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    Love's Breaking Storm: Uncollected Anthology: Bewitching Love, #11
    Love's Breaking Storm: Uncollected Anthology: Bewitching Love, #11
    Love's Breaking Storm: Uncollected Anthology: Bewitching Love, #11
    Ebook91 pages1 hour

    Love's Breaking Storm: Uncollected Anthology: Bewitching Love, #11

    By Stephanie Writt

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    About this ebook

    Love’s Breaking Storm (Short Story):  One big-city were-cat seeks anyone to save her from her new home. A dog filled suburb. (Shudder.) Cleaning herself on the branch of a tree one summer’s day, Emily ponders the next step out of her lonely circumstance. Enter one steaming hot guy with storms in his eyes. 

    Lightning, love and a hefty kitty-freak out fills Emily’s story as she discovers a new place for herself and a future she never (ever) imagined.

    The Uncollected Anthology Series:  Sprung from the minds of seven fabulous authors who love fantasy, short stories, and each other’s writing, the series’ main goal is to bring you quality urban fantasy fiction. Every three months, the authors pick a theme and write a short story for that theme. But instead of bundling the stories together, they each sell their own stories. However, due to reader demand, and the help provided by BundleRabbit, we are now able to bundle all of the stories together in each issue. 

    Uncollected Anthology: When you can’t get enough of the stories you love.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWayne Press
    Release dateFeb 2, 2017
    ISBN9781386662389
    Love's Breaking Storm: Uncollected Anthology: Bewitching Love, #11

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      Book preview

      Love's Breaking Storm - Stephanie Writt

      Love’s Breaking Storm

      Love’s Breaking Storm

      Uncollected Anthology: Bewitching Love

      Stephanie Writt

      Wayne Press

      Contents

      Love’s Breaking Storm

      Read and be happy!

      Michele Lang: Burning Up

      Dayle A. Dermatis: Good Scrying Gone Bad

      Kristine Kathryn Rusch: Helmie

      Lisa Silverthorne: Jar of Souls

      Leslie Claire Walker: Oracle

      Leah Cutter: The Bee-Keeper’s Daughter

      Free Story: 1st in Geriatric Magic’s: The New York Collection

      Geriatric Magic

      Want to read more in this series?

      Preview: Love & Jinx

      Part One

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Love & Jinx: Want to finish reading?

      Also by Stephanie Writt

      About the Author

      Love’s Breaking Storm

      Uncollected Anthology: Bewitching Love (Issue #11)

      Ihad never met a male , human or feline, that made me literally fall to the earth in his presence. Well, today I did.

      For better or worse.

      I was cleaning my paws, perched up in the tree of my recently forced-abode by my human companion’s son. (The jackass.) Across the entire country he moved us. To Portland, Oregon he moved us. He wanted her closer to him. But did he ask her if we wanted to leave everything we had ever known for his convenience? (Hiss.)

      But let’s stay on the new guy to the scene. My new earth magnet.

      The move was a big leap from our cozy Manhattan apartment, safely wrapped up in the city sounds of a million people moving together, living on the paved roots of a metal forest-complex built on an island meant for maybe a tenth of that. Though I was never good at math, so maybe that number should be smaller…or bigger. You figure out the fractions.

      I now lived in a suburb.

      (Shudder.)

      In what felt like an actual forest, with real trees. Well, comparatively. Big ones, like that one I was in that I was sure had been there longer than the cookie cutter houses around me.

      And these houses were not the standard snowflake-stocking-reindeer sized cookies you could cover with two paws and were more an ornament than a treat. No, these were full-sized gingerbread men. Thick. The full meal deal, all decked out with the cinnamon candy buttons, edged in shiny silver candy balls (which I never understood, weren’t big enough to play with, and didn’t taste like anything) and enough icing to skate on. A neighborhood of flounced medium-money, all painted in subdued tones. With lawns and sidewalks, and covered in dog shit.

      Oh yeah, did I mention? There are a lot of dogs here.

      Hence my safe scoping stance in said tree. I had engaged in a standard, full-scoping stealth occupation. Cleaning myself. To any idiot, like a dog or a human of lesser intelligence (the jackass) I was fully engrossed in what I was doing. When in fact it’s like any other activity you have done so often you can do it without thinking and could pay attention to other things. Like my new neighborhood. About as exciting as an empty subway platform. Without the newspaper blowing around or the homeless guy snoring in the corner. This place was clean, lush and…quiet.

      Then he strode around the corner.

      Pretty impressive stature for a male. Dark tabby saddle that rode up his neck, over his head and darkened his ears. The rest of him was white. A little blinding in the sunshine, now free to glare down in all its glory without anything higher than a three story bungalow to challenge it.

      I’ve never been really attracted to cats. Though my success in the romance department with human males had been shoddy at best. Too clingy, assholes, or I just got bored. And they asked questions I just didn’t have answers to. Or they wanted to see my place. Hehe, right. So, I have this roommate, but she thinks I’m a cat. And I wasn’t going to blow my housing situation that I had spent years finding on some guy. I finally had a home.

      Or whatever.

      Eventually, a co-worker/friend of mine and I set up this unspoken kind of friends-with-benefits thing. He was so busy he didn’t have time for a relationship and I didn’t want a relationship with anyone for all of the above reasons.

      So, now that I was companionless, this stray… nope, he was probably domesticated. No collar, but they have those chip things now. In this neighborhood, definitely. So, this domesticated house cat was attracting me like no other cat had. And the sauntering feline playboy meandered right across the street, did a little kitty hop onto the sidewalk, and plopped himself right underneath my tree. My tree. Out of all of the trees on the street he chose my tree.

      And began to clean himself.

      How obvious could he get?

      For a cat, that was seriously blunt. Shouting-it-to-the-world blunt. He might as well have barked.

      I rolled my eyes, which is natural in either form for sure, and shifted my cleaning stance to my back so I could not pay attention in the other direction. And then I smelled him, his scent riding the wave of some gentle summer’s breeze.

      He smelled like male cat—and human.

      That’s when I fell out of my tree.

      Just to clarify in the immediate: I had never met another like me.

      Shocker, right?

      I had lived in the most compact, everything-diverse, jam-packed living environment in the world and had never met another…shifter? Cat-person? Were-cat? Whatever. I hadn’t named it ‘cause from stray to stray, alley way to garbage can, when fighting for a meal amongst claw and teeth of

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