Jun 04

New Release Blitz: The Game Master of Somerville by A.J. Raven (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Game Master of Somerville

Series: Somerville Mysteries, Book Two

Author: A.J. Raven

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/04/2024

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 45100

Genre: Contemporary, Young adult, mystery, high school, basketball, video gaming, teen crush

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Description

Being handed another mystery about an escaped prisoner, teen wannabe-detective Jerry finds himself way over his head as kids around Somerville start disappearing and panic escalates. Is the escaped prisoner responsible for the kidnappings or is there some other sinister plan afoot?

Excerpt

The Game Master of Somerville
A.J. Raven © 2024
All Rights Reserved

“Jerry, when are you going to start doing it again?”

I tried not to roll my eyes for the umpteenth time. “Stop making me repeat myself,” I answered, trying to keep my voice calm as we walked through the school corridor to the chemistry lab. “What did you think I would continue doing?”

I already knew the response I was going to get. Ugh!

“I don’t know,” said my tall friend Justin, faking a shrug. “I thought you were going to continue solving cases, you know?”

Now I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at him. Enough was enough! Leave it to Justin to continue annoying me to do something that would get him attention. “Yes, you’re right, Justin!” I made sure he took in the irritated tone of my voice. “There’s a whole pool of unsolved cases out there just waiting for me to dive in!”

“Maaaaybe,” Justin sang. I shot him a look. He answered with a smile, brushing away a strand of his brown hair from his forehead. “Who knows? You can’t be sure unless you try.”

“You do realize it’s only been a couple of weeks since we solved the Devona case, right?”

I tried not to remember an incredibly weak Devona all tied up in a chair. Her blood being drawn by her captor with a syringe. If only I had figured it out a bit sooner. She would have lived—

“I know, I know.” Justin’s voice snaps me back to reality. We were outside the lab.

“Sure you do,” I said sarcastically, pushing my glasses back up my nose. Even though Justin had been annoying me for the past few weeks about solving more cases, in a way, I kind of appreciated his annoyance keeping me busy and stopping me from continuously remembering Devona’s face.

Justin took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll give it a rest.”

“Thank you.” I faked a smile and mentally started to count down the time until Justin would bring up the same topic again. I entered the lab. The rest of the class was already there. I saw my childhood friend Ashley Burro-way, Ash for short, near one of the working stations. Her brown hair was tied up in a tight knot.

“Justin still wanting you to take on another case, Sherlock?” she asked with a smile, handing me a lab coat as I came closer.

I nodded, taking the coat from her. It took me a second to get accustomed to the smell of the chemicals all around me. I thought I was going to sneeze. But didn’t. Ash put on her safety goggles and opened her textbook. “If you ask me—” She looked straight at me. “—I don’t ever want to go through all of that again.”

“I hear you,” I said. Not knowing what else to say to her, I looked around. Justin was talking to some boys in our class. I knew the only reason Justin wanted me to take on another case was because he missed the attention it gave him. The moment the Somerville High newspaper published my story about solving the Devona case, the entire high school basically went wild. It was the first time the paper was read by the entire student body. The police did a good job when it came to keeping the local media away from me and my friends, but it was tough avoiding the sea of students and the faculty while at school.

Justin took the opportunity to break the ice with his crush, Lucy Broadway. My other friend, Nick Perez, enjoyed the attention, too, but not as much as his best friend, Justin, did. Ash had addressed the attention targeted at her by putting up a defensive air and simply avoided answering any of the questions she was asked about the case at school. The last member of our little group, Kate Williams, who already had an I-don’t-care attitude going on, did just that…just didn’t care. Due to the reputation she had already cemented, the students knew not to approach her unless she directly gave them permission to ask her a question.

The bombardment of questions I faced the day the paper was released was a lot to handle. “How did you figure it out? Did the police help you crack the case? What’s next?”

I answered the questions I could. And fortunately, like everything else in this world, interest dwindled and people started to talk about other stuff after a couple of days. Apparently the mystery-of-the-week plots occurring on the current famous TV shows were better than the real thing. None of us were affected by the dying attention except for Justin. On the fourth day, Justin shared his fear. According to him, Lucy was losing interest in him even though I told him it was just him being presumptuous, and he needed to work on his confidence. And frankly, let’s assume, if Lucy was indeed the kind of girl who only liked Justin because of the attention he was getting from the rest of the school, then she wasn’t the type of person he should be wasting his time with anyway.

Of course, Justin didn’t listen.

“Jerry, where are you?” Ash snapped her fingers in front of my eyes.

“Huh?” I blinked.

“Seriously, Jerry,” she said in a concerned voice. “You’re kind of spacing out more than usual. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I saw Ash purse her lips. I knew what she was going to say. Ever since the Devona case, Ash had been bringing up therapy. She wanted me to talk to a professional after what Tom did to me. Ugh! That name!

Thankfully, our chemistry teacher, Miss Ophilia Patience, walked into the laboratory and Ash, like the rest of the class, kept quiet. Miss Patience wasn’t the kind of instructor the students wanted to cross. She looked at the class. No one said anything. After giving a quick nod, she started writing on the board behind her.

I looked around the lab again and realized someone was missing. “Where’s Nick?” I asked Ash. Her gaze was on the board, copying every single word Miss Patience was writing. I noticed Justin looking back at us from a few workspaces ahead. He averted his gaze when we made direct eye contact. I wanted to bet a hundred dollars he thought Ash and I were talking about taking up another case without telling him.

It took a few seconds for Ash to respond as she continued scribbling. “Don’t know.”

Weird, I thought. It wasn’t like Nick to miss class without telling us. Even if he did skip class, he and Justin always did it together. I tried not to think about it too much and looked at what Miss Patience was writing on the board.

Surprise! It was boring.

Time dragged on as Miss Patience talked about ways to influence chemical reactions. As far as I could tell, heating different materials up seemed to do the trick for a lot of them. Want to see something change? Try heating up the molecules!

And speaking of things heating up, I guess the same thing was going to come true for me and my friends soon enough. There was no way we could’ve avoided what was coming for us. But at that time, in the chem lab, with Ash busy writing notes next to me, none of us had the faintest idea about the domino effect that had already begun. I do sometimes wonder about what I could’ve done if I had known more back then.

Hidden myself in my house? Not talk to anyone ever? Resigned from my position as a contributor at the school’s newspaper?

But wondering about such possibilities didn’t matter anymore.

What was done was done.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

A.J. Raven is an author who likes to write mysteries with queer characters. He likes exploring leads that have a lot to learn and aren’t perfect; they will make mistakes. So, bear with them. You can find A.J. on  Twitter

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May 28

New Release Blitz: Getting to Know You by Jennifer MD Cox (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Getting to Know You

Author: Jennifer MD Cox

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/28/2024

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 98900

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, romance, lesbian, actors, Los Angeles, stage theater/play production, Jewish culture, toxic ex, found family and community, following dreams, pets

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Description

Maggie Fromm moved to LA to follow a dream: to become an actress and live happily ever after with her high school sweetheart. When her heart is broken after a year of eking out a living, Maggie finds herself fighting for her dream alone. Her luck may change when she meets Gwen Knowles, a talented and spirited director drawn to Maggie’s energy on stage.

As they work to bring an independent play to life, Maggie and Gwen face shadows from their past—but this time, they have each other.

Excerpt

Getting to Know You
Jennifer MD Cox © 2024
All Rights Reserved

The worst part about sitting in the waiting room was having to look at all the other girls.

Maggie tried to practice slow breathing, but she could feel her cheeks burning regardless. She couldn’t help it. She was in a room filled with dozens of attractive women. And most of them were redheads–but why?

Maggie’s own thick, curly, walnut-brown hair fell across her face as she jerked her head down to reread the posting clutched in her hands. Nothing in the casting call said anything about red hair; she was certain. Her headshot, paper-clipped to her short resumé, didn’t conflict with any of the listed requirements. She was between five and five and a half feet, she was light skinned, and she could do a believable Irish accent. She’d even googled “Irish fashion” and assembled an outfit of warm jeans with a long, flowing sweater to better look the part of “Irish girl in St. Patrick’s Day commercial.” When she left the apartment that morning, she was at least half convinced she had a shot at being chosen to sell beer on national television. Several hours later, as redhead after redhead had passed her in line, she felt what little optimism she had deflating.

The girl next to Maggie, who’d clearly added freckles with makeup, had been chattering to her in an exaggerated Irish accent for hours. She also noticed the red hair trend. “T’at’s silly o’ t’em,” she said. “Don’t t’ey know t’at t’e most common ’air color in Éire is dark brown or black?”

Maggie only nodded with a small “Mmhmm” in return.

“T’ey’re overdoing it,” said the freckled girl. “Pro’lly new to t’e scene. Not like you, now, you didnae over t’ink. Have you been doing t’is long?”

Maggie thought about the hours she had spent trying to choose a sweater and practicing her accent in the bathroom mirror. “Not really,” she said quietly. “Just about a year.”

Freckles beamed encouragingly. “A year? Wow, good for ye! Are you new to t’e area t’en?”

“Um…my girlfriend and I moved here together not long ago.”

“T’at’s good you had a friend wit’ya. It’s awful to move somewhere wit’ no friends. I was here six months ’fore I had any friends t’ang out wit’, and my first roommate was a nightmare. In fact, I’m looking fer a new roommate right now. She quit and moved back ’ome t’er folks in Mississippi. I better find someone soon, rent’s due next T’ursday.”

Maggie cringed and opened her mouth, debating whether it was worth correcting the stranger’s use of the word “friend,” but Freckles continued.

“If you’re new to t’e area, ye should join m’ group on Facebook. It’s fer girls like us, trying t’ make it. Never know when y’ might need advice on an audition or where the safest sushi t’eat is.”

Freckles scribbled the name of a group on the back of her copy of the audition advertisement, tore it off, and handed it to Maggie. “Thank you,” she said, and she meant it.

Freckles might be a chatterbox, but she was right. It was difficult being new to the area with no friends, even though Maggie was lucky enough to not be alone.

The door at the far end of the room opened, and a voice called, “Margaret Fromm?”

Freckles gave her a big thumbs-up. “Luck of t’e Irish, girl!”

Maggie gave her a small wave and walked into the audition room, knowing she wouldn’t get the part. She was fairly certain Freckles wouldn’t either.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Jennifer earned her minor in creative writing from Alfred University in 2016. As a pansexual genderflux individual and a trauma-informed mental health counselor, they’re passionate about representation in fiction. Each story she tells is an opportunity to explore the beauty in nonconformity, healing, and diversity. After a lifetime of putting imagination to paper, Jennifer’s debut novel, Getting to Know You, came into being as a promise kept to a friend. Jennifer lives in the Finger Lakes with her family, where they enjoy tabletop roleplaying games, sewing, and cuddling their cat.

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May 28

New Release Blitz: Her Little Secret by Gemma Johns (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Her Little Secret

Author: Gemma Johns

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/28/2024

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 69100

Genre: contemporary, teaching, non-traditional family situation, children, surrogate parent, lovers to friends, hurt-comfort

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Description

On a rare night out, single mum Lily stumbles into the arms of the dazzling Parker. They spend one passionate night together, but both know it will never be anything more. Lily has lost too much over the years to even want to try again.

A year later, devoted teacher, Parker, is excited to start the new year at her brand new school. Greeting the parents, she sees one familiar face in the crowd—the woman she met over a year ago. The woman she has been unable to forget.

Arriving at the classroom, Lily cannot believe her son, Bodhi, has Parker as his new teacher. This surprise was totally unexpected!

Their roles have changed now—as teacher and school parent—but the attraction toward each other has remained. And, as if the situation wasn’t already complicated enough, there’s Bodhi’s dad: Who is he? And why on earth is he still hanging around?

As their worlds clash, Parker knows she needs to be super professional, even though her heart races when she sees Lily. With everything to lose, but their chemistry so strong, is it worth taking a gamble for love?

Excerpt

Her Little Secret
Gemma Johns© 2024
All Rights Reserved

Lily

“My feet are aching,” Lily called out over the music. “I’m exhausted!”

Maree rolled her eyes at her friend. “Come on. Stop acting like an old lady. You’re not even forty yet. We are partying til at least three.” Maree was whining. “Just let down your hair.”

Lily shook her head. Not for the first time that night, she vowed never to go out with Maree again. She pondered joking with Maree about the fact that her long hair was already down, but she figured she wouldn’t be heard over the music. “I’ll go sit down, then.”

Maree grinned in response, but Lily knew there was no way she could get her to leave the dance floor. She had her eye on a petite blonde dancing off to the side. It was typical of Maree—as soon as her relationships finished, she’d be on the lookout for some new girl. “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else” was Maree’s motto, but it was definitely not Lily’s way of thinking. Besides, meeting someone in a club wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. The nightclub, the Palace, seemed like a meat market. That’s what Maree enjoyed.

Spying a chair off in a quiet corner, Lily made a beeline for the bar, hoping the seat would still be empty once she got a drink.

She got herself a cola and dodged drunk people everywhere to sit down. As she approached the quiet chair in the corner, though, she noticed a woman sitting off to the side at the same table. She must have been there the whole time but had been blocked by the wall. “Do you mind if I sit? I wouldn’t normally intrude, but my feet…” Lily couldn’t believe she was asking—she usually wouldn’t approach a stranger—but she was desperate. The woman was sitting quietly, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Lily just hoped she didn’t have a group of friends that would soon join her.

The woman shook her head. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Lily smiled. “Thank you. What a terrible night,” she muttered, more to herself than to the woman near her. But the woman near her responded anyway. “I’m Parker,” she said. “So tell me why it’s such an awful night, and why you don’t go home?”

Lily rolled her eyes. She hadn’t intended on chatting, but she had started it, clearly interrupting Parker’s peace and quiet, so she figured she’d better explain. “My friend just broke up her latest U-Haul relationship. And she’s clearly looking for another.” Lily gave Parker a crooked grin. “Or something. That’s her there, and she seems to have her eye on that blonde in the purple dress.”

Parker craned her neck and glanced at Maree and the blonde in the purple dress. “Okay, and what are her chances?”

“I have no idea. I have seen them stealing glances at each other, but…” Lily shrugged. “Truthfully, I have enough trouble working out whether women are attracted to me, let alone whether Maree has a chance.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Parker asked.

Lily was confused. “Huh? Flirting?”

“Well, you said you can’t work out if women are attracted to you. Was that a loaded comment? Like you’re waiting for me to look in your eyes and say, ‘I am,’ or something. Because I’m not…”

“What? No!” Lily shook her head. She couldn’t believe the woman was thinking that! She’d barely even looked at her. “No, I was just meaning… Never mind.” Now she was annoyed. She couldn’t even sit down without someone in the meat market thinking she was fair game.

“Sorry, I’ve made things awkward. It’s just…that was a little forward of me, but I wondered if that’s what you were getting at.”

Lily blushed. “Sorry, I’m not here for that. Unlike Maree over there.” She looked over and noticed Maree was now dancing closer to the blonde in the purple dress. Lily turned back to Parker and looked at her for the first time. She realised that if she was looking, Parker was exactly the type of woman who would make her head turn. Short dark hair, broad shoulders, strong. Not her ‘type’ exactly, but sexy as hell. She had to look away.

“She’s getting closer,” Parker said, interrupting Lily’s thoughts. She gestured toward Maree and the blonde. Lily followed her gaze. “I’d just noticed that too.”

“What happens? She’ll go home with her? If she’s interested?” Parker was curious.

Lily shrugged. “Maree will do whatever the circumstances demand. She’s a serial monogamist, and while she does go home with a girl on the first night, that’s not usually her style. She’d prefer a phone number at the end of the night.”

“A phone number.” Parker smiled. “Cute. I didn’t know people still did that. Not since 2005.”

“You don’t give out your number?”

“It’s not that I don’t give out my number, it’s just…I hate the phone.”

“I hate the phone too. Text me, email me, messenger me. Just don’t call me.”

Parker absentmindedly looked toward the dance floor. “My friend is in there somewhere too. I don’t know where he went.” It hadn’t even occurred to Lily that Parker was there with someone. Actually, Lily hadn’t really given any thought to why Parker was there.

“Do you have to stay til he comes back?”

Parker shook her head. “He does this. He might have already found some bloke. I don’t know. He invites me out, and we usually just grab dinner, have a nice catch-up. But then some nights he pleads with me to come to a place like this, and bam, I don’t see him again. I fall for it every time though. This is not really my scene.” Parker gestured around the club. “I’m here for Nathan.”

“That’s…nice of you…I guess.”

“Tonight we had incredible pizzas, so it’s not a total waste of a night. I should probably head home soon, but I thought I’d sit for a bit, finish my beer, and then you came along.” She gazed toward the dance floor, clearly scanning for her friend.

Lily frowned. “Does he usually return?”

“Generally, but it could be way past my bedtime.” She yawned. “He doesn’t seem to worry if I’m waiting, so I don’t worry about him.” She laughed dryly. “Hey, I don’t even know your name.”

“Lily,” she said, smiling.

“That’s a pretty name. It suits you.” Lily blushed, but Parker kept talking. “Listen, there’s a coffee shop around the corner. It makes the most incredible—”

“Lattes?” Lily asked, grinning. “I go there too. When Maree ditches me.”

“Do you have caffeine this late at night?”

Lily shrugged. “I usually have no trouble sleeping, even when I do. Usually by the time I’ve danced the night away, I’m exhausted enough. Do you want to go?”

“I’d love a coffee, and I’m enjoying chatting with you.”

Lily was pleased. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed the company of a gorgeous woman, and though she wasn’t planning to date any time soon, she was enjoying talking to Parker. As they sipped their coffee and shared a large chunk of caramel slice, they realised they both loved eighties music and reminisced about various music film clips.

“The Thriller one got my sister and I dancing every afternoon after school. We would try to moonwalk. Jacqui was really good at it. I was never as good as her.”

“I used to moonwalk, and breakdance with my sister too.”

“Oh yeah, breakdancing! That was fun!” Lily smiled, remembering how she and her cousins used to try to breakdance at parties.

“The children of today won’t have anything like that in years to come,” Parker said. “They’ll remember just pouting into the camera, and planking, and all the ordinary stuff. The eighties were much better.”

Lily agreed. She quietly pondered Bodhi’s friends, and how much of their catch-ups were spent on game consoles, battling one another. She didn’t bother mentioning Bodhi though. She wasn’t trying to make a lifelong friend, and she certainly wasn’t going to date. She was, however, enjoying Parker’s company and didn’t want the evening to end. She couldn’t help gazing at her when she wasn’t looking and wondering what it would be like to kiss her. That unsettled her. It had been a long time since she’d even had thoughts like that, and she didn’t need to start now. She shook her head and asked Parker what video games she’d played as a kid.

“My brother and I would play for hours.”

Lily laughed. “I did, too, with my cousins. God, it was a long time ago.”

“Well, we’re not that old.” Parker put her empty coffee cup down. “This is really great, getting to know you.”

“Yeah, it’s fun.” Lily smiled. “I really should go soon though.”

Parker glanced at her watch. “Did you drive or cab it?”

“I drove.”

Parker asked her where she parked and whether she could walk her to her car. “That would be lovely,” Lily said, and she was truly grateful. She never did love walking alone to her car in the city, and although she didn’t know Parker, she felt comfortable and safe around her. As they strolled, they chatted about where they both lived—about ten minutes from each other—and how long their commutes to work were.

“The irony is I moved to Canberra and thought since everything is so close I’d have a short commute to work, but I’m going from Tuggeranong to Belconnen every day.” She shrugged. “It’s no drama, but it’s about an hour out of each day, round trip. Still, it’s hardly a Sydney or Melbourne commute.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher. I’ve been at the school I’m at for nearly ten years now. I do love it. I sometimes wonder about moving closer to work though.”

“I bet.” Lily was disappointed to see they’d arrived at the car already.

“You don’t have to drive your friend home, do you?” Parker asked as if it just occurred to her.

Lily shook her head. “No, I did text her earlier to let her know I was leaving. I didn’t tell her I’d left with a woman. That would invite twenty questions.”

“So your friend does that often, but you don’t?”

Lily shook her head. “Never.”

Parker looked disappointed. “So there’s no chance of me getting your phone number, then?”

“I told you I don’t do phone numbers. And neither do you, apparently.”

Parker’s eyes twinkled in response as she tried to hide a smile. “What about another coffee? At my house? Do you do that?”

Lily was silent. It sounded innocent enough, but even if Parker’s invitation was genuine, she knew what would happen if she went home with her, and she couldn’t say she wasn’t tempted. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed a ‘coffee’ at the house of a beautiful woman. She couldn’t deny her attraction to Parker either. She could barely stop staring at her, but she had vowed not to have a relationship. It was incredibly tempting, even though it would have to be a one-night thing. Finally, she shrugged and asked, “Do you have instant coffee or good coffee?” She couldn’t believe she was even considering it. There was something about Parker. She didn’t want to end the evening yet, only enjoy being around Parker just a little longer.

“I have good coffee. Really good coffee.” She smiled. “It’s definitely worth the visit. I think you’ll really like my coffee.”

Parker’s cheeky smile got her, and the inuendo excited her. More than she’d been excited in a long time. She glanced at Parker again and felt desire overtake her. In a very bold move, she stepped forward and kissed her lips. Gently at first, but as Parker responded, Lily responded also.

“Wow,” Parker said when Lily broke away. “That was some kiss.”

Lily nodded and smiled. She felt the same way. It had felt comfortable and passionate—just right. Exactly what she needed. “Do you have your car here?” Lily asked. Parker shook her head, so Lily opened the passenger door. “Then get in, before I change my mind.” Lily had never seen someone jump in a car so quickly.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Gemma Johns has always loved writing and wanted to write a novel since she first discovered how much she loved reading them. Her older sister told her she needed to ‘live a little’ before she wrote a novel. Years later, Gemma has now lived a lot, so finally decided to put pen to paper. Writing fiction is a part time gig for her, and she has a full time job in academia. Gemma lives in Australia with her wife and their five children.

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May 21

New Release Blitz: Together in a Broken World by Paul Michael Winters (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Together in a Broken World

Author: Paul Michael Winters

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/21/2024

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 93300

Genre: Science Fiction, post-apocalyptic/dystopia/near future, YA, MM romance, lit/genre fiction, virus warfare, action/adventure, western US, road trip, violence, guns, wilderness survival

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Description

Two boys fall in love in a deadly world, but it’s the secrets they keep that might kill them.

Seventeen-year-old Zach was visiting his uncle in a small Montana town when a mysterious illness ripped through the world. Most died, but those who survived the Infection became mindless killers, spreading the disease with a single scratch. Now, a year later, civilization lies in ruins, and Zach is the town’s sole survivor. Desperately lonely, he longs to return to his family in Seattle, but his fears hold him captive.

Eighteen-year-old Aiden is on a critical mission for the covert Scientific Collective, delivering vials whose contents could cure the Infection. Tortured by his boyfriend’s death, he welcomes the risks of the perilous journey. When a militia attacks Aiden, he flees to Zach’s town.

The boys escape together and soon form a bond as they comfort each other in this desolate and broken world. The farther they travel, the more their affection grows, as do the forces pulling them apart. But their greatest threats are the secrets they keep. Zach hides details of his uncle’s death, and Aiden conceals the vials’ sinister origins. In order to survive, they’ll have to confront the truths that could tear their love apart.

Excerpt

Together in a Broken World
Paul Michael Winters © 2024
All Rights Reserved

A Broken World

Aiden

It’s hard to get over how desolate the world is now. I haven’t seen another soul for over a week. And if I want to stay alive, I hope to keep it that way.

The road cuts a winding path through a dense forest, the cone of my headlights revealing just enough to see ahead. Everything else is stark blackness. Daft Punk and GRiZ blast through the car’s speakers—an EDM mix I made last year as a DJ for my high school. Back when DJs and high schools existed, that is. The bass rumbling through the seat makes me feel connected to the car.

With one eye on the road, I paw at the backpack resting on the passenger seat. It’s the third time this hour I’ve checked on the vials. The familiar shape of the protective aluminum case through the nylon fabric helps ease my anxiety. For the moment, anyway. It may be a little obsessive, but the vials are my critical cargo. They’re what I’m risking my life for. And I’m doing this for Marcus.

The slightest thought of him sends waves of grief flooding over me. I fight those feelings and bury them away. Letting emotions control me is the surest way of getting killed.

When I pull up to a rest area, the car cuts a path through an inch of pine needles spread over the parking lot. Weeds spring up through every possible crack, and vines are well on their way to swallowing the restrooms whole. The sheer relentlessness of Mother Nature is startling.

Since man-made light is a thing of the past, it’s impossible to see your hand six inches in front of your face, especially on a cloudy, moonless night in rural Montana. The headlights are my only guide through the darkness, so I leave them turned on.

As I open the door, I’m hit with a cold blast of air and the smell of sap. It must be low forties out. My breaths puff out in misty clouds.

Looters often overlook vending machines at rest stops, so I always check them out. I’m pleasantly surprised to find the machines undamaged and nearly full. With a few pries of a crowbar, the lock springs open. I load what I can into my backpack and stuff the rest in a black plastic bag.

After doing my business in the restroom, I return to my faded red ’97 Integra, crunching through the thick layer of decaying pine needles. I stop suddenly, staring at another pair of footprints that cross over mine, head up to my car door, and then into the woods. They were not here before. I’m sure of it.

Did I remember to lock the door?

In a flash, I run to the car and reach for the handle. Locked. Thank god. The second I’m in, I fire up the engine. Debris kicks up from the tires as I hit the gas and speed away.

For the next several minutes, I’m hypervigilant, keeping my eye on the mirrors and looking ahead for a potential ambush. Those footprints could have been from a member of a local militia. Their scouts are notorious for spotting lone cars and radioing for backup.

Or the footprints could have been from one of the people sick with that damn disease. The Infected. It’s unlikely since they went right up to the car door. Once the fever has done its damage, the Infected don’t really have that level of cognitive ability. The path would have been more random.

Either way, I’m glad to put the rest area behind me. As time passes, my nerves start to settle. Guess I got lucky. Maybe it was nothing, like a local survivor passing through.

As the minutes drift by, my eyes get heavy. It’s no use fighting sleep, so I scan the highway for a side road with enough cover to pull over and rest for the night.

That’s when headlights shine in my rearview mirror.

Goddamn it.

Carjackers.

Purchase

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Meet the Author

Paul is a lifelong creative writer whose life is filled with queer joy. His passion is to spread that joy through storytelling, writing books where you might not typically see queer characters. He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his husband and two tuxedo kitties and might have a slight addiction to reading gay romance. But it’s not a problem. He could stop any time he wants. Honestly.

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May 17

Book Blitz: Uncertain Foundations by Emily Carrington (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Uncertain Foundations

Author: Emily Carrington

Cover Art: Angela Knight

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

Themes: Gay, Multicultural & Interracial, Vampires, Werewolves & Wolf Shifters

Series: Tilthos Pack (#3)

Multiverse: Searchlight (#10)

Book Length: Novel

Page Count: 159

 

Synopsis

They’ve been there for each other through death and life, through pain and joy. Their love life has held them together through all external dangers. But what happens when the threat seems to come from within?

Charlie, half werewolf, has never felt so uncertain. Everything he’s trusted in — his eyesight, his psychic ability, his confidence in making decisions — is under attack. Even his mate, his Life dancer, Luis, seems untrustworthy.

Luis, a psychic vampire, is consumed by terror and paranoia. Unable to tell fact from fiction, and feeling Charlie pulling away, he lashes out.

These two 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?

Excerpt

Uncertain Foundations (Tilthos Pack 3)
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 Emily Carrington

Luis stood his back to a wall. He gazed across the crowded room to his Life Dancer, who was shaking hands with Princess Angelina Oakland. Scanning the princess’s living room quickly, Luis noted the approaching dawn lightening the sky in the east and the Pakistani land dragon speaking quietly with Claudette, the water dragon from Western New York. He felt like a stalker, watching all these people in their final moments of conversation and leave-taking, but he wouldn’t let Charlie, his Life Dancer, be alone. Too much had happened during this last delegate gathering.

“Go downstairs,” Charlie said, turning his head away from the princess to meet Miguel’s gaze. The blood-dependent vampire, slave to the darkness of night, was swaying on his feet.

“You are leaving,” Miguel said.

“This morning,” Charlie agreed.

“I wanted to say thank you.” He nodded to Princess Angelina. “To you as well, Your Highness. I have lived without hope for many years. To have it again is a marvelous blessing. And it wouldn’t have been possible, Tilthos Charles, without your assistance.”

“You’re welcome, but if you thank me again, I’m going to have to demand payment.” Charlie sounded more concerned than flippant despite his words. “Go. Down. Stairs. We’ll meet again.”

Miguel shook hands with both of them and headed from the room.

He passed close to Luis and said softly, “Your lover is a beacon of hope.” Then he was gone.

Luis watched Charlie making the rounds of the other magical creatures in the room. All of these others were ignoring Luis, as if he was just a bodyguard. That suited Luis just fine. Charlie didn’t really need his protection, not in this room, and not usually in the world at large. The leader of all the werewolves on this and the southern continent was only half werewolf, and visually impaired also, but he’d held his position without others defending him for over half a decade. He was confident. He was strong.

And sexy as hell.

Luis firmly turned his thoughts from that particular channel because some of the magical creatures gathered here had great senses of smell. They’d know he was aroused if he allowed himself the luxury of thinking of his Life Dancer without clothes on.

Charlie’s thoughts drifted through Luis’s mind, his psychic tone lightly teasing. I think it’s too late for you to hide anything.

Luis smirked and thought back, Good.

Gradually, the heads of this or that species left, taking their chauffeured rides to private airplanes. Agent Jack Sowerby would be meeting some of them at Baltimore-Washington International Airport, but some wouldn’t allow the new head of SearchLight to see them off. Claudette, the water dragon, was one of these, preferring to keep her exact departure a secret.

Luis knew she was flying out of Dulles, the airport south of here in Virginia, but he was a tracker. It was his job to know the comings and goings of those who might be a threat to SearchLight. Or to his Life Dancer.

As the room emptied, he wondered if the princess would let him and Charlie have one last fling in the bedroom she’d set aside for them. Although, even if she did, Charlie might not want to hang around. He was anxious to get back to their displaced pack.

“Tilthos Charles, do you need to rest before starting on your drive home?” Princess Angelina asked as if she’d read Luis’s mind. He didn’t think she had telepathy, and his shields were mostly up anyway.

“That would be a better question for Luis, since I can’t drive,” Charlie said, sounding amused. He tapped the end of his white cane on the parquet floor. “Thank you, but I think we should get going.”

Luis thought, keeping it hidden from his Life Dancer, Damn. And I was hoping to be driving without blue balls.

Still, he had to admit he wanted to get home. And not just so that the Tilthos Pack could return from where they’d been scattered to when all the dominant protectors were occupied here in DC and Maryland. Luis had concerns about those pack members here: Jeremy, Ethan, and Charlie.

Jeremy and Ethan would be driving back at some point soon, but first, Ethan needed to regain his human shape. He’d taken to sticking close to Jeremy and their son, Will, but in his werewolf guise. It was as if he thought being in four-footed would somehow protect him from further pain.

Luis had absolutely no doubt Jeremy would take care of his mate. The Night Wanderer was protective anyway, and since Ethan had been forced to —

“Luis?”

He blinked, startled out of his thoughts by his Life Dancer calling his name. Charlie stood about ten feet away, his gaze unfocused, as it always was when he wasn’t trying to read some large print or looking at a picture eight-year-old Will had drawn.

Luis crossed to him and touched his shoulder. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“I guess you missed the change in plans.”

Luis smiled guiltily. “I was lost in my own world.”

“I realized –” Charlie said, lowering his voice and bending so he could put his mouth next to Luis’s ear. “I need you before we head out.”

Luis’s cock raised its head and he felt his asshole constrict in anticipation. “Not here,” he ventured.

“Well, in this house, but, no, not in the living room. If we stained any of her pillows or cushions, I’m sure Angelina would throw us out and bill us through the nose.” He took Luis’s hand, pressing the shaft of the white cane between their palms. “Will you guide me?”

Luis knew Charlie didn’t mean that literally. He was independent to a fault, was Tilthos Charles McLaughlin, alpha above all alphas. But having Charlie make the request made Luis harder still. He kissed Charlie’s palm and then encouraged him to take his arm.

Swinging his cane out before his feet, Charlie “followed” Luis up the stairs and down the hall. The warmth of his hand, firm on the back of Luis’s arm, was ambrosia to the anxiety Luis had been feeling for the last week or so. Charlie trusted him. He glanced back and saw Charlie’s eyes were closed and his cane no longer touched the floor. He was letting Luis guide him completely.

Luis’s heart rose and he swallowed against sudden, stupid tears. “Te amo, Charlie,” he whispered.

A mischievous smile lit Charlie’s dark and handsome features. “Of course, you do.”

Luis snorted. But before he could retort, Charlie stopped walking and pulled Luis into a tight embrace. Luis inhaled, loving the scent of his lover’s aftershave.

“I love you too. Now, come on. I need you.”

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.

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May 14

New Release Blitz: Until the Real Thing Comes Along by Chris Simon (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Until the Real Thing Comes Along

Author: Chris Simon

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/14/2024

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 101200

Genre: Historical, Romance, historical, family-drama, gay, 1920s, 1930s, in the closet, docker, fire, Brighton, football match

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Description

It’s 1932 and middle-class Malcolm lives with his mother in Highgate. Though confident and capable at work, he is tormented by “beastly inclinations”—a strong attraction to young men. One drunken evening at Charlie Brown’s pub in Limehouse he meets Alfie, a working-class docker—and the most beautiful young man Malcolm has ever seen. Alfie is friendly, kind and changes everything by making Malcolm’s inclinations seem considerably less beastly—but in 1930s London, this can surely have no future. Alfie is younger, apparently “normal”, and from the Isle of Dogs, far from Malcolm’s cosy world of quiet privilege.

Nevertheless, Malcolm launches himself into Alfie’s world of rough pubs, a dance club, and even a football match. Resigned to a platonic friendship, he is thrilled to find that Alfie has other ideas. But by offering him something he hadn’t even dared wish for, fate may have called his bluff and he fears his own naivety and sexual inexperience will see him squander this unexpected shot at happiness. After some excruciating but sound advice from a more worldly friend, the relationship becomes sexual, and more emotional, but remains an unsuitable attachment that cannot last forever.

When Alfie is nearly killed in a fire at the docks, and war planes on maneuvers growl over the Docklands skies, both are reminded that life is too short to worry about “forever”. During a police raid on an illicit West End club, Alfie’s heroism saves Malcolm from ruin, convincing him that whatever the future holds, this boy loves him now. The disapproval of families and friends, a hostile society, Malcolm’s insecurity, and Alfie’s belief that he’ll eventually get married because “that’s what young men do” cannot thwart a love that grows in unpromising ground and endures no matter what is thrown at it.

Excerpt

Until the Real Thing Comes Along
Chris Simon © 2024
All Rights Reserved

Grubby Angels

August 1922

This was wealth. This was power. This was the world in which Malcolm Trevelyan must make his mark.

A line of black cranes dipped and swung over the cobbled north quay of the Western Dock, as they lowered crates and barrels towards the waiting men below. Once landed, the goods were loaded onto handcarts and spirited away into the transit sheds nearby. The noise of the crane winches and the shouts of men drowned out any words of explanation from the guide escorting the small group of six trainee import clerks of which Malcolm was a part.

Beyond the transit sheds stood ancient brick warehouses, bulging with cigars and raw tobacco, grain, fragrant spices, ivory, and ostrich feathers. He breathed in the aromas of the nation’s store cupboard, awed by the sheer scale of the warehouses and by the range of goods he saw in them. Beneath their feet lay a labyrinth of cool vaults packed with puncheons and hogsheads of port, brandy, and wines. The London Docks were an organised chaos and just about the most exciting thing that sixteen-year-old Malcolm had ever seen.

But it wasn’t just the goods. Out on the quayside an even greater impression was made on him by the flat-capped, waistcoated dockers, concentration straining their features, skin glowing with their exertion. They worked in gangs, intimidating clutches of masculinity, strong and foul-mouthed. Most were middle-aged, weather-beaten, worn and scarred, but there was a handful of younger men among them. They were cocky lads—a different breed from any Malcolm had seen before and he was drawn to them. Strong, lithe, and energetic, they laughed and joked together with an easy familiarity he envied.

The dockers paid little heed to the gaggle of pale-skinned trainee clerks observing them. They would spare them attention only if the party looked like they were getting in the way, at which point a youngster would be sent to shoo them off, as though they were scavenging gulls circling over a consignment of raw sugar.

As the visitors weaved tentatively through the busy crowd, a sudden violent hailstorm lashed down on the quayside. Everyone ran for what shelter they could find, apart from the crane drivers, who watched the scurrying smugly from their cabins. Malcolm found shelter in the narrow covered doorway into a warehouse. It was padlocked and he had to share the brick arch with two young dockers and endure the bittersweet sensation of having them pressed up against him. Having their hard bodies and the smell of their sweat so close would no doubt have repelled some people. Not Malcolm. The sweat was fresh, the result of honest toil. And the bodies—well.

The young lads were deferential to him, in case he was someone important, toning down their profanities and allowing him as much space as they were able to. In adjusting his stance to try to give Malcolm more room, one of them yelped as a hailstone the size of a quail’s egg struck his bare arm. His face, close to Malcolm’s, blushed engagingly and he laughed.

“Ow! That bleedin’ hurt!”

“Don’t be such a jessie,” jeered his mate. “Wotcher stick yer arm out for anyway, yer fathead.”

“I was trying to give this gentleman a bit more room, weren’t I? Yer don’t want ’ailstones getting on yer nice duds, do yer, guvnor?”

Malcolm smiled weakly but was unable to utter a single word, let alone form a sentence. This lad of around his own age had called him “guvnor” just because he was wearing a suit, yet he was the tongue-tied one.

The hail lashed down for five minutes before stopping abruptly, allowing the young dockers to return to their labours.

As the clerks filed back out of the dock gates chattering about what they’d seen, Malcolm was disconsolate, because his desperate longing had undermined the excitement he’d felt at having seen the Port of London working at close quarters for the first time. He was no longer incarcerated in boarding school. There were plenty of girls for him to look at, in the streets and in the typing pool at work, but nothing had changed. Boys still preoccupied him and none more than these working-class lads. They were so different from him and the boys he’d known at school—and nowhere was safe, because the streets of London teemed with them. He wouldn’t even know whether the two young dockers would have been considered handsome or not. Their faces had yet to have years of hard labour etched upon them, they’d yet to sustain scars or lose teeth, their complexions were unravaged by the drink to which they would probably turn for comfort. Their youth and vitality, their common clothes and flat caps, the hair cut short at the napes of their necks and their choirboy faces tormented him still.

He could tell himself his inclinations would shift towards women in due course, but he knew it wasn’t true. In a week or two, he would have forgotten about these two particular lads, but there were legions of grubby angels dressed as thugs to fill him with a burning longing for… Well, he wasn’t quite sure for what.

What could he do about it?

The answer was obvious. He must put all his energy into his work and see how far it would take him. It was his duty to achieve wealth and power to ensure his mother would live the rest of her days in comfort, and above all, he mustn’t allow himself to indulge in any behaviour that would bring disgrace down upon her. He must not merely put aside his unnatural feelings but bury them absolutely and forever.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Chris Simon is the youngest son of a headteacher and was born and brought up in North Wales. He attended college in Liverpool and Manchester studying Geography and English and returned to Wales to work at a holiday camp, doing everything from chalet allocations to scrubbing grill pans in the off season. He did this over three summers before moving to London to join the civil service, starting in North London benefit offices and ending with the Department for Transport in Westminster.

As well as football and music, Chris has a great love of social history, particularly that of London. After visiting the capital at the age of twelve his desire to live there became the first certainty of his life. He settled in Walthamstow in East London and is a keen supporter of Manchester City and, of course, Wales. It had always been his intention to write a novel whenever he found the time—and now he has.

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May 07

New Release Blitz: Shadow House by Joe Rielinger (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Shadow House

Series: Terry Luvello, PI #3

Author: Joe Rielinger

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/07/2024

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Female

Length: 74100

Genre: Contemporary Mystery, lit/genre fiction, contemporary, transgender, established couple, private detective, cops, murder mystery, crime procedural, dysfunctional family drama, incest, mental instability, guns

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Description

An unexpected visit from the daughter of an old mentor launches private detective Terry Luvello into one of the most intriguing cases of his career. Margaret Reasoner, the matriarch of one of Cleveland’s wealthiest and most politically connected families, has recently passed away.

Not trusting any of her children, Margaret had added a clause in her will requiring a private inquest should her death take place under suspicious circumstances. Hired to investigate, Terry spends a week at the Reasoner’s sprawling estate dealing with the increasingly hostile family as he unravels the mysteries of the mansion known as the Shadow House.

Terry recruits his partner and girlfriend, Cleveland police detective Hannah Page to aid in the investigation. The two uncover a web of secrets and lies that stretch beyond anything they have ever experienced. As the deceptions pile up along with the body count, a killer plans the ultimate revenge.

Terry’s ingenuity and uniquely wry sense of humor help him navigate this complex case while juggling the demands of his clinical transition about to enter its final phase. In a household where no one is innocent, Terry must decide just how far he is willing to go to find the guilty party.

Excerpt

Shadow House
Joe Rielinger © 2024
All Rights Reserved

I hate adultery cases—every private detective does. Tawdry and nasty by their very nature, they inevitably lead to pain for both the client and the accused. That’s true even if the accused is one of those rare individuals who isn’t actually screwing around.

So why do we take these cases? We take them for the same reason the men and women we follow choose to cheat. As cynical as it sounds, every private investigator knows that it’s sex, not love, that makes the world go round. The two occasionally have some direct relationship, but those instances are not our concern. A PI’s livelihood depends on the man who suddenly realizes his secretary is far more good-looking than his wife or the woman who decides she’s just a little too lonely, waiting for her husband to come home after work. Their wronged partners pay our bills, and we take a deep breath, sigh, and spend one more night peering through a high-def camera next to yet another dirty hotel window.

Fortunately for my sanity, I didn’t rely strictly on those cases. As Terry Luvello, PI, I had developed a good reputation for competence, much of that gained while assisting my police detective girlfriend on two high-profile cases.

Detective Hannah Page stayed with me through it all, though we had some rough moments after the conclusion of both investigations. We got back together after our last case on what Hannah called a “trial basis.” Our reunion overjoyed my mother and my best friend. Hannah’s parents—not so much.

Hannah had also stayed despite the complications and occasional wide-eyed stares caused by my transitioning to male. With just two months to go before my actual surgery, we were now living together in Hannah’s Cleveland Heights home.

I loved her more than I could say, and I believed she loved me back. That love did not keep her from reacting negatively to my latest assignment.

Staring at me before I left that evening, Hannah asked, “Why do you take these cases? Trying to catch those shitheads in the act just depresses you, and we really don’t need the money.”

She wasn’t wrong on either count, but I reminded her of our agreement. “When I moved in here, we said we would split the household costs. Like them or not, the adultery cases pay my part of those bills.”

Hannah shook her head before giving me a kiss goodbye. “Get the hell out of here, but don’t go getting any ideas. Just remember what I said I’d do if I caught you screwing around.”

She had, in fact, told me exactly what she would do, a starring role in that scenario played by the woodchipper Hannah insisted on keeping in our backyard. I shivered despite myself—the cost of a self-assertive girlfriend who wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without her Smith & Wesson.

Tonight’s carnal shithead was one Seamus O’Donnell, a man who differed from the other shitheads I’d chased, if only because he didn’t seem to be, on the surface, a shithead. A computer programmer at Cleveland’s NASA Glenn Research Center, Seamus was outwardly the perfect family man—beloved by his wife, his three young children, and even his golden retriever puppy. I looked through both public and private records and found none of the usual indicators of infidelity. There were no unusual hotel bills, no significant cash withdrawals, and no sudden changes in wardrobe or hairstyle. When I spoke with his wife one week prior, she said Seamus had always been a model husband. Still, she had doubts.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Joe Rielinger lives in Cleveland, Ohio, with his wife, Lisa, and their two fun-loving, though often borderline crazy golden retrievers. With a lifetime love of mystery, crime, and detective novels, Joe is currently working on a sequel to his first book, And God Laughed. When he isn’t writing, Joe likes to cook, read, and pretend he might someday learn something about training his two dogs.

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May 01

Book Blitz: Black Leather Night and Other Tales by Willa Okati (Excerpt & Giveaway)

 

Title:  The Brotherhood Vol. 1

Author: Willa Okati

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: May 2, 2024

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 294 pages

Genre: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Dark Fantasy, New Releases, Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Urban Fantasy

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Synopsis

Welcome to Amour Magique, where gay paranormals come to find love…

Amour Magique – the notorious sex club owned by Liam, an incubus. His friends call themselves The Brotherhood. The Brothers have the perennial problem of gay men everywhere: finding a hottie who doesn’t turn out to be a loser or abuser. They’re down on their luck, and looking for love in all the wrong places.

Bite Me — Tattoos. Piercings. Leather. Attitude. Do anything, say anything, and damn the consequences. That’s Bree of the Brotherhood, and he’s not about to apologize for a thing.

The Dragon’s Tongue — Collin was born with the power to make men burn with lust. He’s been burned himself, though, and now he’s  working himself into an early grave. Might just be worth the trip if he can get it right this time.

Good Luck Piece — Conned into putting in an appearance at the notorious sex club, Amour Magique, Simon holes up in a shoddy bar aptly called Last Chance. Then an Irish stranger with flashing green eyes and a mouth made for wickedness buys him a drink…

Excerpt

The Brotherhood Vol. 1
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 Willa Okati
Excerpt from Amour Magique

Silence. Intense silence. Chilly air smelling of pine and citrus rushed through painfully neat rooms and corridors, whisking over nothing but bare furniture and knickknacks free of dust. Surfaces sparkled, yet had an opacity that lacked any élan vital. Solemn strains of a Beethoven requiem filled the air.

This was a place where happiness went to die.

In one room, though, a spark of life remained. A scented candle, fragrant with bayberry and red as blood, crackled to life in the semi-darkness. It passed from hand to hand, lighting taper after taper in a circle, until twelve flares of light burned brightly in the gloom. Each candle, held tightly or cautiously in a strong male hand, was lifted high in a circle as the men holding them glanced at one another, took a simultaneous deep breath, and chanted:

“Long live the Brotherhood. May our harmony and companionship be a beacon in the darkness of an unfriendly world. Let the Brotherhood bring light to the murky corners and sweep away the shadows of hostility.”

Again, they glanced at each other. Faint smiles lifted the corners of mouths plump and thin, narrow and wide.

“Here are the bylaws of the Brotherhood, long may they live. Act smart. Look cool. Share your prick, not your heart. Long live the Brotherhood!”

Smothered laughter broke out as all twelve men tilted their bayberry candles toward a vast central pillar and set its many wicks alight.

“So let it be done,” intoned the man in the position of leader. “So may it be.”

Silence filled the air for a long moment.

Then the doorbell chimed.

“Hot damn — food’s here!” Micah, closest to the door, jumped up, shoved his candle into a holder, and, with a deft flick of a switch, turned the chandelier lighting on in the main room. “Who ordered tonight? David? What did you get — Chinese or Thai?”

“Chinese,” David called as he put his taper into another holder, as did the other men. “Moo shu pork, egg rolls, wonton soup, sweet-and-sour chicken, beef with broccoli, sesame beef, General Tso’s, cashew chicken, lo mein –”

“Holy fuck, David! We’re not an army!”

“– and dessert, too.” He blushed a little. “Well, you guys always say there’s never enough when someone else orders. I figured I’d get plenty.”

“Yeah, plenty of food, since that’s all you’re getting,” retorted Micah.

“Not nice,” Simon, their leader, rebuked, folding his hands. “And would you open the door before the nice delivery gentleman thinks we’re either crazy or not at home and goes away?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m on my way.” Micah smoothed his indigo silk shirt more neatly into his tight-cut jeans, ruffled a hand through his hair, and swung the door open. A delighted grin split his face. “Hwong Li! How did they know to send you? Was it just for me?”

“You are a horn dog,” the young Asian man retorted. His arms overflowed with boxes. “I drew the short straw.”

“There is nothing short about me.”

“So you say. Ninety-three ninety, please.”

“Ninety-three — David, how much food did you order?” Micah turned, hands on his hips. “It’s obvious you don’t care, but some of us are watching our figures.”

David blushed a deep, dusky red. “I just wanted to get enough –”

“You got enough, all right. Lose about ten, and maybe you’d get something else, too.”

“Gentlemen!”

“All right, all right.” Micah folded his arms. “I’m not paying for all this myself, men. Pony up the cash.” All around the room, men dug into their pockets. David produced a twenty and handed it over, his cheeks still pink. Micah snatched all the cash, counting it with a quick hand before passing over a hundred dollars. He riffled the bills in front of Hwong’s eyes, letting him count the cash, before cracking a nasty smile and slipping the money into the delivery boy’s front pants pocket.

His fingers lingered.

“Why, Hwong, do I feel a spring roll in there?”

“Your touch would make bamboo soft.”

“Prick!”

“Yes. But not on the market for one such as yourself.”

“Fuck you.” Micah jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned. “Keep the change.”

Hwong Li regarded him disdainfully. “Shitty tip.”

“You want a tip? Don’t insult me next time.”

“Aw, come on,” the youngest of their group piped up. “Hwong’s a hottie. Treat him with the r-e-s-p-e-c-t a sister, uh, brother deserves.”

Hwong glanced past Micah. “Hello, Christian. Got a kiss for me?”

“You bet.” Christian dug into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and pulled out a handful of chocolate drops. He unwrapped them. “Here, catch!”

Hwong did a nifty little seal impersonation and snaffled every treat in his mouth as they flew through the air.

“Someday, I’ll give you the real thing,” Christian teased.

“You wish you were so lucky.” Hwong stuffed the boxes of food into Micah’s arms, leaving him no choice but to grab them or drop them. “Night, ladies.”

“Asshole!”

“No, that’s your specialty.” Hwong turned and walked away.

Micah kicked the door shut and moved somewhat awkwardly toward the table in the center of the circle they’d sat in earlier. “Does someone want to help me with this? Simon? Laurence? Bree?”

“Nope!”

“You’re on your own.”

“No way.”

“You’ll sure as hell eat it, though.” Micah dumped the boxes down. “Fine, then. Chow down, but leave me the plain white rice.” He patted his flat stomach. “I don’t want to get a pot belly.”

“You’re in about as much danger of getting fat as you are of getting anything else,” Alex said bluntly as he flopped down in a chair and reached for a container marked Lemongrass Chicken Special. “Pot, kettle, black?”

“I don’t see you bragging about your conquests.” Micah’s voice was prickly.

“Honestly! Hwong wasn’t far wrong in calling you ladies. Quentin, you and Harrison get the beer and wine. The rest of you, sit.”

“Aye, aye, Simon!”

Micah sat in the middle of a buttery-soft leather couch and crossed his legs. “I think you’re all carrying this whole Brotherhood thing too far… or not far enough. Help each other out, everyone doing their part… then it all lands on someone like me.”

A slight, lithe, curly-haired man who had not spoken as yet murmured, “You need each other, Micah. Such is the purpose to this group.” He toyed with a blue crystal that dangled from a chain around his neck. “Even you need these others, deny it as you will.”

Micah regarded the man with distaste. “All I need, Liam, is one good night on the town with a decent fuck who knows how to treat a man.”

A youngish, multi-pierced man flopped down on the couch beside them. “You want a man who’ll treat you like a god.”

“So what if I do?” Micah retorted. “You just want anyone who knows how to make the bedsprings bounce, Bree.”

“Yeah, and?” Bree reached for some extra-spicy General Tso’s. “At least it’s been less than a year for me.”

“Not by much.”

“Liar, liar, pants not on fire.”

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes to heaven. “Enough! No one else says a word until we’ve eaten. I invoke Brotherhood Head status.”

“Yeah, you wish you could get some head,” Bree muttered.

However, despite his defiance, he fell silent, as did the rest of the men. Falling into place on chairs, divans, and sofas, they dug into the hot Asian food. Small moaning noises of pleasure filled the air as rich spices and tangy flavors crossed eager tongues, and sighs of satisfaction were heard as one or another discovered a favorite among the boxes and cartons. Even David, picking at white rice himself, found the courage to reach for a packet of soy sauce and then, with a shy glance up, took a vegetarian egg roll.

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Changeling Press | Amazon | Kobo | iTunes | Smashwords

Meet the Author

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will’s definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he — not she anymore — is a lot less quiet these days.

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Apr 30

New Release Blitz: Built From Ashes by Fox Beckman (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Built From Ashes

Series: Trust Trilogy, Book Three

Author: Fox Beckman

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/30/2024

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: M/NB

Length: 129600

Genre: Paranormal, Romance, urban fantasy, interracial, gay, bisexual, nonbinary, time travel, magic, witch, demons, chosen one

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Description

Ravi’s world has shattered. Cayenne’s dark secrets have finally come to light, and a mysterious enemy threatens to dismantle The Trust from within. Haunted by betrayal, Ravi must confront the demons of his past while battling for the future of The Trust, the fate of the world, and his own heart. But can something so broken ever truly be mended?

Excerpt

Built from Ashes
Fox Beckman © 2024
All Rights Reserved

“I do not like this,” Val mutters for the third time, her voice low.

“Me neither,” Ravi sighs, his eye not wavering from the scope. The rifle is a cool, sturdy presence under his hands. Something he can rely on. Rare as it is for him to roll out his sniper skillset on hunts, he’s strangely nostalgic for his time in Israel. The simplicity of training and nothing else. Being so worn out each day he could slip into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Val rumbles a little under her breath like a building storm. Normally the angel is perfectly content to spend any time with Ravi in companionable silence—one of his favorite things about her—but he agrees the situation is less than ideal.

The pair perch on the second story of an abandoned big-box department store, a building slated for demolition in two months’ time. Scouting hours ahead of the rendezvous, they’d found this vantage point hidden by a defunct escalator with a clean line of sight down to the meeting place. The perfect position to keep an eagle eye on the proceedings.

It’s harder than Ravi expected it would be, staying on the sidelines while Harry and Nate are up close and personal with so many potential enemies. Even with Harry’s Chosen invulnerability and her recent training regimen, she’s still not ready for this kind of threat on her own. But as the most personable members of the team, she and Nate are the best options. One peek at Val’s eyes and it’s obvious she’s not entirely human, and if this information broker is as savvy as Nate’s vampire contact claims he is, the team can’t afford to take chances.

Through the scope Ravi watches the broker, a gentleman of Filipino descent approaching middle age and fighting it tooth and claw. Clothes too flashy, recent hair plugs, rings on every finger. The man gesticulates through a joke, and Harry throws her head back to laugh with him. Nate joins in, grinning wide. He’s leaned up against the broker’s desk, dragged into the middle of the dead mall in a parody of legitimate office space. Several men surround the trio, big slabs of hired muscle in identical plain gray suits and sunglasses.

The broker’s laughter fades as he eyes Harry with speculation. He falls silent, tapping a finger on the desk, one of his rings glimmering.

Something’s off; the guy has twigged. Ravi lines up a shot, breaths slow and measured. Kneeling beside him, Val glances at him and tenses. Her massive maul materializes into her hands.

Nate throws a nervous glance up at their sniper nest and thumbs his nose.

That’s the signal. In the space between seconds, Val disappears from Ravi’s side, a faint rush of displaced air the only sign she had ever been there.

Two of the goons are lined up right next to each other.

Perfect.

Ravi exhales and squeezes the trigger.

The first goon’s head shatters. Gray clay shards rain down as the golem collapses to the ground, limbs cracking sharply on impact. The angle on the second guard isn’t quite as clean, and the round exits through the cheek instead of dead center. That would have done the job on something with a brain, but the magical paper within the golem’s skull is a much trickier target.

However, Val appears in the next instant, and her maul finishes what Ravi’s bullet started, smashing the golem straight down to the chest like a pottery vase. Nate has already jumped out of range of the other goons, making way for the many blades of Harry’s urumi to snake out and take off a golem’s hand in two clean slices.

The broker swears and kicks away from the desk, twisting one of his rings. A shield of thickened air swirls in a wide arc in front of him, some sort of protection enchantment. His eyes dart from the trajectory of Ravi’s unexpected bullet to the ash-haired Amazon who teleported in front of him wielding a two-handed hammer as long as he is tall.

Having calmly locked another round into place, Ravi slides back the bolt and focuses on Harry’s one-handed foe. The shot clips a neat hole through the golem’s sunglasses, and the back of its bald head shatters. It drops like a puppet with its strings cut. Ravi tries not to smirk.

Two golems flank Val and close in, grappling with the haft of her maul, attempting to pull it from her grasp. She reels them both in and slams her forehead into one. The golem staggers, a wide crack splintering its face. Val grins and rams her fist into the crack. When she pulls it out, she’s gripping a long strip of paper. The golem falls lifelessly at her feet, and she turns her attention to the next.

Meanwhile, Harry holds her own, dodging a punch from a big clay fist and keeping her distance. All her dedicated training shows. She yanks one to the ground with the urumi and crunches her boot down on its head.

Nate sidles back into view, having taken care of the most important part of the plan, and slipped away to message Constance as soon as the fight started. To Ravi’s consternation, Nate has a piece of scavenged rebar he obviously intends to use as an improvised weapon. That hadn’t been part of the plan. The professor dives in behind an enemy wheeling on Val and takes a baseball-like swing, cracking the golem across the back of the neck. Chips of clay go flying. The golem spins around and swipes at Nate. He ducks out of the way, but just barely.

Always diving into danger, this guy. Ravi shifts position, sliding back the bolt and taking careful aim as the golem rears a fist back, Nate perfectly positioned to take the full brunt of the hit.

Blinking through the shattered pieces of clay, Nate tosses Ravi a grateful salute with a cheerful grin, as the headless body falls at his feet. Ravi shakes his head while racking in another shell.

The information broker looks to have had enough, deciding that it’s well worth abandoning his bodyguards to make a getaway. Keeping his magical shield in front of him, he starts backing away toward the exit.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Prone to diving way too deep down research rabbit-holes and absolutely incapable of working without a curated playlist in the background, Fox Beckman lives in the Twin Cities and has far too many irons in the fire. Fox is writer, an artist, an occasional wrangler of kangaroos, a longsword fencer, an archer, a roller of dice, and a forager of mushrooms that aren’t deadly (probably).

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Apr 16

New Release Blitz: Jessamine Grove by D.J. Blankenship (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Jessamine Grove

Author: D.J. Blankenship

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/16/2024

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: NB/NB

Length: 72700

Genre: Contemporary, Florida, tutor, student, adoption, mystery, artist, opera singer, grief

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Description

Jessamine: any of numerous often climbing shrubs (genus Jasminum) of the olive family that usually have extremely fragrant flowers.

When professor Neil Boehm arrives at Jessamine Grove to take on the task of tutoring a precocious child, he does not know that, like the flower for which it’s named, the picturesque jazz-age estate harbors deadly secrets beneath its glamorous façade.

As Neil unravels the twisted vines of Jessamine Grove’s past and the pain and suffering that were their fruits, he reexamines his own past and life choices and draws unsettling parallels between the history of the Grove and that of his own family history.

Uncovering old sins leads him to hope he can paint a brighter picture for his future.

Excerpt

Jessamine Grove
D.J. Blankenship © 2024
All Rights Reserved

December

Florentina Bay

Along with Sarah’s letter came an exquisite origami Christmas ornament. Not having a tree upon which to hang it, I attached the multicolored star to the toggle of my rucksack. Now, as I opened the bag, I admired it once more. I tried origami when I was a kid. Unfortunately, I never managed to produce anything that resembled the intended object. What other creative projects had I put my hand to? Shadow boxes, model rockets, the iconic “science project,” and finally, painting. All failures. Not for lack of intelligence or skill, but for a surfeit of impatience. I wanted everything I did to be perfect. Instantly. When it was not, I stomped on, tore up, or otherwise destroyed it.

Now, with the wisdom of maturity, I looked upon Sarah’s handiwork with more admiration than envy. I had learned to accept there were certain things I could not do—or do well—and it was a waste of time and energy to dwell on failures rather than concentrate on and hone strengths. This mindset had served me well in my career as an educator.

Sarah had bested me in artistic creativity, applying her crafty little hands successfully to everything from sewing and knitting to creating beautiful greeting cards and handbound notebooks. In her skill with, and love of, teaching, Sarah had been my equal.

As I pulled my thermos and the letter from my bag, I marveled at the passage of time. Almost thirty years since Sarah Lewis and I began work at Allerton Academy. The venerable Connecticut institution was in precarious financial straits when we were hired, holding tenaciously (or foolishly, depending on one’s perspective) to its old-fashioned curriculum and strict code of discipline while the outside world moved inexorably forward, and more successful private schools adopted contemporary education models. The anachronism of Allerton initially captured our shared romanticism—the feeling of having been hired as principles in a costume drama—and the reality of Allerton’s prestige and high standards that kept us on. From the start, Sarah and I entertained no false hopes that our honeymoon with Allerton would last forever, so we were both surprised the school managed to hang on for more than a quarter of a century.

With Allerton in its final death throes, Sarah, and I—and a few colleagues whose tenures matched or exceeded our own—faced the unenviable fate of being middle-aged and unemployed. Some, like I, chose early retirement. Others, without the luxury of a private income, scrambled to find positions commensurate with their experience working in an old-fashioned boy’s boarding school. Some found work abroad. A few, like Sarah, took positions as private tutors.

“Why?” I had asked Sarah, truly baffled.

Sarah had a promising new life awaiting her outside Allerton—a long suffering lover who had finally convinced her to accept his everlasting marriage proposal and follow him to wedded bliss and retirement in Italy. Instead, Sarah had opted for a two-year stint tutoring the precocious child of a wealthy Florida power couple.

“I can’t quit cold turkey,” Sarah reasoned. “I need some sort of transition. And I could use the extra cash. The Willoughbys are paying handsomely for the Allerton pedigree.”

When she divulged the figure, I was floored.

“Jesus. I can’t blame you for accepting. But what about Victor?”

Victor was the long-suffering boyfriend.

“His reaction was rather like yours,” she said, adding a few cubes of ice and a dash of scotch to her empty glass. “Victor has agreed to a compromise. He’s going to rent a condo nearby, and we’ll spend our holidays in Italy. When my contract is up, we’ll move for good.”

Halfway through the first year of that contract, Mrs. Willoughby passed away, and Sarah soon found herself reconsidering the wisdom of continuing in her position.

“I won’t be sad to leave this place,” Sarah had said in her letter to me, “but I worry about the boy.”

The boy. Max Willoughby.

How often, over the years, have we had that discussion about why some people choose to be parents? Ezra isn’t a bad man, really. But his parenting skills leave a lot to be desired.

Anyway, I’ve had enough. And despite his assurances to the contrary, I know Victor is getting antsy. For so many years, I used Allerton and my career to avoid a true, live-in commitment to Victor. I won’t do that anymore. I want to spend every moment of the rest of my life with the man I love.

And yet…

I don’t want to leave Max without knowing there is someone there for him. Someone to advocate for him. Someone to care for him. He’s certainly no day at the county fair, but there’s something about him. Sometimes when I’m with him I recall what you’ve told me about your own childhood. It’s the young Neil Boehm I see when Max rips up a perfectly good essay or kicks his easel to the ground when I offer the slightest constructive criticism about a work in progress. He has much creative potential but lacks a proper sense of self-worth—of confidence.

Though he denies it, the death of Mrs. Willoughby has affected Max deeply, and he turns to me more and more as a surrogate mother.

What I believe Max really needs at this stage in his life is someone who can be a mentor as well as both a mother and father figure. A buddy, a confidant. Ezra—though I do not doubt his love for his son—seems afraid of gentleness, of kindness, of, perhaps, showing himself as weak. He often forgets Max is a child, not a military cadet.

You’ve already guessed where I’m going with this, of course.

You’d start after the New Year.

Please, Neil. At least consider it seriously. Ezra has practically made up his mind to send his son to a boarding school in France. I think this would be disastrous for Max. If you agree, we’ll talk about it in more detail later.

I’ve already told Mr. Ezra about you—and he’s checked you out and is suitably impressed. And he seems, much to my feminist chagrin, to assume you would be less likely to run off and get married.

Would you? I wonder.

Details enclosed.

Love,

Sarah

I received the contract from Ezra Willoughby even before I met him via video conference. Despite the feeling I was being railroaded—gently by Sarah, imperiously by Willoughby—I accepted the offer. The charm of the lifestyle of an aging beach bum was beginning to wear off, and as much as I cherished the pleasant memories sparked by my return to Florentina Bay, other, darker memories overshadowed them and made remaining there untenable.

Allerton Academy had been my home for more than half of my adult life. Where would I live out the rest of it? Perhaps a leap of faith was in order.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Born in New York City and raised in the San Joaquin Valley of California, D.J. now divides his time between Brooklyn, New York, and Bogota, Colombia, where he lives with his husband, a cat, and a dog. D.J. has previously published under the pen name Zev de Valera.

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