 I have worked hard for the peace I've built in Fort Chance: my quiet life with my two snakes, my slow-but-steady business of helping the dead as well as the living move on, no romantic relationships to complicate things… It's close to perfect. This peace is fragile, however. I hide who I am every day, and if I say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time, I could lose everything. I'm a witch—not just any, but a breach witch. My ancestors came from another world, and we've been working hard to hide that fact. We witches are largely self-governed, and other supernaturals certainly have no respect for us. To blend in, I've been using the guise of a Voodoo practitioner for years… But the weight of feeling like an impostor every day is not one I'd carry if I had a choice. When a wraith, a walking nightmare from across the breach, shows up right here in Fort Chance, I may well be the only one who can deal with it… Because wraiths suck the souls out of their victims, and its stalking abilities are the one thing even I can't hide from. Even the dead I have sworn to protect have become unresponsive husks in its wake. Worse, Nova—the most annoying woman I've ever met—seems determined to help for some reason. Worse again, it seems vampires are involved somehow. All I know is this: I neither need nor want anyone's help, certainly not theirs. I prefer to wager my own life to keep Fort Chance safe. At least that way, I'm in control. Can I truly save my home on my own, however… or are we both doomed to lose our souls to the wraith? Why You Should Read It?
Check out Spirit Court if you like - slow-burn romance, own-voice demi rep, witch familiars, a power struggle between witches and vampires, Voodoo self-acceptance, and personal growth and all the (pretty, green, shiny) magic!
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 There's always a price with magic... Magic can be tempting, especially when you are navigating the world for the first time. Tempting enough to turn to the dark side. For these witches, they must decide how to use their abilities. Will they choose to help others or help themselves? Either way, there will be a price to pay. Are they willing to pay it? A Young Adult Paranormal Fantasy Collection Why Should You Check It Out?
The Price of Magic is a collection of young adult witch stories. The idea started out as a series of prompts for stories and authors chose one idea each. I have read so many witch stories and I love the genre, but I thought it would be a fun idea to see what it would be like for teenage witches. How would they handle their abilities? How does it affect their lives? A fun fact about the set - its all British and Irish authors! You can pre-order now and the set is released on January 17th, 2026. It will also be available in paperback.  Happy New Year! We hope that 2026 is your year.
We will be bringing you multiple new events, promos, sales and giveaways across the year. This month we will have new releases from authors including our first anthology of the year - The Price of Magic. In February, it will be all about love. If you love Romantasy or Paranormal Romance, be sure to check out our new posts every Monday. We hope you will join us and hopefully get some great reading recommendations or new authors to follow. Have a great New Year!       All books are available on Amazon.
 Have you ever heard of the Lenan Sidhe? I admit I hadn't until I did some research. This Fae is said to be a cross between a muse and a vampire! Quite the combination.
Often depicted as a beautiful woman, she finds a human lover and inspires them to create poetry, song, or prose. But she has an insatiable hunger and gradually drains the life of the person, taking his life force. Also known as the Fairy Mistress, she often helps her lover find success, before their untimely demise. It makes you think of all those famous writers who died young after brief fame... There are so many story ideas that could be written about this type of Fae. Is she malevolent? Or does she drain them by accident? Would someone willingly agree if it meant finally finding fame? This Fae has also been shown to be a man too, so it can work for all types of relationships. Happy writing!  Will O' The Wisps are said to be a type of pixie that live in bogs and marshes. They often appear as a blue light or flame that lead people astray. They are seen as tricksters and mischievous creatures who like to toy with humans.
One of the most recent depictions of the wisp is in the Disney movie Brave. Though they are part of folklore, scientists do believe it created by gases on the marshes and it is known as false fire. I don't know about you, but I prefer the magical explanation ;) The wisp is a great plot device for your story. Perhaps leading your MC on an adventure or into danger... Happy writing!  IRON PG Forte Blurb: A blacksmith with a tragic past, a faery princess with an uncertain future and a love that burns like iron. When an immortal, shape-shifting fae arrives on his doorstep seeking shelter, Gavin O’Malley knows he’s in luck. For Aislinn can give him everything his life’s been missing. Now, all he has to do is find a way to keep her—without losing his soul in the process. Excerpt: It was just past midwinter, at the tail end of yet another cold, December day when Aislinn Deirbhile rode up from Kilbanning. She halted her mount on the rutted, dirt track and surveyed the situation before her. O’Malley’s forge, and the smith’s cottage which was situated across the yard from it, stood all alone in a quiet hollow, just down the road from where Aislinn sat, steeped in thought. The horse on which she was riding, being of a breed perhaps more perceptive than most, was clearly as nervous as she at the prospect; he tossed his head and whinnied softly causing the silver bells on his harness to jingle. “Milady,” pleaded the small man who rode at Aislinn’s side. “Will you not reconsider? Come away from this place—now, before it’s too late. My people are still willing to offer you shelter, as we have done ere these months past, and ye have yet to come to any harm with us.” “Nay, Eoghan.” Aislinn smiled sadly at her companion. Though slight in stature, quite dwarfed, in fact, by the tall, silver-white steed upon which he sat, the spriggan’s courage was that of a giant. “You and your people are true friends indeed, but my enemy is at his strongest now. None can hope to stand against Annwn’s full might.” She turned her gaze back toward the small, stone buildings at the end of the lane and sighed. “If there is any shelter to be had against Winter, or if I’ve any hope of surviving the geasa that have been laid upon me, I must find them here.” “But, Lady,” the little man implored, his distress evident in every line of his face. “How can there be any help for you here? A blacksmith. A worker in iron. The very ether is contaminated with its foul essence! Can you not smell it on the wind? Can you not almost taste it?” “Oh, aye.” Aislinn grinned in reply. “And can you not imagine the look it will put on Tiernan’s face when first he tracks me here? How I wish I could see it!” But just thinking about Tiernan ap Annwn, her would-be husband—nay, her would-be jailer—wiped the smile from her lips in a hurry. She urged her horse forward. “Come. Let us make haste. Night is upon us.” As they picked their way between the rocks and mud of the rutted boreen, Eoghan continued his litany of complaints. “Are ye still after putting your faith in that oracle you consulted this past Samhain? You canna be serous. You know as well as I that most of what occurs in the realm of the Fae is well outside the druid’s ken.” “Indeed, my friend.” Aislinn inclined her head. “But, as I am banished from the Realm ’til Summer’s return, ’twas for information pertaining to this dimension that I sought out the Oracle of Death; as well as for advice on how I might best survive in this world.” “Sure and that Druid must have imbibed a cup too much of the nawglan,” Eoghan said in tones of disgust. “To have bid you find shelter with a blacksmith.” Aislinn sighed. “Ah, my friend, can you not at least enjoy the irony with me? Is not the plan elegant in its subtlety? Sure and ’tis the last thing Tiernan will be expecting me to do; and once I am safe behind yon walls even you must admit I will be beyond his reach for as long as I choose to stay there.” “Aye, Lady.” Eoghan’s voice was grim. “And beyond the reach of any help such as I or mine might wish to offer you, as well. But why talk ye of choosing? Methinks you will not be safe once you are locked behind the walls of such a place. My Lord Tiernan is not the only one whose plans may be thwarted thus. That same iron you trust now to keep your too-ardent suitor out, may very well serve to keep you in.” “I’m not unmindful of the risk, Eoghan. But, hush, my friend. No more talk now. Even in this desolate place, the Night may have ears.” The sound of their horses’ hooves, clattering against the cobbles, echoed loudly on the still, evening air as they entered the smith’s yard. Light spilled out onto the stones when the cottage door swung open and a man appeared in the doorway. Even with his face in shadow, Aislinn’s sight was such she could still detect the frown on his visage as he looked them over. His gaze swept her with barely a pause, seemed hardly to touch at all on Eoghan, who had cloaked his true form, and lingered longest on the horses. He was an exceedingly well-formed man, she observed; eyeing him back with interest for, after all, this was the man, or so the druid insisted, on whom her safety—nay, her very life—might well depend. She estimated his age at about three dozen summers, maybe a couple less. He stood well over six foot; strong and fit and fairly muscled, with hair dark as a raven’s wing and thick, straight brows which almost met above an equally straight nose. Several days’ worth of stubble darkened his cheeks and softened the angles of his jaw. She thought his face would have been quite pleasing, overall, were it not for the scowl that sat too comfortably upon his features, as though it had found a permanent home there. “Well, then?” he asked, at last, and something about the deep timbre of his voice caused a shiver to run down Aislinn’s spine. “And what would you two be wanting?” “Is it Mr. O’Malley to whom I’m speaking?” she inquired. “Mr. Gavin O’Malley? The blacksmith?” “Aye. ’Tis my name,” he said. “Might I know yours?” “Milady,” Eoghan whispered urgently as Aislinn threw him her reins and slid to the ground. “Have a care!” “It is well,” she replied, amused by the spriggan’s concern. Did he think her so far gone in her fear as to forget herself and make a present of her name to the whole outdoors? Still shaking her head at his foolishness, she turned toward the mortal and smiled. “My name need not concern you, for now, sir smith. But, lo, the day grows late. Will you not invite me indoors that we might discuss our business in greater comfort?”  USA Today Bestselling Author PG Forte inhabits a world only slightly less strange than the ones she creates. Filled with serendipity, coincidence, love at first sight and dreams come true.
Originally a Jersey girl, and forever a California girl at heart, PG currently resides in the beautiful Texas Hill Country where she continues to write contemporary and paranormal romance in a variety of sub-genres. The common thread linking them together? Her stories are always centered around themes of friendship, family, and heartfelt feelings. Even the vampires? Yes. Especially the vampires.  CHAPTER ONE “One last little drop and…” I carefully used the dropper to add the final ingredient, holding my breath so I didn’t add too much. A single drop of red liquid went in the bottle and when it hit the rest of the liquid, it turned a vibrant green. “Oh yeah, I’m good,” I said, grinning in satisfaction. Aidan stared at me, eyes wide. “How do you do that? No one has been able to get that potion right.” Stoppering the bottle, I gave it a shake. “Natural talent.” Aidan snorted in response. He was just jealous. I was the best potion maker in the country, maybe even in the world and he knew it. Which begged the question, why was I working out of the back of an old restaurant, hiding my talent, when I could be making the big bucks. Well, I knew why. Witches had to be careful in this city. The supernatural authorities liked to keep a close eye on us, making sure we didn’t overstep the mark. One witch got caught hexing someone a few months back and they threw her in prison for two years. I mean sure it was a well known goblin leader she was hexing, but that was uncalled for. The general rule was as long as you aren’t doing anything to those in charge, they don’t really give a shit. “How much do you think you’ll get for it?” I asked, handing the bottle to Aidan. He held it up to the light for a better look. “Uh, maybe three hundred. If we’re lucky.” “Well, get lucky, I’d like to eat this week.” With a nod, Aidan placed the bottle in a box and left the kitchen. It was an odd setup, but it could be a lucrative one if you played your cards right. Aidan was a witch too, but he didn’t have much in the way of natural talents. He was good at finding buyers though, which was why I whipped up the potions and he sold them for us. Fifty-fifty cut for each of us. Grabbing a cloth, I started mopping up any spilt ingredients from earlier. Despite the fact this entire building was condemned, I always took the time to make sure my workspace was clean. Potions were delicate things. One wrong move, or any kind of contamination could mess it up. And I wouldn’t be accused of shoddy work. “Not that it matters with poison,” I muttered. Okay, my natural talent involved some very specific types of potions. The contents were untraceable and depending on what was used, they could make it look like someone died of natural causes. I wasn’t a monster, I didn’t whip them up for anyone. Right now, there was a lot of rumblings with the vampires, they were constantly trying to expand their territory and killed anyone who got in their way. No one would miss a few of them. Taking on a vamp one on one was pretty much a death sentence unless you had super strength, and the resistance group who bought the poison didn’t. They were just trying to protect their families. A drop of my potion would desiccate a vamp, leave him a shrivelled mess, easy to stake. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. Grabbing my case, I started packing my things inside. As I picked up my mini cauldron, my hand shook slightly. Pausing, I took a deep breath, running my hand through my short, black and red streaked hair. It was moments like this I found it difficult to get Sarah’s face out of my head. My little sister. Murdered by vampires, along with our parents when I was only a kid. Not that I knew the vamps were responsible at the time. I found out much later. Years ago, Sarah spotted the cauldron in a junk store and begged Mom to buy it for me. She knew I would like it. It was cast iron and excellent for potion brewing. Of course at the time, we were playing, I had no real idea about potion making. That came later too. If I had some of these potions at my disposal back then, maybe I could have done something to save them. My phone rang, startling me. Pulling it from my pocket, I answered it. “Hello?” “Hi, is this...Aurora?” a woman asked. “Rory, but yeah. What can I do for you?” “Um, I got your number from a friend. She said you could help me with something.” Goddess, I hated the timid ones. They were always reluctant to get to the point. “What do you need?” I asked, tapping my fingers impatiently. “I don’t really want to discuss it over the phone. Someone could be listening. Could we meet somewhere. Please? I’ll pay anything.” That made me pay attention. Maybe I could squeeze a few extra bucks out of her. While most of my business was with Aidan, I did have personal clients that he didn’t need to know about. “Okay. You got a pen?” “Yes.” I reeled off my address to her. “Meet me in an hour.” “I will. Thank you.” She hung up. I admit I was a little intrigued by what she wanted, but it was probably just an abusive husband she wanted rid of. I got that a lot. Honestly, I could probably make that a full time job, but I didn’t kill humans. No matter how much they deserved it. But I could give her something to punish him or even make him leave. Packing up the rest of my stuff, I left the restaurant and headed east. I had given her my home address. Well, home wasn’t entirely accurate. It was an abandoned house I was staying in. The good thing was if there ever was an issue, if someone tried to send the authorities after me, I could just grab my stuff and bail. Nothing is ever permanent. Something my mom used to say. No shit. I reached the house about twenty minutes later. Checking there was no on else in the street, I cut down and alley, climbed a fence and came into the house through a window at the back. I had to be careful. It would only take the wrong nosey neighbor to report me and I’d be chased out. The house was a two storey, five bedroom Victorian that was abandoned because of structural issues. So far, it seemed to be holding up well. The chain-link fence around the front stopped anyone from getting too close and I got to stay here until they decided to tear it down. Shame. It looked like it could have been a great place to live once upon a time. The kitchen was a lost cause, hence why I worked out of the restaurant, but there were some rooms at the front of the house that were fine. Dumping my bag in the room I slept in, I headed back downstairs and lit some candles. No electricity was a bitch too. The front room still had some furniture in it, so I used it the most. I gave it a quick tidy, then moved to the window to watch for her. At almost exactly the hour, a silver sedan pulled up. I moved to the back door, opened it and made my way around. She couldn’t exactly walk in the front door. The woman was in her forties, wearing a crumpled navy suit and a string of pearls. She looked like some PTA mom. Looking up at the house, her brow creased in confusion and I saw her check a piece of paper in her hand. I whistled and her head whipped up. Motioning for her to follow me, I didn’t wait to see if she did. I headed back inside. A few minutes later, she came in through the back door, moving slowly. “Is this your house?” she asked. “Technically? It will do for now. Come through.” I lead her to the living room which looked almost normal compared to the rest of the house. A loud creak came from above us and the woman’s head whipped up. She was jumpy. “Are we alone?” she asked, playing with the pearls. “Yes. It’s just the house settling.” Or collapsing. Fifty-fifty on that. “What do you want?” She tore her gaze from the ceiling and looked at me. Then she looked around the room, her eyes landing on a few potion bottles on the table by the window. She moved slowly toward them, her hand brushing the table, but she didn’t pick any up. “I heard you specialize in...potions that can take care of problems.” More dancing around the subject. What was she asking for? “Depends. What do you want?” She turned to face me, her gaze steady. Something was off about her. The voice on the phone was nervous, this woman was not that. Not really. More alert. She stood straight, arms by her side, body tense. I learned to read body language a long time ago, you had to when you grew up in care. Something was up with her. “I need to deal with someone who is bothering me. A co-worker.” Co-worker? That didn’t sound right either. How could a co-worker be so bad that she had to come to me. “Have you tried changing jobs?” I suggested, then kicked myself. If she was willing to pay, why was I trying to talk her our of it. Still, that doubt persisted. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option. I need something that will...put him out of work. So to speak.” I was starting to wonder if she was some undercover fed at this point. Like she wanted me to admit to something, but I didn’t know what. “Look, the best I can do is give you something with a really strong laxative effect. Would that do it?” She pulled a face. “Not quite what I had in mind.” “Well, I guess you’ve been misinformed then.” The woman stared at me for a moment, then she sighed. “I guess so.” She adjusted her jacket and headed for the door. I followed her and let her back out. “Good luck with…” But she was already out the gate. “Whatever.” Weirded out, I closed the door and locked it. Something was definitely up with her. I needed to be careful. Maybe its time to move again.  Kat Gracey writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels featuring her two favorite supernatural beings - witches and werewolves.
She currently resides in the UK, where she enjoys yoga and catching up on her favorite shows. You can learn more about her books via her website: https://www.witchesandwerewolves.co.uk  “Mum, Declan won’t stop teasing me,” Ciara whined, pointing a pudgy finger at me. Mum looked up from the washing and gave me a familiar glare. “Declan, stop torturing your sister. When are you two going to learn to play nice?” “Never,” I muttered under my breath. Why would I want to spend time with my bratty ten-year-old sister? She was always breaking my stuff, then blaming me. Then she would tattle to Mum when I yelled at her. When Mum turned to place the clothes in the washing basket, I drew my finger across my throat at Ciara. “Mum!” Ciara whined again. “Enough. I can’t listen to the two of you anymore. Go outside and play.” We left the house and headed to the trees at the bottom of the garden. Our house was out of the way, miles from anything. Mum let us play in the woods, as long as we didn’t wander too far. Not that I listened. The further away I got from Ciara, the better. Taking off, I headed for the small river which ran along the back of the property, I started building a dam out of rocks and old boards and I wanted to finish it. Actually, I’d much rather be playing video games but since I couldn’t, this was at least a way to entertain myself. Just as I reached the river, a voice rang out. “Declan! Where are you going?” I swore under my breath. Couldn’t she leave me alone for five minutes? “Go play with your dolls, Ciara,” I snapped. “I want to go with you,” she insisted. Rolling my eyes, I ignored her and started looking for new items to add to the dam. If I didn’t talk to her, she would soon get bored and leave. I dug a rock out of the dirt, a big one. Hefting it, I moved to my dam. Only three feet across, it wouldn’t take long to finish it. I glanced at the riverbank as cold water seeped into my trainers. Ciara had disappeared. Weird, thought she’d make more of a fuss. After placing my rock where I wanted it, I climbed back out, looking up and down the bank. Where did she go? An uneasy feeling washed over me. If she hurt herself, I would be the one to get in trouble. Mum would blame me for wandering too far, even though no one asked her to follow me. “Ciara!” I yelled. “Where are you?” No reply. She probably went back to the house, but if she didn’t… “For feck’s sake,” I muttered, trudging along the bank. If she was hiding, I would push her into the bloody river. Laughter up ahead alerted me to where she was. I left the trees to find a field beyond it. About twenty feet away stood a small mound covered in wildflowers and Ciara stood on top of it. “Look what I found,” she said, throwing her arms out. “Mum says they’re called fairy mounds. She showed me a picture.” “Fairies? Seriously? Don’t be so stupid!” I sneered. Imagine believing in fairies at her age. Ciara pouted and crossed her arms, her blonde pigtails blowing in the breeze. “They are real.” Rolling my eyes, I climbed onto the mound, my trainers sinking into the soft earth. “Go back to the house before you fall and break your neck.” I tried to grab her am, to drag her down, but she jumped back out of my reach. “No! I want to see a fairy and I’m not leaving until I do.” Rubbing my nose with the back of my hand, I could feel myself getting angry with her. “They’re not real.” “Yes, they are.” “Okay, fine.” I raised my voice. “If fairies exist, show yourselves. Come on! Don’t be shy.” “Stop it, Declan.” “Come on, fairies. Come and get me!” I screamed. Of course, nothing happened. Laughing wickedly, I climbed down. “Do what you want.” I headed back to the river to finish my dam. *** I looked up to find that the sun was starting to set. Confused, I looked around. I was just at the river, but now I found myself standing back in the field with the fairy mound. “What the hell?” I muttered. I couldn’t have been out here that long. It was lunch time when we left the house. The sun didn’t go down until after nine. Shaking my head, I started walking back towards home. I must have completely zoned out, Mum would kill me for staying out so long. Where’s Ciara? She probably got home hours ago. Mum would lose it and I’d be grounded for weeks. Breaking into a jog, I realised it wouldn’t make much of a difference given how late I already was. I can’t spend the summer locked in the house. Maybe I could tell her that I got lost, but she probably wouldn’t believe me. The house came into view and I hurried to the back door, but it was locked. Running around to the front door, I skidded to a halt. Dad was getting out of the car with Ciara…did she get her hair cut? It used to hang down her back, but now it fell to her chin. I’m missing all day and she gets taken out for a haircut? Ciara spotted me and let out a small scream. My eyes went to Dad, who had a stunned expression on his face like I was the last person he expected to see. “What?” I asked, annoyed at being stared at. “G-get your Mum,” Dad said to Ciara. She headed for the door, staring at me the whole way. She opened the door and screamed, “Mum!” Dad stepped around the car, walking slowly towards me. “Declan?” he whispered. “What? Why is everyone acting weird? I know I was gone a long time, I just lost track of time.” Mum came to the door, wearing a dressing gown and slippers. She looked washed out. Was she sick? She was fine earlier. “Ciara? What…?” She saw me and her eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. “D-Declan?” I shifted uncomfortably. Something was seriously off. She lunged at me, wrapping me in a bear hug. “Oh thank God. My baby, you’re home.” “What’s the big deal? I’ve only been gone a few hours,” I said, trying to break free from her grip. “A few hours?” Dad sputtered, still rooted to the spot. I could see tears in his eyes. Dad never cried. Mum looked at me, her hands on my cheeks. “Declan, baby, you’ve been gone for a year.”  USA Today Bestselling Author S. K. Gregory writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance and horror stories. Rarely seen without a pen in her hand, she loves writing about supernatural worlds and the creatures that live within them.
An avid reader and chocoholic, she has been creating fantasy worlds since she was a child. When she isn’t writing, S. K. enjoys binge-watching her favorite shows and hanging out with family and friends. To learn more and to keep up to date with her latest book releases, you can follow her Facebook page here: www.facebook.com/authorskgregory or check out her website: www.skgregory.com |
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About the Author:S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland. “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” 
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