Jen Jones should start a club for women who objectify men. She will be president. Except she’s too bloody swamped in the hormonal heft of new motherhood and her sensitive new age marriage to organize her panties, let alone a club.
Instead, she buys freedom in the form of a motor scooter and sets off to find where the hell she lost her better self. Maybe it scattered like shrapnel in the blast from Saint’s poison pen. Maybe it bled out like her success as a sculptress and ideas about love. Maybe it drowned in that dark part of her life that gave rise to her art.
When she moves back to her hometown, the Saint isn’t the only daemon she must wrestle to the ground. The darkest shadow cast is her own. While Jen walks her monsters down memory lane and gets mixed up with another man, her best girls grapple their own arcs.
Rosemary, a savvy high school teacher and premature widow is accused of sex with a student. Alby, gallery-owner and collector of strays, braves tying the knot with her perpetual Peter Pan. In a tangle that snares friends and frenemies alike, he’ll drop a bomb that rocks the sisterhood.
Will Jen find herself in the cinders? Fueled by trips to the morgue, the psych ward, and the seamstress, Jen’s juggernaut through ‘Women’s School’ pierces the Maya of sisterhood and self.
WITCHES, BITCHES AND SLUTS is 80,857 words of upmarket womens’ fiction authored by a recovering journalist and magazine editor.