COVER REVEAL: Heliodor by Shannon Wendtland

Hi kids! It’s been a while since we talked, but 2016 has gotten off to a busy start. But have no fear, with the dawning of springtime, the Belle is back in town. And to bring in the season, I’ve got a lovely cover reveal for a new steampunk novella that’s going live on 3/22 from Mocha Memoirs Press! I present, Heliodor by newcomer Shannon Wendtland!

Malfric sees through the eyes of the dead – literally reliving their last moments as if they were his own. This ability is highly sought and highly priced, which is why the unscrupulous Captain Finch hires him to find the murderer of a nobleman and the whereabouts of a valuable artifact.

Quantex, the able-bodied first mate of Captain Finch, quickly becomes Malfric’s foil as he demonstrates uncommon intelligence during the investigation. Together the two uncover several clues that lead them to the killer, the artifact, and the frayed end of a mysterious plot that begins to unravel the moment Malfric takes it in hand and gives it a good yank.

Sounds pretty amazing huh? I love a good adventure story! So without further ado……



AVAILABLE MARCH 22, 2016 @ !!





Here’s to you, Mr. Caligari

So I decided that in the spirit of fun and Monday morning, I’d post a teensy little snippet of the WIP.  This is a brand new steampunk erotica story aptly titled “The First Gentlemen’s Club on the Moon.”  I began thinking about this story a couple of years ago at Alan Wold’s writers’ workshop at ConCarolinas.  It had been on the backburner for a while until finally a couple of weeks ago, it started to take shape.  The main character is a young widow named Winifred Shrewsbury.  Freddy is swept off  her feet by Micajah Caligari, an inventor and explorer, who has a most unusual proposition for her…


It was at Mr. Shrewsbury’s funeral when I first met Micajah Caligari.  He was standing there in the rain, staring roguishly at me from under his unobtrusive hat.  I didn’t recognize him, but after all, I didn’t meddle too much in the affairs of my late husband.  He was probably some business associate, though it seemed strange that I’d never met
him.  He stood alone on the edge of the crowd, hands folded behind his back, head down in the proper way of mourning.  He didn’t look like a Society type, nor was he Common.  Perhaps Nouveau Riche with his striped mourning coat and the shocking way he pulled out a cigarette and began smoking during the procession.  He caught my eye and winked, making me blush straight down to my toes.  I looked away quickly, turning my umbrella to block my field of vision.