About That Happy Ending

Estimated release date March 2017 (see below for excerpt)

Yes, I have a cat butt-hole on my cover, but I think that’s okay; it’s just a little thing 🙂

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Good godmother, human princesses are dull as dead rats.

Why did Prince Blandsome have to kiss me and break my curse? I was perfectly happy as a cat.

Now people expect me to behave like a human princess again, and princesses don’t do anything interesting like dangling off curtains with their teeth or pouncing on people’s faces when they’re sleeping.

But then – hope! – a peculiar rat-killing piper tells me I can find my happy-ever-after by undoing my curse, which seems not to have been undone entirely.

So I make a very (un)princessly decision:

I decide this curse of mine had better start running for its life.


Excerpt from Chapter 1:

It was an age of ogres. Of toll-taking trolls, underground goblins, flying pigs, clothed cats, naked emperors, witches, wizards, talking trees, talking fishes, and fire-breathing dragons.

Adventure lived and breathed in every nook and niche. It called from just around the corner, beckoned from behind the laundry line, murmured from burbling brooks and unfurled from rooftop chimneys. It tramped through forests and whispered invitations from shadowy castle corridors.

You could find it just by drawing up water from a well.

Well, generally. Sometimes you just got water. Alright, maybe most of the time you just got water. But still, it was an age of fairy tales and curses and… princesses.

Like me.

I was all three: a cursed fairy tale princess. Huzzah! Can’t get more authentic than that.

My fairy tale even began the usual way: with a christening to which my lousy parents omitted to invite a powerful fairy.

It’s positively tragic, I know, but as a squalling infant, I hardly had any influence over it.

Squalling infant, stop thy curse!

Nope, didn’t work.

Squalling infant, dodge thy curse!

No more luck than the previous one. Neither of those would even work keeping away a garlic-onion-Limburger-cheese belch, just For Your Information; they’re that weak.

Nope. Squirming, squiggling me got blasted with the whole curse package: curse, kiss, and idiot who does the kissing (read ‘prince’, though you could just as easily insert ‘poor mongrel sucker who has nothing better to do than to gallop about on unfortunate steeds and waving even more unfortunate swords at most unfortunate foes’).

I’ll be short.

In short, she came. She saw. She cast her wicked spell.

I grew. I learned to read and write. I morphed into a cat when I turned seven.

Meow.


I have formatted the print version! Sharing the title page and final story page here because I think they look so cute 🙂

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