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Book titled 'Foxfire' by Karen Kincy with a fox illustration on the cover; scratch and dent label.
Foxfire: A Haunted Shifter Story | Paperback | Scratch & Dent

Foxfire: A Haunted Shifter Story | Paperback | Scratch & Dent

$14.99 $24.99
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Suitable for all readers.

Signed bookplate

Comes with swag!

These books are fully readable and in good condition, but may have minor cosmetic flaws such as small dents, dings, slightly crumpled pages, or worn dust jackets. No major damage.

My own magic might kill me.

One winter long ago, I watched my mother—a kitsune, or Japanese fox-spirit—leave me in the snow for the dogs.

But that’s a memory buried beneath eleven years, and I’ve lived in America since then. I have my family, who adopted me, and my girlfriend, Gwen.

Now I’m back in Japan. My grandparents invited us to spend New Year’s with them in Tokyo. I pretend to be happy for Gwen, but I can’t shake the nightmares.

A faceless ghost haunts me, warning me that she is coming.

A gang of dog-spirits wants me dead. I’m the spitting image of their enemy, a kitsune named Yukimi.

Is Yukimi my birth mother who abandoned me? I never knew her true name, the key to a kitsune’s magic. I don’t even know my own true name.

And soon my magic threatens to kill me, tearing apart my half-human body.

I need to find the truth before it’s too late.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “The kitsune legend has never looked so good. Tavian is one sexy fox.”
– Julie Kagawa, New York Times bestselling author of The Iron King and Shadow of the Fox

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “An enjoyable, mystical coming-of-age, complete with quick getaways, motorcycle chases and no distraction from the already-established, comfortable romance.”
– Kirkus Reviews
Sneak Peek

Cold scrapes every bit of warmth from my skin. Above the howling wind, I hear a woman’s scream. The sound cuts straight to my bone. The wind shifts, and she screams again. Not a woman—a vixen’s cry. I run, stumbling, numb, until I trip sprawling in the snow. Flurries descend on me, burying me. My teeth chatter so hard they hurt.

Before me, a geisha-pale woman stands in the snow. Her hair flies like a ragged black banner, flecked with snow. She wears a gleaming white kimono—the color of a bride, or of the dead. She lifts her arms to me, beckoning. Her red lips part, and she screams again. The call of a vixen who has lost her kit.
4.6
Reader Satisfaction