Title: Sealed with a Hiss
Series: Kitten and Blonde, Book One
Author: Eule Grey
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 10/24/2023
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 39900
Genre: Paranormal, contemporary, paranormal, British/Yorkshire/Ladybower Reservoir, lesbian, over 40, mystery, cold case, blogger, reporters, local paper, small town, witch, bikers, neurodivergence, sexy lizard lady, interspecies sex
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Description
Kitten and Blonde: Mostly Paranormal. Sometimes alien. Always gentle.
Mave Kitten is ecstatic when she lands a dream job as a paranormal journalist for a local newspaper, the Echo. It’s a chance in a lifetime for a neurodivergent Witch. She’s a little nervous about the boss, leather-clad motorcyclist Lisa Blonde. But Lisa’s got a heart of gold, and Mave soon settles into her new role. There’s even an office cat to help out. Only one tiny problem remains—Lisa doesn’t believe in the paranormal. How is Mave to change her mind?
Her Little Joke
Mave and Lisa investigate a creepy sound emanating from a nearby canal. Little do they know to what depths the trail will lead: Ghosts, a haunted well, ignorance, a flapping bird. What of the woman in green? Mave’s interviews lead to some unexpected situations, and all the time, the hissing sound grows louder. The last place Mave and Lisa wish to visit is the depths of a macabre well. Heck, no. They’re just ordinary women with bills to pay. But entities are fashionably unpredictable, and ghost whisperers can’t choose when to answer a supernatural SOS. When the darkness closes in, Mave is glad of Lisa’s winning formula of strength and softness.
Swamp Woman
Although Mave loves her Sunday dates with Lisa, she wishes the outings would lead to something more intimate. When a swamp monster at Ladybower Reservoir goes AWOL and a researcher disappears, it’s a brilliant opportunity for Mave and Lisa to get better acquainted and stretch their investigative skills. Mave leaves no gravestone unturned. Phantom aircraft, a missing scientist, abandoned lizard tails, tussles in the bushes: all pathways lead to one heated conclusion—it’s time to tell Lisa how she feels.
Kitten and Blonde set forth on Lisa’s motorbike armed with packed lunches and crucial questions. Why is a mysterious noise coming from the well? What’s causing the toxic chemicals at Ladybower Reservoir? Where’s the nearest pub? Maybe the most crucial question of all is whether Lisa Blonde will ever believe in the supernatural.
Her Little Joke was previously published as part of the NineStar anthology, Listen: The Sound of Fear.
Excerpt
Sealed with a Hiss
Eule Grey © 2023
All Rights Reserved
Once the fuss of our first case bubbled away, Lisa and I returned to a calmer life spiced with titillation: Yorkshire tea of an afternoon, cheese and pickle sandwiches, and a Friday pint down the pub accompanied by the questions of the day.
—When would Penelope Sardine desist in scratching Lisa?
—Could I achieve the perfect shade of purple hair?
—Should snogging be allowed in the office, and if so, how often?
Happily, there was much to think about other than spooks and ghouls. Quarterly reports had to be completed, as well as other tasks necessary to churn out a newly successful newspaper.
I didn’t much miss being a ghost huntress. After grappling an ancient skeleton, I’d gone off the paranormal anyway, though my dabble into the otherworld hadn’t been insightful or interesting. Au contraire. The gruesome history of Ellison, as well as Lilly’s story, had revealed much about snobbery, sexism, and homophobia—horrors that had needed to be out in the open. I didn’t regret taking on the case, not exactly.
My uneasiness had arisen from the way the public clamoured for access to people who wished to remain private. The phone at the Echo had practically rung itself hoarse during the weeks when I’d been in hospital. People had demanded to know where Lilly and Roberta lived, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Eventually, they’d found them and had banged on their door armed with flashing phones… Say no more.
I needn’t have worried because it was a while before I got the chance to play Miss Marple again anyway, and even when I did, the Echo’s second research case was a different tipple of beer to the first.
Whereas goings-on at Ellison were infamous before yours truly had gotten involved, case number two had already been silenced by massive water companies. Neither Lisa nor I had even heard of the giant lizard of Ladybower. What might have become a fabulous international legend—a giant lizard born of pollution—had already been squashed by the dirty wheels of commerce.
Not forever…
The chaos of case number two began on a quiet Wednesday when there was nothing much to do but edit a report about Lassie’s Locks, the doggie parlour, and flirt with the boss. Lisa and I had been dating for around seven months. Our dates constituted pub dinners, cuddles, and walks on a Sunday. All very nice, still I was yearning for a bit more, though I understood things were tricky. At fifty-two, with a trail of emo baggage around my neck as big as an albatross, and the menopause tweaking what was left of my ovaries, I wasn’t about to leap into a wedding ring anytime soon. As well, Lisa was always busy with family. She’d been vague about the details, hinting at disability and care needs. Though I was hurt by her apparent reluctance to share details, I understood. Scarborough wasn’t built in a week and neither was the Blackpool Tower. I could wait a little longer.
The emotional distance between us didn’t deter me from hoping. Not I! When the said Lisanator was nearby, my stupid heart galloped and my knicker elastic pinged in ready hopefulness. To use Shakespeare’s words, I fancied the pants off her. We hadn’t discussed our relationship or where it might lead, but I hoped and suspected she felt the same. During a Friday pint, there was enough sexual electricity between us to have topped the northern lights.
On the day the giant lizard case was introduced, I’d been wondering how to speed things up romantically and couldn’t think of how to broach the subject. Unfortunately, there was competition for Lisa’s attention in the office by way of the stick insects. Her nephew had asked us to babysit the bugs while he was at uni, and we’d ‘agreed’, albeit reluctantly. Lisa loved them. She liked nothing more than to sit and stare silently into the glass, like she was doing now, while I died of neglect.
It was enough to make a girl pant with jealousy. “You’ve been admiring those things for hours. Is it your turn to make a cuppa?” Why didn’t she look at me like that? What could possibly be so interesting about insects, and when was she going to kiss me?
No answer. A few long seconds passed, feeding the raging fire of my crush.
“Lise? What’re you looking at?” I couldn’t prevent a tiny shudder. There was no getting away from it—the stickies were creepy.
Six feet of pure grr swivelled around in her chair to face me. Blonde, spiky hair, grey eyes, black jeans, and biker boots I’d had fantasies about untying with my teeth one loop at a time. “Yeah?” She appraised me, head cocked to one side and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her kissable lips. “Come here.”
My girlish insides cheered. “Over to you?” It seemed I was incapable of behaving like the mature adult I claimed to be.
Lisa nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving mine and her finger never slowing its tantalising beckoning action. “Yup.”
I clattered up from my desk as if I had fifteen legs and too many arms. “What is it?” Surely our first intense snog wouldn’t take place so near the stickies? Would it be unethical to initiate jiggy-jig in a place of work?
Lisa stood, casually took my hand, and pulled me closer. “Do I need a reason to say come here?” Her arm found a way around my shoulders, and our two bodies became close enough to start a fire. Somewhere between a cuddle and hug, her physical confidence superseded my awkwardness. Oo, it was lovely, especially her giggle when my hair tickled beneath her chin. Lisa had an ability to put me at ease without the need for words—a way of calming my chaotic brain with her unique mixture of brawn and intelligence, cherry-topped by leather biking trousers.
I grinned stupidly. “Well, no. Of course you don’t.”
Just as I grew comfortable and considered going up on tiptoe for a kiss, she placed her hands on my shoulders and propelled me towards the tank of horror.
“See how they sway?” she said. “Tiny lizard-like things with lives we know nothing about. What goes on in their minds?”
I was struck by her dreamy phrasing, unusual for a direct and down-to-earth lass more likely to write odes about pickled onions than to wax lyrical about insects.
She placed herself directly behind me, chin on my shoulder, hands holding mine. “What do you think they’re doing?”
To my disgust, I was forced to gaze deep into the depths of the swamp—where the insects looked back, swaying, just as Lisa had said. In my overactive imagination, it looked as if they were kindly cheerleading me and Lisa. Kiss her. Go on. Kiss her.
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Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the north UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory. Sadly, she wasn’t much good at any of them!
She writes novels, novellas, poetry, and a messy combination of all three. Nothing about Eule is tidy but she rocks a boogie on a Saturday night!
For now, Eule is she/her or they/them. Eule has not yet arrived at a pronoun that feels right.
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