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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.
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.
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.
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.