New Release Blitz: Guarded Obsession by Brenda Murphy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Guarded Obsession

Series: University Row, Book Two

Author: Brenda Murphy

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/20/2026

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 308

Genre: Contemporary suspense, Romance, contemporary, crime/thriller, lesbian, BDSM, university professor, bodyguard, forced proximity

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Description

Celeste Choi swore she’d never take another protection job, especially not after the betrayal that almost destroyed her. But when her best friend begs for help, she can’t say no. Lou Chavez is on the run from her vengeful ex—a woman who’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants. Hiding out in a remote cabin, Celeste and Lou find themselves locked in a fight for survival and for each other. Lou doesn’t believe she’s worth saving, but Celeste refuses to let her die on her watch. As their enemies close in and an old rival resurfaces with her own deadly agenda, their undeniable attraction ignites into something dark, intimate, and dangerous. To survive, Celeste and Lou must stand together, risk everything, and decide if the love they’ve found is worth the ultimate price.

Excerpt

Guarded Obsession
Brenda Murphy © 2026
All Rights Reserved

The gleaming steel elevator doors opened. Celeste waited a beat, sweeping her gaze over the interior of the car. Satisfied with her safety, she stepped inside. She swiped her key card and pressed the combination of buttons that led to Demure’s subbasement. As she descended, she smoothed her hands over the front of her skirt, checked the fit of her jacket, tugged her sleeves in place, and made sure her weapon didn’t ruin the line of her suit. Her black heels gleamed in the soft glow of the elevator lights.

The doors chimed open. As before, she paused a moment before exiting to assess the situation. Her gaze landed on Bridget, lead sub of Demure. She’d been a professional rugby player, and her thick shoulders tested the limits of her suit jacket. She sank to her knees as Celeste stepped out of the elevator. Celeste indulged herself studying Bridget’s angular profile and dark eyes shining in the fluorescent lights of the hallway before Bridget lowered her gaze.

“Welcome, Mistress Choi. Mistress Yvonne is waiting for you in her office. We’ve moved it since your last time here.” She lifted her hand toward the right hall off the elevator lobby. “It’s two doors down on the left.”

“Thank you, Bridget.” Celeste took a step forward and rested her hand on Bridget’s head. She swept her hand over her crewcut, teasing her finger over the crisp edges. A vision of their last session rose along with Celeste’s desire. “It has been a minute. Did you miss me?”

“More than I dare say, Mistress,” Bridget husked out.

Celeste took advantage of her position to study the rise and fall of Bridget’s chest. She tugged Bridget’s earlobe before pinching it hard. “Are you working all night?”

A visible shiver shook Bridget’s body. “I’m scheduled until eleven, Mistress.”

“Meet me in the blue room after your shift.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Celeste released Bridget’s ear, stepped past her, and took the right hallway. The wide steel door of Yvonne Li’s office was painted black. In the center of the door, the emblem of the club shone red and silver. She rapped on the door. It slid open to reveal a bookcase-lined office and Yvonne behind her desk.

“You didn’t ask who it was,” Celeste chided.

“I’ve watched your spectacular ass from the time you entered.” Yvonne gestured to the wall of video monitors behind her. “And Bridget would never allow anyone not scheduled to disturb me in my office.

Celeste studied the bank of monitors. “Adequate. But every system has blind spots.”

“That’s why I have Lindsey and Bridget and their crew.”

Celeste shifted her gaze back to Yvonne. “You didn’t ask me here to critique your club’s security. And from the absence of subs, nor for a playdate. Why am I here, Yvonne?”

“I need a favor.”

Celeste opened her suit coat before she eased herself into the leather chair across from Yvonne’s desk. “Favor?”

“I need your personal protection services.”

Celeste moved to the edge of her chair. “Didn’t you just tell me how much you trust Lindsey and Bridget and the others with your safety?”

“Not for me. Anyone who came after me would have to go through them. I trust them with my life and with the lives of my family. I need your services for someone else.”

Celeste leaned back in her chair. “No. Not no, but fuck no. I’m out of the business. Let me call one of my former associates for you.” A chill chased down Celeste’s spine. “What the hell, Yvonne?” She shoved away her annoyance with both hands. She studied the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. “Is someone after Mai?”

Yvonne shook her head. “No. A dear friend.”

“Friend?”

“Sub.”

“Is she one of yours? Why can’t Lindsey handle it?”

“Because it’s beyond her expertise. I need someone with international experience.”

Celeste raised her gaze to the ceiling before bringing it back to Yvonne. “I’ll get you some names.”

“Damn it, Celeste, I don’t need names. I need you.” Yvonne’s eyes blazed fire. “She’s in danger. Has no idea how much. She is delulu and thinks I’m overreacting.”

Celeste huffed out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. “I know you and Sally have an agreement, but you seem very invested in this woman.”

“What Sally and I have is none of your business. Yes, I am invested in her survival. Look, are you going to help me or not?” Yvonne pushed her hair back with her hand. “I’m not going to beg but you’re the only person for this job. Please. I am asking as your friend and as one Mistress to another.”

Celeste lifted a shoulder. “Look, you got me out of more than one jam. But my credentials are not up to-date. I let it all go after that mess with the Burlingtons. I’m not—”

“This is off the books.” Yvonne drew her fingers over a dark-blue file folder on the desk.

Celeste squinted. “Protection off the books? Who did she kill?”

“No one. But some people have spent and will spend a large portion of their lives behind bars because of her.”

“Drugs? I don’t fuck with drug cartels.” Celeste smoothed her fingers over the hem of her short skirt.

“You mean you don’t anymore.” Yvonne held her gaze.

“Water under the bridge. So, what is it?”

“Art.”

“Art?”

She was a key witness in an international art fraud case.”

“And?”

“And in the last nine months, six members of the prosecutor’s office and investigative team involved with the case have died under suspicious circumstances. Car accidents, falls from high places, or simply vanished. On the surface it seems like a series of coincidences.” Yvonne leaned back in her wheelchair.

“So let the feds handle it.” Celeste shifted in her seat.

Yvonne lifted a perfectly shaped brow. “Are you high? Did you hear what I said? Might as well put a target on her back if the feds get involved.”

Celeste squirmed under Yvonne’s withering gaze. “It’s not— I don’t think—”

“Forget it. Get out.” Yvonne spun her wheelchair around, showing Celeste her back. Icy waves of anger radiated from her. Celeste studied the set of her shoulders. Yvonne had remained her friend when others had walked away, helped her when no one else would. Yvonne stood up to a powerful family on Celeste’s behalf and won. She owed her a debt she never expected to be able to repay.

Celeste stood and rounded the desk. “Hey. Look at me.”

“I don’t want to see your face. I believed you when you said you would do anything for me. For eight years I haven’t asked you for a damn thing.”

Guilt pricked Celeste’s skin. She shoved aside her fear. “I’ll do it.”

Yvonne kept her head turned from Celeste’s face. “No. I don’t need your pity. Nor resigned agreement. Get out. Leave me to think.”

“No. I’m not leaving. You said no one else can do this job. Let me do this. Sorry, I said no. You know why.”

“I do. And I’ll tell you now what I did then. None of it was your fault. Your client lied to you. Deliberately disobeyed your instructions. Her death was her own doing. I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t think you are the one person who might be able to keep Lou safe.”

“Lou? Fuck boi Lou?” Celeste stepped back and away from Yvonne.

Yvonne spun her chair to face Celeste. “Don’t slut-shame. Yes, Lou. She is a flirt. As you have witnessed, no doubt. But she is the least promiscuous person I know.”

Celeste rested her hands on her hips. “She’s a trust fund baby. She could afford all the protection she needs. Why is this your responsibility?” She cocked her head. “Is she yours?”

“As much as she is anyone’s.” Yvonne rubbed her hands together. “She started coming here as a fresh-faced twenty-three-year-old, a fine arts graduate student, green as hell.”

“You trained her? Were you her first Mistress?” Celeste squinted, trying to imagine Yvonne with a butch sub.

“No. Not my type. But I arranged for others to teach her protocol, safety, and consent. She’s evolved into a sub who makes every Mistress she ever scened with hungry for more. She’s skilled in all the right ways, and she knows it. She has used it to get whatever and whoever she wants.” Yvonne pursed her lips. “She’s cocky as hell and dares you take her down. A top from the bottom ass, but her submission is tantalizing and addictive. She could have her pick of Mistresses.”

“So why isn’t she someone’s? No one strong enough for her?”

“No. She came close once. It ended badly.”

“How badly?”

“Stalking. Restraining order for the Mistress. I blame myself I didn’t see the signs.”

Celeste crossed to the chair opposite Yvonne’s desk. She shed her suit coat before she sat. “Give me her file.”

Yvonne laid her hand on top of it. “No going back once you see this.”

Celeste tilted her head and met Yvonne’s gaze. “When have I ever backed down?”

Yvonne shoved the file toward Celeste. “I won’t remind you of you closing your business and ghosting the world for the last eight years.”

“Don’t. And I wasn’t ghosting anyone. I want a quiet life.”

“Quiet lives are overrated.” Yvonne lifted her chin. “What can I get you to drink while you’re reading?”

“A nonalcoholic ginger beer.”

Yvonne’s mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “Ahh yes, you’re seeing Bridget later. She’s missed you. What do you have planned for her?”

“What are you—a lip reader? Or do you have the place wired for sound as well as video?”

“Wired for both.”

Celeste shifted her gaze from Yvonne’s eager expression to the clock. “I’m not telling you anything. Tune in later if you’re curious.” She opened the thick folder.

Yvonne called in their drink order while Celeste scanned the first page of Lou’s file. The passport photo clipped to the first page didn’t do Lou justice, but then how could an image capture the essence of a sexy bold butch unafraid to be herself?

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Brenda Murphy (she/her) writes erotic romance. Her most recent novel, Double Six, is the 2020 Golden Crown Literary Society winner for Erotic Novels, and Knotted Legacy, the third book in the Rowan House series, made the 2018 The Lesbian Review’s Top 100 Vacation Reads list. You can catch her musings on writing, books, and living with wicked ADHD on her blog Writing While Distracted. She loves sideshows and tattoos and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not loitering at her local library, she wrangles twins, one dog, and an unrepentant parrot

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For a free short story, information on book signings, appearances, work in progress snippets, previews and sneak-peeks, sign up for my email list at:

Website: www.brendalmurphy.com

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New Release Blitz: Tilthos Pack by Emily Carrington (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Tilthos Pack

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Dark Fantasy, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, LGBTQ+ /Gay, Multicultural & Interracial, Vampires, Werewolves & Wolf Shifters

Series: Tilthos Pack (#4)

Multiverse: SearchLight Academy (#10)

Book Length: Box Set

Page Count: 334

Synopsis

Lovers who have stood the test of time find themselves on unsteady ground. Can their love prevail despite the terror working its way through the pack?

Wedding a Genie: Mark and Luke are getting married… or are they? Mark’s pride may not allow him to show how he feels to a roomful of his nearest and dearest.

The Mating Ceremony: Ethan and Jeremy have been forced into a mating ceremony. Can their love survive their pack traditions?

The Separation: Separated by hundreds of miles and a promise, Charlie and Luis long for each other. Will their love survive?

A Solstice Sundering: When Ethan is ordered back to the pack, his strained relationship with Jeremy comes to the forefront. Can they weather this storm?

Uncertain Foundations: Lovers who have stood the test of time find themselves on unsteady ground. Can their love prevail?

Excerpt

Tilthos Pack
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Emily Carrington
Excerpt from Wedding a Genie

Mark paced. He was dressed, finally, in his coat and tie, his hair tamed. He looked almost the same as he did every day for work, except this was a tux, not just a suit. And it wasn’t black, like the majority of his dress clothes. Luke had picked out a soft brown garment that complemented Mark’s deep tan and his dark brown hair. The tie he wore was the same blue as his eyes. The tie clip, which he hadn’t even known was a thing until Luke produced it, was golden and in the shape of a dragon.

He looked good.

But he longed to rip off all his clothes and go for a swim in the Gulf of Mexico.

Someone knocked on the door to the “groom’s” changing room on the boat he and Luke had rented for their wedding. Mark quit pacing and forced his hands not to shake. “Come in.”

His brother, Jonathan, stepped in and shut the door. “Are you all right?”

Mark scowled. “Why?”

To his surprise, Jonathan didn’t snap right back. “Because I was nervous as hell when I got married to Becca,” he said quietly “And you haven’t known Luke half as long as I knew Becca before I proposed.

“Besides, Mark,” he added, “I know you. Making a change like this is difficult at the best of times and you’ve just been promoted. You’re trying to get your feet under you.”

Mark let out a long sigh. “You’re right, I’m nervous. I love him, I want to be with him for the rest of my life. Why am I so jittery?”

“Like I said, it’s a big change.” Jonathan turned for the door.

“That’s it? You’re going to come in here, confront me about my nerves, and then just walk out?”

“You’re calmer now,” Jonathan pointed out.

Mark huffed a laugh. “I still want to go for a swim in the gulf.”

“As long as you get back here in time to dry yourself off, I don’t see why that’s a problem. It’s almost an hour before…” Jonathan tilted his head and said, “Or maybe Luke’s presence would help.”

Mark’s tension rocketed up from a five all the way to a ten. “Luke?” he squeaked.

Jonathan left the room and Luke stood in the doorway with two tall glasses in his hands. “I know we’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding,” Luke said, sounding apologetic. “But do you mind if I come in?”

Mark took two steps back and gestured his soon-to-be-husband inside. Luke used his magic to close the door without touching it.

“Showoff,” Mark teased weakly.

“Genie prerogative,” Luke answered. He took a sip from the glass in his left hand and offered Mark the other one.

It was a rum and Coke; Mark sensed that even before he could smell the contents. Luke knew what relaxed him. “You could feel my agitation all the way from the other side of the boat, huh?” he asked as he sipped. And then took a little more because Luke just made this particular drink so perfectly.

Luke, being a genie, Mark’s former genie, had a connection to Mark’s emotions. Sort of like the telepathic link Mark had to Luke, although in that case it was because of Mark’s dragon genetics. For Luke, it had everything to do with the rules that governed his species. Or at least that was what he and Mark had decided. Probably, if SearchLight ever chose to study genies more thoroughly, they would find a different, or at least more exact, answer.

Luke nodded, his golden eyebrows drawn together in a worried frown. He set his glass on a handy table and crossed to Mark. “What’s wrong?”

Damn, but Luke looked good. Mark traced the lapel of his lover’s tux. Brown, like Mark’s, but a lighter shade. Luke had really coordinated everything. “You look like a sex god,” Mark murmured.

That got him a brief smile but then Luke’s serious expression returned. “Talk to me, my Mark. What’s making you so jumpy?”

Mark didn’t know how to lay hands on the source of his nervousness and so he simply shook his head. He, too, set his glass down and wrapped his arms tightly around Luke, resting his cheek against his lover’s shoulder. His whole body wanted to shake and he held it at bay. He felt so safe in Luke’s embrace.

“Okay, so this is helping,” Luke correctly interpreted. “I can just hold you during the whole ceremony if you want.”

Mark tensed. “I don’t want…” He stepped back.

The look on Luke’s face was that of a stricken calf.

Mark hugged him close again. “It’s not you, it’s me, and I know that sounds like a crock of shit but…” He rubbed Luke’s back. “Please understand… I’m sorry… I don’t know how to explain but I’m so sorry…” He let his words fade away as Luke placed a gentle kiss on his hair. Mark couldn’t help thinking he shouldn’t feel this way, not when he was the head of a whole damned department, he’d known Luke for three plus years, and he all but worshiped the ground his genie lover walked on. Why was he feeling so defensive?

“I’m feeling vulnerable,” he whispered as the truth made itself known.

Luke’s voice in his ear was unfailingly soothing and warm. “If you want, we can postpone or…” His swallow was audible in Mark’s ear.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Shapeshifter Central

 

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New Release Blitz: Cupids' Arrows by Mell Eight (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Cupids’ Arrows

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/13/2026

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 17300

Genre: Holiday Fantasy, MM Romance, Valentine’s Day, anthropomorphic, established couples, magic, grief

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Description

Sable and Wynn have kept their relationship quiet. Love cupids and loss cupids are too different, after all. But cupid society wasn’t always separated. When Elder Meir hatches a plot to use Sable and Wynn to prove cupids work better together, Sable and Wynn are all in. However, the plot requires they travel to the human world to tackle a very complicated case of love and loss where failure isn’t an option. They can only hope their bond will be enough to overcome the odds.

Excerpt

Cupids’ Arrows
Mell Eight © 2026
All Rights Reserved

Prologue

Sable shook his head and sighed. The poor guy sitting at the park bench on the other side of the path from where Sable stood, reading a brochure with a picture of white sand and blue ocean on the cover, really was suffering, and all because a love cupid had hit him with an arrow. On the one hand, the man was clearly very in love with his wife. He adored her and the life they had together. On the other, his real love was the opportunity to travel. He wanted to see the world, exactly as the brochure in his hands invited. However, as long as he was married to his wife and tied up with her social calendar, he was never going to have the opportunity.

Sable concentrated, using his magic to sift through the pieces of information he felt emanating from the subject as the man closed the brochure and tipped his head back against the top of the bench to stare at the blue sky. To find his true happiness, what the man needed was to be able to say no to the next charity ball, to skip the musical or play that month, or even to miss the golf tournament his wife signed him up for every year.

There was no need to negate the marriage or remove the love cupid’s arrow completely, Sable decided. The man really did love his wife, and he didn’t mind most of the events she dragged him to. He just needed enough free time between those events to get on a plane and fly to another country. To do that, he had to develop a backbone and the ability to be firm about advocating for himself against her demands to escort her to all her events.

That wouldn’t be too difficult to manufacture. The shaft of an arrow appeared in Sable’s hand, cedar to hold the spell and fly true. He added goose feathers with a bit of twine and glue on one end of the shaft because they symbolized both loyalty to family and a transition. A steel broadhead for resiliency went on the other end. Sable concentrated on the finished arrow, calling up his magic.

Barefoot on soft white sand, the quiet rush of the waves, and the glow of the moon overhead. Beauty and peace. And then his wife walked up to him and took his hand, holding him close to enjoy the view together, and the moment became perfect. All he had to do was find the courage and ask, and this dream would become reality.

Sable let out a breath and opened his eyes as the spell snapped into place. His fingers tingled with the backlash, but the arrow was complete. The glue was still a little damp, but there was no time to wait. This opportunity while the subject sat on the bench was too perfect. Sable called up his bow, the recurve crossbow appearing in his free hand. He loaded the arrow and aimed.

“Don’t you dare!”

Sable jumped. Thankfully his finger hadn’t been on the trigger, because he would have shot the arrow into a tree instead of his target.

“Don’t you loss cupids have anything better to do than ruin all of the love cupids’ hard work?” the voice continued.

Sable turned to look, already scowling. The man standing behind Sable, hands on his hips, was vaguely familiar. Sable had definitely seen him flying around the clouds the cupids called home but had never spoken with him before. Down on Earth and confined to a human form, he didn’t look all that different to what Sable remembered. Long blond hair, windswept and slightly tangled in the breeze, and blue eyes darkened by scorn, he was the embodiment of what a love cupid should look like. Minus the wings, of course, since those were hidden from human view whenever any cupid came down to Earth. He was also incredibly hot, particularly the way his lower lip jutted out—begging for a nibble—as his scowl deepened.

“I have my mission,” Sable replied, but that only made the love cupid scoff.

“Some mission.”

Sable managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the level of sarcasm in those two words. Sable had his mission, exactly as he had said, and no love cupid was going to get in the way of that. Still though… Sable bit his lip, and when the cupid’s eyes dipped down, tracking as Sable slowly let his lip slide free from between his teeth, Sable made his decision.

“Use your magic on him. What do you feel?”

The love cupid stared at Sable a moment longer before huffing out a breath and refocusing on Sable’s subject.

“He’s happy and in love,” the cupid replied after a moment.

“Is he?” Sable replied, keeping his tone bland. While the love cupid was distracted, Sable lifted his crossbow, aimed, and fired. The arrow flew true, slamming into the man’s chest directly over his heart where it shimmered for a moment before vanishing.

“Hey!”

“Feel him now,” Sable said, cutting into the cupid’s ire as he spun back toward Sable. “Now tell me if he’s happy. Tell me!” Sable insisted

The cupid glared at Sable, but when Sable only looked back, firm with the knowledge that he was right, the cupid huffed out another breath and turned back to the man.

The subject was no longer staring longingly at the sky. Instead, he had the brochure open again and was running a finger down the line of departure dates on the final panel, a broad smile on his face. A moment later he pulled out his cell phone, tapping to make a call before bringing it to his ear.

“Honey, remember how you were complaining that you didn’t want to see that one-man play where the character has multiple personalities that Jan insisted we needed to see because her son helped produce it? What if we already had other plans?” He paused, listening. “Well, we don’t need to tell her when we booked our other plans, but I think we would both enjoy two weeks exploring Panama and Colombia with a few days relaxing on the beaches in Aruba rather than seeing that play.” He listened again, his smile growing even wider. “Exactly! Should I go ahead and book it?”

Sable turned away, satisfied both by what he was hearing and by what his magic told him. The man had taken the first step toward truly being happy; there was no reason for Sable to linger.

“How did you do that?” the love cupid asked, hurrying to catch up to Sable. “You didn’t break my arrow. You layered your own on top of mine!”

“I needed to break his attachment to always saying yes to ensure his wife was always happy,” Sable explained. “You were right that he and his wife are a perfect match, but his happiness was entirely dependent on hers. My arrow gave him the incentive he needed to balance ensuring her happiness and his own.”

“Huh.” The love cupid suddenly stopped walking and held out his hand. “I’m Wynn.”

“Sable,” he responded, taking Wynn’s hand and shaking it. Wynn let go slowly, his fingers almost caressing against Sable’s.

“I like the way you think, Sable,” Wynn said, his voice when he said Sable’s name dipping low and sultry. “I’ll definitely be seeing you again.”

He winked before abruptly turning and jogging away into the trees. A moment later, he vanished with a brief flash of light, heading back up to the clouds.

Sable looked at his hand for a moment, his skin still tingling faintly from Wynn’s warmth.

“Huh,” Sable said, echoing Wynn from a moment ago.

He had a feeling Wynn was lingering in the landing zone up in the clouds, waiting to see whether Sable might be interested in a game of chase. A game, Sable thought, smiling to himself, that would likely end up in one of their bedrooms.

Sable was definitely interested in giving Wynn’s little game a try.

He walked the last few steps into the trees, reaching the spot where Wynn had vanished, and paused to double-check himself. Wynn was a love cupid, after all, and Sable a loss cupid. They were so different, and this really wasn’t a good idea, and yet… Wynn’s playful wink said he didn’t care. Sable… He shook his head. He cared, but despite that, he still wanted to see where a tryst with Wynn might lead.

Sable signaled, and the flash of light enveloped him. A moment later, the cloud where the landing zone was located appeared around him. Wynn stood in the doorway, his bright white wings spread. When he saw Sable looking at him, he grinned and took off, flying over the clouds in the general direction of the city.

Sable rustled his own wings, stretching them out after their confinement while on Earth, then took off, too, following Wynn.

While the chase might be fun, catching Wynn was definitely going to be much more so. Sable honestly couldn’t wait.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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New Release Blitz: Vermont Paradise by Natalie Monteiro (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Vermont Paradise

Author: Natalie Monteiro

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/06/2026

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 71200

Genre: Contemporary YA, Romance, contemporary, young adult, family-drama, lesbian, family vacation, campsite, vanlife, dogs, sisters

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Description

A camping trip with her family is what Maria was expecting. Long walks with her dog, Maggie, the usual banter with her sister, Tanya, receiving unsolicited survival lessons from her dad, and pep talks of positivity from her mom. But her predictions were only half correct. Never would she expect to spend so much time with anyone else. Especially not a total stranger. A stranger with such a pretty smile and beautiful green eyes. Because that’s the thing about people who you don’t know. They can teach you things that you never knew about yourself.

Excerpt

Vermont Paradise
Natalie Monteiro © 2026
All Rights Reserved

I threw my backpack into the backseat of our blue Subaru Outback and closed the door. I really wanted to slam it, but I had recently taken it upon myself to be less passive-aggressive. Regardless, I shouldn’t show my cards. Mom had practically begged us to be on our best behavior. For Dad’s sake, she had said. It was his idea to go on this family camping trip. Our first one ever. I didn’t know what inspired this idea of his. All I knew was that he thought it would be a good idea to teach us kids about the outdoors. In case we ever got lost in the wilderness or in case there was total collapse of society. The latter seemed to be his greatest fear.

“All set?” my mom asked as she approached the Subaru.

“Yes, my bag is all packed,” I responded.

“Do you know if Tanya is ready?”

Tanya. My lovely older sister. She was the main reason I was dreading this family trip. I tried my best to keep my composure.

“Probably not. You know how she is. Waiting until the last minute to get ready just like Dad.”

“Ugh, I know,” Mom said with a huff. “Your father is still in the shower.”

We were supposed to be on the road by 8:00 a.m., but here we were at 8:20 a.m., still waiting for them. Getting up early was not an issue for me. If anything, I woke up too early. Like today. Five-thirty a.m. was a bit too much, even for me. I knew it was because I had too much on my mind… I just wanted to get this camping trip over with already.

I gave my mom a half smile before passing her by to go back inside. I wanted to say goodbye to my cat, Remy, while I still could. I bet he would enjoy the house all to himself. If anything, he would enjoy being free from Maggie, our four-year-old Australian Shepherd who still had the energy of a puppy. Which, unfortunately for Remy, meant that she wanted to play with him whenever the rest of us were too busy.

It was one of my favorite things about Maggie. How much she loved to play. We could do it for hours. Fetch with her favorite tennis ball or playing with my old, beat-up soccer ball. She even knew how to play hide and seek! But for her, she didn’t really care what we did, so long as we were doing it together. That was why I made sure she was included in this family trip. But truthfully, it was just as much for her sake as it was for mine.

That the one good thing about camping, at least. It was dog friendly.

I opened the kitchen cupboard, hoping to find Remy there. It wasn’t his typical hiding spot, but it definitely wasn’t his most unusual. He was usually to be found under my parents’ bed, but with all the extra commotion this morning, I figured he wanted somewhere quieter.

I was right. There he was, curled up in a tight ball, staring up at me with his bright-green eyes. He gave me a look of “please just let me sleep some more.” Not this time. If only he could understand that he could go back to sleeping in a few minutes, once all of us had left.

He let out a soft meow as I scooped him up and plopped us onto the black pleather couch. I held him tight against my chest, and he nuzzled in, making himself more comfortable. I stroked the long dirty-brown fur on his back, and I could feel him relaxing more deeply. Soon, he closed his eyes as if ready to return to sleep.

If only he knew how lucky he is, not having to endure the family trip that lies ahead.

“Morning, sis!” Tanya screeched from over my shoulder. My entire body jumped in surprise as my heart rate increased. Remy too was disturbed. His eyes jolted open, and he looked direly afraid. I didn’t know if it was from Tanya’s yell or my reaction to it. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was just lucky that he didn’t run away.

“Ready for some family bonding?” she asked with an overly sarcastic tone. It took every bone in my body to not get upset with her. She knew that I startled easily, and I knew that she got pleasure from seeing it happen. I couldn’t fault her for it this time. I could only wonder how I had missed her coming down the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m ready for it if you are,” I said, trying to gauge just how bad of a mood she was in. Out of all the vacations we could have gone on, at least we could agree that this would be very low on the list. Though I knew she wouldn’t handle camping as well as I would.

She mocked me under her breath. “I’m ready if you are,” she muttered to herself in a voice that made me sound stupid. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

I stared at her without an answer. Was she really starting this already?

“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with you in a car, for, what, like four hours?”

“Like three and a half,” I corrected, wanting to add a splash of fuel to the fire.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

I stared at her in make-believe confusion. “Oh, I thought you’d be delighted. It’s less time than you were expecting to spend with me in the car.”

She stared back at me with a dirty grin on her face. “No one likes a know-it-all, Mar. And that’s only one reason why people don’t like you.”

I instinctively clenched my hand into a fist. I usually tried to ignore comments like these from her, but I was getting sick of being her punching bag. Camping would be bad enough on its own. I didn’t need her comments on top of it.

“Aw, what a real shame Tommy didn’t want to come with us. I can’t imagine why. You’re such a charmer. Hey, well, since he’s not coming, why don’t you take all that makeup off? Or are you too insecure to even let your family see what you really look like?”

Remy wasn’t having it. I could only assume he felt the tension. He jumped off my lap and ran up the stairs, probably to hide elsewhere. Anywhere far from here. It made my skin boil hotter. Tanya had ruined my goodbye with him.

She gave me a smirk. “Okay, one: you know Tommy couldn’t take the time off work. And two: you sound like a jealous bitch. It’s not my fault you’re incapable of obtaining a meaningful, long-term relationship. One that’s filled with connection. One that’s filled with love.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure he really loves you. I totally haven’t noticed him flirting with anyone else. Never.”

“That’s it!” She lunged in my direction with her arms at full stretch.

“Girls!” Mom yelled, swinging the front door open and accidentally slamming it into the wall. She stared at where it had hit, clearly upset that it had happened. She turned to give us an angry look of “see what you made me do?”

Tanya’s eyes were locked on mine as she slowly took a step backward. She maintained a glare at me while doing so, making me believe that she really was about to beat the shit out of me. What retaliation had Mom just saved me from?

“It is too early for this much animosity! Please!” Mom seemed unsatisfied that our ongoing tension hadn’t miraculously disappeared into thin air.

“She started it!” Tanya yelled, breaking our deadlock. I felt like I had teleported back to when we were kids. Her five and me four.

“I don’t want to hear it! We have been over this already! I need you two to get along for the sake of your father. This vacation is very important to him.”

I let out a heavy sigh, knowing she was right. “Yes, Mom. It won’t happen again,” I agreed, really hoping that this would be the last of our fighting. But knowing Tanya, Mom’s interference had merely delayed her retaliation, and she didn’t even have a chance to respond.

It was as if Dad had heard his name and was arriving on cue. He bounced down the stairs with a big bag of God knows what in either hand. “All right, all right, all right!” he hummed. “Who’s ready for some camping?” He expressed it in such a way that made the only appropriate answer to be one agreeing with him wholeheartedly.

“Me!” Tanya said, convincingly, taking the words right out of my mouth. It was officially time to put on the good girl show for Dad.

“Me too, Dad!” I said, sounding equally excited.

Mom looked like a wave of relief had been taken off her shoulders. She had nipped our fighting in the bud before Dad could even become aware of it. It was lucky for her, and it was lucky for us. There was no reason to make Dad upset.

“Great! Let’s pack up the car,” he said.

“I already threw my stuff in there,” I explained, alluding to the fact that I had been ready for a while now.

“Okay, well then, you can help me load these bags into the car, and Tanya, you can help your mother fill the cooler.”

I was pretty sure that Mom had already filled it, but I wasn’t going to correct him, and apparently, she didn’t want to either. She just gave him a smile.

I stepped outside. The cool air of the summer morning hit my face. I could already feel the heat from the sun beaming down on top of my head, which meant regardless of the brisk morning air, today was going to be a hot one.

Dad opened the trunk to the Subaru, looking displeased as he noticed the various items that were already loaded in there. He pulled them all out and placed them onto the pavement. I knew too well what he was doing. He needed to load everything in a specific way, making the most space possible. I stood there, watching him, letting him do his thing.

“I’m leaving space here for the cooler,” Dad said, letting me be privy to the inner workings of his mind. He started putting everything back inside, leaving the left side of the trunk open. “Normally, I’d want to put that in first, since it’s so big, but I guess we are going a little wild today.” He paused for a moment, turning to look at me with an amused grin. “Wild! Ha!”

Oh, Dad.

“Good one,” I said with a soft chuckle, mainly because of his reaction to the pun and not the pun itself. Off to the wilderness we went.

Mom and Tanya came out the front door of the house. They each had a handle to the cooler in one hand as they walked carefully toward us. Dad rushed over to meet them. He swiftly took it into his possession, carried it the rest of the way to the car, and slid it into its rightful spot.

“Great,” he said, satisfied. “Now to get the last-minute items.”

“I’ll open up the garage,” Mom said, as if she also knew Dad’s process. I let them handle the rest as I went back inside to retrieve Maggie.

“Mags!” I hollered, entering the house, but she was already patiently waiting at the door for me. Her eyes were wide, and she panted. She started doing circles around me. She hated being alone. Even if it was for a second.

“Do you want to go for a car ride?” I asked, and she stopped in her tracks. This devolved into her running around me even faster than before. She threw in some kind of silly-looking bunny hops. I let out a wholesome laugh at her utter cuteness.

“Okay, good girl! Sit,” I commanded. Her listening skills were great, just like I had trained them to be. I connected her turquoise collar to its matching leash. Together, we did a final walk around the house making sure that I had packed up everything Maggie would need. Her water bowl, her container of food, the bag of treats, and her blanket. They were nowhere to be found, which meant that I had successfully packed them all into the car.

I eyed her bin of toys, opting to bring one more with us. I hadn’t wanted to get it dirty, but I changed my mind. She’d be happy to have her favorite stuffed pickle available to chew during the car ride, so I picked up the soft green blob, and she excitedly mouthed it out of my hand. I smiled down at her, letting her carry it the rest of the way.

“Does anyone need anything else from inside?” I hollered to my family as I opened the front door once more. With overwhelming nos from the family, I locked the door behind me and joined the rest of them at the rear of the car.

They had made fast work. The trunk was now stuffed, with the cooler barely visible behind all the additional items around it. From what I could tell at a glance, they had added in the tents, a propane stove, and camping chairs. With how full the trunk was, it looked like we were going on a two-week trip, but luckily for me, we’d only be gone for the next five days.

With everything all set, we hopped into the car. Dad as the driver, Mom as the copilot, me sitting behind Dad, and Tanya seated behind Mom. Then, of course, there was Maggie, who was half on my lap and half on the middle seat. She shoved Pickle in my face, making me do nothing but smile.

I said a mental goodbye to Remy, and the house at large, as the garage door closed and we began to drive away.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Natalie Monteiro lives in Central Massachusetts where she enjoys embracing her creativity in whatever form it takes. From writing, to singing, to painting. Natalie also works as a biological research scientist in her daily life. She achieved a Master of Science in Pharmacology from the University of Minnesota and a Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience from the University of New Hampshire. Throughout her years of schooling, her creative roots never stopped calling to her, which ultimately resulted in her debut novel Vermont Paradise. It is her hope that Vermont Paradise can serve as a reminder for all to follow their passions. May the process bring much happiness.

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New Release Blitz: Incubus by Jonathan Wright (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Incubus

Author: Jonathan Wright

Cover Art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Action Adventure, BDSM, Dark Fantasy, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance

Themes: Age Gap (Older Man), Capture Fantasy, Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ /Bisexual, Nonbinary, Transgender, Magic, Sorcery, and Witchcraft, Military, Veterans, and First Responders, Multicultural & Interracial, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism

Series: Joseph Horn (#6)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 30

Synopsis

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

Life — and love — with a man who fights nightmares is bound to be… different.

Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing — until she met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop running.

In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness — Joe. The hard-as-nails woman becomes Joe’s willing sub — his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but Sarah has even darker fantasies — lurid, sensual and totally submissive. Sometimes, they even come to life.

Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure. Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.

Excerpt

Incubus (Joseph Horn 6)
Jonathan Wright
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Jonathan Wright

Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches, honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.

Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger. And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.

Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But this wasn’t really about Joe…

* * *

Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing… please, please, please.

Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free hand.

Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed heavily, staring at his cock.

“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made you scream my name.”

Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe to… rescue…

Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…

* * *

The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly spider arms reached for her…

Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.

* * *

Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.

Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?

She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths of his lair.

“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A ritual. A spell.

Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her back, presenting her full tits.

I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?

Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it. Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.

Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.

Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep stroking yourself!”

She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to obey. I want more!

“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”

Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard, pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes! Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”

She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart, driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came and…

* * *

Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched, groaning.

“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for anything else.”

Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.

Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.

Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that. Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.

Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.

He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up with her because she makes great cookies.

We don’t know why she puts up with him.

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New Release Blitz: Moon's Shadow by Shannon Blair (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Moon’s Shadow

Series: Duskblade, Book Two

Author: Shannon Blair

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/23/2025

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 354

Genre: Fantasy, fantasy, elves, family, spies, sexual discovery, royalty, established relationship, revenge, betrayal, intrigue, coming out

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Description

Moranthus and Gerrick return to Dawn’s Gate in hopes of a happy homecoming, but Moranthus’s past as a duskblade stands in the way of his future. When a delegation from his native Moonridge pays a surprise visit to Dawn’s Gate’s court, Moranthus is enlisted as a guard for Prince Orthenn: a man he once tried to kidnap. With Gerrick still employed as Orthenn’s double, Moranthus welcomes the opportunity to shield his lover from harm alongside the prince he protects. Then, a familiar face reappears and calls his loyalties into question once again.

Gerrick, struggling to balance his duty with his love for Moranthus and the young daughter he’s only just returned to, hesitates to work alongside his lover. With his heart divided, he must find a way to reconcile his authentic self with his work as a false prince—all while trying to expose a suspected traitor in Dawn’s Gate’s court.

Meanwhile, in Moonridge, Matriarch Ilendra faces the consequences of her failed plot against Prince Orthenn. As she scrambles to save her reputation, both a new suitor and an old flame compete for her already divided attentions while her estranged half-brother makes an unexpected reappearance in her social sphere. With her personal affairs now as treacherous as her court, Ilendra must choose her allies carefully—or risk losing both her reign and her life.

Excerpt

Moon’s Shadow
Shannon Blair © 2025
All Rights Reserved

From the Prologue

It was not yet dawn. The bone-chilling winds that made Moonridge’s winters so infamously harsh screamed across the sea ice of Aurora’s harbor like a host of vengeful dead. Even tucked away inside her study, shielded by the fabled impregnable walls of Aurora’s palace and layers of furs, Ilendra could feel their icy bite. She should be in bed at this hour, waiting for the sun to rise and blunt the edge of winter’s chill. Instead, she sat in a hard-backed chair designed more for its regal appearance than its comfort, burning through precious firewood and candles as she pored over the contents of the most recent missive to reach her desk.

As Moonridge’s reigning Matriarch, she would be within her rights to leave the matter until morning and see to it that the courier responsible for disturbing her rest received a sharp reprimand for rousing her at this hour. But she had assumed a letter delivered in the dead of night by a goblin courier who had no business traveling so far into elven lands deserved her immediate attention. She had assumed correctly.

The courier’s letter was almost unnecessary. The red braid it contained was a message in itself. Ilendra eyed the length of hair coiled around her hand as though it were a viper poised to strike. It shone in the firelight like blood welling from a fresh wound. A fitting comparison, when she took the severed braid’s meaning into account. A meaning that she understood all too well.

Betrayal.

The image of her father as she’d last seen him surfaced, unwelcome and unbidden, from the depths of her mind. Anguish shining in his violet eyes like unshed tears as he dragged a razor across his throat, washing away any questions surrounding the legitimacy of Ilendra’s ascension to Moonridge’s throne with the rushing torrent of his lifeblood. Ten years later, Ilendra could still hear the soft gurgle of his dying breath as his features went slack and his eyes grew vacant. The soft thud of his body crumpling almost gracefully to the floor, as composed in death as he’d been in life. Exactly as an elven Patriarch should be. And exactly as Ilendra strove to conduct herself as Moonridge’s new Matriarch.

Sparing the life of her father’s lover, Moranthus, had been a mistake. In the wake of her father’s death, his declaration of loyalty to her had seemed genuine. But it had been an act of foolish weakness to believe such loyalty could last when Ilendra was responsible for the death of a man he’d been so utterly infatuated with. The moment Ilendra set him to a task of any real significance—his long-awaited chance to escape the shame of his unseemly involvement with a man above his station—Moranthus had turned on her, reducing years of immaculate planning to a smoldering ruin of folly.

A light, hesitant knock sounded on the door. Avalanche, the hulking ice bear who served Ilendra as a symbol of office, loyal mount, and steadfast companion, raised his head off his front paws and yawned. He tilted his head in curiosity as he regarded the source of the noise from his vantage point beside the ornamental fireplace at Ilendra’s back. His glossy, white coat glimmered like fresh snow in the firelight, interrupted only by the ink blots of his eyes, nose, and paws. Beneath that soft fur was a beast strong enough to kill a grown elf with a single swipe of his paw, each foot tipped with finger-long claws and jaws lined with dagger-sharp teeth. With such a stalwart guardian by her side, Ilendra hardly had need of the two frostguards posted outside her door, standing still as living statues in their slate-gray plate armor, their faces rendered expressionless by the blank visors of their helmets.

“Enter,” Ilendra called out, her voice clear and sharp. She ran a hand over her jet-black hair, woven into an eleven-strand Matriarch’s braid. As usual, not a single hair was out of place. She allowed herself a small hum of satisfaction at the knowledge. Unlike her fool half-brothers, she hadn’t been lucky enough to inherit her father’s royal-white hair—and, much to the chagrin of her advisors, had refused to have her hair powdered or magicked white to conform to her people’s expectations of what a Matriarch should look like—but at least she knew how to conduct herself with proper decorum. And speaking of fool half-brothers…

The door to her study swung open on well-oiled hinges. Corendin, the younger of their late father’s legitimate sons, stepped into Ilendra’s study, gray eyes still bleary from sleep. Still, there was no denying the concern Ilendra saw reflected in them, or the way his dusky lavender skin looked a touch paler than usual. Receiving a summons from his Matriarch at such an early hour and with so little notice had unnerved him.

And he had wasted little time tending to his appearance before answering her. He wore his ice-white hair draped over his shoulder in a loose, dismal attempt at the nine-strand nobleman’s braid that he was lucky to still be wearing. His elder brother, Vandorys, was living a life of exile in the goblin territories after refusing to accept Ilendra as his new Matriarch. Corendin’s more biddable temperament had spared him from sharing his brother’s fate.

Avalanche sniffed at the air as Corendin approached Ilendra’s desk, the beginnings of a growl rumbling in his chest. Corendin tensed at the sight of him and breathed a visible sigh of relief when Avalanche rested his head on his paws with a satisfied huff a moment later.

Corendin knelt before Ilendra, head respectfully inclined as he asked, “What is required of me, Matriarch?” His voice was low and soft but filled the room as effectively as if he had shouted all the same—almost an exact match for the way their father had spoken. The similarity never failed to send a chill down Ilendra’s spine. “I hope my actions have not displeased you.”

“They have not.” Ilendra fought to keep her exasperation at his groveling from showing as she spoke. It troubled her to see Corendin still so fearful of her a full decade after her ascension and his brother’s exile. A part of her wanted nothing more than to embrace him as the sibling he had always been to her and reassure him that she bore him no ill will. But to make such assurances was to undermine her own authority and diminish the gravity of his brother’s refusal to accept his new place in the hierarchy of Moonridge’s nobility. Surely, he understood that. “You may rise. A matter has been brought to my attention on which I would seek your counsel.” And a source of comfort in the wake of such an unexpected betrayal, though she could not say so aloud.

Corendin rose, eyebrows raised in a mix of surprise and curiosity as he regarded her with eyes that, for the first time in the last decade, were neither guarded nor wary. “Of course, Ilen—” He caught himself, pretending to clear his throat before he continued. “—Matriarch. How may I be of assistance?”

Ilendra shifted her gaze to her study’s door, shut tight behind Corendin by her frostguards the moment his feet had passed its threshold. It was thick enough to prevent her voice from reaching her frostguards’ ears, so long as she did not shout. And her frostguards were disciplined enough not to spread news of her conversations to unworthy ears even if they did overhear her. This was as close to a chance to speak freely as she could get as Moonridge’s Matriarch. “‘Ilendra’ is more than adequate in this context.”

“Very well, Ilendra.” A ghost of a smile lightened Corendin’s features. “If I may ask, why is it that this matter caused you to seek my counsel? Surely your advisors are better suited to such a task?”

Because her advisors would question why she had involved Moranthus in the matter instead of leaving it in the more trustworthy and capable hands of her frostguards. Why she had promised her father’s disgraced and unsuitable lover a pardon she had no intention of granting him as a reward for completing a mission she’d expected him to fail. And she was not yet ready to face their scorn and judgmental stares.

“Because it is, to a certain degree, a family matter.” And Corendin was the only family she had left. Her mother had not spoken to her since her father’s death, justifying herself by claiming she lacked the mental fortitude to abide the presence of the woman responsible for the death of the man she had loved. Even if that woman was her own daughter.

“I see. Has there been news of Vandorys, then?” Corendin’s expression looked almost hopeful. Ilendra chose not to hold it against him for the moment.

“No, and for that, we should count ourselves grateful. This matter concerns Moranthus.”

Corendin’s eyes drifted to the braided length of red hair still wound around Ilendra’s hand. “You’ve exiled him?”

“He chose exile for himself as the penalty for an act of treason.”

“Are you certain? That seems unlike him.” Corendin’s brow furrowed. He doubted her. Of course he did. He hadn’t shared Ilendra’s distaste for their father’s base-born lover, even going so far as to attempt to intercede on Moranthus’s behalf ten years ago, when Ilendra had sentenced him to half-exile.

It wasn’t his mother who had been disgraced by their father’s decision to set her aside for a piece of trash he’d plucked out of the gutter, after all. It wasn’t his future that had been rendered uncertain by their father’s decision to sever the bond that served as his only public means of including his illegitimate daughter in his family line. It wasn’t him who’d been forced to stage a coup against his beloved father in order to preserve his suddenly precarious political standing and forcefully lay claim to a throne that should have been freely given to him.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Shannon Blair is a fantasy author with a fondness for elves, goblins, and general otherworldly goodness. Their love of fiction and storytelling drove them to pursue an MFA in Creative Writing from Regis University, where a short writing exercise spiraled out of control and eventually became their first novel. When they aren’t on a quest to make the fantasy genre a more LGBTQA-friendly place, Shannon can be found inventing whimsical backstories for the colorful crafts and vendors at the craft market where they work. They live on the outskirts of the Denver metroplex with their partner and two spoiled rotten cats.

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New Release Blitz: All I Want for Christmas by Will Okati (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: All I Want for Christmas

Author: Will Okati

Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

Genres: Contemporary, New Releases, Romance, Romantic Comedy

Themes: 2nd Chance Romance, Christmas, LGBTQ+ /Gay

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 43

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

All James wants for Christmas is his roommate Cillian. And he might just be getting lucky this year.

Who doesn’t love the holidays? Sleigh bells racing down winding country roads. Chestnuts, open fires, Yule logs. Homemade fruitcake that’s soaked up a full bottle of brandy. James adores it all, but his long-concealed desire for his roommate Cillian runs deeper than a river of holiday booze and burns hotter than any crackling Christmas hearth. But since he’d rather not risk losing a dear friend by making any unwanted moves, he’s kept that to himself for years.

Until now. When a flight plan goes FUBAR and James doesn’t have a way home for the holidays, Cillian suggests they keep Christmas in their own way. Tree, lights, feasting, the works.

It’s tempting. Almost as tempting as Cillian himself. And when James starts to get a clue that his interest might just be reciprocated… well. That changes the entire game. Time to bring out the holly and the jolly and maybe he’ll get his man under the tree this year.

Excerpt

All I Want for Christmas
Will Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Will Okati

James bowed his head and thumped it gently against the windowpane. At first, he thought the quiet rattle and bang was from the shitty, landlord special, glass rattling in its frame. The much louder swearing, first frustrated and then triumphant, told him Cillian was home.

His heart rate, already nice and high, spiked a jolt or two skyward.

Cillian. His roommate. Platonic, not permanently attached, but in high demand, with a new pretty boy or big bear on his arm at least twice a month. He rattled all the windows when he had company, and James had learned to take it with a grain of salt, a snorted chuckle, and a really good pair of noise-canceling headphones — because honestly, Cillian was one of those guys you couldn’t help but love. Some men had a gift for that. Half Irish and leaning into it, using the accent he’d gotten from his Galway mother to its full advantage. Full head of wild red curls and a day or so’s worth of stubble. Surprisingly broad shoulders, built like a Viking bard, with a cute little pillow belly when he sat down.

“Your call is very important to us. Please hold…”

James missed the rest of the robot spiel, too busy watching Cillian wander into their living room, tossing his keys in the general direction of their coffee table and his own knitted cap toward the back of the couch. No company tonight, James noticed.

Cillian grinned broadly, his teeth white and even, and mimed “phone call?” before putting his finger to his lips and plunking cheerfully down onto their couch. Yep. There was the belly. During dry spells, which happened far more often than James would like, he itched to drop down beside Cillian and rest his head on that nice little cushion to see if it was as comfortable as it looked.

“Won’t say a word,” Cillian mouthed to James. Then almost immediately, out loud: “Problems? Weren’t you supposed to be on a plane tonight?”

“Supposed to be, sure.” James gestured at his phone. “Airline says otherwise.”

“You bought your ticket weeks ago.”

“Again, airline’s website says otherwise. Trying to get an actual human on the line to convince them of that.”

Cillian winced in kind sympathy and idly rested his hand on his stomach where his Aran sweater had ridden up an inch or two. “Sucks, my friend. Wish you good luck.”

James’ fingers twitched. Their windows didn’t keep all the cold out, but Cillian ran warm. He’d be toasty as a fireplace to cuddle up with. James could rest his head or roll over to face him while they talked about a little of everything and a lot of nothing. And while he was there, possibly nose into the warm skin. Press a light kiss to Cillian’s navel. Or flip completely onto his stomach, braced on his arms, all the better to take care of the zipper on Cillian’s jeans and —

Okay, so he didn’t think about that kind of goings-on only during dry spells. More like all the time, actually.

All I want for Christmas is youuuuuu…

Click. “Your call has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again.”

James clapped a hand to his forehead and growled through gritted teeth, wondering if Androids could actually accordion up and break across the middle if you squeezed them hard enough. Either way, he was about to find out, either from travel-induced rage or sexual frustration.

“Ah, now. I know that look.”

James had closed his eyes, but he heard Cillian lever himself off the couch and clatter over before thumping a companionable hand to his back. “It’s a few days till Christmas still. You’re not going to get a human on the line during rush hour.”

“True so far.” James opened his eyes. “Suggestions?”

“Sure, easy. Call back tomorrow morning and yell at them then. Or not, because they’re humans and they’re probably at least twice as pissed at the system as you are, so be a kind fellow and go easy on the poor bastards. Figure it all out with a cool head then.”

Cillian grinned at him from inches away. He smelled of bayberries and fir and wool. “And in the meantime, I happen to know the perfect cure for a raging temper fit.”

Despite himself, a matching smile tugged at James’ lips. Cillian was just magic that way. “Don’t say drinks.”

“Drinks!” Cillian thumped him harder, then tossed an arm around James’ shoulders. “Best idea I’ve heard today. Let’s go.”

With a choice between that and listening to bubblegum caroling for another hour — well, it wasn’t really a choice at all.

All I want for Christmas is you. He tapped Cillian’s fist with his own. “You’re on. Let’s go.”

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of the quiet ones to watch out for, but life — like storytelling — is always a work in progress.

Website | Facebook

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New Release Blitz: Keep Me Like a Secret by Ivy Hamilton (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Keep Me Like a Secret

Series: Lancaster Hornets, Book One

Author: Ivy Hamilton

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/16/2025

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 318

Genre: Contemporary, gay, bisexual, demisexual, sports romance, Canada, mental health/anxiety attacks, forbidden love, found family, doxxing/outing

Add to Goodreads

Description

Matt Miller’s hockey career is on the perfect track. He has an impressive Junior hockey record—not even a single fight—and his choice of full-ride scholarships at the end of the season. Nothing can throw him off course now. Nothing except a drunken mistake with his team captain, Jake Heeren. If Matt and Jake know anything, it’s this: being queer and professional hockey don’t go together. As their feelings for each other deepen and their games start to suffer, Matt and Jake need to decide how far they’re willing to fight for what they have once the world finds out their secret.

Excerpt

Keep Me Like a Secret
Ivy Hamilton © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One—Matt Miller
Multiple cameras go off at once. My eyes burn as I fight the urge to blink. The last thing I need is to be the idiot in the official picture with their eyes closed. I can’t draw any more attention my way. Beside me, Jake Heeren shifts his weight, his fingers brushing mine. His touch burns my skin.

Unwillingly, I flinch.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the media, thank you for joining us.” The voice belongs to my head coach, Mark Palmer. His hands grip the wooden podium. “The Lancaster Hornets are proud to be here today, making this announcement.”

I push all negative thoughts away. Thinking about my mistakes leads me to Jake and our secret. That’s a dangerous path to go down, especially when he’s so close. As our captain, he stands in the middle, tall and broad. I flank his right, with Budi Anderson, the other alternate captain, to his left. The rest of the team fans out on either side of us, with our two goalies at the end. The ice glows behind us, the Hornets logo lit up on the backboard of the rink.

We’ll make for a sharp photo.

“The Centennial Cup is a long-standing tradition in the Canadian Junior Hockey Association,” Palmer continues. “A decade has passed since the Hornets last brought the cup home. I am confident the team behind me will advance to the Centennial finals. However, we have also been given an honour.”

Palmer pauses, the eyes of every journalist trained on him. Lancaster, Saskatchewan isn’t exactly a booming metropolis, so there are really only a dozen people in the room.

“The Lancaster Hornets are proud to announce that in two years, we will be the host city for the Cup, and I am fully committed to preparing us for a win on home ice.”

We all clap on cue, prompting the media to clap as well. None of this will matter to me. I’m happy the Hornets have this chance, but I’ll be long gone from the Hornets by the time they host the Cup. This is my final year of junior hockey, and in two years’ time, I hope I’ll be playing for a Division I team somewhere and headed for the Frozen Four.

The Canadian Junior Hockey Association finals are a Canadian staple. I’ve been a Hornet for three years, with this season the start of my fourth. The Hornets have made it to the Saskatchewan Junior Hockey Association finals—the Valour Cup—every year, but that’s it. Earning the honour of host city would change all that. The Hornets could come last in our league, and we’d still get to play for the Centennial Cup. The host city always gets a guaranteed spot.

Unless we pull off a miracle this season, I’ll never get to experience that.

I paste my media smile on as more flashes go off. I’ve worked hard on perfecting my smile; it comes in handy for times like this when my entire body ripples with unease. I get lost in my head too easily, letting anxiety take over, so I’ve learned to train myself to respond with controlled measures.

Everyone will look at today’s pictures, and no one will know how uncomfortable I am standing next to Jake.

The rest of the press conference finishes up. The media asks the few, pre-approved questions they’ve been given and take a few more photos. Everyone’s excited, even though once the hosting season starts, they’ll be tired. Host teams always have a long, grueling season lasting nearly ten months, with plenty of trades and upheaval since the coaches stack the team.

The only regret I have is missing out on the number of scouts slated to watch. With the players under immense pressure to perform their best, and with all the attention directed their way, everyone’s fighting for the limelight. Everyone wants to be the next kid scooped up into a bigger draft. I have scouts who watch me now, but they’re university scouts. The top scouts in the country aren’t angling to sign me to the NHL.

Jake shifts, brushing our shoulders together, and I snap back into focus. His touch electrifies me from the inside out. Every instinct in me screams to flee. Any FOMO I experienced less than two seconds ago disappears. I’m barely holding things together now as it is. I can’t handle more eyes on me, watching my every move, waiting to find out my secret. I can’t wait to get out of Lancaster and away from Jake Heeren.

Jake’s hand grazes mine, and the flight versus fight instinct kicks in. As always, flight wins, and I recoil before I can stop myself. The camera flashes increase, and I turn away from him, set on edge as I struggle to remain calm.. I try to force my anxiety back down into my gut before the panic takes over completely.

Life had been so good. And then I fell into bed with Jake, and now everything is falling apart.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Ivy grew up on the vast prairies in Saskatchewan, where hockey isn’t just a sport—it’s a culture. She resides on Treaty land and spends her time (when she’s not watching hockey, writing about hockey, or talking about hockey) either reading, playing board games with friends, or dreaming about the day she adopts a corgi.

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Threads

 

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New Release Blitz: Jingle Jingle KILL by C. Quince (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Jingle Jingle KILL

Author: C. Quince

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/09/2025

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32300

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, MM romance, intercultural, spies, secret agents, covert missions, mystery, British humour, holidays, contemporary, action-adventure, action comedy.

Add to Goodreads

Description

Arthur is a Romeo agent for British Intelligence, a gentleman spy. His ex-lover, Harun, a former assassin for the terror cell Al-Qaum, is now a foreign diplomat.

They haven’t seen each other in over twenty years, ever since they stopped an assassination attempt during a Millennium celebration in London. No one has been able to get close to Al-Qaum during that time, either, until now when they resurface with a new assassination plot set for this Christmas Eve, bearing a remarkable similarity to the Millennium event.

Arthur and Harun reunite to take down their old enemy, Al-Quam, but not all is as it seems with either the new plot or their estranged relationship, and the two men find that the danger to their hearts is as real as the danger to their lives.

Step into a world of career spies, shadowy allies, secret orders, and killer holiday jingles.

Excerpt

Jingle Jingle KILL
C. Quince © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Present day

Istanbul, Türkiye

Arthur was enjoying a peaceful Tuesday morning, sipping chai from a tulip-shaped glass cup and reading the BirGün newspaper, as he sat on a terrace that overlooked the Bosphorus.

The sun was out, and the air felt surprisingly mild, considering it was December.

Arthur made sure to check the weather forecast daily for England and smugly noted that this week was cold and drizzly back in London.

He smiled to himself as he turned a page of his paper. Arthur preferred the paper to devices and the internet; a paper was more peaceful. He’d turned forty-nine earlier this year and found himself wanting to slow down more to enjoy the simple things.

Arthur picked up his cup to take a sip of chai.

A perfect morning.

Coşkun, the butler, emerged from the house, walking briskly down the neatly swept stone paving. He held the house’s cordless phone in one hand, carried at chest level which meant someone was on the line.

Arthur set his paper aside. “Coşkun,” he greeted. “Is Demir late again?”

Demir owned the house. His family was well connected in Istanbul. Arthur was an occasional house guest.

“Pardon, sir,” Coşkun said in English. “It is a woman for you.”

“Oh?” Arthur said with mild surprise. He hadn’t been expecting any calls. He extended his hand to reach for the phone.

“She said her name is Shepherd,” Coşkun added, handing over the phone.

Arthur tried to contain his wince. The boss had tracked him down once again.

“Thank you, Coşkun,” he said, as the young butler inclined his head politely, then left.

Arthur glanced at the phone, noting the Mute button was activated. This gave him a moment to inhale and bolster himself

He pressed to un-mute and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello. Arthur speaking,” he said cheerily.

“Arthur,” Valerie replied tartly. “I’ve been on hold for the last six minutes.”

No matter how long it had been between calls, the mere sound of her voice was enough to make Arthur tense.

“My deepest apologies, ma’am,” he said, laying on the charm. “It’s a rather large house here. The young man answering the phone sprinted straight to me, I assure you.”

Stony silence was his answer.

Shepherd, aka Valerie Jones from MI6, was only a couple of years younger than Arthur. They’d worked together early on in their careers, and once upon a time his charms had worked better to smooth things over.

“I trust everything is all right?” Arthur asked. A call out of the blue from the Deputy Director of British Intelligence was never a good thing.

“I still have a few weeks left on this little sightseeing trip,” Arthur hastened to add.

Sightseeing was their code word for counter-espionage. Officially, Arthur was the British cultural attaché in Istanbul. Unofficially, he also did some spying for MI6.

Valerie drew in a breath to speak, paused, then spoke with a gentleness he rarely heard from her.

“This is regarding home turf,” she explained. “Something just cropped up, and I want you here to take a look at it in person.”

“Oh, I see,” Arthur said. “Anything in particular?”

“Firefly,” she said.

Now it was Arthur’s turn to pause.

This was unexpected.

“It’s not…?” he asked, unable to say his name out loud.

Harun.

“No,” she confirmed. “It’s a new one. And I need you to bring in the original one to help us gather Intel.”

Arthur was afraid she’d say that.

“I’m not all that positive he’ll want to play ball, ma’am.”

“It’s not a request, Arthur,” Valerie said. “If you don’t want to break the news personally, I’ll send someone else to fetch him.”

“No, no,” Arthur replied. “It’ll be better coming from me, ma’am. I’ll go.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking you on the ten o’clock flight to Berlin. My agent will meet you there on the ground and bring you up to speed.”

Arthur would’ve preferred to do this without a babysitter, but he could always shake them off later.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said politely. “I shall leave right away.”

“See that you do,” she said. “Oh, and Arthur? Try not to balls it up this time.”

She ended the call before Arthur could gather himself enough to form a comeback.

“I’ll try not to,” he said to himself.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Quince is a MENA-British author who lives in England, enjoys sci-fi and fantasy, history, and Halloween.

Website | FacebookInstagram | Bluesky

 

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New Release Blitz: Holiday Fatigue by Emily Carrington (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Holiday Fatigue

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, BDSM, Contemporary, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Romance

Themes: 2nd Chance Romance, Christmas, LGBTQ+ /Gay, Medical Romance, Multicultural & Interracial

Series: Marisburg Chronicles (#7)

Multiverse: Sticks & Stones (#3)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 74

Synopsis

For husbands Peter and Abe, Christmas is a time for miracles — and unexpected party crashers.

Peter is all set to make this Christmas season the best for his husband. That is, until a cat is all but thrown into his lap and an unexpected and unwanted man crashes at their house for the holidays. Worse than the lack of privacy is the curtailing of their light BDSM play.

Abe can’t say no when an old flame begs for a place to stay. Temporarily. This man has fallen on hard times and needs a little kindness. However, there’s something more he wants than a roof over his head. As Abe struggles against seasonal depression, a couple of cats come to enliven the home he shares with Peter.

Between grief, jealousy, and a prying houseguest, can Abe and Peter kindle their spirits toward lovemaking and the holidays?

WARNING: Holiday Fatigue includes references to cutting behavior and thoughts of suicide that may be triggers for some readers, as well as mention of animal cruelty.

Excerpt

Holiday Fatigue (Marisburg Chronicles 7)
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Emily Carrington

Peter didn’t love the end of the semester, no matter that it meant a day off from teaching. He would much rather be filling his students’ heads with math facts than plugging in grades. Of course, if he hadn’t left so many assignments till the last minute, having graded them but not bothered to put them in the computer… He threw up his hands in exasperation and then signed, to no one in particular, “Why do I always do this to myself?”

He glanced around, seeing he was still alone in the classroom he shared with another co-teacher. He would normally not worry about others seeing him sign. Most people were hearing folks and didn’t know more than the alphabet, if they even knew that much, in ASL. He worked, though, at a school for the deaf, and the chances of someone knowing he was frustrated were high.

Probably some of the other teachers were in the same boat, having pushed off putting grades in the computer until this, the last day of the quarter before winter break. That was of no comfort when his co-teacher, Laura, was done with her grades and was hanging out somewhere in the building until three o’clock.

He darted a glance at his watch, saw he only had an hour and a half to finish inputting grades, and signed a little F-bomb.

An hour later found him sweating and swearing in his head, trying to work so fast that his fingers kept tripping over each other.

Someone touched his shoulder. He jumped a foot. Turning in his chair, he saw Laura gazing at him with a look of concern on her face. Then that expression passed and she wrinkled her nose at him before signing, “Are you still working?”

He nodded, wanting to return to his work but not wanting to put his back to her. That was rude.

“Give me your login and the list of remaining grades. We’ll divide and conquer.”

He hesitated, but only for an instant. Laura wasn’t the type to make offers like this every day. “Thank you,” he signed. “Why are you –”

“Consider it the gift from your Secret Santa.” She smirked. “You forgot we were exchanging gifts in the teacher’s lounge at 2:30, didn’t you?”

“Guilty,” he responded.

“Give me your login and I’ll help. Then you need to give your gift before your person leaves.”

“Too late,” Peter signed back before handing her a stack of graded papers. Hands free again, he signed, “Brent’s already left for the day. His kid got an ear infection on the last day of school.”

“Sucks,” she signed, her face sympathetic.

He jotted down his computer info and walked it over to her as she booted up her machine. “Thank you, Laura. Really.”

“I forgot to get you a gift,” she admitted.

“This is better than some ten-dollar token,” he assured her.

At exactly 2:58, he shut down his computer. Laura, who was a faster typist than he was, had finished her stack about five minutes earlier.

“Go home,” she signed. “Just don’t count on me saving your ass in the spring.”

He got out as soon as he could, his thoughts turning from gratitude to dreams of his husband. Abe, named for the poet and playwright Kobo Abe, wasn’t a fan of this particular holiday. Peter had been slowly changing that for his lover over the years, but each year it was a struggle to find out what would help Abe forget his pain.

He waved at another teacher as he headed for the main doors. This was a relatively new guy and for a moment, Peter couldn’t remember his name.

“Hi, Peter,” the unnamed man signed. “Have a good break.”

Peter frowned, realized he probably looked like the proverbial grouch, and held up a hand for the new teacher to stop. “What’s your name?” he signed.

“Estaban.” He grinned. “Spanish as the day is long and a gift from my immigrant parents that I don’t always appreciate.”

Yes, Peter remembered now. He hadn’t interacted with the new Spanish teacher since he’d arrived here two months ago because he was on another floor and that might as well be in another kingdom. “Sorry,” he apologized. “My brain is…” He shrugged.

“Already on break?” Estaban suggested.

Well, in a way, Peter thought as he excused himself and went outside. He walked to the sidewalk that paralleled the street. He could order a shared ride from the front of the school, but he felt restless. It was two hours before Abe would even be thinking about coming home. All day, Peter had been thinking, not of the grades or his lackadaisical way of letting them pile up, but of his husband and Christmas. Now, as he turned down Forrest Street in Colton, which was the college town closest to their home in Marisburg, he considered his unusual agitation. Abe had been acting steady as the day was long for a while now. There was no reason to expect he’d sink into depression. Even if he did, it wasn’t as if depression was his choice.

Peter looked up when he saw a flash of color out of the corner of his eye and had to smile. Every single tree had lights in their branches. Most of the lights were the beautiful, if common, white ones. The tree he was currently looking at had been decorated in tiny, colorful orbs. He smiled up at the tree that stood out. He touched the bark of the tree and grinned in appreciation. He would bring Abe down to see this tree. They’d call it the “Christmas Pride” tree.

Having a plan for this Thursday night at last, even if it was only to view a tree that stood out among its fellows, Peter took out his phone to order his shared ride. Before he could drop his gaze to the screen, he was caught off guard by another swash of color, this time moving fast. Self-preservation made him look up as a car, slowing abruptly, seemed to coast in front of him. With the colorfully decorated tree in the way, he couldn’t see everything clearly, but something was hurled out of the passenger window before the car sped off again.

People were such slobs. He wasn’t a trash collector by nature, but something about the white and black thing thrown out of the car’s window caught his attention. It was the right size to be any number of things, but the way it had twisted in midair… He went to the snowdrift where the careless people had aimed… and when he peered into the hole made by the object, he saw yellowish eyes looking back at him.

He gaped even as he tore off his winter coat and stooped to scoop up the little animal. It was a kitten, he realized, or a very small cat if it was full-grown. Mostly white with black splotches, it hissed at him as he bundled it into his coat.

The little critter wriggled hard and managed to get a paw free. The cat lashed out with razor-sharp claws and if not for Peter’s gloves, he would have taken quite the injury. As it was, one tiny cat nail caught in the leather of his right glove and the cat opened its mouth wide, surely making quite a fuss.

Peter carefully freed the little demon’s claw and reworked the bundling so the cat wouldn’t hurt him. If he’d been tossed out of a moving car, he’d be pissed too.

As he trekked back to the school, thinking of having the nurse check out the little feline monster before he took them home, the cat’s name flashed in his mind, and he grinned even as he cautioned himself that surely he and Abe couldn’t keep this little fighter. He’d try to impress upon whoever ended up with the cat that his or her name was Catankerous.

As he walked, goose bumps popped out on his arms, which were covered only by a short-sleeved polo because the school tended to run hot. He thought about nuzzling Catankerous, but the wicked gleam in their eyes made him reconsider. He wished he could speak to them, let them know help was coming.

Maybe two dozen steps from the front doors of the school, the cat settled down and quit struggling. Then, through the coat where he’d pressed it against his chest, Peter felt the attack cat begin to purr.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Shapeshifter Central

 

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