Novels by Larry Moose

Philadelphia’s autumn sun filtered through the glass walls of the Talons’ NAFL practice facility, casting long shadows across the turf and weight room. The city pulsed with football fever: Jeremy’s name was already in MVP conversations, Lockjaw Blaze’s legendary career was the talk of morning radio, and the Talons were chasing another championship. But for Alexandra Jordan, the only woman on a NAFL roster, the spotlight had faded. Her story wasn’t front-page news anymore. She was back on the practice squad, her dream of suiting up on game day on hold—again.Yet Alexandra refused to let herself disappear.Practice Squad LeadershipMonday morning, the defensive coordinator called her into his office. “Jordan, I want you to lead the film session for the practice squad and rookies this week. Teach them what you know. Make sure they’re ready.”Alexandra blinked, surprised. She’d always been vocal, but this was different—an official responsibility, a sign of trust. She nodded, determination

The Philadelphia skyline shimmered in the late September sun, but inside the Talons’ practice facility, the world was all hard edges and fluorescent light. Alexandra Jordan stood at the edge of the weight room, chalk dust on her hands, watching the rookies finish their last set of squats. She counted out the reps, her voice steady, her presence a comfort.“Two more, Marcus. Finish strong.”The rookie linebacker grunted, legs shaking, and managed the final rep. Alexandra nodded, a small smile breaking through her fatigue. “That’s how you get better. Every day.”She clapped his shoulder as he racked the bar. Around her, the other practice squad players watched, some with gratitude, others with a hint of envy. Alexandra was the heart of this group—the one who’d been so close, who’d played in a championship game, who still came in first and left last. She was the only woman in the NAFL, a three-time champion from another league, and yet here she was, a practice player, still waiting for h

The city of Philadelphia was electric. The Talons’ home opener was more than just a game—it was a coronation, a test, and a promise all at once. The defending champions had returned, banners rippling in the late summer breeze, and the stadium was a cauldron of hope and expectation. Black, silver, and teal flags waved from every seat, and the roar of the crowd was a living, breathing thing.Alexandra Jordan stood on the sideline, helmet in hand, heart pounding. She wore her practice squad jersey, the only woman in the NAFL, and watched as the team she’d fought so hard to join took the field. She was close—so close she could taste it. But for now, she was on the outside looking in, her name just missing from the final 53-man roster. The sting was sharp, but the fire in her chest burned hotter.Jeremy, the Talons’ starting quarterback and last year’s championship hero, jogged onto the field to a thunderous ovation. His name echoed through the stadium, and Alexandra felt a surge of pride.

Philadelphia was a city that thrived on debate, and after Alexandra Jordan’s preseason debut, the city was ablaze. Sports radio hosts argued over her every snap. TV anchors replayed her tackles and her mistakes in endless loops. The front page of the sports section ran her photo—helmet off, sweat streaking her face, eyes fierce—with the headline: “Jordan’s Shot: Sideshow or Spark?”The Talons’ practice facility felt like the eye of a hurricane. Alexandra arrived early, ducking past a knot of reporters outside the gates. She could hear them calling her name, but she kept her head down, her bag slung over her shoulder. She was used to it by now—the questions, the doubters, the ones who wanted her to fail and the ones who wanted her to change the world.Inside, the locker room buzzed with a different kind of energy. Some teammates greeted her with nods or fist bumps. Others just watched, sizing her up. She was no longer a novelty, not after last season’s historic championship game appear

Philadelphia’s summer air was thick with humidity and expectation. The Talons’ practice facility buzzed with the energy of a team that knew what it meant to be hunted. Last year’s championship banner hung above the field, a daily reminder that every opponent would bring their best, and every returning player was expected to do more.Alexandra Jordan jogged onto the turf, her cleats biting into the grass. This was her second season with the Talons, and she was still on the practice squad—a veteran now, but not a star. She was the only woman on a NAFL roster, the first to ever play in a championship game, and the only one in a league of men. The Philly media never let her forget it, but neither did they let her forget her legacy: three Cannibals rings, a reputation for leadership, and a relentless drive that had brought her to the edge of history.She paused at the sideline, glancing up at the championship banner. She remembered the euphoria of Denver, the parade, the confetti, the feel

Denver was a city transformed. Black, red, and purple banners draped every streetlamp, and the air was thick with the sound of horns, cheers, and the kind of hope that only comes with victory. The Cannibals’ parade snaked through downtown, a river of celebration. On the lead bus, Alexandra Jordan stood with Heather and Mia, the championship trophy gleaming in her hands. The crowd’s roar was a living thing—waves of gratitude and awe for a team that had done the impossible: back-to-back-to-back champions.Alexandra let the joy wash over her, but beneath the surface, her heart was already turning toward the next mountain. She’d always been driven by what came after the confetti, the question of what was left to prove. Now, as Denver celebrated, she knew her journey was far from over.A City’s FarewellThe parade wound past the Capitol, the mayor waving from the steps. Fireworks exploded above Civic Center Park, where a stage had been set for the champions. Jeremy, radiant in a tailored s

The first pale light of dawn seeps through the slats of my office blinds, painting thin lines across the carpet. I stand at the window, pulling back the edge of the blinds to watch the city wake beneath me. The streets are quiet, peaceful—unaware of the betrayal I've uncovered through the night. My

The evidence glows on my screen like a digital confession, but it's not enough. I need more—something concrete, something undeniable. My fingers move across the keyboard with deliberate precision, each keystroke a small act of vengeance. The wolf in me wants blood, wants to tear through the building

The light from my computer screen casts blue shadows across my office, the only illumination besides the small desk lamp I've angled away from the door. My body aches with the recent memory of transformation, muscles still remembering a different shape, but my mind is sharp, honed by suspicion and t

By the time I reach the final button, my breathing has steadied. My reflection in the cracked mirror shows a woman reassembling herself piece by careful piece. The scratches at my collarbone will be hidden by the high neckline. The shadows under my eyes can be concealed with makeup. The wildness in

The crisp trousers slide over my legs, covering the scratches and bruises that map last night's journey. The fabric whispers against my skin, a language of civilization, of humanness, of control. I smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the material, a ritual of normalcy that grounds me in this form, in t

Lucas in the park that night weeks ago, his silhouette backlit by streetlamps as I completed my transformation in the shadows, thinking myself unseen. His strange calm when he approached, as if finding a colleague hunched and feral among the trees was nothing extraordinary. Lila noticing my monthly

The ship sailed toward the horizon painted in brilliant oranges and purples, the air thrumming with energy—the excitement of victory mingling with the salt of the sea. Sailors hustled about the deck, their laughter ringing out like music as crates filled with treasures were hoisted high, golden glints catching the last rays of the sun. At the helm, Amelia Knight stood with unwavering poise, her chestnut hair whipping in the breeze and her hands resting protectively over the unmistakable swell of her belly.“Watch that crate! Secure it tight!” she called, her voice rising above the bustle as she gestured with authority. The crew responded with laughter and shouts of affirmation, the exhilaration of their recent victory lending buoyancy to their tasks. Just beyond her, sailors exchanged animated chatter, recounting the day’s exploits—the gleam of gold coins reflected in their eyes, sparking a deep sense of camaraderie that enveloped the ship.“Did you see that last cannon shot? Nailed t

As dusk descended upon the ship, the horizon ignited with streaks of crimson and gold, illuminating the heavy silhouette of Amelia Knight against the fading light. Her hands rested protectively over her swollen belly, the ocean breeze tousling her chestnut hair. She gazed out at the endless expanse, lost in thought, feeling the pulse of her determination rise with the tide—a quiet resilience thrumming beneath the surface.Gabriel Blackthorne and Lucas Nightshade approached from opposite sides of the deck, the atmosphere shifting as they neared her. The tension was palpable, a tight coil that wound around them, reflected in their stiff postures and clenched jaws. She felt a rush of emotions course through her—an unsettling blend of anticipation and defiance. The camaraderie they shared had become tangled in the complexities of their circumstances, and now, each step they took seemed heavy with unspoken words.“Amelia,” Gabriel spoke first, his voice low yet firm as he closed the distan

The sound of cannon fire echoed across the rolling waves as the rival pirate ship loomed closer, its black sails unfurling ominously against the stormy sky. At the helm of the Nightshade, Amelia Knight stood tall, her long limbs and formidable presence cutting through the chaos that enveloped her. “Crew, ready your weapons!” she shouted, her piercing blue eyes scanning the deck, igniting a fierce resolve within her comrades as the taste of battle hung in the salt-kissed air.A tangible energy pulsed across the ship as crew members sprang into action, adrenaline-fueled and unwavering in their resolve. Gabriel Blackthorne stood to her right, his broad shoulders squared against the oncoming storm, every line of his muscular frame conveying the raw power that lay within. On her left, Lucas Nightshade exuded youthful bravado, his silver-blue eyes alight with excitement, blade glimmering as he readied himself for the fight ahead.“Secure the cannons!” Amelia barked, her voice rising above t

As the ship bucked under the relentless force of cannon fire, Amelia stood at the helm, cutlass gripped firmly in hand. The distant silhouette of the rival pirate vessel loomed large against the swelling storm clouds, its black flag snapping ominously in the wind—a warning of the chaos that awaited. Her pulse quickened as she shouted commands to her crew, every syllable resonating with the fierce resolve that surged through her veins. The heart of battle throbbed around her, a symphony of steel clashing and shouting men, a world poised on the edge of violence.“Hold steady!” she commanded, eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon, watching the rival ship approach with malicious intent. Its sails, swollen with wind, sent a shiver of dread coursing through her, each puff an omen of the conflict that was sure to erupt. The crew sprang into action, the once-idyllic morning transformed into a tableau of urgency as they loaded cannonballs and prepared to defend their vessel.“Reload! We’ll

The pale light of dawn crept across the horizon, casting shimmering hues over the rolling waves, but it did little to lift the oppressive weight that settled on Amelia's shoulders. The ship's wooden deck creaked beneath her as she stood tall at the helm, the soft swell of the ocean contrasting sharply with the tension that buzzed through the air, a shared anticipation crackling among her crew as they prepared for the approaching threat.“Captain! Look on the horizon!” one of the sailors shouted, his voice slicing through the morning's fragile stillness. Amelia's heart raced as she turned her gaze toward the distant silhouette against the pale sky. There it was—an unmistakable outline that sent chills down her spine: a rival pirate vessel, its black flag snapping proudly in the rising wind, a blood-red skull etched into the fabric—a symbol of doom that heralded chaos and violence.The crew reacted as if electrified, a chorus of panic and determination flooding the air around her. “It’s

The sun rose slowly over the ship, its warm rays spilling golden light that danced across the deck, awakening the crew to the sounds of laughter and the invigorating scent of salt and adventure. At the helm stood Amelia, her chestnut hair tousled by the wind and her piercing blue eyes sparkling with anticipation as the ship prepared to embark on its quest for treasure. Though her pregnancy was evident, it did nothing to diminish the confidence radiating from her, an anchor for the crew whose spirits soared alongside the billowing sails.“Alright, everyone! Let’s get moving!” Amelia called, her voice carrying over the gentle swells of the ocean, slicing through the din of excitement. She stood resolutely, a captain unfazed by the uncertainties that came with navigating both the sea and her impending motherhood. The sun painted her cheeks in a rosy hue, and the thrill of adventure coursed through her veins as she scanned the bustling deck.Gabriel moved with purpose, rallying the werewo