Wednesday, June 3, 2026

 

INTERVIEW WITH BARRY MAHER (The Great Dick and the Dysfunctional Demon) 


Today we welcome Barry Maher to the page to answer a few questions. Welcome, Barry. Tell us a little about yourself and what got you in to writing?


I’m Barry Maher and I may be the only horror novelist who’s ever appeared in the pages of Funeral Service Insider. In my misspent youth, my articles were featured in perhaps a hundred different publications and, in order to eat, I held nearly that many different jobs. Sometimes he lived on the beach. Not in a house on the beach. On the beach. With the sand and seagulls. 

Three hours into a truly excremental job—standing on a roof in the rain, holding the frayed cord of a toilet de-rooter—I thought I’d hit on a way for my writing to support me. I’d simply write a best-selling, critically-acclaimed novel. Think Sherlock Holmes meets Hamlet, if Ophelia was oversexed, homicidal and undead.

Surprisingly (to me anyway) that plot didn’t work out. But it got me to quit the rooter company. And it did lead to my first novel, which led to me being able to write and to actually afford food, which led ultimately To the Great Dick: And the Homicidal Demon. Which led to me doing this interview for author Anthony Avin.


2: Do you have a favourite time and place where you write?


Yes, my favorite time to write is when I’m awake. I get up, exercise a bit, have breakfast, then I sit down and write until lunch. After lunch, I write until dinner. Nowadays I write on my laptop in a lounge chair, looking out over Santa Barbara and the ocean and the beach which was once the only bedroom I could afford. I’ve been very lucky.


3: Where do your ideas come from?


Asia.


4: Seriously?

    That’s the short answer. The long answer is that I was speaking on an Asian cruise when I realized I could no longer figure out what the hands of the clock meant. The next day, during a presentation I introduced the ship’s captain. Twenty minutes later I picked him out of the audience and asked him what he did for a living. (The uniform did look a tad familiar.) That same day, I gave up trying to understand foreign currency. Even American money was getting tricky. In Viet Nam, I handed a vendor two hundreds and a five for a $7.00 baseball cap. It was a very nice cap.

Back home, the first thing my doctor did was have me draw a clock face at ten to three. The second thing he did was take away my driver’s license. Then he sent me for an immediate MRI. The nurse there wouldn’t comment on the results, but when I asked where the restroom was, she said, “I can’t let you go in there alone.”

I explained that bathroom visitation was a particular expertise of mine. 

“Like telling time?” she asked. “You need to talk to your neurosurgeon.”

“I have a neurosurgeon?” Just what I always wanted.

I also had a brain tumor—the size of a basketball. Or maybe the neurosurgeon said “baseball.” I wasn’t tracking too well at that point. Still, I quickly grasped he was planning on carving open my skull with a power saw. 

“I don’t really need to tell time,” I said. “Or I can just buy a digital watch.”

Everyone said my neurosurgeon—or, as I thought of him, “Chainsaw Charlie”—was brilliant. My problem was that I’ve spent my life around intelligent people, and I’ve always believed human intelligence was overrated. To me, on a scale of everything there is to know in the universe, the main difference between Einstein and Koko the Wonder Chimp was that Einstein couldn’t pick up bananas with his feet. (As far as I know.)  

Still, I went under the knife—or in this case, the power saw.  Maybe I had a seizure. The doctors weren’t sure. That might explain what happened. Because I came out of the surgery with Lady Gaga singing non-stop in my head and an unforgettably vivid story, like a memory of something that I’d just witnessed. 

Reacting to the intrusion, I suppose my brain could have given me a dream or a story, maybe even Citizen Kane or a nice rom/com or a few episodes of Seinfeld. But no, my got open crypts, bizarre spells, sudden death and the Ralph Lauren version of the Manson Family. “How did my operation go? Well, I’m doing well, but the people in my head—or wherever they were—they went through Hell.” 

Lady Gaga went away after a day or so. But the story stayed with me. And when I was able, I spent a couple of years putting it all down, working it out, trying to get it just right. And that became The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon. 

And with the cancer in remission, I’ve even lived to see the book published


4: Do you have a plan in your head of where the story is going before you start writing or do you let it carry you along as you go?


In the case of The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon, because of the way the story came to me, I knew exactly where it was going. The details and the characterization weren’t all there of course but the basic story was. 


5: What genre are your books and what drew you to that genre?


I think of the Great Dick: And the Dystfunctional Demon as suspense/horror or supernatural suspense. But it also centers around a mystery. So maybe it’s a suspense/horror/mystery. 


6: What dream cast would you like to see playing the characters in your latest book?

     Timothée Chalamet would be perfect for the main character, the guy who calls himself Steve Witowski. But if someone was willing to make the book into a movie, I’d be happy to accept Danny Devito, Roseann Barr or Donald Duck.


7: Do you read much and if so who are your favourite authors?


I read a lot. And I read everybody. I was thrilled that one of my favorite authors, Gayle Lynds, agreed to read and then endorse The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon (My brag is that fifteen authors of that caliber provided advance raves for the book.. I never miss a chance to drop that into the conversation. You’re lucky this is the first time I’ve mentioned it in this interview.) 

Other favorites of mine include Peter Straub, Edgar Allan Poe, Anne Rice, Tom Wolfe and Saki (H.H. Monroe). Saki’s writing has been described as “witty, mischievous and sometime macabre” and that’s exactly what I try to do. 


8: What book/s are you reading at present?


Like I said, I read everything. At the moment, I’ve got Stephen King’s Bag of Bones on my phone and at home I’m reading John Grisham’s The Litigators. 


9: What is your favourite book and why?


That’s a great question. No matter how you spell it, I don’t think I have a favorite book. 

10: What advice would you give for someone thinking about becoming a writer?

Write. Turn on your computer or pick up you pen or finger paint it on the wall, but write. Being a writer is a job and you should treat it that way. Write and then rewrite. Then rewrite again. That’s the only way you get better.

If you wait around for inspiration, you’re still going to be waiting while thousands, literally thousands of other writers, are finishing their books. 


11: What are the best Social Media Sites for people to find out about you and your work?  


On X I’m @barrymaher On Bluesky it’s: @barrymaher.bsky.social



The Great Dick and the Dysfunctional Demon
Barry Maher

Genre: Supernatural Thriller
Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
Date of Publication: 09/2025
ISBN: 978-1968532130
ASIN: B0FKWK2K7C
Number of pages: 464
Word Count: 125,000

Tagline: A wickedly funny, dark humor. supernatural thriller, blending horror with a thrilling murder mystery.

Book Description:

It’s 1982. Steve Witowski was once a hero. Now he’s simply a failed songwriter, running from the law. Worse, he’s just killed a man—while almost accidentally saving a woman from what seemed to be the strongest, most blood-thirsty wino in California. 

He should keep moving. But the woman, Victoria, is beyond stunning. Steve stays. And Victoria becomes just a part of a mystery he can’t unravel. Even as the face of the man he just killed slowly, gradually appears on his arm. And what starts out as a gritty crime story spirals into what author David Moody called, “A chillingly funny, hot, sweaty, magic and murder infused rollercoaster.” Complete with open crypts, dark spells, sudden death, and forces more powerful and demonic than Steve understands. Where nothing is what it seems. And Steve may be the next victim.

Excerpt 

Back in the 60s . . .

 

On Wednesday October 13th, 1968, a faculty panel recommended the dismissal of Professor John Harris—in absentia, as no one at Harvard had seen or heard from him in weeks. Harris later bragged about delivering his final lecture on “one shitload and a half of LSD.” According to the recording made available to the faculty panel, this was the sum total of that lecture:

 

“Good afternoon. Wow. American Literature, hunh? Let’s see. Moby Dick today. Right?”

 “Moby Dick?” asked a confused voice. “No. What happened to The Scarlet Letter?”

 “Right. Moby Dick,” Harris continued. “Great book. None of you have read it. None of you are going to read it. Nobody ever does. What you need to understand is that as far as I’m concerned—and I’m the fucking professor—Moby Dick is the same story as The Great Gatsby, which some of you may read. I call it, ‘the half-assed struggle of the individual to put their world to rights in the face of a failure that threatens to define their life.’ I think that’s from my thesis. Though maybe it’s not pretentious enough.”

Harris laughed. “Hey! How about this? Great Gatsby/Moby Dick: same story, different era, right? So, if someone someday tries to write that story for this generation, they should call it The Great Dick. That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it? The Great Dick. Alright, that’s got to be almost fifty minutes. See you next . . . whenever. Wow.”

 

 

SUNDAY, MARCH 21, 1982
Two Women and One Corpse


“Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to lie well.”
                                                                                        —Samuel Johnson

 

CHAPTER 1

  

            Okay, let me start out by admitting that I was an asshole. I know that. The ludicrous amount of fame and acclaim and money I’ve had dumped on me since that time only makes it more glaring. The fact that we lived in a different world back in 1982 is no excuse. It was the same world. It just wasn’t the world we thought it was.

            I remember it was a Sunday night. Sundays always feel different. Looking back now and Googling a 1982 calendar, I’d guess it was Sunday, March 21st. I remember waking up and within minutes making the decision to leave. Quickly, before I could change my mind, I eased myself out of the rickety hide‑a‑bed.

            Immediately, Maria rolled over into the spot I'd just vacated, breathing loudly through her nose and mouth, not quite snoring. I hate to say it, but she looked every minute of her thirty years. Her thick dark hair clung damply to her face; her heavy arms stretched outward. The cast on her left wrist looked like a giant manacle.

The grandfather clock beside the cigar store Indian read 1:37, though a few minutes before, it had chimed four times. That made as much sense as anything else in my life. I was thirty-five years old, a Harvard grad who’d spent the previous two years faking his way through a $13,500 a year job as an territory rep for the Richmond Tobacco company. That $13,500 was the most money I’d ever made. You’re probably thinking that when you adjust for inflation and translate that $13,500 into today’s dollars, it’s a lot more impressive.

No, it’s not.

I slipped on my jersey and my jeans and gathered the rest of my things in my old gym bag. Fortunately, enough moonlight crept in around the edges of the tattered drapes to give the room a dim glow. I wondered if it would be safe to hitchhike out of there, or if Indiana had already notified the California Highway Patrol that I was wanted.

My situation was bad. But not bad enough to, say, crawl into a grave with a rotting corpse.

That would come later.



About the Author:
 
Barry Maher may be the only horror novelist who’s ever appeared in the pages of Funeral Service Insider. In his misspent youth, his articles appeared in perhaps a hundred different publications and, in order to eat, he held nearly that many different jobs. Sometimes he lived on the beach. Not in a house on the beach. On the beach. With the sand and the seagulls. 

Then he started telling his stories to audiences. More important, he started telling his stories to audiences and charging. That took him all over the country and around the world: his client list a Who’s Who of leading corporations, associations and cruise lines. You may have seen Barry on The Today Show, CNN, CBS or CNBC, or read about him in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, USA Today or in his own, Slightly Off-Kilter syndicated column.

On the downside, he’s also been incarcerated twice. Once for not making a left hand turn out of a left hand turn lane, and once for aiding and abetting a loiterer. 

He’s deeply repentant. 

Newsletter: www.barrymaher.com
 



 






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COVER REVEAL: THE ENGINE IN THE SKY-THE DYSON BRIDGE SERIES BOOK 3 (V.G. Harrison)

 



The Engine in the Sky
The Dyson Bridge Series 
Book Three
V.G. Harrison

Genre: Sci-fi
Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press
Date of Publication: 7/10/2026
Number of pages: 161
Word Count: 46,139

Cover Artist: Maya Preisler

Tagline: The greatest threat to Earth is the only one that can save it.

Book Description:

When Professor Meridia Vail’s space station is hurled across time and dimensions, she and the rest of the Bridgeway crew wake on an alternate Earth that's only five years into the future but looks like it's a century behind her technology. Their goal is to reclaim their crippled station, return to their dimension, and hope that a mysterious interdimensional illness doesn't kill her and her people first.

Stuck on a backwards version of her own planet, Meridia must deal with governments who want her technology and intelligence agencies who want control. Nobody trusts anyone, and the longer they delay, the closer the Bridgeway gets to a catastrophic reentry.

However, the greatest shock comes when Meridia meets her doppelganger, a brilliant mechanic with a loving family that leaves her heart aching for the life she could have had.

As time is running out for her crew and New Earth, Meridia faces an impossible mission: return to the station, save her crew, and prevent a global disaster. Duty first. Family second. When Meridia is thrust into a situation where the two become synonymous, she must decide how much she's willing to risk for a world she's sworn to save and a life she can never have.


About the Author: 

Amazon best-selling author, V.G. Harrison enjoys creating smart heroines who are more comfortable dealing with things like Fine-structure constant and quantum entanglement than the fallout from their conflict. She loves to write stories that leave her audience so engaged they can't sleep at night, thinking about the possibilities. In a nutshell, she specializes in humanity-facing sci-fi thrillers with cinematic tension and grounded physics.

V.G. holds a Bachelors in Biomedical Engineering and a Masters in Information Technology. When she's not writing, she's an IT manager in the healthcare information field.  

Her ever-growing list of hobbies include astronomy, attending comic cons, keeping an eye on the cryptocurrency and stock markets, hydroponics gardening, hiking, dabbling in technology, and connecting with her daughter, Vivi, on a cool level. 









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Monday, May 18, 2026

 

INTERVIEW WITH LORETTA KENDALL (Running with the Orc) 

Supernatural Central Short and Quick Interview


1. Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.

Daisy Larue is a burlesque comedian who is taken from a casual day out having coffee from her favorite barista to being kidnapped, taken from earth to another realm,  and forced into captivity by a brooding orc horde. With multiple attempts at escape through the portal through which she came, and punished in more ways than one, she is still a fierce, independent woman who doesn’t let her circumstances define her. She’s an unapologetic smart mouth who fights for what she believes in with sarcasm, quick wit, and a bit of comedy influence. 

Inspired by comedian Carisa Hendrix, aka Lucy Darling, Daisy is classy and sassy when she needs to perform, and casual and cool on her days off stage. Her experience on stage gives her an edge that keeps the orcs laughing, and her way of making the best of a bad situation. 

2. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?

Yes, although I try to steer clear of what goes bump in the night, I have seen lots of things that make me believe things we don’t quite understand. One of the most memorable was when I was working with a local acting troupe, and we were doing a USO show for a reenactment event. One day, my group was practicing our pinup-inspired singing act, and we were inside the museum where the event would be held. My cousin and I were alone in the building that was known for paranormal activity. When we were heading to the bathroom, the water came on by itself. We were told it happens often, and my cousin had already had experiences there. After we turned off the water, we heard voices and footsteps upstairs, but we were the only ones in the building. 

The Scott County Museum in Indiana was once called a poor house or poor asylum, designed to house the county's poor and homeless population in exchange for work. According to the museum, it is rumored to be haunted by its former residents.  Witnesses have reported hearing footsteps on the second floor, a baby crying, unexplained smells and shadows, lights that turn off and on by themselves, and even full-bodied apparitions have been reportedly experienced in the building. 

It still gives me the shivers. 

3. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?

I’m currently writing a ghost romance novella that will be free to read on my website, coming this spring/summer. It was a side project before I dived back into creating a new series of monster madness.

In the coming novella, Cherry Adler was the star dancer of the Cherry Bomb, an 80s family-owned nightclub. After she’s met with an untimely death, years later, the club’s newest handsome DJ, Thorne Sterling, will be the only person who can solve a decades-long cold case. The beautiful ghost haunting the club leads him on a dance he’ll never forget in a pop culture-themed spicy romance with a lot of mystery. 

This rom-com will prove that even in death, Cherry still knows how to steal the spotlight and get her man. 


Running with the Orc
Loretta Kendall

Genre: Monster Romance
Publisher: Loretta Kendall
Date of Publication: May 15th, 2026
ISBN: 9798234054067
Number of pages: 244
Word Count: 75,000
Cover Artist: LK Creative Designs

Book Description: 

Daisy survived two years in orc captivity with one rule: Don't get caught during the run. 

Sassy burlesque comedian, Daisy LaRue, always believed her orc captors kidnapped their pretty victims for nefarious reasons. Humans, fairies, pixies, and other beautiful beings, all taken from their homes and forced to survive in a world built on a brutal game of hunter and the hunted. 

But do the orcs want them for lunch… or love? 

When Daisy is finally caught during the orcs' quarterly run, she discovers the so-called monstrous men might not be the villains she pegged them to be. The one who caught her may turn from enemy to temptation. 

In a world where nothing feels certain, she’ll face a battle far darker than captivity when her captor, Commander Bramwell Grognak, reveals the truth of a twisted history built on the study of eugenics. With the handsome orc at her side, Daisy takes a stand against the hidden evils of a society once built on honor and tradition. 

As love becomes the greatest challenge they face, this world may be worth fighting for.

Amazon     BN


Running with the Orc: Excerpt 1

The club was packed, the drinks were flowing, and Daisy LaRue was about to go on stage for another night of comedy burlesque when…

“You have to see who’s here. I can’t believe it. He came. He never comes into the camp unless someone trips the alarm leading to the portal.”

I watched the woman from my world, Claudette, curiously. “Who?”

She didn’t respond, but quickly pushed me to the edge of the stage to look out through the curtain. When I caught a glimpse of what was sitting in VIP, the gasp that came from my lips rattled me, and I quickly slammed the curtain shut. With a heavy breath, I pinned myself to the nearby wall and hoped like hell he didn’t see me. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t believe he was here. I hoped I would never have to lay eyes on that man again—that stupid, green-skinned, gorgeous man.

“Bramwell Gronk,” I breathed, barely able to contain the sudden fear that fell over me.

“The leading commander of the orc army,” she noted with a little too much cheery swoon for my liking. “His warlord horde was the group who brought you back here… twice… no, three times… Wasn’t it? The warlords typically don’t—”

“Show up unless hunting us when we try to escape to reach the passage. Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

Damn her for stating the obvious. The last time we met, he swore he’d kill me if he ever saw my face again. His words were I’ll take care of you. Yeah, I’m sure he would, in a dark, primal ritual where he’d rip my heart from my chest as his men bellowed war chants to the rhythm of my still beating thumper, right before he took a big bite to claim his barbarian hierarchy.

 That gnarly scar on his face from forehead to jawline is the reason I landed in an oubliette for two weeks… Or was it a month?

 

About the Author:

Best-selling, award-winning romance author Loretta Kendall is an Indiana girl at heart, splitting time between writing steamy, swoon-worthy love stories and keeping up with her comedic sidekick husband. When she’s not lost in a world of words, she’s probably in the movie theater watching the latest release or trying to keep her poor, defenseless Venus flytrap plants alive. ~ RIP Molly Sue, Poe, and the twins.

Outside of writing, Loretta has a soft spot for vintage horror monsters, pinup fashion, and multimedia art. As a former pageant queen, celebrity makeup artist, photographer, and talent agent spanning twenty-two years in fashion and entertainment, her life experience gives a unique spin on her stories and their lively characters. 

Loretta’s love for storytelling shines through in every book, blending real love with the perfect touch of comedy, glamour, and outright chaos to captivate her readers.








Tour Giveaway 

1- Book box giveaway of a signed copy of the 
printed edge edition with bookish merch 

Must sign up for Loretta’s newsletter between 
May 15th -22nd at www.lorettakendall.com  

Winner will be announced May 23rd 
through a random drawing. 
(Must be in the US to enter) 



Excerpt 2 HTML


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Wednesday, April 29, 2026

INTERVIEW WITH KATRINA KIMBALL (Trancendence)

 




Supernatural Central Short and Quick Interview


1. T a little bit about your main character of this book.

I knew in order to tell the story I wanted to tell, the main character was going to have to be pretty grounded and level-headed because the things that start happening to her are none of those things, and I wanted to keep the reader tethered (even if barely) to some semblance of reality. 

Alexis is rational, level-headed, responsible, and calm in the face of adversity, but she’s also got a fiery side if provoked. She’s the one her younger sister calls when she inevitably gets herself in a jam. If you come at her with some crazy shit, she’s going to be the voice of reason. She’ll bring calm and rationality to the table in any discussion. She’s a successful businesswoman, she’s a good mom, she’s in a happy, committed relationship, she volunteers for the PTA and is family oriented. If you asked her, she’d tell you her life is pretty normal  - well that’s what she would have said before she started talking to spirits. 

2. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?

In addition to being a writer, I’m also a psychic medium. I channel the spirit realm and converse with entities we can’t see, so I’d have to answer this question in the affirmative. I didn’t realize I was a medium until my early 40s. Like Alexis, I had a hard time accepting it at first. I questioned and over-analyzed everything, which irritated my spirit team to no end. I think the first time it hit me that I really was a medium was when I was doing a tarot reading for someone and their mother came through. I just knew it was their mom’s energy wanting to communicate. The individual told me they were estranged from their mother and hadn’t talked to her in a while but as far as they knew she was still alive. I shrugged it off and assumed maybe it was a motherly energy from the spirit realm, like a grandmother or someone else that had felt motherly toward the person. The next day, the individual reached out to me and let me know they had just found out that their mother had passed away very recently. I felt a few things in that moment. Shock, and validation. That’s how my relationship went with the spirit world at first—them sending messages, me questioning the validity of it, until I had enough validating encounters that I learned to not question what I was getting anymore. It was quite a ride. 

3. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?

I’m currently working on the sequel to Transcendence, titled Convergence. Transcendence doesn’t end on a cliff hanger, but it leaves open a second story line, and that’s what I take up in Convergence. The story focuses on two side characters, Linda and Mrs. Bates, the messiness of their relationship, and how what happened between them 30 years ago ties into events kicking off at the end of Transcendence. I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for the crusty old Mrs. Bates and I’m enjoying telling her tale of woe. I hope to finish Convergence by the end of the year. 


Transcendence
Katrina Kimball

Genre: Paranormal Thriller, Dark Fantasy
Publisher: Rowan Prose Publishing
Date of Publication: April 28, 2026
ISBN: 978-1-961967-80-9
ASIN: B0F711QN1B
Number of pages: 348 pages
Word Count: 85,482
Cover Artist: Rowan Prose Publishing

Book Description: 

When a demonic entity seeking revenge starts tormenting her family, a young woman must rediscover their shared past and embrace her own divine power in order to save not only those she loves, but the creature bent on her destruction.

If you asked Alexis Ferelli what her biggest challenges are in life, she’d say it’s parenting her daughter, Luna, running her masseuse practice, and deftly avoiding conversations about marriage with her partner, Jack. At least, that was the case before she attended a séance. Now, the spirits are trying to contact her and there’s a demonic entity in her daughter’s closet.

Determined to find answers, she turns to the psychic from the séance and the spirit world for help. As she dabbles in the hereafter, she not only discovers another dimension filled with angelic guides, magic, and wonder, but also learns the shocking truth of her connection to the creature tormenting her daughter.

As the dark entity grows bolder and sets its sights on Jack as well as Luna, Alexis realizes that to save them all, she has to face the creature she once betrayed to bring it out of the darkness and back into the light.

Fans of Alix Harrow’s Starling House or Neil Gaiman’s Coraline will enjoy Transcendencs by Katrina Kimball.

Amazon     Books2Read

Excerpt:

Luna woke to a tapping sound coming from her closet. She knew closets weren’t supposed to make tapping sounds. She also knew that’s where monsters hid, in the back of dark closets or under your bed. Maybe that’s where aliens hid, too—waiting to catch you in your sleep.

The silvery light spilling through her parted curtains and pooling on the floor did little to soften the shadows. Through the gloom, she could see the outline of her closet. The door was shut. She cast a wary glance at the windowsill and the visible line of salt that gleamed in the faint moonlight. The salt was undisturbed, her window still closed against the night.

Tap, tap, tap.

She ducked under the covers and scooted to the far side of the bed. Tucked into the corner with her back pressed against the wall, she peeked out from under the blanket, her eyes glued to the closet.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound came again, swiftly followed by the soft click of the closet door as it started to inch open.

As she lay there, huddled in the darkness, too scared to breathe, a tall shadow, darker than the shades of night in which it had hidden, slowly stepped forward. Its red eyes reminded her of Aunt Dani’s cawing raven, the one with eyes like fire that scared you when you walked in the door. But these eyes were worse. Bright red flames surrounded a pupil an even deeper shade of red. And they were looking straight at her.

Frozen in fear, she watched as it glided closer, its footfalls silent, its eyes terrible and bright.

“Hello, little doll,” it whispered. 

Luna couldn’t tell if the thing had a mouth, for its entire face was black except for its terrifying eyes, but she heard the words just the same. A little voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to move, but it was too late, the thing was now between her and the door.

She remembered the bowl of salt on the nightstand next to her bed and finding her voice, tried to be brave.

“I am not a doll.”

“Oh, sweet child,” it sighed as it stepped into the puddle of moonlight, impossibly tall and darker than the nighttime shadows, “I shall make you my little doll. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

Its long arms ended in hooked fingers that looked as sharp as claws. Beneath eyes of flame ran a jagged slit where its mouth should be, as if someone had tried to draw a mouth, but had gotten it all wrong.

The scream that had been building for some time in the back of Luna’s throat finally worked its way free as the creature reached for her, talons grasping, eyes of flame leaping in the night.

She lunged for the salt next to her bed. Flinging the bowl itself at the creature, her eyes widened as it sailed right through it as if were truly just a shadow. Grains of salt flew through the air as the bowl shattered violently against the hardwood floor.

The creature jerked its head in the direction of her mother’s room and stared, its slash of a mouth widening into a gaping smile that made her stomach hurt. She could hear her mother’s footsteps racing down the hall.

Its head swiveled back in her direction, eyes alight with fire as its hideous smile somehow grew. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I’ll be seeing you little doll,” it whispered as it glided soundlessly back into her closet and snapped the door shut.

 

About the Author:

A horror enthusiast and lover of all things mysterious and unknowable, it was only a matter of time before author Katrina Kimball picked up her pen and mashed the paranormal, fantasy, and horror genres into one with her debut novel “Transcendence.” When she isn’t working on a novel or binge-watching shows about Bigfoot, ghosts, or aliens, she’s probably thinking about any one of those three things. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her two children and her adorable Boston Terrier, Beaux.








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Tuesday, April 28, 2026

INTERVIEW WITH MILDRED ABBOTT (Gossiping About Grimoires-Whispering Witch)

 


Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book. Maeve Hawthorn is a fantasy author who built her career writing about witches—only to discover that the magical world she’s been describing isn’t fiction at all. That discovery occurred when she was kidnapped by witches, real ones, angry at her accidentally sharing all their secrets in her books. To make matters worse, Maeve ends up absorbing the powers of a dying witch and transforming Mischief, her corgi, into her familiar. The witches… don’t respond kindly. While Maeve is intelligent, intuitive, and far more capable than she initially gives herself credit for, she’s also completely untrained in a world that expects power, control, and loyalty. That makes her both dangerous and vulnerable at the same time. What complicates things even more is Mischief—a corgi with a strong personality and a deep magical bond to Maeve. Mischief is loyal, perceptive, and often one step ahead, but she also has her own instincts and opinions, which don’t always align with what Maeve thinks should happen. Together, they’re trying to navigate a hidden magical society that isn’t exactly thrilled Maeve may have exposed it… and where the consequences of that mistake are becoming harder to ignore. 2. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share? I do believe there’s more out there than we fully understand. I haven’t had what I’d call direct, undeniable encounters with the supernatural, but I’ve always been extremely sensitive to energy—both in spaces and in people. There have been places I’ve walked into and immediately known I shouldn’t stay. Rooms that felt off in a way that didn’t need explanation, where something in me just said, leave. And with people, it’s often immediate. Within seconds, I can usually tell whether someone feels safe or not, whether I can trust them or if something isn’t quite right. I don’t claim to fully understand what that is—intuition, perception, something more—but I think that sense of the unseen, the unspoken, is part of what draws me to paranormal stories. There’s a layer to the world that we don’t always have words for, and I find that fascinating. 3. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about? I’m currently continuing the Whispering Witch series, which follows Maeve as she becomes more deeply entangled in the magical world she accidentally revealed. Each book builds on the last—expanding the world, raising the stakes, and uncovering more about the rules, dangers, and hidden history of magic. As Maeve grows into her abilities, she’s also forced to confront the consequences of her actions and the reality that not everyone wants her in this world… or believes she should stay. At the same time, the series continues to hold onto its core—found family, connection, and the bond between Maeve and Mischief, which becomes even more important as the danger around them grows. The story is unfolding across multiple books, with each installment revealing a little more of the larger mystery behind the magical world itself. If you enjoy stories where magic hides just beneath the surface, where found family and danger go hand in hand, and where even a cozy world can carry real consequences, you can begin the Whispering Witch series with Gossiping About Grimoires.


Gossiping About Grimoires
Whispering Witch 
Book One
Mildred Abbott

Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Publisher: Wings of Ink Publications, LLC
Date of Publication: March 10, 2026
ISBN: 979-8243417433
ASIN: B0GJTS4272
Number of pages: 400
Word Count: 103,600

Cover Artist: Christian Bentulan 

Book Description:

Maeve Hawthorn writes about witches for a living. They want her to stop.

When a book signing ends in her abduction, Maeve’s only priority is escaping with her corgi, Mischief, alive. That urgency deepens when she learns her captors are real witches, furious that Maeve has been exposing their secrets to the world.

Before Maeve can make sense of how her fiction has become reality, she’s caught in the middle of a murder that leaves her marked by magic she doesn’t understand. When a dying witch’s power floods into her, Maeve becomes the prime suspect in a crime she didn’t commit—and a target for every supernatural being certain she knows too much.

Turns out, magic isn’t a gift. It’s a liability. And clearing her name may cost Maeve far more than her safety.

With danger closing in and no clear allies other than Mischief, Maeve must navigate a hidden supernatural world that wants her silenced… or dead.

Excerpt:

Turning from dawn breaking over the Quarter, I crossed over to the canopy bed where Mischief was having a completely different experience.

After my thousandth time pacing the room, Mischief had crawled on top of the mountain of decorative pillows placed against the headboard and fallen asleep. As normal, she’d started off in a dignified little ball, resting her head on top of her fluffy tail. Barely ten minutes had passed before she flipped onto her back, front legs curved at her chest and hind legs spread in a most un-ladylike manner.

Without thinking, I mimicked her—flopping to the mattress on my back with a cry of terrified frustration.

Mischief snorted in surprise and tried to twist around onto her feet. Instead, she sank between the pillows. She only disappeared for a heartbeat before she thrust her head through a gap at the bottom and shook off a little trail of drool left over from her nap.

“Sorry, sweet girl.”

Mischief only groaned, yawned.

Despite everything, she could still make me laugh. I curled onto my side, snagged under her front legs, heaved her free from the pillow avalanche, and pulled her to my chest.

“Oh, Mischief, what have I gotten us into?”

She snuggled against me and in answer issued a long, relaxed sigh.

“You know, I’m always amazed how much you understand what I’m saying and what’s going on around us. However, you seem completely clueless at the moment, which is surprising.” I buried my face in the large white patch of fur at the back of her neck, tears stinging my eyes. “Although I have to admit, I wish I were clueless right now too.”

Mischief exhaled, sounding annoyed, then squeezed her way out of my embrace, trotted about a foot across the mattress, and plopped down, staring at me.

I laughed again. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to insult you or anything. I only…”

The expression in her eyes brought me up short and ushered back the memory beside Eudora’s body. How in the world had I forgotten?

“I could have sworn you talked to me earlier.”

Her annoyed expression deepened.

I leaned closer. “Are you irritated because that’s ridiculous or because I’ve been too busy being a stress-mess to remember until now?”

She glared, though not necessarily angrily, but more like another flash of what I thought was annoyance. She leaned closer so her nose almost touched mine and held my gaze, staring so hard had it been anyone else, it would have felt invasive and too personal.

But it was Mischief, so I stared right back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

She blinked, then stared again.

“You are!” I gasped at the realization. “You are trying to tell me something. Actually, trying to say something… right?”

Though I couldn’t hear even the faintest reply, the expression in her dark eyes was a resounding Yes. Truthfully, it was probably more of a Duh!

“Okay.” In my excitement, I attempted to push aside being captured and my probable purging and scurried up into a sitting position on the bed.

That was instantly too high, so I repositioned to my knees, leaning forward and resting on my forearms, returning our faces to eye level.

Again, I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I got the impression she was laughing.

Strange. Although I suddenly realized how I must look spread over the bed with my rump up in the air. “Kind of like you when you want to play, huh?”

Her eyes twinkled.

Another thrill shot through me.

I had always felt a bond between us and frequently had the impression we could read each other’s thoughts and feel each other’s emotions. But I’d heard other people who loved their dogs say similar. I figured every doggy parent felt that. But this was different, even though I couldn’t hear any words like I thought I had at the cathedral. This was new, even for us.

“Okay… what’s different from earlier?” I thought back to the moment at the cathedral, trying to recall. She’d been on my lap, and I’d buried my face in her fur, as I so often did for comfort. But… I’d just held her a moment ago. Just had my face buried in her fur while I tried not to cry.

Before I could sit up, drag her into my lap, and try again, Mischief drew closer once more and pressed her forehead to mine.

I started to argue, to tell her of my plan of recreating the scene. However, she seemed to know what she was doing better than I did, so I held my position.

Mischief pushed a little harder against my forehead and took a long, slow breath, then released it. Her breath didn’t smell minty fresh or anything, but the warmth washed over my cheeks and felt as familiar and safe as home.

I attempted a slow breath of my own, but it shook.

Mischief did it again.

So did I—longer, deeper, and slower that time. The tightness in my throat lessened, and the claws gripping around my heart loosened ever so slightly.

Safe.

I scrambled back, startled, as I hadn’t really expected it to work. “You said that, right? Not just my imagination?”

Her scowl was all the answer I needed.

“Okay, you did say it. That’s… amazing. And I love you think we’re…” My turn to scowl. “Wait a minute. Do you really think that, or is safe the only word you can say?”

Her chuff upgraded from mild annoyance to exasperation.

“All right.” Despite our situation, I chuckled, because talking or not, Mischief was Mischief.

I wasn’t entirely convinced, but whether because of hope or delusion, I wanted to find meaning.

“All right, let’s say you really are talking and I can hear you. We’ll go a step further and believe you’re choosing to say safe because you truly think we are.”

She blinked. Maybe confirmation? That seemed like a good sign.

“Great, so… you believe we’re safe.”

Reality broke through. I was sitting here talking to my dog. Although I always talked to Mischief—all the time—I’d never expected her to answer back with actual words.

Was I losing my mind?

Mischief growled softly.

“Okay, good point. We’re surrounded by witches. Plus, black cats, otters, alligators, and opossums while we’re at it. Not a huge leap that you might start talking.”

Her growling stopped.

“I’ll take that as agreement.” I couldn’t help but grin at her, then reached out and stroked her beautiful face. “So you think we’re safe. I guess that’s good, but there’s not a single thing that’s happened that leads me to believe that. Why in the world do you think we’re safe?”

Mischief’s tail began to dance behind her head. Magic.

I gasped again. “You can say more than safe.”

Her wagging ceased instantly.

“Sorry.”

She sighed.

“You think we’re safe because of magic. I don’t see how.” I continued to pet her and try to parse through things out loud, attempting to make sense of it. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m over the moon it’s all real, but magic is what put us in danger—it’s definitely not protecting us.”

Mischief shook her head, pulling away from my touch. She seemed to consider for a second, then stretched out one of her white little paws and placed it on my hand resting against the bedspread.

Magic.

My heart thrilled again at hearing her voice—which mostly sounded like my own voice, my thinking voice or conscience… but… different.

“Yeah, I get it. There’s magic. But it’s being used against us, Mischief, not—”

Magic. She batted my hand with her paw. Maeve. Magic.

“You said my name!” I gasped again and yanked my hand away, covering my heart like a parent whose baby just said “Mama” for the first time.

She rolled her eyes, which… wasn’t new.

“Sorry.”

She scooted close enough to touch again.

Maeve. She glared again. Magic.

Mischief shook her head in what looked like frustration. I didn’t get the sense she was frustrated at me that time, however.

She gave a little hop, then looked back at me before covering my hand with her paw once more. Magic. Maeve. She tapped my hand, one of her claws accidentally—or maybe not so accidentally—scratching my skin. Magic Maeve. Magic Maeve.

“Uhm…”

Mischief shut her eyes, and her tiny little caterpillar brows furrowed like she was straining. Maeve. Is. Magic.

She opened her eyes, looking deep into mine again. Maeve. Magic.


About the Author:

Mildred Abbott writes cozy mysteries filled with humorous and complex characters. Whether brimming with magic or simply an above-average dose of curiosity, Mildred's amateur sleuths solve murders with the cutest sidekicks ever. Fifteen years as a special education teacher and a lifetime of loving rescue dogs result in creating adventures with a ton of heart and the need for lint rollers.









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