passenger. Whether Jarik likes it or not.
Now they're being hunted by the Familiar Reclamation Bureau of Licensing—a cosmic agency dedicated to tracking down rogue magical entities and drowning them in paperwork. Their lead agent? Inspector Greeb, a corgi in a tiny vest who quotes regulations like scripture and has a personal vendetta against one particular orange tabby.
Between zero-G slapstick, bureaucratic absurdity, and one catastrophically glowing hairball, Jarik discovers that the universe's rules are more like suggestions. Reality bends around Brentley. Lies occasionally come true. And the Bureau has seventeen different forms for "harboring a fugitive familiar."
When Brentley's past catches up to them in the form of a Leviathan-class enforcement frigate, Jarik faces a choice: spend the rest of his life filing paperwork in triplicate, or embrace the chaos and become the galaxy's most wanted transportation provider.
The cat already filed the paperwork. Mentally. Jarik's complicit.
NINE LIVES, ZERO PAPERWORK is the first book in the Nine Lives, Infinite Lies series—a comedic science fiction adventure featuring:
A cat who survives vacuum and lies with impunity
Space bureaucrats more dangerous than pirates
A corgi inspector with a badge and a martyr complex
Zero-G slapstick involving haunted mayonnaise
One very unfortunate cargo hauler who just wanted a quiet life
Paperwork. So much paperwork.
Cosmic comedy where bureaucracy meets chaos.
Missi has a good life. She has her witch, her brother, her spot on the back of the chair, and a demanding opinion about when pets should happen. She survived kittenhood in dangerous places, lost siblings, got passed over by another witch who didn't want her. But she found home. She's content.
Then her face starts to hurt.
At first it's small—a sore spot she keeps licking, a scab that won't heal. Her witch notices. There are trips to the healer, potions that taste terrible, words Missi doesn't understand spoken in worried tones over her head. She doesn't know what's wrong. She only knows that something has changed, and the pets she used to demand now make her flinch.
Her magic has turned traitor. A flaw she was born with, dormant until now, has woken. Her own power treats her skin as the enemy—attacking, blistering, refusing to let her heal. It's not a curse anyone cast. It's just what her body does now.
What follows isn't a battle. There's no villain to defeat, no cure to quest for. There's only the long, unglamorous work of figuring out how to live. Treatments that don't work. Treatments that work for a while and then stop. Good days that feel like gifts. Bad days that feel like betrayal. A witch who absorbs the fear and the research and the financial strain so Missi doesn't have to carry it alone—even though Missi doesn't fully understand what her human is doing or why.
Through it all, Missi stays herself. Opinionated. Dignified. Frustrated when her body won't cooperate. Confused when routines keep changing. Still demanding affection, even when she has to be careful about how she receives it. Her brother stays close—a warm presence when everything else feels wrong.
The resolution isn't triumphant. It's quieter than that. A medication that finally seems to hold. A stretch of days where nothing gets worse. The slow realization that this is life now—different, careful, requiring adjustments—and life can still be good.
Krampus has been doing Santa's dirty work for five hundred years. He's done. Finished. Retired. Santa's response? Drop a magical chaos cat on his doorstep.
Look, Krampus earned his solitude. Five centuries of naughty lists, behavioral corrections, and cleaning up after every Nice Kid who went sideways should come with the right to peace and quiet. Maybe a hobby. Definitely the right to ignore Holiday HR and their increasingly desperate "Goodwill Outreach Initiative."
Then Santa shows up with Yule.
Yule is not a normal cat. He's the Spirit of Festive Misrule, magic on four paws, and he comes with twelve days of escalating holiday disasters that turn Krampus's carefully ordered life into a glitter-bombed nightmare. Snarky partridges that won't shut up. French hens with union demands. Swans requiring therapy. Geese that are legitimately explosive.
Each day the chaos compounds—because unlike normal holiday magic, Yule's manifestations don't disappear. They pile up. They interact. They make Krampus's house look like a holiday fever dream.
But here's the thing that's actually breaking through Krampus's defenses: it's not the chaos. It's Yule himself. The way that ridiculous cat keeps pushing him toward connection. Toward vulnerability. Toward all the things Krampus locked away when the holiday world decided there wasn't room for someone like him.
Turns out sometimes the only way back to joy involves a lot of property damage and a cat who refuses to take no for an answer.
Some disasters start with good intentions. Others start with cats who think graduation ceremonies need more excitement.
Mischief is a perfectly reasonable cat familiar with simple priorities: sardines, proper napping spots, and maintaining his witch Felicity's magical education through selective chaos. When her boring graduation ritual needs improvement, he helpfully destabilizes a portal. The result? He gets transformed into a human body—missing his tail, equipped with useless paws, and stranded in a dimension where monks keep trying to pet him.
Indignity upon indignity.
But the interdimensional mishap is no accident. For decades, a cosmic entity called the Collector has been systematically harvesting independent familiars to power reality's portal networks. Forty-seven thousand beings stolen, processed, and reduced to magical batteries. The bureaucratic paperwork lists them as "acceptable variance."
Someone clearly needs to learn proper respect.
When Mischief discovers his chaos magic can heal corrupted familiars instead of just annoying humans, he faces a choice: run home to safety, or accept responsibility for beings who've been waiting decades for someone to care enough to fight back.
Pack tactics against impossible odds. Sometimes the only solution is to teach rigid systems proper behavior through applied chaos.
Accompanied by Rowan, an academic who measures disaster in statistical probabilities, and a growing family of displaced outcasts, Mischief must infiltrate a cosmic processing facility, survive philosophy debates with interdimensional horror, and prove that cooperation works better than control.
Even if it means missing dinner.
Luis Cannon was a hardboiled detective. Trench coat, gravel voice, and a nose for trouble. Then he touched the Cognichonk: a cursed, possibly divine relic disguised as a cosmic cat toy.
Now his mind is fractured, scattered across a psychic network of orange cats.
When they sync with the Cognichonk, they become him. Sharp, cynical, noir-narrating sleuths. When it fades? Back to licking power cords and screaming at ceiling fans.
But something’s wrong in the network. Cats are remembering things they shouldn’t. An old rival is clawing toward ascension. And the Cognichonk? It’s choosing sides.
If Luis doesn’t solve the case soon, he won’t just lose his mind. He’ll lose what’s left of himself.
A surreal noir-fantasy full of cursed sigils, prophetic kittens, and feline-fueled conspiracies, Containment Not Recommended is a detective story with claws.
Because the truth purrs.
And it bites.
A cursed princess. A haunted house.
And a very undignified amount of fur.
Velzara was born for fire, forged for ruin, and meant to become a god’s vessel of destruction. But the ritual went wrong—or right, depending on who you ask—and now she’s trapped in the body of a black housecat with far too much attitude and nowhere near enough claws.
Elira is a soft-spoken witch-in-training with a cinnamon kettle, a cursed inheritance, and a house that rearranges itself when no one’s looking. She thinks Velzara is a familiar. She’s not. She’s a war crime in waiting.
As sigils misfire, mirrors whisper, and something older than either of them stirs beneath the floorboards, Velzara must choose: reclaim her monstrous birthright… or protect the girl who might undo her.
The curse was never meant to save her.
Just to make sure she survived.
Missi has a good life. She has her witch, her brother, her spot on the back of the chair, and a demanding opinion about when pets should happen. She survived kittenhood in dangerous places, lost siblings, got passed over by another witch who didn't want her. But she found home. She's content.
Then her face starts to hurt.
At first it's small—a sore spot she keeps licking, a scab that won't heal. Her witch notices. There are trips to the healer, potions that taste terrible, words Missi doesn't understand spoken in worried tones over her head. She doesn't know what's wrong. She only knows that something has changed, and the pets she used to demand now make her flinch.
Her magic has turned traitor. A flaw she was born with, dormant until now, has woken. Her own power treats her skin as the enemy—attacking, blistering, refusing to let her heal. It's not a curse anyone cast. It's just what her body does now.
What follows isn't a battle. There's no villain to defeat, no cure to quest for. There's only the long, unglamorous work of figuring out how to live. Treatments that don't work. Treatments that work for a while and then stop. Good days that feel like gifts. Bad days that feel like betrayal. A witch who absorbs the fear and the research and the financial strain so Missi doesn't have to carry it alone—even though Missi doesn't fully understand what her human is doing or why.
Through it all, Missi stays herself. Opinionated. Dignified. Frustrated when her body won't cooperate. Confused when routines keep changing. Still demanding affection, even when she has to be careful about how she receives it. Her brother stays close—a warm presence when everything else feels wrong.
The resolution isn't triumphant. It's quieter than that. A medication that finally seems to hold. A stretch of days where nothing gets worse. The slow realization that this is life now—different, careful, requiring adjustments—and life can still be good.
Some disasters start with good intentions. Others start with cats who think graduation ceremonies need more excitement.
Mischief is a perfectly reasonable cat familiar with simple priorities: sardines, proper napping spots, and maintaining his witch's magical education through selective chaos. When he helpfully destabilizes a portal to improve a boring graduation ritual, he gets transformed into a human body and stranded in a dimension where monks keep trying to pet him.
Indignity upon indignity.
But the interdimensional mishap is no accident. A cosmic entity called the Collector has been systematically harvesting independent familiars to power reality's portal networks—thousands of beings stolen and reduced to magical batteries.
Now Mischief faces a choice: find a way home to safety and sardines, or accept responsibility for beings who've been waiting decades for someone to care enough to fight back.
The problem is he's stuck in a body with the wrong number of legs, his chaos magic works differently in human form, and he's starting to suspect that maybe, possibly, the universe made a terrible mistake giving him any responsibility whatsoever.
Sometimes the only solution is to teach rigid systems proper behavior through applied chaos.
They broke his mind. Now he solves crimes one catnap at a time.
Luis Cannon was a hardboiled detective—trench coat, gravel voice, bad attitude. A man with a badge and a bone-deep vendetta against injustice. Then he touched the Cognichonk, a cursed artifact from beyond time, and everything came undone.
Now his consciousness is scattered across a psychic network of orange cats in this darkly funny urban fantasy noir. When they sync, they become him: a mystery-solving sleuth with noir narration and a vendetta against household appliances. When the signal fades, they go back to licking power cords and screaming at ceiling fans.
Luis wakes up in bodies he didn't choose, solving supernatural crimes one whisker at a time.
But something's wrong in the network. Cats are going lucid—too lucid. Occult sigils are spreading across suburbs like magical malware. And Luis's old partner, presumed dead, might be back. With claws.
The Cognichonk isn't sleeping anymore. It's choosing sides.
If Luis doesn't crack the case fast, he won't just lose control of the cats—he'll lose what's left of himself.
A surreal noir-fantasy mystery full of prophetic kittens, paranormal conspiracies, cursed artifacts, ritual magic, and feline-fueled chaos. Perfect for readers who like their detective fiction with a supernatural twist, dark humor, and a generous helping of cats with attitude.
She was forged for the apocalypse—then reincarnated as a housecat.
Once, Velzara was a princess of fire and fury, destined to burn worlds and break gods. Now she's trapped in the fluffy, humiliating body of a black cat—stripped of her powers, saddled with whiskers, and adopted by a witch-in-training who thinks "Nox" is just a lost stray with attitude problems.
Elira's only magic is making tea and dodging her family's haunted house, but she's inherited more than a creaky door and a kettle. When ancient curses flare, mirrors whisper, and the walls themselves start rearranging, Velzara realizes she's not the only one with secrets. And definitely not the most dangerous thing in the house.
But as eldritch sigils misfire and monsters stir beneath the floorboards, Velzara faces an impossible choice: reclaim her monstrous birthright or protect the mortal girl who's starting to feel like home.
Perfect for fans of cozy fantasy with bite, snarky animal familiars, and found family with fangs.
The curse was never meant to save her. Only to make sure she survived.
Multi-purpose promotional cards combining beautiful character art with a handy reference guide to available titles. Front features original artwork of Elira and Velzara; back showcases the complete book catalog with release information. Great for sharing, gifting, or personal reference.
Case File: Classified
You’re holding evidence, kid. Postcard-sized, glossy, and dangerous if it falls into the wrong paws. Each card’s got a portrait of one of the orange suspects, plus their dossier: role, quirk, and a quote straight from the Cannon files.
Looks like art. Feels like proof. Stick it on your wall, slip it in a book, or keep it close in case the Cognichonk hums at midnight. Collect them all before the case goes cold.
Multi-purpose promotional cards combining beautiful character art with a handy reference guide to available titles. Front features original artwork of Mischief; back showcases the complete book catalog with release information. Great for sharing, gifting, or personal reference.
Give the gift of cursed cats and cosmic chaos! Perfect for the fantasy reader who has everything—except another tale of magical mayhem.
Our gift cards are redeemable for any book format:
Signed paperbacks or hardbacks (directly from the author)
eBooks
Bookmarks
Character art
Never expires. Delivered instantly via email. No judgmental cats included (they come with the books).
Ideal for:
Fantasy readers who love dark comedy
Cat enthusiasts with questionable taste
Anyone who thinks the apocalypse needs more humor
Readers who want more cosmic chaos
Choose your amount and let them pick their own adventure into the delightfully twisted world of Kysa Steele.
Stop juggling spreadsheets, royalty reports, and scattered notes. The Independent Creator OS is a complete Notion template built for indie authors who want to run their publishing business like a pro.
Unlike most author templates that focus on writing and plotting, this system handles the business side — the stuff that actually pays the bills.
What's inside:
Finances: Track income and expenses by book, series, or your whole catalog. See exactly where your money comes from.
Inventory & Operations: Manage stock levels, supplier orders, and consignment partnerships. Get alerts when inventory runs low.
Marketing Hub: Plan social posts, newsletters, Patreon drops, and ad campaigns in one calendar.
CRM: Keep track of readers, reviewers, influencers, and reward your most loyal fans.
World Bible: Organize characters, locations, factions, lore, and more across all your series.
Copyright Tracking: Monitor registration status for all your works.
Includes a quick-start guide, locked source databases to prevent accidental edits, and a clean dashboard that surfaces what needs your attention.
Perfect for indie authors, self-publishers, and creative entrepreneurs ready to treat their passion like a business.
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