Midnight, Jack’s Ranch:
The Werewolves that came to help and protect Jack’s family were patrolling the perimeter of the property. Jack’s wolves were patrolling closer to the main house. Jack’s wife Debbie felt it would be better if all the grandchildren and the adults were at the main house, instead of in their own homes. This way they wouldn’t have to split their forces up.

The yacht’s motion started to ease as we proceeded south, coming into the shelter of the Crete coast. We got up and dressed, donned our lifejackets and made our way up to the bridge. All was quiet. George was asleep on the guest bench at the rear of the bridge, his head on Maria’s lap. Her head was tilted to the side, somewhat asleep as well. Jorge was helming, Dimitri and Greg were nowhere to be seen. We crept to Jorge so as not to wake Maria or George; he whispered that the others were in their bunks. Dimitri was due on the helm in an hour or so.

This one's not for the faint of heart. Over the course of the story there will be death, suicide attempts, a fair amount of physical and mental abuse, some egregious torture and a hefty dollop of foul language, but hopefully a happy ending. Actually, the last bit's a given since it's me doing the writing, but between here and the end is a rocky road, so please if any of the above is likely to be triggering for you, please, please think twice about reading.

Chapter 13

“What’s happening?” he asked as we arrived at the comms tent. Stuart and Jen were there along with our remaining guards.

“We’re er, waiting for Laurel,” Stuart said. “She and Nick are on their way. I’m not sure she would have been able to do anything by herself, any more than these, er, people can.”

“This has to do with what you were saying when I left the tent, isn’t it?” I asked one of my former captors. “That heuristic defence thing you were talking about. Care to tell us about it?”

CHAPTER 61
Things did settle down after that fortnight’s busyness, for the simple reason that even the best management magicians can’t come up with a new and revolutionary idea every day. We almost gave up on the sausages idea, for example, because there was no feasible way to fly out a sample pack to the east coast, and by definition anyone renting a van in Perth was likely to be heading over that way, so wouldn’t exactly be in the area for a repeat purchase.

Instead, Chad had a word with Rhona, who was definitely SWMBO in that business, and breakfast packs for their camping sessions started being ordered from a former miner. And Maz bought a helmet.

Chapter 2

Dido sent her team of ‘dips’ off for their summer break in late June. That allowed her to see how being on the ‘right’ side of the law felt.

Margaritas, Beaches, and Bikinis

Chapter One
A meeting with my Editor

I took a deep breath as I peered across the wooden desk. Sitting in front of me was a woman who seemed to be in her late thirties. Her long brunette hair was tied back in a tight bun and she was dressed in a charcoal gray skirt suit. Her dark green eyes reminded me of the eyes of a Russian Blue.

One of the best things about going to any conference was the networking and socialization. The talks, lectures, and Q&A sessions gave the participants valuable information, but the stated purpose of a conference did not help as much as the human interactions. Making those social connections helped those who went to the conference in many other ways than learning about a new trend. The conference-goers made their network bigger by getting new friends, new job leads, and a nice little bullet point to put on their resume.

This one's not for the faint of heart. Over the course of the story there will be death, suicide attempts, a fair amount of physical and mental abuse, some egregious torture and a hefty dollop of foul language, but hopefully a happy ending. Actually, the last bit's a given since it's me doing the writing, but between here and the end is a rocky road, so please if any of the above is likely to be triggering for you, please, please think twice about reading.

Set for Life
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

It was my grandmother’s hair that fascinated me. She was one of those women who always believed in keeping her hair looking great, even when it turned completely white. I remember as a boy wondering why women kept all their hair where men lost most of theirs – sometimes all of it. It seemed so sad to have been born a boy and to be condemned to a future without beautiful hair.

 
Hi, my name is Kevin. I am a ten-year-old boy, or at least I was until everything changed. Let me tell you a little about myself I live in the Hollywood Hills of California with my parents, Robert and Karen, both in their late thirties.

Chapter 2

We sat until I could stand, and she helped me to go to the dorms. I could hardly go up the extra stairs alone, but a long shower and some liniment helped me regain a steady posture. I sat on my bed and looked at the article until I had a bit more understanding. It looked like Bastien was under suspicion for drug trafficking and a possible murder. The Spanish and Portuguese police had a lot of circumstantial evidence but nothing concrete.