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Feral Hearts
Feral Hearts
Feral Hearts
Ebook58 pages51 minutes

Feral Hearts

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Can a feral cat help a formerly wild woman find herself?

Candice hopes that her childhood home will offer her a safe place to weather the storm of life. A place to hide from her demons and her memories. A place that's safe when everywhere else is fraught with emotional pitfalls and dangers.

Except, it isn't.

Home has its own complications. Its own drama. Drama in the form of an old friend/old flame. Drama in the form of her family. Drama in the form of a feral cat who's just as wild and untamed as Candice.

Will Candice be able to find her equilibrium and her place in this rustic and rural town? Or will her feral heart lead her into disaster?


This is a novelette about coming home again written in lyrical and evocative language. It's a story for former wildchilds and cat lovers and anyone looking for an avenue of hope after an acre of despair.

Release dateOct 1, 2020
Feral Hearts
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    Feral Hearts - Regina Griffiths


    Regina Griffiths

    Copyright © 2019 Regina Griffiths

    All rights reserved.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


    Welcome to Feral Heart!

    Thank you for taking the time to read this. We’ve got some important information for you that we hope you’ll take the time to read.

    We want this story to be accessible for as many readers as possible. To that end, we will be listing the heat rating, pairing type, and if there are any major triggers. While we have done our best to list those triggers, we know that there is no all inclusive list. If you have a trigger and would like to know if this story contains your trigger, please reach out to us at rlp@roselarkauthor.com.

    Every publisher has their own heat guide; it can be a little confusing to keep them all straight. In order to keep things sex-positive and non-judgmental (in either direction) we’ve based our guide on the Scoville scale for judging peppers. For our full heat rating guide, go here or to the end of this book.


    RoseLark Publishing

    Heat Rating: 2

    Relationship Type: M/F

    Major Trigger Warnings: Secondary character death. Depression. Smoking. Animal trauma. Discussion of death. Discussion of suicide. Discussion of miscarriage. Descriptions of blood. FMC and cat are both injured, though not badly.

    Candice hopes her childhood home will offer her comfort and a place to hide from a life that’s not turning out the way she wanted. She doesn’t expect a cat and an old friend to complicate things and send life spinning out of her control.


    Candice’s favorite spot on the wraparound porch of her childhood home had many advantages. Sure, the white peeling paint got all over her dark clothes. The railing occasionally offered a gentle protesting creak at her weight. Those minor flaws didn’t outweigh the draw of a place where, on a muggy August afternoon, no one else was inclined to linger on the west side of the house. She could spend hours sitting on the railing, her back against a column with sunlight beating against her eyelids as she listened to the world and let her mind float, unthinking. Spending time out here meant not having to talk to her mother, not having to answer questions or deflect well-meaning comments.

    They were always, always, always well-meant. As if that helped.

    I should go in, she thought for the fourth time in an hour, fingers twitching toward the pocket of her skirt. Kitchen sounds floated through the open screen door, slightly muted by their passage through the laundry room. Her mother was baking, probably. Or preparing to bake, or cleaning up from baking. It’s practically compulsive, she thought. There were enough paths through the house that Candice could easily avoid passing through her mother’s domain, so the sounds that came from it always had a faintly mysterious air to her. As a kid, she’d preferred the outdoors and the workshop—

    Candice’s thoughts, breath, and motion stuttered to an infinitesimal halt, eyes flicking open and across the garden. Not even the foundation was left, but a large rectangle of dirt remained like a ghost among the living green grass.

    An unexpected danger of coming home, she’d found. Memories. She’d run from one set smack into the arms of another.

    She drew a deep steadying breath and pulled an old, engraved cigarette case from her pocket. She wasn’t allowed to smoke in the house. She wasn’t allowed to come in right after she smoked, either. That was at least another half an hour’s worth of reasons to stay outside, much as she’d always hated

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