Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Oracle's Current (Oracle #6) by Mell Eight

 

Title:  The Oracle's Current

Series: Oracle, Book Six

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/25/2022

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 18800

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, anthropomorphic, mythical creatures/dragons, magic users, hurt/comfort, royalty

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Description

Lichen grew up dreaming he was going to test into the Earth Caste. But when he walked out of the testing chamber with the brown hair of Earth and the blue eyes of Water, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. Instead of his dream, he tested into the elusive Ether Caste, which made him both a cherished wonder and a pariah. Unable to handle the strange mixture of adoration and abhorrence from his peers, Lichen leaves the Monastery with the hope of finding some sort of happiness.

But, when tragedy strikes the Monastery, Lichen fears he won’t be of much help. He still wants to lend a helping hand, or at least a shoulder to cry on, but the quest the Oracle sends him on instead is much more important—so important, in fact, that dying to ensure the success of his mission is a real possibility.

Excerpt

The Oracle’s Current
Mell Eight © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Water was unpredictable, constantly moving and changing. The Oracle knew that all too well. And yet, that fluidity was forever confined. The water balances were the cruelest of all the Castes. Water moved as much as Air, always somewhere different within the next hour, but Air could go anywhere while Water could not.

Earth dictates the flow of water. That was perhaps the worst of the balances. Water fought against it as much as possible, carving and smoothing the earth, but it never broke free. The Oracle’s Water Dragons never broke free.

Until the terrible moment they finally found the only way to escape, and the Oracle was never sure if she ought to rejoice with them or cry for them.

The twins were cherubic the first time she saw them. They were adorable toddlers with blond hair, bright-blue eyes, and wide smiles. To the awe of their parents, she had gently placed her hands on their foreheads, and listened.

The girl child would grow up strong and beautiful. She would be loved by everyone as a child, spoiled in the arms of her adoring fans. She would make people laugh with a smile and brighten a room just by entering it. She was a Water child. Her personality flowed gently like a stream, burbled like a brook, and shined under the warm sunlight.

Then she would test into her Caste and walk out of the testing chamber with the Dragon of Water tattooed across her back. Her hair would turn three different shades of blue, shifting constantly like water continuously moving through a stream. But every stream eventually hit the turbulence of rapids as it flowed over jutting rocks and debris. Her status would eventually lead to a treacherous waterfall and death on the rocks at the bottom. But that was her freedom, her escape, from her restrictions as the Dragon of Water.

Her brother would be a different story. He was shy and happy to allow his sister to take the limelight. He was akin to a small lake tucked into a mountain grove where only the few and privileged could find and enjoy his existence. He would grow up in the shadow of his twin sister, and he would be happy with his lot. Until his testing. His sister would walk out of the testing chambers the Dragon of Water. He would enter the chambers moments later with high expectations, but he would walk out with a uniform blue back and nothing more. Not even a ripple to destroy the endless pool of blue. He would share the same blue hair as his sister, but the similarities would end there.

His tattoo was of the deep sea. It was empty of creatures or landmarks. Only the currents, constantly changing with the tides, graced his back. The Oracle knew of the potential there, that eventually something lost would swim into view and find a home, but no one else did. How could one twin test so highly and the other so poorly? The Masters would ask that question incessantly.

He slipped back into the shadows of his sister’s life and watched as she was destroyed.

The Oracle’s Monastery was sick, her Masters poisoned by greed and power. They wanted things his sister couldn’t give but took those things anyway. A faction of men offered themselves up like geese to the slaughter in the belief that lying with the Dragon of Water would bring them extra prestige in their Castes. If she had their child, their prestige would double. So they heckled her and followed her around. It was the norm. Enough women did the same whenever a man tested extremely high, so no one attempted to help her.

A different, but no less obnoxious, faction believed it was the duty of every strong Caste member to have as many children as they could. A child of the Dragon of Water would no doubt test strongly, as had proven true in the past. They conveniently forgot all the times a child with presumed pedigree did not test well and so continued in their quest to force the Dragon of Water to have as many children as she could.

The Oracle did try to help the twins, but some futures were set in stone, and all she really did was prolong the pain. She sent both twins away on quest after quest, hoping they would find somewhere new to live and not return to the Monastery, like her Hatchling eventually had. But she could see the inevitable future and knew that wouldn’t happen.

And then, one day, the end came. She had been the Dragon of Water for barely five years, but it was five years too many for the poor woman. The Masters found her body at the foot of a high cliff. She had jumped far from the water and ended the constant harassment in the only way the Oracle saw possible. The Dragon of Water died horribly, but at the same time, she was finally free from the responsibility and harassment that had been part of her life from the moment she stepped from the testing chamber.

Her brother had been swimming deep in the ocean, flirting with the whales and the giant jellyfish deep below the surface. He emerged at the beach at a run. He was naked; the deep-sea salt ruined any clothes he wore, so he now swam without. The Oracle had also felt the Dragon of Water’s death and had left the Monastery with her cadre of protective Masters to find the body. The Dragon of Water’s brother arrived at the foot of the cliff just as the Oracle did. He rushed forward to touch his sister, one hand pressing gently against her exposed back. It was one of the few places that wasn’t completely disfigured by the long fall. There was a flash of blue, and the dragon vanished.

He stood and glared at the Masters who surrounded her. “This is your fault,” he snarled at the Master of Tides to her left. “You harassed her endlessly, pestering her until she broke.”

The Oracle hated her Masters in that moment, as the pain in his voice washed over them all. He spun away, heading back to the beach. On his back the image of the deep sea still floated by serenely, but tucked away in the distance she saw where her Dragon of Water slept.

He wouldn’t return to the Monastery for a long time, her new Dragon of Water, but he would return a happier man. She hoped. In the meantime, she would have to do something about the selfish Masters so a different future would be available for the next generation of Dragons. Her Dragons of Earth and Air were working hard to fix the Monastery, but they couldn’t fix everything in so short a time. The Oracle would focus on helping the Dragons that were slowly making a difference, and continue hoping for the best for her new Dragon of Water. Hope was really all she had left for him at this point.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

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

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: We, Kraken (Volcano Chronicles #2) by Eule Grey

 

Title:  We, Kraken

Series: Volcano Chronicles, Book Two

Author: Eule Grey

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/11/2022

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 53200

Genre: Fantasy, YA, alternate universe/fantasy, lesbian, intercultural, culture and inclusion, student, artist, wartime trauma, PTSD, anxiety, othering, child abuse/endangerment, human rights, equality, voice and representation, redemption, creativity as a vehicle of change, atonement, family, identity, folklore, sea creatures, restorative justice

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Description

Kraken monsters come from the sea. Don’t they?

Devora Kraken seems to have everything under control and all she could ask for. Like the neighbourhood tunnels, where she can hang out with monsters and mermaids both. If sometimes it’s not clear which is which, that’s only normal—right? Anyway, Devi has plenty else to keep her busy, including a good cop, bad cop set of family members. And if all of that isn’t enough, there’s even a cute girl at the new school across town trying to get Devi’s attention!

From the deep waters of the past, something wakes up and marches through Mainland. One terrible night, blood is spilt, and gangs gather in the woods. Devi’s cousin, Jon, leaves for the speak-and-listen trials, and nothing will be the same again.

Devi sets off on a journey of discovery that will take her from her home in Exer City across Mainland and into Craw. It won’t be easy—her brother Korl refuses to talk about the past, or why Jon left. He won’t speak of the gun under the bed or the pile of mermaid figurines. Korl refuses to talk about anything!

What’s a monster anyway? Who better than Devora Kraken to find out?

Excerpt

We, Kraken
Eule Grey © 2022
All Rights Reserved

The night I called my brother a murderer was the worst of my life. It was early summer, with heat bristling and people noising until dawn. Even the birds didn’t sleep. But I’d been sent to bed at ten, like always. Grumbling and defiant. Sick of the status quo. My brother was a stickler for rules. Although I was fifteen, he treated me as if I were a little kid.

School tomorrow, Devi!

Don’t forget to clean your teeth.

No wandering the flat during the night.

The usual Kraken rubbish. I went to bed and somehow nodded off. Just after midnight, I crashed awake to an unsettling dream about a stone bridge.

I called in vain for my cousin. “Jon?”

Then got up and padded into the kitchen, half asleep, with ultra-raw senses. A single light bulb stung my sensitive eyes. A high-pitched electrical scream emanated from our battered fridge.

It took a few minutes to make sense of the midnight scene. Except for my cousin, Jon, every member of the Kraken gang was present. Farlo, who paced the kitchen. Bersha and Tomi, scrubbing blood from their hands. My brother, Korl, and his girlfriend, Anees, talking in a corner.

A gun lay on the edge of the table. Black, metallic, and menacing.

A gun.

I should have asked where it came from and why it was in our kitchen. Rumours of guns and knives were rife throughout Exer City, but I’d never thought my family were involved. As far as I knew, the Kraken gang avoided trouble.

“What’s going on? Has anyone seen Jon? I did knock,” I said stupidly. Obliviously. Trying to avoid being told off. My brother was a rule dictator, and I didn’t want to be grounded again.

Korl stopped whispering. For a really long minute, he didn’t say anything, only looked across at me where I huddled in striped nightie and cat-print socks.

It was then I realised and acknowledged something was very wrong. Korl’s face was vacant, glassy-eyed, and lacking in expression. It upset me. I wanted him to shout the safety of our normal boundaries: Get back to bed! You don’t wander the flat at night alone.

But he didn’t. Nobody said a word. The only sounds were of frenzied scrubbing and the screaming electric wire. Minutes went by. I didn’t think of the significance of the gun.

Absent-mindedly, I picked up a cloth and started wiping the table. “Blood. Urgh.”

Anees leapt into action and shook my brother’s arm until he rattled. “Devi!” she hissed violently. “Put the gun down. Go to bed and lock the door. Now!”

The moments of excruciating weirdness came to an abrupt end when Korl thumped the fridge hard enough to break open the universe. “Get that thing out of here! Why have you people brought a gun into my home?”

His voice was strained and wild. I thought he was about to cry and considered going back to bed. Although I often ignored my brother, it was usually obvious when it was time to bolt.

He blinked, looked from Tomi to Anees, and then finally at me. His eyes went from glazed to heated. When he spoke, he’d regained control.

“Go to bed, Devi. Everyone get out except Anees.”

I finished cleaning the weapon but didn’t let it go.

Right then, Jon walked in and saw me holding the gun. I swear, every normal sound in the flat—screaming fridge wire, dripping tap, Korl’s alarm clock—stopped. My kind-hearted cousin disintegrated. His hands trembled and tears started in his eyes. Normally, I’d have run to help.

“Jon,” Korl said. “Mate! It’s not what you think. Nobody’s seriously hurt. It was just a scrape.”

A huge sob ripped through my cousin’s body, and he uttered a horrible sound of pain. It transported me from numbness into a different reality.

I hallucinated a soldier; lying in a heap on the ground. Our flat became a large hall, and somehow, I knew the visage was a memory.

“He’s dead!” I threw the gun. It skittered, rolled, and landed in a corner.

Next thing, I was locked in my bedroom with no memory of the journey there. I was resentful and angry, but not scared. Jon would be around in the morning to hug me and listen to my childish rants. He’d sort it out, like always—explain what was going on and make me feel better.

I fell asleep hugging my knees by the door and was woken sometime later by Korl.

“What are you doing down there?” he said. “Get into bed.”

I did as he demanded despite being stiff from cold. It didn’t matter Breen was hot during the day. Once the sun went down, the temperature plummeted. “At last! You can’t ignore me forever.” My voice shook from lack of sleep and delayed shock at the events from earlier.

He switched on the lamp. “You’re so dramatic. Who’s ignoring you?” He felt my ice-cold arm and groaned. “Devi Bee, you’re shivering.”

I didn’t feel well. What had happened in the kitchen didn’t seem real. Nothing made sense. It was as if the whole night had happened years before.

“Did you see the soldier, Korl? What—what happened? Where’s Jon? Is he all right?”

From the way my brother’s shoulders stiffened, it was obvious he’d heard and knew to what I referred. “You’re freezing.”

“What do you expect? You abandoned me like dirt.”

It was easy to be defiant. After all, Jon was in the next room and would stop anything bad from happening to me. In the morning, he’d make us hot chocolate and pancakes and laugh about what had happened; he would.

My thoughts led back to the gun. “Whose blood was it? What’s going on? I’m scared.”

Korl flinched. “No need to be. You could do with an extra layer. It’s sub-zero in here.”

He left and carelessly dragged back a blanket from Jon’s room. It was the blue one with pictures of horses, my cousin’s favourite. I bought it for him last winter when it seemed the snow would never stop falling. We’d talked about where we wanted to ride on horseback. Because we didn’t have much money, every gift was precious. My cousin wouldn’t like Korl taking the blanket or dragging it across the floor.

“Won’t Jon need that? Put it back,” I said.

“He won’t need it. He won’t mind.”

Korl thoughtfully tucked me in and made jokes. He was indifferent to the events of a few hours before and even sang a stupid song about how to bath a cow. It incensed me, but I wasn’t ready to broach the subject of the gun or why my cousin had been so upset when I held it.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the north UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory. Sadly, she wasn’t much good at any of them! She writes novels, novellas, poetry, and a messy combination of all three. Nothing about Eule is tidy but she rocks a boogie on a Saturday night! For now, Eule is she/her or they/them. Eule has not yet arrived at a pronoun that feels right.

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BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Bond (Elemental Book 1)

Author: Xavier Axelson

Publisher: JMS Books

Release Date: October 1, 2022

Genres: Contemporary M/M Horror/Dark Fantasy/Bisexual/Paranormal

Tropes: Vampire/stranger comes to town/strange things start to happen/good versus evil/transformations/magic/suspense/creepy beings/witches/goblins

Themes: Loyalty, forgiveness, obligation, acceptance commitment

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 155 459 words/392 pages

It is Book 1 in the series and ends with a HFN. There are unresolved plot points but it's not necessarily a cliffhanger.

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In a small New England town, three men, each facing unthinkable horrors, must rely on their friendship to destroy an evil beyond imagination.

Blurb 

Four men are about to discover things are definitely not what they seem…including themselves.  Declan Makavoy, small town farmer and single father, finds out it’s not just his thumb that’s green.  Ivan Soresceau, a local reporter, who always plays with fire in life and love, is about to discover what it means to be burned.  Chester Silberglocke, the ailing but sage chiropractor, finds his death only the beginning of an atmospheric afterlife.  Vinny Pirelli, the local swimming champ may make waves inside and outside the pool but has no idea he is the last piece in a dangerous and life-changing puzzle. Seduction and unearthly occurrences are only the beginning in what proves to be a race against time as Declan, Ivan, Chester, and Vinny are pitted against a dark force beyond imagination, in the ultimate battle of good versus evil. 

Excerpt 

The wind carried the unpleasant smell of decay. In the heat of summer, the odor is nectar sweet, but in autumn, decay is unexpected. In the summer, it could be tomatoes left too long on the vine, fresh roadkill or sewage wafting up from the dank sidewalk grates. Autumn chilled the stench, offered it bite and acid. The hair on my neck stood on end. I dug my hands deeper into my pockets. 

Coming out of the tree-lined path leading to the fields reminded me of emerging from a dream. Overwrought and graphic, like an illustration in a bad comic, the scene unfolded block-by-block, piece-by-piece. The fields were barren, except where remains of gourds and pumpkins jutted from the earth like fevered skulls, things emerging to the cold dreary light. The distant pine trees lined the border of my property like sentries sent from a general to contain the scene. Beyond the trees, the forest appeared a black mass; empty and full at the same time. Perhaps Adam’s body—or Adam himself—waited, hidden in the woods.

They hadn’t found a body.

Hadn’t found…

A new but not unfamiliar wave of pain welled within my chest so I thought I’d burst. Adam was dead. Dead…How could he be…?

Chester turned toward me, his eyes wide. He pointed.

Antonia sat, facing him. She’d been playing house or school with her gourd-squash students. Her singsong contrasted with the fouled air, unnerving me.

Behind her, centered in the field, something either unaware or unconcerned with our presence was consuming the remaining pumpkins.

Some thing.

“Declan,” Chester breathed, “stay still.”

The stench coming from the field hit like a ton of putrid bricks. 

“Get her.” I heaved, trying to breathe through the stink. “I have to get her.” 

Chester restrained me with more strength than I thought he possessed. “She must stay still.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

Just then a huge crow dove and we watched as the creature reached with a massive clawed paw, grabbed the bird and crushed it. It then stuffed the bird into its mouth and made horrific bone-sucking sounds of pleasure.

Antonia smiled and called, “Daddy, have you seen the goblin?”

About the Author  

Xavier Axelson is a writer and columnist living in Los Angeles. Axelson’s work has been featured in various erotic and horror anthologies including Best Gay Erotica 2016 Volume 2, Best Gay Erotica 2015. 

Longer written works include “The Incident”, “Dutch’s Boy”, “The Birches”, “Earthly Concerns”, “Velvet,” and “Lily”.  

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Oracle's Sprite (Oracle #4) by Mell Eight

 

Title:  The Oracle's Sprite

Series: Oracle, Book Four

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 09/27/2022

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 26100

Genre: Paranormal Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, MM romance, explicit, anthropomorphic, mythical creatures/dragons, magic users, hurt-comfort, soldiers

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Description

Keir became the leader of the opposition army when he was barely eighteen years old. He led the fight against the usurper king from land while Prince Edan and Regent Egan led from the sea. Keir also had hundreds of men at his command and one invisible dragon, nicknamed Sprite, who likes to help out from time to time.

Sprite is friendly and fun-loving, happy to play tricks on Keir’s sister and keep Keir company. When a letter arrives from the Oracle asking for Keir’s presence, he expects Sprite to calmly travel with him. Instead, the strong gale that erupts sends Keir flying overboard and into an adventure he and Sprite might not walk away from alive.

Excerpt

The Oracle’s Sprite
Mell Eight © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Keir smelled blood in the air. He knew that scent intimately from growing up with the Captain of the Guard as his father. He had stood at the man’s knee while his father directed the army against the marauding thieves plaguing the people of northern Altnoia. Keir had learned to wield a sword and fire a pistol in training grounds soaked with the blood and sweat of the trainees before him.

It was a scent he was all too familiar with, but he had never before smelled it inside his mother’s home. She insisted that blood belonged on the battlefield and training grounds, not on her fancy rugs. Neither Father nor Keir had ever dared allow even a speck of blood into the house for fear of her wrath.

Keir rolled out of bed and grabbed his muzzleloader out of the nearby cabinet. A fast peek into the hallway showed nothing out of the ordinary. He quickly pulled on sturdy breeches and a shirt, over which he clumsily laced a vest of leather armor. If the scent of blood was only his imagination acting up, Keir didn’t want to scandalize anyone by walking through the halls naked. He tied his sword to his belt, hiking it high because Father had ordered he train with the sword into which he would grow as an adult rather than a child-sized one, and made sure his gun was loaded.

When he opened the door this time, the smell in the hallway was even worse than in his bedroom, which he hadn’t noticed when he’d first glanced out. Keir carefully peeked around the doorway into the hall. A stranger stood in front of his parents’ room at the far end; he hadn’t been there moments before, and Keir didn’t recognize him as one of his father’s men.

“Make sure they’re dead, then hurry,” the man snarled.

Keir lifted his pistol, aimed, and fired. The man fell to the ground in a spray of blood, a hole in his forehead. Blood and death weren’t something Keir shied away from after everything his father had taught him; this didn’t faze him now. Keir ducked back into his room to reload, then poked his head back into the hall. Two men had run out of his parents’ room at the noise and stood there exclaiming over their leader’s death. They hadn’t seen Keir yet, and he killed one of them with another headshot.

It gave away his position, but one-on-one odds were better than trying to take on both of them at once anyway. With no time to reload, he tucked his gun back into its holster and drew his sword. He rushed the lone man and slashed at him. The man clumsily blocked with his own sword; he hadn’t had the training Keir had. After a few more thrusts, Keir impaled the stranger, and he fell to the floor, dead.

Keir hurried to his parents’ room and stopped short in the doorway. He gagged, trying not to vomit even as tears blurred his vision. They were both dead, their necks thoroughly cut in their sleep. Blood stained the bedclothes around their bodies, their eyes closed peacefully, as if they hadn’t even known their death was approaching so swiftly. Keir spun around and forced himself to walk away. He couldn’t do anything for them, but his baby sister might still be alive.

Her room was down the hall in the nursery. Her nurse had no doubt snuck into the kitchen for a bit of fun with the butler once Claire was asleep. Claire still slept in her crib, unknowing of all that had just happened. Keir carefully gathered her into his nondominant arm, just in case he needed to fight again, and hurried from the nursery. He went upward, traveling the many steps to the bell tower. In ringing the bell, he signaled warning and death to everyone within hearing distance. His father’s loyal troops would come, and they would find out who had murdered the Captain of the Guard of Altnoia.

Should the child test anywhere but the Air Caste, his spirit would be crushed. The Oracle knew that without a doubt. The child looked the part prior to his testing. Thin and willowy, it seemed as if his body had been carved slender by the constant gusting of air. His hair was long and pale blond, barely a shade too colorful for someone in the Air Caste. His eyes were the gray of a wind-tossed sky before a storm. A flighty child, he liked to skip while everyone else walked and to hum to himself. He was echoing the flow of air inside the Monastery and giving voice to the sounds the wind carried to him. It made him seem odd to many of his peers, yet those who knew the wind understood the strange child perfectly. The Oracle had him test first, as she did with all children destined for greatness.

He was expected to test highly, given his strong ties with the Air Caste as a child, and he did. The previous Dragon of Air had passed away forty-five years ago; the fact that no new Dragon had arrived to replace her for so very long set an unhappy record. It wasn’t a surprise that when he emerged from the testing chamber, his hair had paled to pure white, and the Dragon of Air was tattooed on his back.

The dragon was formless. His back might have still looked blank if it weren’t for the slightest blurring of the skin as if an invisible wind was forever etched there. The Oracle could see a pair of eyes hidden there, as well as a pair of clear wings attached to a massive body. She knew where to look to find the dragon tattoo, as did the watching Masters.

Her Dragon of Air remained in the Monastery only a short year for training. It was an unhappy time for him, she knew. Her Monastery was sick, and that sickness fixated on those with prestige, particularly the Dragons, and in the end made him suffer for testing well with both physical and psychological attacks. The Dragon of Air tried hiding away, and he even tried ineffectually confronting it, only to fail. Eventually, he simply flittered off wherever the Air would take him. He traveled the world on the wings of the wind. The Oracle smiled and let him go, glad to let him finally escape. Confining the Dragon of Air in the Monastery for her to eventually send him out on a quest would be cruel. Besides, her Dragon of Fire would soon come of age, and she needed to focus on his future if she wanted the world to survive for the Dragon of Air to continue his aimless travels.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

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

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Series Tour: Pitch & Sickle - The Diabolus Chronicles by D.K. Girl

 

SERIES TOUR

Pitch & Sickle - The Diabolus Chronicles by D K Girl

An MM Gaslamp Fantasy Series

BOOK 1

Book Title: The Bandalore - Pitch & Sickle Book One

Cover Artist: Deranged Doctor Designs

Release Date: February 25, 2021 

Genre:  Historical Fantasy MM

Tropes: Slow, slow burn, opposites attract

Themes: Loneliness and friendship

Heat Rating: 2 flames    

Length:  285 pages

It is not a standalone book. This is the first book in the Gaslamp Fantasy series, The Diabolus Chronicles.

It has an unresolved storyline rather than an outright cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Silas Mercer died once. He’d rather not do it again.

Blurb 

1885 London, England

Silas Mercer died once. He’d rather not do it again.

On his return to the world of the living, Silas finds himself in the hands of the mysterious Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.

The Order has London society clamouring for their services, with tarot readings, seances and exorcisms among their arcane specialities.

Now they seem intent on making Silas their newest recruit.

But they want far more from him than cheap parlour tricks.

When the Order partners him with the scandalous rake, Tobias Astaroth, Silas's new life is turned on its head in more ways than one.

Tobias is quick-tempered, dangerously charming, and far more than the man he seems. 

For Silas, surviving what the Order has planned for him will be a challenge.

But finding a way to survive Tobias Astaroth could prove impossible.

A slow-burn MM Gaslamp Fantasy series.

Contains: Sexual content, violence and rather a lot of cursing.

This is the first book in the thrilling Gaslamp Fantasy series, The Diabolus Chronicles

BOOK 2

Book Title: The Verderer - Pitch & Sickle Book Two

Length: 309 pages

Release Date:  June 30, 2021

Genres: MM Fantasy, Gaslamp Fantasy, Historical Fantasy

Tropes: Opposites attract, Stuck together, Emotional scars

It is not a standalone story. The overarching storyline continues but issues are resolved for the immediate storyline.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 

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Life as a servant of death has its challenges. But the biggest one of all is Silas’s daemonic guardian, Pitch.

Blurb

Silas Mercer is a dead man walking.

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?

BOOK 3

Book Title: The Skriker - Pitch & Sickle Book Three

Length: 369 pages

Release Date: October 20, 2021

Genres: MM Fantasy, Gaslamp Fantasy, Historical Fantasy

Tropes: Opposites attract, Stuck together, Emotional scars

It is not a standalone story. The overarching storyline continues but issues are resolved for the immediate storyline.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 

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Silas Mercer has faced wily boggarts, mad faerie queens and enraged forest spirits. But can he withstand a daemon who is losing his mind?

Blurb

Silas Mercer has faced wily boggarts, mad faerie queens and enraged forest spirits.

But can he withstand a daemon who is losing his mind?

Pitch and Sickle are left bruised, battered and reeling after their confrontation with the Verderer.

They have learned a startling truth behind the arrowhead that wounded Silas, a truth that must be taken to the Lady Satine and the Order without delay.

But his encounters in the Forest of Dean have effected Pitch in alarming ways. The daemon’s body may have healed but his erratic behaviour and wildly unpredictable temper grow ever more concerning.

Silas owes his life to Pitch. Their experience in the forest has brought them a closeness he could not have imagined possible.

But what can he do for a daemon who is losing his way?

And how long will Silas survive, if he must ride alone?

BOOK 4

Book Title: The Greensward - Pitch & Sickle Book Four

Length: 412 pages

Release Date: April 13, 2022

Genres: MM Fantasy, Gaslamp Fantasy, Historical Fantasy

Tropes: Opposites attract, Stuck together, Emotional scars

It is not a standalone story. The overarching storyline continues but issues are resolved for the immediate storyline.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

The Lady’s Horsemen are riding out once more. Carrying death’s scythe to where tormented souls linger.

But what awaits them in a world where divine magick has returned?

Blurb 

The Lady’s Horsemen are riding out once more. Carrying death’s scythe to where tormented souls linger.

But what awaits them in a world where divine magick has returned?

Pitch is recovered from the injuries he received in the Forest of Dean, and Silas won’t soon forget the part he played in setting his guardian back on his feet.

The ankou and the daemon have been reunited in a most unexpected and intimate way, but barely have they caught their breath when a new threat arises.

A tortured spirit is frightening both the living and the dead along the roads of Devon.

But is this soul a monster that must be stopped, or another pawn in the necromancer’s mysterious game?

With Azazel’s magick re-emerging after hundreds of years, maleficium plagues the world once more. But who is wielding the forbidden arcane magick of the angels?

Do they work alone?

And why are they so intent on harassing the Lady’s Horsemen?

Silas has never felt stronger, or more determined to live up to the Order’s high expectations. He’s faced the walking dead, outwitted the enchanted Hall, and gained an ally in the skriker.

But he’s not sure he’s equipped to handle his growing attraction to a troubled daemon.

And Silas fears that getting any closer to Pitch and his tragic secrets may prove as dangerous as the monsters they are riding to face.

Excerpt from ‘The Bandalore-Pitch & Sickle Book One’ 

 A rather pretty gentleman, sharp featured, pale and fine, stepped into the room with a flourish of raised hands. His tousled light brown hair was wild about his shoulders, and his eyes so green it was as though emeralds had been pressed into the sockets. ‘Let the amusements begin…or should I say…continue.’

His velvet coat, a red almost as bold as the woman’s lips, was unbuttoned, revealing a black shirt with a silver brocade of Chinese dragons upon it. An elaborate ruffling of silk tumbled from the collar and covered a good portion of his chest. His choice of trousers was equally curious, a rather outdated fall-front style in black silk.

The baron groaned, but his smile was ever-present. ‘Good god, man, we thought you two would never be done.’

‘Perfection takes time, does it not?’

‘Take your seat, you rascal, and stop your showmanship, at least just for a moment.’

Silas scratched his right palm absently, attempting to stymie the prickle. Like many things about himself he wasn’t certain of his age, his late twenties was likely, much the same as the man who had just swept into the room.

Mr Astaroth tilted his head, pursing lips that held a near-perfect Cupid’s bow. ‘Am I to stand aside so another showman can perform?’

‘Exactly,’ the baron declared.

As Mr Astaroth made his way to his seat with his companion, he had a notable effect on those in attendance. The ladies all at once seemed incapable of deciding how they should adjust their gowns upon their seats, and the men were equally as fidgety. All of them were fixated on Mr Astaroth’s procession across the room. The man had not spared Silas a glance yet, even when he was deriding him, and Silas had no issue with that at all. He was not sure he’d enjoy the pierce of those green eyes upon him. But he could not deny there was indeed something mesmerising about the lad, the sway of his hips, the coiled tension in his body that gave the impression he might suddenly leap unannounced in any direction.

Mr Astaroth stopped to take a glass of champagne from the tray offered by a somewhat flustered young footman. The liquid wobbled in its crystal confines, and the boy’s eyes darted so quickly between the floor and the man before him, it was as though he’d lost control of his eyeballs.

‘Thank you, kind sir. What a wonderful job you do.’ Mr Astaroth’s smile was discomfortingly suggestive, his whispered appreciation of the boy’s offering far too intimate, and the serving boy nearly stumbled over his own feet to move away.

Mr Astaroth was slender, not remarkable in height, and the angles of his face were delicate to the point of being feminine, but he held a presence that quite overwhelmed the room. Silas’s gaze moved down the length of the man’s body to his feet. He wore heeled boots, which meant he was shorter than first impressions allowed. The glean of polished leather distracted Silas from what became startlingly obvious a moment later. He tensed and closed his eyes a second, as though that might change things. But alas it was not to be.

The ground at Tobias Astaroth’s feet held no shadow.

Whoever this man was, he was not, for all intents and purposes, human. Silas took hold of the arms of the chair, filled with the sudden desire to depart. No one had thought to instruct him on an encounter such as this.

‘Stop frightening the help and get your arse on a chair,’ declared the bespectacled man at Silas’s left. ‘We know how you hate to have attention diverted from you, so do try and behave, Pitch old boy.’

Evidently the group knew the man well enough to have endowed him with a nickname. Silas could only imagine its origins.

‘Oh Brenton,’ Victoria, Mr Astaroth’s companion, said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, Tobias has been on his best behaviour all evening.’ She had taken her seat and leaned her elbows upon the table, utterly at ease.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ Mr Astaroth said. ‘You are as sensible as you are extremely talented in the art of, what were we calling it? Tarot reading.’ He tilted his glass towards her before turning to Silas. The air quite vanished from Silas’s lungs beneath the daggers of his emerald stare. ‘How very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr Mercer. I do hope we are in for a wonderful show.’

Book 5 - Coming Soon - October 20, 2022

The Fulbourn - Pitch & Sickle Book Five: The Diabolus Chronicles

Available for Pre-Order

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

When the King of Daemonkind comes to call, be ready for hell to follow.

After Lucifer’s disturbing visit, the quest to destroy the Blight takes on a desperate urgency.

Finding Lieutenant Edward Charters is paramount.

But what role does a mortal man play in Seraphiel’s dangerous game?

The angel has sent Pitch a talisman from beyond the grave, a seemingly innocuous watch that may be the key to ending the Watcher King’s dark legacy. But to learn its secret Pitch and Silas must find the man intended to carry it.

As the search for the lieutenant begins, the Horsemen find themselves gifted with something more precious than any angelic token. An evening of unexpected freedom.
A night that will deepen their intimacy and bring long-stifled feelings to the fore.

But what price will they pay for choosing breathless pleasure over rigid duty?

The Morrigan have not forgiven the destruction at the greensward. They are prepared to do whatever it takes to rid themselves of the Horsemen and heed the Watcher King's ghostly call.

The Fulbourn is Pitch and Silas's greatest threat yet.
A place that will drive them into the depths of their most terrible fears and seek to tear them apart.

They are closer than ever before but will that fragile new bond be enough to save them?
Or have the daemon prince and his ankou found the nemesis that will destroy them once and for all?

The Diabolus Chronicles is a slow-burn MM Gaslamp Fantasy series that contains on-page sex scenes, gore and violence, and rather a lot of cursing.

This is the fifth book in the on-going series.

About the Author  

Danielle K Girl is an Aussie who lives in stunning Tasmania with her three furkids, cats Luffy, Sweetie and Ren.

Her idea of heaven is a farm full of rescue animals, with a vegie garden that sprouts peanut M&M’s and chocolate wheaten biscuits.

When she’s not keyboard-deep in mysterious, beguiling worlds, she is binge watching K-Dramas, listening to K-Pop or hiking through the beautiful Tasmanian wilderness.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Famine (The Four Horsemen Book #3) by Sienna Moreau

 

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Famine (The Four Horsemen Book #3) 

Author and Publisher: Sienna Moreau

Cover Artist: Reese Dante

Release Date: August 25, 2022

Genre: Dark M/M Paranormal Romance

Tropes: Second chance, forbidden love, lovers to enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort

Length:  80,000 – 90,000 words 

Heat Rating: 3 - 4 flames  

It is not a standalone story. It is the third book in the series and must be read in order. 

This book does not end on a cliffhanger. It is a HFN as there is an overarching plotline that will conclude in book 4. 

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

A fallen angel with a broken heart. The third horseman who rejected him. A love that can destroy them both.

Blurb

Punished for choosing love over faith, the Archangel of Kindness emerged from a century of confinement enshrined in darkness, a shell of his former self. Rejected by the very Being for whom he sold his soul, the last threads of his sanity were stripped away. He is now Lucifer, the King of Hell.

Famine’s choices have only ever caused suffering for those he loves. He struggles with guilt, blaming himself for what Lucifer has become. He’s certain keeping his distance is the only way he can ensure Lucifer falls no further.

But together or apart, on the same side or not, it doesn’t matter. They are forever bound, forced to endure a never-ending loop of anguish. Betrayed and surrounded by new threats, they find themselves relying on each other while battling their own demons. But soon a choice must be made: allow their love to destroy them both or embrace it before the world ends.

Famine is the third book in the Four Horsemen series. This book is not a standalone and must be read in order.

Content Warnings: Religious themes, extreme violence, gore, and others.

Arachnophobia warning: There is also a dog-sized pet spider named Paul who just wants to be loved.

This is a paranormal, second chance, lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers, MM romance filled with snark and morally questionable characters. It ends with a HFN and a mild plot cliffhanger.

Excerpt

Famine moved closer to Lucifer as though being drawn into his orbit. Lucifer wondered if it was a conscious movement or if it was instinct. It was instinct for him. Every fiber of him always wanted to be closer to Famine. He hoped—even knowing how moronic it was to hope after every hand he’d been dealt—that Famine felt the same. Lucifer needed him to. Needed him to want Lucifer with the same raw need that Lucifer wanted him. It had to be mutual. This much longing and anguish and palpable loss was too much for him to shoulder alone.

He savored any chance just to be in Famine’s presence—had summoned the Horsemen for no other purpose than just to see him again. The carnage of it was delectable, of course, but it was a pleasant bonus, not the aim. The mere minutes Lucifer spent with Famine between years apart was agony, but every waking moment was spent only in anticipation of them. Being this close to Famine and not touching was the worst torture he had ever endured.

He couldn’t be alone in this. He couldn’t. 

“These are only the start of the creatures that God has under his command,” Famine continued. “If he’s choosing to let these loose, there’s no telling what’s next.”

“No,” Lucifer said. They all turned to look at him, and he gave them a secretive closed-mouth smile. He did enjoy being the center of attention. And making them wait.

He closed the remaining distance between himself and Famine, pressing the tips of his fingers against Famine’s cheek. Famine’s light-blue eyes darkened, and the sight of them heated Lucifer’s blood and made lust curl in the depths of his stomach. He had never touched another after Famine, even after all this time. And he was starved for the kind of touch that only Famine could gift him. That Famine had been keeping from him.

“Sometimes,” he murmured, for Famine’s ears only, “I want to peel the skin from your bones, make you hurt and bleed the way you make me.”

The heat in Famine’s eyes didn’t diminish from the words. If anything, they darkened further, the pulse in his throat visible and tempting Lucifer to bite down, to taste. 

“It is never my intention to make you hurt.”

“You think intent matters?” Lucifer gripped Famine’s upper arm and tugged him closer until their breath mingled. “When I lie broken and bruised and aching for you, do you think I care about intent?” They would continue to hurt each other for eternity regardless of intent.

“Get your fucking hands off him,” War snarled.

Lucifer didn’t move, his eyes flicking to where War was pointing his sword at them. As though Lucifer was afraid of him. Lucifer feared no one. No one but Famine, who had the power to destroy him. Who already had, too many times to count.

Famine lifted a hand to placate his brother. “It’s fine.”

Uriel rolled his eyes and turned from them, surveying the area. “Tell us what you meant, Lucifer, or be on your way to do whatever it is you do when you have no purpose.”

Lucifer stroked Famine’s cheek and then moved up to lightly grasp the curls of his brown hair. He urged Famine forward and Famine followed, bending to him and resting his forehead on Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer’s insides wobbled, pleasure and joy singing in his veins at the instant, easy acceptance of his touch.

Lucifer breathed in deeply, his nose pressed against Famine’s hair. It smelled like blueberries, freshly mowed grass, and a hint of lemon.

About the Author

Sienna Moreau is a dark MM romance author who likes to let the darker side of life come out to play. If you’re looking for morally grey characters, snark, mayhem and steamy situations then you’re in the right place.

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