Werewolves Be Damned - By Stacey Kennedy Page 0,90

She bowed her head as the heat of sisterly love simmered through her veins. More so, she relished the heady sensation as if the Elements greeted her. Almost as if they touched her soul, welcomed her to use them, as if they offered to guide and protect her.

A sizzle followed by a bang opened Nexi’s eyes, snapping her head up to Zia. She blinked at the view in front of her, but the shimmering light dancing around the witches remained. “Um…why are you glowing?”

Haven pounced forward, wrapping Nexi in a death hug. “You’re one of us now. I feel you in the Sisterhood.” She bounced up and down, nearly taking Nexi to the grass. “I mean, I didn’t care when you weren’t in the Sisterhood, but now that you are, everything is just as it should be.”

Zia stared at Nexi as a mother would. Loving. Protective. Appreciating. “Tonight, your mother would be so happy. I know she’s not here with us now, but I can feel her all around you. I can see her in your eyes. I hear her in your voice.” Zia touched the side of Nexi’s mouth. “She’s there in your smile.”

Tears welled in Nexi’s eyes. “Oh, no, I’m not going there again.” Inhaling a sharp breath, she clamped down on her emotions. “I’ve cried enough to last me a few years. Onward and upward.” Shaking out her hands to rid herself any sadness, she asked Zia, “So, what happens now?”

“You trained as a guardian.” Determination shone heavy in the depths of Zia’s eyes, and her smile became all too wise. “Now you train as witch.”

Acknowledgments

To my editor, Lauren Ruth, there are no words to explain how thrilled I am about working together again. Your support of me and my work brightens those dark days when the world seems to be falling apart. I’m blessed to have someone like you in my corner. Thanks for being so fabulous, Lauren!

A big shout-out to my agent, Jessica Alvarez, who always deals with my emails of panic with a calm and gentle approach. My life is definitely easier because you’re in it, and I cannot say thank you enough to express my gratitude.

Thank you to the editorial director, Danielle Poiesz, for making me work harder to get this story perfect and making it shine.

To my publicists, Jessica Estep, Morgan Maulden, and also to the publicity director, Jessica Turner, all three of you ladies rock my world. I would be a disorganized hot mess without you. All your hard work amazes me.

Josh Vogt and Kerri-Leigh Grady, I appreciate the input and advice you’ve given to me. The time I got to work with both of you, even if short, was a pleasure.

To my husband, thank you for understanding tight deadlines. To my children, Mommy is sorry for that week I was locked in my office and ignored you. I love you dearly.

And to the entire team at Entangled, from cover artists to managing editors to copy editors to proofreaders, and to everyone else in between, thank you so much for taking such good care of me. I appreciate you all.

About the Author

Stacey Kennedy is an urban fantasy lover at heart, but she also enjoys losing herself in dark and sensual worlds. She lives in southwestern Ontario with her husband, who gave her a happily-ever-after. Together, they have two small children who can always make her smile, and who will never be allowed to read Mommy’s books. If she’s not plugging away at a new story, you’ll find her camping, curling up with the latest flick, or obsessing over Sons of Anarchy and Game of Thrones.

Keep reading for an excerpt from

The Cat’s Meow

the first book in

the Witch’s Brew series

by

Stacey Kennedy

Now available from Entangled Edge

Chapter One

Fur. Guts. Blood.

I scrunched my nose as my spaghetti dinner threatened to make an appearance at the sight of the slaughtered black cat on the forest floor. The kitty’s stomach gaped open and its intestines spilled out along the ground, as well as other grossness I’d rather avoid.

Not how I intended to spend my night, or any night for that matter. I turned to my fellow witch, Peyton. “Of all the hobbies to take up, taxidermy isn’t something I’d peg you as interested in.”

Flicking her blond bouncy curls over her shoulders, her baby-blue eyes narrowed on me. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Libby.”

Not as if her wrath had the desired effect; an angry Peyton looked as deadly as a growling puppy. She placed her hands on her