Alois d'Pierrepont and Marton Prawer have been attending black market antiquities events trying to recover treasure stolen by Nazis during World War II. Marton is particularly interested in a certain missing Picasso.
Following the trail to France, the two stumble into far more than they bargained for when a shady auction they're attending in Paris’s Latin Quarter is raided by Interpol. Alois’s uncle Frederick, from Bring Me Edelweiss, is soon hot on the case along with his lover Joel McIntyre.
After recovering the journal of a Nazi general the four men race across western Europe, chased by fascists desperate to find the treasure for themselves. Gunfights and car chases ensue as the group uses a map in the journal to track down the treasure and its contents, rumored to include the fabled Spear of Destiny.
Excerpt
Alois d’Pierrepont knelt at the door to the study and pulled a small black pouch from his breast pocket. With a grunt, he undid the button on his Versace “Black Baroque” evening jacket. It fit a little too snugly for squatting. Opening the bag, he selected two picks, inserted them in the door lock, and went to work.
“How’s it going?” Marton Prawer asked, appearing beside him and flashing his winning smile.
Alois looked up at his boyfriend. I’d go a lot quicker if you wouldn’t hang on my shoulder, he thought. “Just bloody fine, dear,” he grumbled between gritted teeth.
They’d come to the party to find evidence that the host collected Nazi memorabilia. Marton was obsessed with returning stolen loot to the Jewish people. A noble pursuit. And being a history buff and amateur archaeologist himself, Alois found him fascinating and intense.
The owner of this house had a reputation for acquiring antiques with a sketchy provenance. But reputation was not proof, so the two young men were looking for something they could leverage for information. Something that might get them an in to the black market antiquities scene. To be fair, Alois was at a loss as to how to accomplish that, but Marton was determined. Seems a bit of a stretch.
It was a good thing he was able to use his own contacts to get an invite to this party, but . . . May wind up paying for that. That particular person, a socialite named Denis, was a pill and likely to bring it up to gain his own leverage. He let out a long, deep breath. So far, it’s worth it. After all, they’d made it here. But still, the games people play. It’s all so exhausting.
He wiped beads of perspiration off his forehead and frowned. Locks never gave him this much trouble. Then again, he wasn’t used to performing under pressure. Before, it was always a lark, a trick he picked up as a kid running around his grandfather’s drafty old home, picking the locks on all the doors for fun. Though he’d long ago gone pro and bought a professional lockpick set, this was different. They were on a mission.
“Take a breath.” Marton’s voice was easy and soothing.
Alois shook out his hand and let out a long exhalation, then went back to it. After a moment, the tumblers clicked easily like they’d been waiting for him. The lock let out a satisfying chunk.
“Sorry, just a bit nervous.” Alois chuckled as he stood. “Never done this ‘in the field,’ as they say. Before, it was always a party trick or me larking about. Never actually tried housebreaking before.”
Marton looked up at Alois and gave him a kiss on the lips. “You did great.” He ran a hand along the front of Alois’s slacks, teasing him until he hardened. “I’ll give you something special when we get back to your place.”
A deep moan escaped Alois’s chest. “I’m looking forward to it already.” Grabbing the door handle, he stepped inside the office and flicked on the light.
They stepped into a nondescript modern office.
“Oh,” Marton said in surprise.
“What, were you expecting a Nazi flag on the wall?” Alois asked, nudging the shorter man in the side. “Or an autographed photo of Hitler?”
About the Author
Kyle is an artist, playwright, and writer. As a playwright, Kyle has had his plays performed in New York at the NY International Fringe Festival, and the Midtown International Theater Festival. As an artist and illustrator, he has had his art exhibited in both New Orleans and New York.
Born in Hawaii, Kyle is an Army brat and grew up in Erlangen, Germany, as well as Augusta, Georgia, and several cities in Texas. After stints in Louisiana and New York, he resides again in Honolulu with his black Labrador Retriever Brady.
Finding love and coffee in the unlikeliest of places…
After finding him in bed with another man, Roger Havemeyer needs to escape his life and his ex. Dale Devereux, an old friend of his now lives up near Woodstock with his boyfriend Talgat. After visiting Dale and Talgat one weekend, Roger decides a change of scenery may be just what he needs. Roger’s job as a marketing executive allows him to work remotely now, so he puts in an offer on a house. One evening, while deleting a slew of emails, he accidentally clicks on a link to a website called CammBate. Not familiar with the website, he finds himself really drawn to one of the young models, which surprises him, since he rarely likes younger guys.
Wesley Phelps is a twenty-year-old college student paying his way through college. He has a small apartment that he shares with his best friend. A friend of his told him that with his good looks, he could make a lot of money on CammBate, so he started performing. Even as the money starts rolling in from his online sex work, he keeps his job as a part-time barista at the local coffee shop, Java Junkie Café & Roastery.
After closing the deal on his house, Roger walks into Java Junkie Café & Roastery and almost has a heart attack when he recognizes Wes. Of course, Roger is used to their ‘relationship’ being completely one-sided. Wes finds himself drawn to the attractive forty-year-old but isn’t even sure if the older man knows he’s alive.
Roger and Wes must work to get past their twenty-year age gap, and Roger also must learn how to cope with Wes’ jobs…both of them.
Reader advisory: This book features online sex performance.
Excerpt
Christmas music filled the elevator as I rode in silence up to our apartment, thankful my new client had signed on the dotted line with little fuss. I think we had both been trying to get home for the holidays. Nothing sped up the process like a late afternoon meeting on the day before Christmas, I guessed.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the empty hallway. Even on busy days, people in our building were quiet, respectful and kept to themselves, which was how I liked it. My fiancé, Jeremy, wasn’t expecting me for at least another couple of hours. I kind of looked forward to surprising him. We had reservations at nine for dinner, so it would be nice to chill out, maybe throw on some news before we headed into the frosty night. Well, for New York City, it wasn’t the coldest Christmas I’d seen. In fact, it was downright seasonal.
I pulled my keys out of my pocket and slipped the right one into the lock before turning it clockwise and pushing open the door. I stepped in and was immediately surprised by the dimmed lights and a handful of lit candles glowing inside. Sometimes, Jeremy takes relaxing baths. I opted not to yell out and didn’t want to break his mood. Hell, if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll slip into the tub and join him.
I hung up my coat on the hook near the door and set my briefcase down on the counter. I walked into the living room and immediately saw clothes strewn about the apartment. Well then, I thought to myself. If that’s how he wants this evening, I don’t want to disappoint him. We’d played this little game before. I’d come home, Jeremy would have stripped and had been waiting for me on our bed. Once, for Valentine’s Day, he’d had a trail of rose petals leading me into the bedroom.
Without thinking, I shrugged out of my suit coat, laying it over the back of the sofa. I kicked off my loafers and made quick work of my tie. Before long, I was naked as the day I’d been born. I stared down at my washboard stomach. Not as flat as when I’d been a teenager, but I still looked pretty damn hot. Just staring at my nude body and its tightly manscaped features had me growing in anticipation.
The bedroom door was closed. I reached out, grabbed the handle and twisted it. I pushed it open quietly, just in case Jeremy had fallen asleep while he was waiting for me. The thought of walking in on a nude Jeremy lying on our bed facedown definitely caused my cock to twitch. I looked down at all eight inches of me standing as straight and hard as a ship’s mast.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust.
“What the fuck!” I yelled.
Jeremy was mid-thrust into some young twink’s ass.
He whipped his head in my direction. “Roger,” Jeremy started, his voice trailing off.
I stared in disbelief as Jeremy’s cock sat nestled in the guy. The twink, whose face was shoved into the mattress, lifted his head and looked at me.
“Oh…hey, Roger,” Avery said. “Wanna join?” He winked at me and licked the top of his lip.
Part of me wanted to go over and shove something between those lips to see if he’d choke on it. But with my luck, he’d have no gag reflex. Instead, I narrowed my eyes and said, “Avery Addington.” I sounded like a principal who wasn’t too surprised to see a pupil in the main office. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Avery looked at me with a ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look, before he said, “Uh…having a good time.”
My nails bit into my palms in clenched fists. Jeremy sat there with his cock still sitting inside the kid. Then he slowly slid out.
“And you’re not wearing a condom!” I was pretty sure neighbors up and down the hall heard that one.
“Don’t worry, daddy,” Avery said, drawing out the word ‘daddy’ like it was some kind of badge of honor for reaching the ancient age of forty. “I’m totally on PrEP.”
“I’m. No. One’s. Father.”
I knew if I didn’t get out of there, I was going to say a few things I wouldn’t want to repeat in polite company, not that Avery was polite. Avery was one of those kids who had a reputation, and now I saw the reputation in all its glory splayed out on my bed…and on the sheets I’d bought!
I shut the door.
I looked out at the living room. Only then did I notice that there’d been two pairs of pants on the floor. How had I been so blind?
I walked over to where I’d discarded my clothes and heard the bedroom door open.
“You don’t get the right to be angry with me,” Jeremy said.
“What?” I spun around and looked at Jeremy. “I’m not the one who was fucking around on my fiancé…on Christmas Eve!”
“Well, if you weren’t working all the time…”
“I work all the time so we can afford to live here, so we can afford that dream wedding you’ve been wanting.”
“Hey! It’s not my fault I’m having a problem landing a job.”
“Jeremy,” I said, trying to keep the venom out of my voice as much as possible, “you’ve been having a problem landing work for years. When are you going to realize that you’re a two-bit hack of an actor who will never make it big? Sure, you’re hot, but you don’t have any fucking talent.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I kind of regretted them—but not really.
“Well… How long have you been holding that in?”
I breathed in through my nose and let it out. “This is neither the time nor the place to have this conversation.”
“Oh, and why not?”
“You’re naked. I’m naked. And that two-bit hustling twink is in my bedroom.”
“Our bedroom.”
“As if that makes it better?” I groused.
Avery chose that moment to make his appearance. He reached up and rested his arm on Jeremy’s shoulder as he draped himself around my fiancé. I couldn’t help but focus downward, seeing that Avery was the only one in the room who was on full alert.
“I am not a hustler,” Avery said.
“You’re what? Twelve—?”
“I’m twenty-five, I’ll have you know.”
“And yet you act like you’re a child. You’re the fucking gay version of Peter Pan. All the rumors about you are true, aren’t they?”
“I don’t pay attention to rumors. Anyone who has a problem with me isn’t my problem.”
“What the fuck ever,” I said. “I just can’t—”
“We need to talk about this,” Jeremy said, cutting into my dressing down of Avery.
“Talk about what?” I asked. In the flickering candlelight, I realized that all three of us were standing there stark naked. I was so mad at Jeremy that I hadn’t thought about the fact that I was letting an absolute stranger stare at my naked body. “I can’t talk to you now…not like this—”
“Roger—”
“Don’t, Roger, me.” I found my underwear on the ground, reached down, grabbed them and pulled them up. When I was finally covered, I looked back up at Avery and Jeremy. “I hope you two are happy together.”
“Oh, I’m not looking for a relationship,” Avery said, with almost a hint of disgust at the thought of it. “I found him on Grindr and thought he looked like fun.”
“Grindr!” I yelled again. “You’re on Grindr?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Like what? Like you created a profile on a dating app behind my back.” Only then did I realize what other implications this had. “Is Avery even the first?”
The look on Jeremy’s face was all I needed to see. Avery clearly wasn’t the first. My face went slack.
“Roger…”
I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I’d never felt more betrayed by anyone in my entire life.
“Roger!”
I got dressed. I heard Jeremy’s voice in the background, but I’d honestly stopped listening. At some point, Avery had slunk back into the bedroom. I looked up at one point and could see the kid acting like he owned the place. Avery was propped up with his arms crossed behind his head. The light from the living room provided me enough to see the smug look on the little prick’s face.
I laced up my shoes, stood, walked to the front door, grabbed my briefcase, pulled down my coat and left.
Even as I shut the door behind myself, I could hear Jeremy calling after me. I walked in a haze to the elevator. A happy, smiling couple stood in the small box hand-in-hand when the doors opened. That should have been me. As much as I wanted to make a snide comment about how love was fake, I plastered on a smile and turned my back to the couple. On the ride down, a tear fell down my cheek.
I walked through the lobby and quickly realized I did not know where I was going. Out in the cold air, I pulled out my phone and pulled up my favorite hotel app. On Christmas Eve, there wasn’t exactly much availability, and the prices for booking this late made my eyes bulge. I found a hotel I’d always wanted to stay at and booked it. I had the money in my savings, so I might as well enjoy the stay. I booked for three nights. I needed distance. I needed to figure out what my next move was.
Fuck! I have nothing with me. Thankfully, Duane Reade was always open, so I could get my necessities there. If I hurried, I could buy some new clothes for a few days. At least, I hoped I could find a department store still open. I hailed the first cab I saw and said, “Take me to Macy’s Harold Square.”
The guy got a weary look on his face before saying, “Whatever. It’s your funeral.”
I leaned back and stared at my reflection in the cab’s window as we passed the familiar sights of the city. What am I going to do now?
Jason Wrench is a professor in the Department of Communication at SUNY New Paltz and has authored/edited 15+ books and over 35 academic research articles. He is also an avid reader and regularly reviews books for publishers in a wide number of genres. This book marks his first full-length work of fiction.
If you were losing your humanity, how hard would you fight to hold on to it? What would you be willing to do, to give up, to make sure you remained the human you were, rather than the demon you seemed to be turning into? Hope McKinley, former advertising student turned newly undead, finds herself wrestling with these questions and so much more.
Blood Harvest delves into the depths of the human psyche and grapples with the struggle between light and dark in all of us as seen through the eyes of one forced out of the human race and fighting to return.
“Shh.” He trailed the finger down my chin and rested it in the crook of my neck. I suppressed a shudder. He leaned in, too close for comfort, hands gripping my hips tighter and guiding my pelvis toward his while his lips grazed my neck. My stomach flipped. My insides felt like they were on fire.
Did he just sniff me?
“Ian, what’re you—”
“Quiet.” He kissed me once, twice, his lips caressing, teasing, the heat in me rising, then turning into a sharp, stabbing pain. A pain that shot through my shoulder, up my neck, and exploded into the back of my head. My eyes widened and then closed tight, mouth open in a silent scream as I tried to breathe. I forced myself forward, trying to push against him, but he was heavier than me, and all it seemed to do was aggravate him. Ian slammed his weight against me, and I yelped as the bricks dug into my back. The way he had me pinned, I couldn’t even shift enough to get a knee in his groin.
Shit, now what?
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had people bite me in a kinky sort of way, but this was so much more. He was drawing blood, my blood, his mouth hot and wet on my neck. The gentle motion of his lips sent waves of electric heat through me, cascading down, the pain giving way to a pleasurable numbness, and I thrust my hips against him hungrily as his teeth sank deeper. I groaned, my body slumping against his as my legs started to give out. It hurt like hell, but it felt so good. I just didn’t want to fight anymore.
Everything began to blur and melt away as I succumbed to the bliss. It felt like falling; you know the end is coming but you just don’t know when. Is this what it’s like to die? What a way to go.
Before I was able to let myself completely go, something hot and sticky pressed against my lips. It smelled of old pennies and leather and cologne. Smelled like Ian. Without warning, a hand fisted into my hair, forcing my mouth on the warm liquid. I had no desire to taste it, but something inside compelled me, drew me to it. It smelled so good.
The liquid burned the whole way down, igniting my throat and stomach. I was torn between wanting to throw up and wanting to drink more. This was insane. What was I doing?
The mingling of pleasure and pain was almost too much, and soon I was seeing white. Still, I refused to let go.
Wait. Let go? What am I holding?
I finally blinked bleary eyes open to find myself sucking on Ian’s bleeding arm, my fingers clutching him like a vise. I still refused to let go. In fact, I started sucking harder, drawing more of his blood into my mouth, throat convulsing, burning, as I gulped it down.
After what seemed like several excruciating hours, he pulled away, and I whimpered like a kicked puppy. He knelt and kissed me gently, licking the excess blood from my mouth.
“I’ll be back, Hope. Until then, take care of yourself.”
I felt him run his hand through my hair and then the cold cement as I hit it hard.
I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t your typical vampire love story. In fact, love is a laughable concept for me, especially after the shit I’m about to get dragged through.
But you can see for yourself. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?
Meghan Schubert, born in 1985 in the greater city of Philadelphia, has always been a nerd at heart. Dubbing herself an “elder millennial,” Meghan grew up with a love of video games, horror, and Goosebumps books. In high school, she wrote short stories for the school newspaper before working her way up to editor. That love turned into a passion when she took up Video Game Design in college, where the premise of her first novel came to light. Her pursuit of game design was short-lived, however, when Meghan realized that programming was not her forte; the stories behind the games were. Thus, a writer was born.
And the mysterious Order of the Golden Dawn have big plans for their newest ankou and his deathly bandalore.
Life as a servant of death has its challenges.
But the biggest one of all is Silas’s daemonic guardian, Pitch.
He may look like heaven, but he’s making Silas's life all kinds of hell.
The daemon is arrogant, egotistical and his appetite for violence and tea cakes is fast outgrowing the small village where they have been recuperating since their run-in with Black Annis.
Now, the increasingly unstable Blight is causing new havoc, and fresh monstrosities are emerging.
Pitch and Sickle are back in the saddle, and on their way to the haunted Forest of Dean.
But can Silas rely on his guardian’s protection?
Or will Pitch prove to be the most dangerous encounter of all?
The second installment pretty much picks up where the first book ended. Silas, our reluctant hero, a newly arisen Ankou, who can see troubled spirits and lay them to rest, is slowly healing from his most recent battle. His relationship with his guardian, daemon Tobias, is still quite fragile, often with Silas being the whipping boy for Tobias foul mood.
Overall, I enjoyed this second installment as some questions were answered, mainly dealing with Tobias’s mysterious past and why he’s been banished to the human realm, but also in the works is a greater conspiracy that involves evil causing trouble in the unlikeliest of places. Just know that everything about this series is S-L-O-W. The reveals, the character development, the romance (still just anxious lusty feelings that one tries to deny while the other tries to aggressively incite). Silas is very much tentative in his role of fighting evil spirits, but he’s sticking up for himself a bit more despite being stymied often with the mysteries of his unknown former life and his irrational fears. Tobias continues to be an absolute unapologetic profligate, but one can see that his sharp, often antagonistic caustic personality is just his protective mechanism, and it will be quite interesting to see how his walls crumble.
This is labeled as gaslamp fantasy, but it’s literally historic paranormal horror intermixed with all sorts of creatures who have villainous hidden agendas who treat humanity as their playthings, while the still mysterious Order of the Dawn tries to mitigate this sinister manipulation. Mix that with the slowest of all slow burns and you’ve got a solid, rich AU with plenty of flawed characters who fight the good fight and who hopefully will find redemption and happiness along the way!
“Well, isn't queer adulthood, if one is lucky, having the impossible childhood of your desires?”
― Joss Lake, Future Feeling
Blurb
Carl Young’s biggest secret: he’s always felt like Cara Young. Through the years, he acknowledged his authentic female self in ways he kept hidden in the shadows. The makeup, the dresses, the shoes -- all of them represented his most longed-for desires and his deepest shame.
When Carl’s husband Roberto comes home early from work to discover Cara in her wig, makeup, dress, and high heels, he’s shocked. Who is this person he married decades ago? He flees, leaving their home in Chicago for the obliviousness of the sunny skies of Southern California.
Cara begins making tentative steps into a world she imagined would always remain secret. She ventures out, dressing the only way she feels whole. Publicly claiming her identity, she’s terrified, but also filled with joy when she discovers there are others like her, people who will welcome her with open arms and support.
But for both Roberto and Cara, their long-term and love-filled marriage is now a challenge with which they both must reckon. Does her transition mean following separate paths? Or forging a new one ... together?
Excerpt
He tried to hold his discomfort and shivering in abeyance as he climbed the boulders at the north end of the beach and sat down on the cold and wet rock. He wished he’d worn a warmer coat because he longed to stay here a while, in the quiet, the only sound the rhythmic pull and push of the waves against the shore. There was something mesmerizing about watching the flakes drift down, disappearing into the pewter-colored water. Visibility was nil, but he could see the sun above as a white orb, a glow amidst the overcast skies.
“You know, it’s all right.”
The voice came to him more through his head than his ears. He turned.
Sitting next to him was his mother. Carl wasn’t surprised.
She was as she appeared when he was a little boy -- a beautiful woman whose Sicilian heritage endowed her with the most penetrating green eyes and the creamiest olive complexion. “And the biggest nose,” she’d probably add, laughing. Staring out at the waves, her face was unlined, her hair glossy, dark, curling around her face. She wore a mouton coat he’d remembered from his childhood. Once upon a time, he’d slip into her closet and don the coat; it was unbelievably soft and warm. Its satin lining was a wonderful contrast to the plushness of the fur. He could smell his mother’s perfume and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke on the coat.
It was almost like being given a hug from her.
“What’s all right?” he asked, almost as if talking to his younger -- and dead -- mother on a beach in the middle of a blizzard was the most normal thing in the world. “The fact that you lost your battle with cancer?” The tears welling in his eyes worried him because he feared they’d freeze. “Because, Mom, I can tell you, that is not all right.” He wiped wet snow from his cheeks. “What will I do without you? Who will I call on Sundays? Who will care about what happens to me? Who will listen now? How will I feel the hole left in your absence?”
He had a lot of questions.
She waved his concerns away. Her nails were long, blood red, just as they’d been when she was young. She stopped caring as she got older and kept them clipped short, no polish. “Don’t be so dramatic. You always were. I was old, honey. And the cancer they said they got all of?” She chuckled. “They were wrong.” She shrugged. “It happens. The big C stands for cancer, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, it also stands for cunning, because it is. It comes down to a fight for survival. I take comfort in the fact that even though the big C won the battle, I won the war.” She smiled, looking Carl in the eye. “No more host. That cancer just lost his job.”
They sat silently for a long time. Carl wondered if he’d died and now they were in some sort of afterlife. It was quiet enough. The still made it seem as though they were the only two people on the planet.
“Well, what did you mean then? What’s all right?”
She turned and reached out her hands, not quite reaching his cheeks. He wondered if she was capable of touch or if her hands would reach him as a cold gust. “You. You’re all right. Just as you are. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. I wish I had told you this when you were little and I caught you wearing my clothes or makeup.” She shrugged. “Hindsight. But Carl, you’re okay and you will be okay. Don’t let anyone stop you.”
“From what?”
“From being exactly who you are.”
Carl closed his eyes and that caused the tears to fall at last. They made him colder, but they made him human.
When he opened his eyes again, he was alone on the beach.
About the Author
Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…”
Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their two rescue dogs, Kodi and Joaquin.
There are a few things Nolan Ouellet has come to accept about himself.
One: that his future with the NHL was irrevocably destroyed thanks to his reckless actions as a teenager destroying his knee.
Two: that he will never fall in love because the very idea of it sends his skin crawling.
Three: he will bed as many NHL players as humanly possible before he retires his game.
And four: he will never apologize for who he is and what he wants.
Then two men come barreling into his life and turn everything he knows upside down.
He still won’t play for the NHL, and he still won’t change who he is because he’s fought too long and too hard to accept his identity. But suddenly his future is starting to look a little different than he originally planned.
And that scares the absolute hell out of him.
When he met Marko Rudenko and Luka Wagner—two veterans of the Denver Huskies—they were supposed to be a game, just like everyone else. But now all he can think about is how to keep them around without compromising the person he’s become and ruining the love Marko and Luka have for each other.
Excerpt
“Is there going to be a fight?” Nolan asked.
The guy scoffed, glancing at him. “Worse. Hockey players.”
Nolan’s heart rammed against his chest. Not that it could possibly be Marko or Luka, but he hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them since the awkward incident at the rink. He hadn’t even been letting himself think about it.
He swallowed thickly. “They come in here a lot?”
“Every once in a while,” the guy said, then lowered his voice. “Mostly because it’s the furthest thing from a sports bar so no one’s going to notice if they take someone home.”
Nolan heard that for the warning it was: keep your mouth shut. The guy might not love having professional athletes in his bar, but he also knew it was good for business.
He forced himself not to look, bowing over his drink. “Tell me when it’s safe to escape, and close out my tab.”
“Actually, put his drink on ours.”
Nolan’s entire body froze.
Fuck. Fucking shit fuck shit.
He would have recognized Luka’s voice even if he was concussed and under water. His throat went tight, but he tried to offer something like a smile, though given how wide Luka’s eyes were behind his glasses, he realized he was probably grimacing.
His heart sank even lower when another body slid up against Luka’s and stared him down. “You don’t answer call or text. We think maybe you died.”
Yeah, okay. He did kind of deserve that. He’d just left Marko hanging like an asshole, and the guy didn’t deserve it. But he also didn’t deserve Nolan’s mess when it was obvious Marko and Luka were both capable of a love that straight up repulsed Nolan down to his core.
“You know these guys?” the bartender asked. He crossed his arms over his chest in a protective way, and Nolan felt a pulse of affection for the total stranger.
“No. We don’t know him. He’s total weirdo who stalk us,” Marko said.
Luka elbowed him hard. “Stop being an asshole. Yes, we know him.”
Nolan sighed and gave a nod. “Old friends. In fact, put their drinks on my tab. Get them each one of these,” he said, tapping his glass.
Both Marko and Luka started to protest, but the bartender ignored them both with a shrug and walked off to fill the order.
“Why you being child?” Marko demanded.
“Pretty sure a child couldn’t afford a twenty-six-dollar glass of bourbon for his two friends,” Nolan fired back.
Luka’s brows shot up, and he shoved his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “Why the fuck are you drinking that?”
“Because it tastes amazing,” he said. And because I can afford it now thanks to a slew of online strangers who pay me to shove dildos up my ass. But he wasn’t going to say that part aloud as tempting as it was. “You don’t want it?”
As if summoned, the bartender arrived with three new glasses, and Nolan took his, watching the other two out of his periphery. Marko showed no hesitation when snatching up his, but Luka was a little more hesitant.
“It’s not poisoned,” Nolan grumbled.
Marko sighed, then hip-checked Luka out of his way and sat on the wooden stool. It groaned under his impossibly thick layers of muscle, and Nolan tried not to stare at the way his arms flexed as he laid one on the bar top and used the other to lift his glass to his mouth.
“Okay, we talk about weird moment, or we just get drunk and pretend it never happen?”
Nolan didn’t think the fucker was just going to come out with it like that. Guilt slammed into him as he looked over at Luka and wondered if this was some sort of confrontation because Nolan had flirted with them both and gotten a little too close to Marko recently. He swallowed down another delightfully spiced mouthful of liquor.
“Should I get drunk for this conversation?”
“Looks like you’re already halfway there,” Luka pointed out. He wedged himself between Marko and Nolan, leaning his elbow on Marko’s shoulder in a gesture that telegraphed they were together.
As they should be, Nolan thought bitterly, but he wasn’t feeling particularly generous considering how badly he wanted them both. “Yeah, well. I came here to drink my feelings.”
“Mm. You should try feelings burritos,” Marko said. “Is much better. No hangover.”
“Nah, just burrito farts,” Luka said, then laughed when Marko rolled his eyes. “Please, you know it’s true. There’s a reason we don’t sleep together when you and Ravi have burrito night.”
Nolan felt his ears go red, and he had to look away. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him because, for an aromantic asshole, he loved watching the people he cared about living their best lives. So why did it force bile up his throat to think about losing these two to each other?
They wanted things that made his skin crawl.
He jolted slightly when warm fingers touched his wrist, and he took a breath before he returned his attention to the two men. “I’m still firmly team bourbon.”
“Are you still team Luka and Marko?” Luka asked so quietly Nolan mostly had to read his lips over the music.
He swallowed heavily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you stop talking to me,” Marko said, his booming voice rising over the music. “We have moment, then you just leave. And then”—he sucked in air through his teeth—“nothing.”
About the Author
E.M. Lindsey is a non-binary writer who lives in the southeast United States, close to the water where their heart lies.
Fast cars, outlaw country boys, snarky werewolves, vengeful ghosts, menacing monsters, and a love that can’t be denied.
NEW RELEASE - BOOK 2
Book Title: Sins of the Fathers—MM Supernatural Suspense
Author: Morgan Brice
Publisher: Darkwind Press
Cover Artist: Natania Barron
Length: 62 000 words/ 213 pages
Release Date: August 28, 2022
Genres: Urban fantasy, MM paranormal romance
Tropes: Hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, established relationship, evolving relationship, learning to trust, dealing with the past, dealing with family secrets.
Themes: Letting go of the past, moving on after loss, intergenerational trauma, family secrets
Heat Rating: 4 flames
It is book 2 in the series but can be read standalone. It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Reckoning with the past just might destroy Grady and Dawson’s plans for the future
Blurb
Three deadly accidents that might have been magical murder. A dark witch with a grudge against the King family. Federal agents with supernatural abilities. And, as usual, Dawson and Grady are smack dab in the crosshairs of trouble even they can’t outrun.
When Grady King’s brother Knox is targeted by shady characters, old secrets, coverups, and lies come to light. Grady and his boyfriend Dawson begin to question what really happened when Grady’s grandparents and Dawson’s parents died. Then agents with the Tennessee Bureau of Supernatural Investigation show up pursuing a different case, only to discover that the crimes appear to be connected, with a vengeful dark witch at the center of the plot. And since monsters never sleep, Grady and Dawson are still carrying out their duty to hunt dangerous paranormal creatures, restless spirits, nefarious faeries, Civil War ghosts, creepy cryptids, and things that go bump in the night. It’s all part of the centuries-old King family mandate to protect the people of Cunanoon Mountain and Transylvania County, a mission Grady and Dawson are sworn to fulfill.
But when it looks like something is hunting the people Grady loves, it’s time to dig into the family’s painful past, uncovering dangerous details of long-ago hunts against immortal creatures who never forget—or forgive.
Can they solve the mystery and figure out who’s behind the deaths, or will they bear the deadly consequences of their hidden history? Reckoning with the past just might destroy Grady and Dawson’s plans for the future and set loose a tide of malicious magic that could sweep them all away.
Sins of the Fathers is a thrill-packed MM romance adventure full of fast cars, outlaw country boys, snarky werewolves, vengeful ghosts, menacing monsters, and a love that can’t be denied.
Excerpt from Sins of the Fathers
Dawson’s heart went out to Jason, worried about his long-time partner without news of how he was doing and now afraid of being left alone.
“Lily sent us here to talk.” Grady tag teamed. “She knew you’d be upset. She also knew how much you two loved each other.”
Lily Franklin was the long-time Meals on Wheels volunteer who had delivered to Jason and Everett for many years. She’d become a good friend and was Everett’s emergency contact once Jason passed away.
A door slammed. Grady’s head snapped up, and he shot a questioning look at Dawson. Dawson reached out to take his hand, intertwining their fingers and holding their hands in the air.
“We’re like you and Everett. We understand wanting to stay together.” Dawson picked up the conversation.
The planchette trembled before beginning to move. “D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S,” Dawson said as the pointer moved.
“Dangerous to admit what you and Jason were to each other?” Grady asked.
The planchette moved to “YES.”
“It can be, but plenty of people are ‘out’ these days. Even married,” Dawson answered.
A framed photo rocked back and forth on the mantle. Dawson saw that it showed two men in their thirties decades ago on a sunny day, grinning with arms slung over each other’s shoulders.
“If Everett can’t come home, do you think you could go to him?” Grady asked.
The planchette went wild, circling “YES” over and over.
“Is there something here that means a lot to you that you could ‘travel’ with if we took it to Everett?” Dawson looked around, wondering what objects among the collections of a shared lifetime might be special enough to anchor a ghost.
A crash sounded from the back of the house. They headed toward the noise and found the door to a bedroom open and a painting on the floor in a broken frame. As soon as Dawson entered, he was shoved by invisible hands sending him stumbling toward one side of an unmade king-size bed.
He nearly fell, and when he braced himself against the edge of the mattress, he saw a leather jewelry tray on the nightstand, and in it, two silver military rings.
“These?” Dawson felt a puff of cold air in response.
“What are they?’ Grady stood in the doorway, respecting the privacy of the old man who had lived there.
“Army service rings. Vietnam, if I’m right.” Dawson picked up the rings and looked at them in the light.
“Lily said they met when Everett was a nurse at the VA hospital, and Jason came home wounded from the war,” Grady replied.
Dawson’s gaze went to a photo of a younger version of the two men standing together in uniform. They were circumspect in their pose, but Dawson imagined that he could see a slight lean, a bit less space between them than usual, and broad grins.
That could have been Grady and me if we’d been born then. I’m glad they found each other and were happy.
Fast cars. Outlaw country boys. A love that can’t be denied.
Snarky werewolves, vengeful ghosts and menacing monsters.
Blurb
Fast cars. Outlaw country boys. Snarky werewolves, vengeful ghosts, and menacing monsters.
Dawson King’s family has been hunting things that go bump in the night in Transylvania County, North Carolina, since before the Revolutionary War.
Dawson was never happier than when he was racing his souped-up Mustang along winding mountain roads and hunting monsters with his best friend, Grady. Then Grady fell in love with him, which should have been perfect since Dawson had already fallen hard for Grady.
But Grady was only seventeen, and Dawson feared that sooner or later, Grady would realize his feelings were just a first crush, and then he’d be gone, leaving Dawson devastated. They both needed space to figure things out. So Dawson joined the army, while Grady stayed on the mountain.
Four years later, Dawson is coming home. He’s more sure than ever Grady is his forever love, and they’ve both agreed to begin this new aspect of their relationship as soon as Dawson gets back.
Then Grady’s father is killed in a werewolf hunt gone wrong. Grady is devastated, and he’s throwing mixed signals about moving forward. Dawson knows he needs to hold off on this new thing between them until Grady has time to grieve. But monsters never sleep, and one hunt after another throws Dawson and Grady into constant danger, while tension and unresolved feelings ripple between them.
Making it even harder, Dawson’s got a secret. He’s dreamed of death omens—which point to something stalking Grady. Can Dawson figure out who’s trying to kill Grady, save his life, and win back his heart?
Plenty of mutual pining, hurt/comfort, spooky chills, sexy thrills, and a very happy ending. The Kings of the Mountain is the first novel in the series. It is a MM romance intended for readers 18 years of age and older.
Excerpt from Kings of the Mountain
The longer they spent time on the road and on hunts together, the more Dawson felt a powerful attraction to Grady. He’d always been fond of the younger man, but Dawson found himself admiring the person Grady was growing into. Grady deserved to find the right guy—if that’s what he wanted—who could make him happy. And as much as Dawson wished fervently that could be him, he knew he couldn’t take the chance that Grady might feel pressured or obligated to respond if Dawson made any advances.
Not to mention how Grady’s mother had always carried on about how awful it was to marry a “cousin,” something that she claimed no one in her family had ever done. She’d made her position loud and clear while she was married to Aaron, which had not endeared her to the rest of the community. Such marriages were legal in North Carolina, and not uncommon in the rural areas.
The fact that Grady wasn’t a cousin by blood probably wouldn’t matter to Camille. But what if Grady had accepted his mother’s bias? Maybe Dawson had imagined the flirtation, or worse, projected his own feelings onto the other man. So Dawson took the edge off with hookups and out-of-town one-night stands, very aware that he tended to choose partners with a resemblance to Grady.
Until he couldn’t stand it any longer.
That’s when Dawson enlisted.
Once they were on the main highway, Dawson turned to watch Colt’s profile.
“So…what happened with Uncle Denny and Grady?”
Colt’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and the tic in his jaw told Dawson that the other man didn’t want to have this conversation. “They’re both alive. But a hunt went wrong a week ago, and Grady isn’t dealing with it very well.”
A week, Dawson thought. That was when he’d stopped getting emails from Grady. He had tried to convince himself the silence was due to any number of impersonal reasons, but Dawson knew in his gut something wasn’t right. His responses from Uncle Denny had gotten short and less frequent around the same time.
Was this what his nightmare had been warning him about?
“Could you be a little clearer?” Dawson knew Colt could read the warning in his tone.
“Grady got hurt. Aaron was killed. Grady’s not dealing well with it. Uncle Denny didn’t want to leave Grady alone. So they sent me.”
Dawson’s head swam. Uncle Aaron, dead? That’s hard to even imagine. He was always so full of life. And Grady—it’s got to be bad if he couldn’t come. Oh, God. I almost lost him. Plus there’s something Colt isn’t saying, something even worse. Because if Uncle Aaron died on a hunt, then Grady had to have been right there when it happened. That’s bad, really bad. No one should see their parent die, especially not like that.
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
