I’m a mix of emotion right now. Equus is out. My beautiful, magical, melancholy anthology about horses and horse-like creatures is out. Which is awesome because I finally get to share it with the world. So I’m excited.

But I’m finally sharing it with the world, so I’m also nervous. What if people don’t like it as much as I do? What if it doesn’t sell? Doesn’t get reviews?

I’m familiar with that anxiety though, because I go through it with every book release. What is a wholly new experience for me is this — Equus is the final installment in this anthology series. So now the series has been released. It is done. And I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. I think it’s going to take some time to sort through.

In the meanwhile though, I’m proud and excited to share Equus with the world! Enjoy 🙂

There’s always something magical about horses, isn’t there? Whether winged or at home in the water, mechanical or mythological, the equines that gallop through these pages span the fantasy spectrum. In one story a woman knits her way up to the stars and in another Loki’s descendant grapples with bizarre transformations while fighting for their life. A woman races on a unique horse to save herself from servitude, while a man rides a chariot through the stars to reclaim his self-worth. From steampunk-inspired stories and tales that brush up against horror to straight-up fantasy, one theme connects them all: freedom.

Featuring nineteen fantastic stories of equines both real and imagined by J.G. Formato, Diana Hurlburt, Tamsin Showbrook, M.L.D Curelas, Laura VanArendonk Baugh, V.F. LeSann, Dan Koboldt, J.J. Roth, Susan MacGregor, Pat Flewwelling, Angela Rega, Michael Leonberger, Sandra Wickham, Stephanie A. Cain, Cat McDonald, Andrew Bourelle, Chadwick Ginther, K.T. Ivanrest, and Jane Yolen.

Get Your Copy Online:

World Weaver Press
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
iBookstore

Excerpt from “Stars, Wings, and Knitting Things” by J.G. Formato:
I didn’t tell him the news until I’d placed the last raisin in my oatmeal. The wise and wrinkled happy face I’d created was quite encouraging. “Marcus,” I said, waiting for acknowledgement and eye contact. His eyes were still mostly contacting the Wall Street Journal, so I cleared my throat and dinged my spoon on his mug. Announcement style.

He emerged from the paper and frowned at the ripples in his coffee. “Why’d you do that? I was reading.”

“Were you?” I asked, genuinely curious. I always thought his morning paper was like an adult security blanket. But instead of making him feel safe and loved, it made him feel all grown-up and professional. Ready to join the Rat Race. Reading it for fun was a totally different story and not nearly as endearing.

“Of course I was, Annie. Now, what were you going to say?”

“I think the house is haunted.”

“You think the house is haunted?

“Mm-hm.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw a ghost.” Why else would I think the house was haunted?

“Where?”

“In the backyard. It was kind of swooshing all around by the swing set.”

“So, really, you think the backyard is haunted.” He looked very pleased with himself, like he scored a point or something. All those years of law school must have really paid off.

“Okay, fair enough. If you want to pick nits, I think the backyard is haunted.”

“What did it look like? Your ghost?”

“It was white, of course. And shimmery. Oh, and it had wings.”

“Like an angel?”

“No, not like an angel. Angels don’t haunt people’s backyards.”

“Of course.” He smacked his forehead—but in a smartassy way, not an oh, duh kind of way.

Order Your Copy Now:

World Weaver Press
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
iBookstore