NB: Due to the novel not reaching funding and my self-publishing it I have removed sample chapters.

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When dark shapeshifting creatures invade, Earth’s fate lies in the hands of a misfit…

Stacey Trampler lives life on the edge. While she’s a preschool teacher by day, she spends her nights rocking out with her thrash metal band and kicking butt on the roller derby circuit. But her wild life gets a lot more complicated when her lovers go missing and a stranger with even stranger abilities shows up in her apartment, bringing the creatures with him…

Barely escaping death with the help of Fenton, a tattooed magic wielder, she vows to find her missing boyfriend and girlfriend. Despite impossible odds, Stacey trains in the art of the Wards to fight back against the dark creatures they call the Umbra. Earth’s only hope of survival may be a heroine who’s built her life around breaking all the rules…

Ward is the first action-packed book in a series of dark urban fantasy novels. If you like alien invasions, eccentric characters, and gritty backdrops, then you’ll love Ward.

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Ward of the South, as it was originally titled, started as an idea that I had one very tired day as I walked to buy baby formula. The path I was on was paved and fairly level. But I stepped on something that I hadn’t seen, and it felt so out of place that after a few steps I turned around to see what it had been. There was nothing there.

Sleep deprivation does funny things to your brain, but that can be a boon as well as a curse. My mind raced to invent the possibilities, and being a horror reader and nerd of course Lovecraftian-ish creatures crept their way in.

I ended up with a story with a late middle-aged white dude and wise-cracking younger female side-kick whose boyfriend and girlfriend are taken by said creatures--who it should be known does NOT become his love interest in any form. I had finished a freakin’ novel! I put it aside and let it ferment.

Then foment.

I creased my brow. The "sidekick" was kicking up a sh!t-storm. I still have the Doc Marten boot prints on the inside of my skull. No, sir, she didn’t like it!

So I took to editing the manuscript with digital pen. Then carving knife. Then machete. I blazed that trail until she put her booted feet up, lit a cigarette and through a lop-sided grin said, "That’ll do, pig. That’ll do."

It’s OK. I put her through hell and back. Several times. And I plan to (hopefully) do it another 4 times, at least.