For a shifter…
…being stuck in wolf form is torture.
The moment I shifted; my life changed.
After witnessing a traumatic event at a young age, nine-year-old Forrest shifted into her wolf form – and was unable to shift back. Years later and suffering at the hands of her malicious step-brothers, she stubbornly clings to the hope that she’ll turn back into the girl she once was.
But when her magic returns at the moment she needs it most, Forrest is thrust back into the world of humans. There’s only one problem. Her pack is out to kill her.
Struggling to learn how to walk and talk again, Forrest finds herself on the run from the cold-blooded shifter council. But hidden deep within her human form lies a secret – a powerful magic that has the potential to set her free.
If only she can stay alive long enough to master it…
If you love high-octane Urban Fantasy with shifters, suspense, and one young woman fighting for her independence amid a dangerous patriarchal world, then you won’t want to miss Cursed Wolf. This thrilling novel strikes the perfect balance between humour, friendship, and slow-burn romance. Grab your copy now!
Written in British English.
Targeted Age Group:: Adult
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 3 – PG-13
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
In 2019 after watching an introductory webinar on writing with author Alessandra Torre. I made the scary decision to write my book, Cursed Wolf. Which is the first book in my Creatures of the Otherworld stand-alone series.
Looking back, I don't know when I signed up for her emails. It was fate. As all of a sudden, this incredibly talented author was encouraging ME to write a book.
So I did.
What I didn’t expect was for anybody to read it. Wow, was I surprised! I got some amazing reviews and feedback. Which inspired me to continue and write Emma’s story, Cursed Demon.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Forrest and Emma—the main characters in Cursed Wolf and Cursed Demon. have been rattling around in my head for years. But I had no idea what to do with them.
I’m dyslexic, and I didn’t learn how to read properly until I was eleven. Nobody noticed that I couldn’t read as I was so sneaky. But when I started to read, I didn’t stop, and I became obsessed.
Technology has changed since I was a child. Unique software like Grammarly, and ProWritingAid, dictation and text-to-speech. It all help's me to write. Of course, I had to do lots of craftwork. But reading the amount that I do—I read a book a day—it was pretty apparent to me how I wanted my books to be.
The double doors to the kitchen swing open and Karen, a skinny blonde human nutritionist, shuffles across the room.
Karen gives me a nervous smile as she holds a plate of chicken, peas, and mashed potato in a white-fisted grip. I hum in approval—it has gravy.
Karen has been hired to sort out my dietary requirements. The poor lady is so frightened of me; her distress wafts around her, filling my nose, making me want to sneeze. I wiggle in my chair and attempt a reassuring smile. The human’s eyes dilate and go round. Her fear floods my senses.
I sag in my seat, pout, and glance down at the table as Karen’s whole body starts to shake; a pea rolls off the plate onto the floor. I wrinkle my nose at the pea, sadly wishing it goodbye. They don’t like it if I eat things off the floor. So the poor pea has to stay where it lands.
Karen places the plate in front of me with a clunk and quickly backs away. “Okay, F-Forrest, try to eat as much as you can.” I mouth the words “thank you” at the trembling Karen.
I smile again, this time at the plate. I practice on the chicken and this time try to show fewer teeth. Everything at the moment is practice. I will have to add my smiles to the never-ending list, and maybe practice in the mirror.
Clumsily I take hold of my utensil. I still find it hard to hold my fork; my hands are going to be useless for a while. I grimace as I struggle to rotate the fork. I make a fist and stab down, effectively spearing the chicken. The human squeaks and scampers away out of the room. I hunch my shoulders and cringe.
For f**k’s sake, why did I do that?
Owen, who is silently sitting opposite me, lets out a snort. I peek up at him. His eyes are crinkled in the corners and his lips twitch—he’s fighting back laughter. I pull a face in the direction Karen ran. I didn’t mean to frighten her.
He nods at my meal. “Don’t worry about it; eat up.” I don’t need telling twice. Hell, at least I’m trying to use the fork. It would be much quicker and easier to use my hands—again, not allowed.
I lift the speared chicken, almost going cross-eyed as I watch it, until I stuff the whole chunk into my mouth. I go in for another piece.
The hairs lift on the back of my neck.
The room is unnaturally quiet, and I glance up; the few people that are around are staring at me. What are they looking at?
I pull the plate towards me as I chew.
Owen lets out a little cough. “Forrest.” I meet his eyes; he’s frowning at me. I must have done something wrong again—when he pulls that face, it’s a good indication.
Oops, I’m growling. I stop, huff out a breath. My eyes dart about, doing a double-check to make sure that nobody is looking at my food. “Don’t worry; I’ve got your back, no one is gonna take your lunch.” I nod a thank you, trusting him, and continue eating. A happy hum replaces my growl.
With my stab technique, I finish eating within minutes. Not pretty but effective.
Owen excuses himself from the table. When he returns from the kitchen, the most fantastic thing happens: my empty plate is exchanged for a slab of chocolate cake.
Chocolate cake! I beam a smile at Owen.
I honest to God can hear angels singing; this is a heavenly cake, and I am positive the cake has a glow around it. I take a bite. My eyes roll into the back of my head.
I decide from this moment on chocolate cake: Owen and myself, we’re best friends.
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