New author Jacqueline Rohrbach and IndiGo Marketing are taking over the clubhouse to celebrate yesterday's release, The Worst Werewolf (The Immutable Moon #1) from NineStar Press! Rohrbach shares where she writes, delivers an excerpt of the paranormal romance and hosts a giveaway--win your choice of NineStar Press eBook! Good luck!

Title: The Worst Werewolf

Series: The Immutable Moon, Book 1

Author: Jacqueline Rohrbach

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: February 13th

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 67600

Genre: Romance, paranormal, gay, lgbt, werewolves, vampires

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Synopsis

The werewolf said, “Race you to the road.” It was the last thing Tovin heard before his life became uncomfortably complex.

Before that night in the forest, Tovin was the type of guy to play it safe. Happy wearing the same shoes, buying the same deodorant, and eating the same meals day after day, he thought his simple existence was pretty great. At least until his boyfriend dumps him for being boring. Heartbroken but on a mission of vengeance, Tovin decides to start a new life filled with excitement, danger, and maybe a meal from a questionable food truck.

A date with Garvey would start it all. Handsome, sophisticated, the man is everything Tovin thinks he needs. It’s a pity he turns out to be a werewolf on a mission to save his pack from destruction.

Now Tovin is caught up in Garvey’s world.

Abducted and forced to be the bloodservant of a powerful Alpha, he lands right in the middle of a brewing conflict that threatens to destroy humanity.

Excerpt

City people came to the forest with heads full of Whitmanesque romantic notions. Most didn’t discover themselves there. Rather, they were found by search and rescue, cold and shivering from disenchantment. And sometimes pneumonia.

Garvey seemed to fall into that camp. At least he sounded that way when he said, “The forest is magical, right?”

Carpenter ants bit his arms and legs, rocks dug into his butt cheeks, pine needles stung the palms of his hands, and droplets of deer poo splattered around the area gave the air a musky odor. The forest sucked. It was about as non-magical as a place could get, the very definition of earthy. But his date’s ass was spellbinding, so Tovin remained agreeable. “Sure,” he said, “this is great.”

Tovin wasn’t dumb, only horny. He’d heard countless stories about people having sex in the woods that all turned out okay. Kids in high school talked about little else, each locker room story was the start of a cautionary tale that ended in sexual conquest, not anything terrible. Even adults did it. His co-workers met women out here. All of them were fine. Just fine.

“...and that’s why I’m here.” Tovin was done explaining himself to Garvey.

Garvey turned. “So you’re here because you finally decided to take a risk and treat yourself?”

“Yes.”

Garvey chuckled. “Oh dear.”

Nervous, Tovin fiddled with the edge of the blanket and sipped at overly sweet wine as his companion fussed to secure the backpack he brought with him. Garvey insisted on lugging the junk with them to, as he said, do it right. A blanket, some cheap wine, a few candles. Tovin wasn’t exactly dazzled. His date was as cheap as he was weird.

Once settled, Garvey was right down to business—taking off his shirt, his shoes, and undoing the top button of his pants. “Too much too soon?” He didn’t wait for a response, only browsed through Tovin’s facial features. “Pants it is. To be clear, we did come to the forest to screw, yeah?”

Tovin nodded. “Fantastic, then. Let’s get on with it.” Given the precipitous nature of the man’s undressing, Tovin expected a rough, demanding mouth upon his, taking what it wanted. Screwing, basically. Instead, Garvey traced the lines of Tovin’s face with soft kisses. He used the back of his hand to tenderly follow the same path. Noses bumped. Brown eyes continually met his as if asking, Is this okay? Do you like this?

Tentative, Tovin reached out to touch the nest of hair at the nape of Garvey’s neck, drawing away when the man arched his eyebrow at the gesture. “Sorry.” Tovin mumbled to his lap.

“I’m sorry, too, sweet treat. I want you to touch it, just not like that. It’s not going to kill you.” Garvey presented his head, shook it slightly so that the hair tussled and realigned itself around his crown.

Tovin stammered out a quick reply, “No, it’s made of keratin. Keratin would not kill you. Unless it’s in horns. Or nails. Then, I guess it could.” Inwardly, Tovin sighed at himself when Garvey tilted his head and once again raised his eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous.”

“Noted,” Garvey quipped. “Touch my glorious mane of non-lethal keratin, then. It’s the best type of keratin, I say.”

Tovin was in the process of reaching for the second time—faster, slightly more confident—when two howls interrupted. He jumped at the noise, once again pulling back his fingers. He withdrew to the edge of the blanket. “What was that?”

Garvey smiled his same swagger smile, the right side of his mouth curving so that one lone incisor poked out of his lips. “Feral dogs.” He bent again to kiss at the corners of Tovin’s mouth. “And just when I thought you were going to make your move at last. You are so much work.”

“Feral dogs? What are they doing?”

“Being feral dogs. Hunting. Don’t worry. They’re not hunting you, sweet treat.” A reassuring hand traced the length of Tovin’s jaw. “They probably got scent of a rabbit, a squirrel...a something.”

“How do you know? They sound close.”

Garvey’s eyes darkened. “I know,” he paused slightly to bring Tovin’s mouth level with his, “because you’ve already been caught.”

Where I Write

My work area is pretty sparse. Honestly, it needs to be or I get off track and don’t get any work done at all. All I really need is water, carmex, my laptop, and my desktop. I like to switch between projects a lot, and I’m terrible about remembering which draft of what story is where.

Chompsky (yes, really) protects me from any gnomes who might come along. He also provides a quick laugh if I need one.

Harry Savage (yes, really) is also in my cheering squad. He’s mostly around if I need to get myself back into Garvey’s voice. Occasionally, I’ll use him to scold one of the dogs. I sort of stopped doing that after they got him down from his safe space and slobbered on his foot. I was able to save him before they did more damage.

Actual hairy savages sleep behind me on what I’m going to call our guest bed. I gave up trying to keep blankets on it. That bed is dog territory. Whenever my husband’s grandfather comes to visit, they allow him access (although they do try to drag his stuff away). Please don’t tell him or show him the picture of how the bed looks when he’s not here. I’m pretty sure he’d be horrified.

My desktop is open so I can play Banished whenever I feel the urge to let settlers die. I’d recommend the game to other writers who love to play as they write (i.e. procrastinate). It has soothing music, and you can set up your town and then let it run and see what happens. Spoiler alert: settlers starve, they freeze, they die of the pox. The game tells you their names, their ages, and how they died. Good story material. Also, you might get a trading boat before things go belly up, and that’s an achievement.

Purchase

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Meet the Author

Jacqueline Rohrbach is a 36-year-old creative writer living in windy central Washington. When she isn’t writing strange books about bloodsucking magical werewolves, she’s baking sweets, or walking her two dogs, Nibbler and Mulder. She also loves cheesy ghost shows, especially when the hosts call out the ghost out like he wants to brawl with it in a bar. You know, “Come out here, you coward! You like to haunt little kids. Haunt me!” Jackee laughs at this EVERY time.

She’s also a hopeless World of Warcraft addict. In her heyday, she was a top parsing disc priest. She became a paladin to fight Deathwing, she went back to a priest to cuddle pandas, and then she went to a shaman because I guess she thought it would be fun to spend an entire expansion underpowered and frustrated. Boomchicken for Legion!