Fresh FIction Box Not To Miss
Debbie Wiley | Loom Knitting and More!
Author Guest / January 14, 2021

by Fresh Fiction Senior Reviewer Debbie Wiley My Great-Aunt Katherine shared her love for cooking, crafting, and reading with me in the form of gifts highlighting each of these hobbies of hers. I still treasure the first cookbook I ever used (with an inscription from her inside) and I have a lifelong love of reading fostered by her (as well as my mom and grandmother!). The crafting part, however, sat mainly dormant for years. She gifted me with a macramé kit I never figured out and then a knitting loom that I easily learned to make double knitted figure 8 stitch scarves. I lost interest in the scarves over the years, only finishing a handful, until several years ago when my interest was reignited… and a love of loom knitting sprang to life! Loom knitting is my form of self-care, and in these tumultuous times, self-care is a priority to cope with all the negativity and fear that surround us. Whether it’s concerns over long-ignored social justice issues, fears about Covid-19, or the violence erupting after an election, self-care has become a buzzword many are looking into. Some are using mindfulness techniques (GROWING UP MINDFUL by Christopher Willard, PsyD has…

Mel Tescho | Exclusive Excerpt: THE VIRGIN HUNT GAMES
Author Guest / January 14, 2021

Melody woke shivering, with darkness pressing in all around her. And for a moment she forgot exactly where she was before reality sank in. Fuck. She blinked, but the blackness was relentless and all encompassing. And so thick she could all but touch it. Was this some kind of a joke? Nighttime had nowhere near this intensity of absolute darkness. Even under heavy cloud cover there was a hint of stars outside, a moon. Some kind of light source. How long had she been asleep? It felt like ten hours, but she guessed it had been closer to an hour or two at most. Not counting the time she’d spent trying out her supposed invisibility gift. All she’d managed was more of the same tingling sensation, and the growing suspicion the doctors had somehow bungled her DNA results. A sharp clink alerted her to the fact she was no longer alone. But she didn’t panic, her muscles relaxed on recognizing the sound of claws digging into rock. “Damon,” she called out. “Don’t move,” he bit out. “Dangerous.” “No shit,” she said softly, pushing away Damon’s wet vest that had pillowed her head. She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms and…