By
Erin Johnson

She talks to the animals.
But when they witness a murder,
who will squawk first?

Cursed and almost powerless, Jolene’s definitely down on her magical luck. Forced to disguise her taboo shifter abilities, she barely makes ends meet by working as a pretend pet psychic. So, she eagerly says, “Oui,” to a job securing testimony from a parakeet that watched a woman’s fatal fall.

Teaming up with a true-blue police officer and his lie-sniffing German Shepherd, Jolene works hard to hunt down suspects. But with an after-hours affair, a disgruntled neighbor, and risqué photos all seemingly connected to the crime, untangling the truth is bound to get hairy.

Can Jolene protect her cover and pluck out the clues before she falls from grace?

Sometimes I pick up a book because it intrigues me in some way. This one had me chuckling over the blurb.Jolene is using the term pet psychic to cover the fact she is a shifter. Unfortunately, she can’t shift into the owl she once was since she was cursed. A side effect of this is she can talk to all animals not just other owls.

She’s in the midst of a ‘reading’ when a police officer interrupts. He’s carrying his dog who appears to be in a bad way.

This is a favorite scene.

The officer stood in front of me and lifted his thick brows, the panting police dog in his arms. He watched me with wide eyes, expectant.

I frowned and let my hands drop to my sides. “Uh… I’m not a vet.”

He looked wild-eyed behind him toward the stairs that led to the street entrance. “It said pet something outside!”

I lifted a brow. “Yeah. Pet psychic.”

I pointed to the older lady, who clutched her hissing cat to her chest. She looked frantically from me to the police officer.

“She’s my client—I’m giving her cat a reading.”

The huge German shepherd let out a pitiful whine, and my chest tightened in sympathy, in spite of myself. Though the officer was tall, and judging by the muscles that his tight uniform hugged, in great shape, a vein in his neck bulged with the effort of carrying the massive canine.

Twin red spots burned on the officer’s pale cheeks. “I’ve heard rumors of a back-alley vet here in the market—can you take me there?”

I crossed my arms and shot him a flat look. “Really? You’re a cop—you think I’m going to take you to an illegal vet?” I scoffed and batted my lashes. “Sorry, Officer, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I mean, I did. My friend Will ran it. And if I brought a cop to his place, it’d be the last thing I ever did because Will would, without a doubt, kill me.

The cop gritted his teeth. “Daisy’s fading fast.”

I smirked. Daisy? For a police dog? I would’ve guessed Killer or Fang.

“So take her to a vet.” I flashed my eyes at him. It wasn’t smart to sass a police officer under the best of circumstances, but was even dumber given my situation. Seeing as I was operating a semifraudulent business and all.

Though I wasn’t really a pet psychic, I could speak to animals. Normally shifters like me could speak to other animals of their kind when in animal form. When I used to be able to change into an owl, for instance, I could communicate with other owls—though even then, a lot was lost in translation.

But no shifter, and no psychic as far as I knew, had ever possessed the ability to speak to all animals. Woop de doo, how extra of me. This fantastic little gift came benefit of the curse that’d been leveled on me four and a half years ago by a jealous colleague who’d outed me as a shifter, cost me both my fiancé and career, and overall ruined my life.

On top of it, I’d lost all my magical powers and the ability to shift. I itched, even now, to spread my wings and soar through the night. But no—I was stuck in this rathole, feet planted firmly on the stained carpet.

My only compensation was the whole speaking to animals thing, which I figured was some unforeseen side effect of the curse. But in a city where shifters, while not technically illegal, were despised and shunned, it was best to keep my abilities to myself.

Hence, my cover as a pet psychic.

And double hence, why I had to get this officer and his dog out of my apartment as quickly as possible.

The officer’s face crumpled. “My dog’s dying.” His voice cracked, and I looked away.

Geez, he cared more about this pooch than probably anyone had ever cared about me. I grimaced at the sickly sweetness of it all.

“She won’t make it to a vet on a higher tier.”

I gulped and dared a glance at him.

His earnest blue eyes searched my face. “Please.”

My stomach twisted. Did he have to say it so quietly and with so much depth behind it?

I rolled my eyes at myself. I was sure his square jaw and stupidly handsome face had nothing to do with my sudden urge to risk my friend and me going to prison to help a dog.

The German shepherd’s labored breathing came quicker, foam gathering at her dark lips.

We were down here on the lowest level of Bijou Mer—or at least the lowest level once the tide rose each evening, submerging the lower part of the island and cutting our magical mountain off from the human mainland of France.

He’d have to race to one of the upper tiers to find another vet that’d be open at this time of night. And they likely wouldn’t be half as talented as my friend Will. I sighed. The officer was right. His dog wouldn’t make it.

And at this point, if I refused to help, I’d not only be signing the dog’s death sentence, but incurring the wrath of a distraught policeman. And he’d probably march right back here once the sun was up and shut me down. And since he already knew of a black market vet, it wouldn’t be too hard to find Will and shut him down too, just for spite. And, in my dealings with policemen so far, they were full of spite.

Great. A police officer around a couple of shifters running unlicensed businesses. What could go wrong?

I threw my hands up. “Fine.”

He blinked and flashed me the briefest of smiles. Of course it was white and dazzling and made him even more good-looking. But it quickly faded, replaced by a crease between his brows and a grim set to his jaw. “Thank you.”
Johnson, Erin. Pretty Little Fliers: A fresh, funny magic mystery with a dash of romance! (Pet Psychic Magical Mysteries Book 1). Kindle Locations (165-205). Kindle Edition.

Jolene gets to know Officer Peter Flint on their way to her friend Will’s. Will is not going to be happy, his clinic isn’t exactly legal.

From helping Daisy (the dog) to witnessing a woman falling from a window are the occurences that will change Jolene’s financial outlook.

Peter remembers she is a pet psychic and enlists her services as a consultant to see if the parrot in the office saw anything to solve this murder. He also discovers she has quite the analytical mind.

He has no idea of her past and she’s not about to tell him either.

Fun, intriguing, suspenseful and even a little romantic.

5 Contented Purrs for Erin!

Erin Johnson

A native of Arizona, Erin loves her new home in the Pacific Northwest! She writes paranormal cozy novels– stories that are mysterious, magical, and will hopefully make you laugh.

When not writing, she’s hiking, napping with her dogs, and losing at trivia night.

Erin’s had a ton of different jobs, from blackjack dealer to PA on a horror movie to Pilates instructor but has finally embraced her true calling as a writer. Thanks so much for your interest and for supporting her!