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Jessica Andersen is an American writer of mystery and medicine since She has a PhD in by Jill Monroe (September ) ISBN ; Lord of the Wolfyn by Jessica Andersen (October ) ISBN JAndersen-Lord of the Wolfyn Little Red Riding Hood is one of my favorite fairytales, so I was excited to read Jessica Andersen’s take on it with her contribution. Read “Lord of the Wolfyn” by Jessica Andersen with Rakuten Kobo. Once upon a time the Blood Sorcerer vanquished the kingdom of Elden. To save their.

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She now writes full time, and has penned more than thirty science-themed intrigues and paranormal thrillers that have hit the bestseller lists and been nominated for numerous awards. She lives in CT with a cast of four-legged friends, and is hard at work on her next novel!

Reda Weston stalled on the sidewalk outside the Cat Black Curiosity Shop with her hand on the latch and her stomach in knots. The wide-eyed reflection that stared back from the tinted window wasn’t anyone she recognized. Yes, the stranger had a wavy red-shot ponytail the same as hers, and she was wearing the ratty jeans and beat-up leather jacket Reda had pulled out of her closet that morning because there was no reason for her to dress like a cop these days.

And yeah, those were her deep blue eyes at the back of the dark hollows that had taken up permanent residence. But if that was her, what the hell was she doing? And she had asked MacEvoy, the owner of Cat Black, to find the book for her. Heck, she’d spent the past four days staring at the framed woodcutting of a dark, eerie forest of gnarled and twisted trees, with just a hint of eyes in the shadows. A clatter startled her and she flinched for the weapon she wasn’t carrying, then winced when she saw that the noise had come from the shaking of her hand on the door latch.

Worse, she didn’t know how long she had been standing there. This was her first full-blown compulsion.

Or rather, the strange urge that practically dragged her into the creepy-ass store earlier in the week had been the first.

This was her second. And it was much stronger. It’s not the same book, she told herself. It’s just another copy. Except that her maman had said it was one of a kind. You’re just transferring, trying to solve something that’s solvable because you know the real stuff isn’t.

That was the practical part of her talking, her father’s daughter. And suddenly she saw the major in the shape of the blue eyes that stared back at her, and in the ramrod posture that made her look taller than her true five-six. Inwardly, though, her mother’s voice whispered, At least take a look.

What have you got to lose? She hesitated another moment, then shook her head and pushed through the door, causing a distant bell to ring in the back of the cluttered shop. Display racks near the door held the usual suspects: But the racks themselves were made of wood rather than the usual cheesy wire, and the sides were carved with strange, sinuous curves and the hint of scales and teeth.


The walls were painted black, with greenish white accents she bet glowed in the dark when MacEvoy turned off the lights. It would make the perfect backdrop for him to pull out the three-foot-high grim reaper statue that was locked in a glass case behind the register at the back of the store, and which she’d bet a hundred bucks converted, Transformer-like, into a giant bong. This was so not her scene. She should just leave. A middle-size, middle-age grasshopper of a man, he was all arms and angles inside a faded black suit that made him look like a Victorian mortician and, she suspected, had come from the clearance rack at Cosby’s Costumes a few doors down.

Don’t be bitchy, she told herself as she shook his hand and returned his greeting. It’s not like he came looking for you. And it wasn’t his fault she felt totally out of place.

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The problem wasn’t with the location, or with him. But that was just her imagination. Holding back a shiver, she reminded herself that she didn’t believe in magic, that this was all just a put-on for the tourists. If the atmosphere was working on her, it meant that MacEvoy was better at his shtick than she would’ve thought.

Disappearing behind the case, he rummaged around for a moment, then made a satisfied noise. When he straightened, he was holding a black, metal-edged cardboard clamshell box that was marked Acid-Free Archival Storage on the spine.

Reda’s mental cash register went cha-ching and she wondered whether she should do a “thanks but I’ve changed my mind,” and have another session with the shrink instead. That wasn’t the amdersen as saying she was wimping out.

It was just exploring jessca. It was the book. It had to be. The cover was intricately carved with another forest scene, this one with an achingly lovely girl front and center, running along a narrow path. She was wearing a long, flowing cloak over a peasant dress, and was looking back over her shoulder with an expression of mingled terror and excitement.

There were no authors’ names, just a title that stood up a little taller than the rest of the carving.

Lord of the Wolfyn : Jessica Andersen :

Not just one of a kind, her maman had said on that long-ago birthday, but yours alone. It was sent to me, darling, to give to you when the time is right. The paperwork says it’s some obscure Western European dialect, and doesn’t make any promises on the translation. Pulse thrumming, she reached for the book.

The shopkeeper hooked the box with a spindly finger and tugged it back qolfyn inch. More, she didn’t yank it back when MacEvoy two-fingered it, even yhe her smarter self was anderrsen screeching that they hadn’t talked price.

She had to have it, regardless of whether it was really the same one or not, really one of a andresen. And if that was transference, she didn’t give a crap right now. As he swiped her card, she brushed her fingertips across the carved wood, and got a jolt of strange excitement. Nerves jangled and her smarter self asked what the hell was going on here, why was she acting like this?


He glanced over at her, getting a gleam in his red-rimmed eyes. She was dying to page through, but didn’t want to do it in front of him, though she didn’t know why, just as she couldn’t explain the sudden pounding of her heart and faint clamminess of her hands, or the liquid churn low in her belly. All she knew for sure was that her hands were shaking as she scrawled on the jessics, and then flipped the clamshell shut and tucked it under her arm.

Lord of the Wolfyn by Jessica Andersen

The short wo,fyn to her apartment on the outskirts of the “cool” district where the old houses were still getting restored seemed to take forever, especially when two of her neighbors pretended they didn’t see her.

Like most of her friends and family, they just didn’t jesaica what to say anymore given that Benz had been dead for months now, and she was still ghosting around looking as if her best friend had died.

Except that he had.

And it was her fault. Not because she’d done anything wrong, but because she hadn’t done anything. Just stood there while a strung-out meth head looking at his third strike opened fire. The news reports had said she was lucky to get away. The other cops hadn’t said a Would you like to tell us about a lower price? If you are a seller for this product, would you like to suggest updates through seller support? To save their children, the queen scattered them to safety and the king filled them with vengeance.

Andresen wolf who transformed into a dark, virile man. Dayn cursed the Sorcerer that turned him wolfyn and damned him to a lonely fate. As a beast, he mated with women jewsica gain strength.

Strength he needed to save Elden. But as a man, he craved Reda’s qndersen, sizzling touch. Read more Read less. Customers who bought this item also bought. Page 1 of 1 Start over Page 1 of 1.

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