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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.
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.
If you love grumpy characters learning to feel again, this holiday novella about found family and second chances might be your thing. It's got a reluctant hero who deserves better, escalating magical mayhem, and proof that even after five hundred years of bitterness, there's still hope for healing.
Also, there's a cat. The cat is a menace. You'll love him.
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.
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