Josh Aterovis

I blinked and White Deer was gone. I was still sitting there, stunned and trying to figure out my next move when I heard someone crashing through the underbrush. I threw myself back down to the ground. Was there another conspirator? I was incredibly relieved to see Jacy explode into the clearing, his face a mask of dread. "Killian?" he shouted. "Over here," I called. Jacy rushed to my side. "Holy shit! Are you okay? I heard a gunshot." "Yeah, I think so. I might hav

I'm rooting for a weinershifter saga.

My aunt had one when I was very little. I was over there a lot because I was close to my (girl) cousins, and we'd dress him up in doll clothes and parade him around in a little doll pram. We also dressed up their orange cat who was strangely tolerant of such things. We got up to all kinds of shenanigans. In the days before Caller ID, we also made a lot of prank phone calls.

I an absolutely enamored with the idea of a dachshund shifter....

Yes, many of you came VERY close to guessing the killer(s) a few times. Glad the red herrings were able to keep you guessing right up to the end. 🤣 And yes...there's still more to uncover so get to guessing! Two more chapters to go...

Several hours later, I was deeply regretting my resolve to follow through with the stakeout. I was feeling worse than ever, and my lack of sleep was catching up to me with a vengeance. My eyes felt so heavy that it was a supreme battle to keep them open. I was definitely losing the fight. I sat up straighter and drew in a deep breath, hoping the cool air would revive me, but I was beyond help. I stared into the darkness for a few minutes before my eyelids began to droop once again. The effo

Nah. Quiet night.

I have two more books in the hopper. The next book is called Breaking Masks, a romcom spinoff that follows Jake as he goes off to college. There might be a slight delay before I start posting on that. It was a collaboration with Dabeagle and we're currently in the process of doing a major rewrite. After that, the last book currently written is a full Killian mystery called A Kind of Death.

Only a few more chapters!

On my way back to the office, I remembered my appointment with Professor Howard. I glanced at my watch and saw I had just enough time to stop and pick up the blade. Although I was cutting it close, I managed to make it to her house only a few minutes late. She graciously welcomed me in without mentioning my tardiness, offering me a drink as I followed her into the living room. After I declined, we settled into the same seats we'd taken the last time. For a moment, I experienced a stran

One of the most striking things that has stood out to me as I've been revisiting and updating these Killian Kendall books is how depressingly little true, solid progress we've made in the last 25 years. It seemed like there were some huge steps forward for a while, but the pendulum has since swung very far to the right and some days (many days lately) it feels like we are regressing so rapidly in the wrong direction that we'll soon be back in the stone age. BUT! I do believe that the pendulum will do what pendulums do and we'll eventually correct course, but that isn't to say that many, many people won't be hurt (or worse) in the meantime and it will take decades to undo the damage. But we have to keep hope. We must.

My mostly sleepless night was beginning to catch up with me. The only thing I wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed with a good book. Unfortunately, I knew I needed to return to the office and write up my notes. By the time I got there, Novak had already left for the day, so I had the place to myself. Ignoring the blinking message light on the desk phone, I sat down at my desk and started recording my conversation with Ricky. I was just about to leave when my cell phone buzzed. It was

Kyle hated when the paparazzi showed up at the nudist hiking retreat.