Nine Fingers is about 30% complete

Nine Fingers, my horror novel about werewolves and responsibility is nearing the 1/3 complete mark. If all goes well, we should be going to press in mid-August.

And, no, my werewolves aren't fluffy.

Here's a very short sample:

    Hayden stood up and cupped her face in his hands, “Your husband hurt you, Karen. He betrayed you, and you’re never going to have peace until you confront him.”

    “You’re not talking about confronting him. A confrontation is just an argument, a few harsh words. You and I, we don’t do harsh words anymore, Hayden,” there were tears in her eyes as she spoke.
    She felt as if his eyes were tearing into her soul as he spoke, “He used you for twenty years. He used your body, your emotions. And, then, when he felt like you were used up, he tossed you to the curb for some slut half his age. He demeaned you, disrespected you, and left you with nothing.”
    Her tears fell, but she felt something else growing in her chest: hatred, white hot anger. Hayden was right, she knew that. Turning the other cheek, taking the high road – all a load of shit. Karen the person was scared, Karen the wolf was slowly getting pissed.
    There was a small voice in the back of her mind whispering even as the wolf in her head growled: this is what Charles Manson sounded like to his flock. Everything he’s saying makes perfect sense, but sweet poison is still poison.
    The anger drowned the small voice out. The wolf inside was happy, and becoming happier. And, she liked the wolf, she liked her a lot. The wolf didn’t wear her lipstick pink with strawberry flavored gloss, she liked her lipstick red and the flavor was blood.
    She smiled at him as they walked around the house to the front door.