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Moon Called

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Overview

Mercy Thompson's life is not exactly normal. Her next-door neighbor is a werewolf. Her former boss is a gremlin. And she's fixing a VW bus for a vampire. But then, Mercy isn't exactly normal herself.

Editorial Reviews

Editorial Reviews for this product are not available at this time.

Author Information

Bio of Patricia Briggs

Patricia Briggs lives in Montana with her husband, children, and six horses.

Customer Reviews

  • 5 stars out of 5

    Posted December 01, 2006 by David, Nevada

    I really enjoyed this novel. The characters feel, shall I say, "human". (an ironic term I guess) Not at all cookie-cutter, but the kind you can actually relate to and feel for. The plot also manages to keep you engaged from start to end.

    I eagerly await the sequel.

  • 5 stars out of 5Great take on Werewolves, Vampires, and Cool Heroine

    Posted January 08, 2009 by Quilts2, Western Springs, IL

    This is the first in a nifty urban fantasy series that features a female mechanic who just happens to have an Alpha Werewolf next door neighbor, fey and vampire friends, and a sense of humor. The key to fantasy and sci fi is to get the reader to believe in the world that the author creates. Patricia Briggs creates an alternate universe where humans live knowing about the fey, suspecting about werewolves, and in blissful ignorance of the vamps. The heroine, Mercedes, is a shifter but has few special powers and no super powers; she survives with her sharp wits, a great sense of smell, and the ability to detect some magic. And somehow, as a reader you will buy into this world. A great read!

  • 4 stars out of 5Addictive Read

    Posted April 27, 2009 by Bettie Sharpe, Los Angeles

    I started this book on a lazy Friday afternoon, and immediately got pulled in by the good writing and intriguing plot. Fast-forward one week to the next Friday: I've read all four books in the series, including the latest hardcover release, "Bone Crossed," and I'm wondering when the next book will be out.

    Fortunately for me, it looks like Ms. Briggs has a respectable backlist to tide me over until her next new book. Though, given the rate at which I read these last four books, that backlist may not last a month.

  • 5 stars out of 5Stronger, independent heroines

    Posted August 05, 2009 by Kathy, Cottonwood Heights

    Moon Called is the first in the Mercy Thompson series. Mercy is introduced to be a walker. She can shape into a coyote, apperently the last of her kind. Mercy was raised by werewolves, when she was a teenager she left to start her own life. Mercy owns a body shop that she bought off of a fae and fixes cars for humans, fae, vampires and witches. Mercy is in the middle of these species, a little like a peace maker. Mercy is thrown into a political battle when she discovers a plot to turn humans into werewolves against their will. Mercy acts fast with amazing skills when her friend and his daughter are kidnapped. I can't wait to read the next adventure!

  • 4 stars out of 5Interesting Read

    Posted October 16, 2009 by Rob, Kings Mtn.

    I enjoyed the book. It was different from what I read normally but it was good enough to make me want to read more of this type of story.

  • 5 stars out of 5fantastic!

    Posted November 14, 2009 by stephanie, somerset

    this is one case where i picked a book off the shelf because i loved the cover art, and was pleasantly surprised! love the characters... love everything about this book. i had to read the rest of the series and finished it within a very sleepless week haha. fantastic patricia, keep writing!

Additional Info

Imprint

Penguin Group E-Books

Filesize

566.29 KB

Number of Pages

304

eBook ISBN

9780786579303

Excerpt from: Moon Called by Patricia Briggs

Chapter 1

I didn't realize he was a werewolf at first. My nose isn't at its best when surrounded by axle grease and burnt oil ' and it's not like there are a lot of stray werewolves running around. So when someone made a polite noise near my feet to get my attention I thought he was a customer.

I was burrowed under the engine compartment of a Jetta, settling a rebuilt transmission into its new home. One of the drawbacks in running a one-woman garage was that I had to stop and start every time the phone rang or a customer stopped by. It made me grumpy ' which isn't a good way to deal with customers. My faithful office boy and tool rustler had gone off to college, and I hadn't replaced him yet ' it's hard to find someone who will do all the jobs I don't want to.

"Be with you in a sec," I said, trying not to sound snappish. I do my best not to scare off my customers if I can help it.

Transmission jacks be damned, the only way to get a transmission into an old Jetta is with muscle. Sometimes being a female is useful in my line of work ' my hands are smaller so I can get them places a man can't. However, even weightlifting and karate can't make me as strong as a strong man. Usually leverage can compensate, but sometimes there's no substitute for muscle, and I had just barely enough to get the job done.

Grunting with effort, I held the transmission where it belonged with my knees and one hand. With the other I slipped the first bolt in and tightened it. I wasn't finished, but the transmission would stay where it was while I dealt with my customer.

I took a deep breath and smiled once brightly for practice before I rolled out from under the car. I snagged a rag to wipe the oil off my hands, and said, "Can I help you " before I got a good enough look at the boy to see he wasn't a customer ' though he certainly looked as though someone ought to help him.

The knees of his jeans were ripped out and stained with old blood and dirt. Over a dirty tee, he wore a too-small flannel shirt ' inadequate clothing for November in eastern Washington.

He looked gaunt, as though he'd been a while without food. My nose told me, even over the smell of gasoline, oil, and antifreeze permeating the garage, that it had been an equally long time since he'd seen a shower. And, under the dirt, sweat, and old fear, was the distinctive scent of werewolf.

"I was wondering if you had some work I could do " he asked hesitantly. "Not a real job, ma'am. Just a few hours' work."

I could smell his anxiety before it was drowned out by a rush of adrenaline when I didn't immediately refuse. His words sped up until they crashed into one another. "A job would be okay, too, but I don't have a social security card, so it would have to be cash under the table."

Most of the people who come around looking for cash work are illegals trying to tide themselves over between harvest and planting season. This boy was white-bread American ' except the part about being a werewolf ' with chestnut hair and brown eyes. He was tall enough to be eighteen, I supposed, but my instincts, which are pretty good, pinned his age closer to fifteen. His shoulders were wide but bony, and his hands were a little large, as if he still had some growing to do before he grew into the man he would be.

"I'm strong," he said. "I don't know a lot about fixing cars, but I used to help my uncle keep his Bug running."

I