Showing posts with label J.P. Jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label J.P. Jackson. Show all posts

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Cursed (Magus Malefica 2—The Coven Series) by J.P. Jackson


 Join author J.P. Jackson and Indigo Marketing in celebrating new release, Cursed (Magus Malefica 2—The Coven Series)! Learn more and enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Cursed

Series: Magus Malefica—The Coven Series, Book Two

Author: J.P. Jackson

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/24/2022

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 96600

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, fantasy, gay, magic, fae, werewolf, shifter, witches, coven, gods, polyamory

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Description

Cam Habersham is having a hell of a time keeping up with his fae studies in the Ancestral Lands because a certain werewolf constantly interrupts his thoughts. Everton Lilch is the wolfen beast who follows Cam around, but he pushes Cam away every time things get steamy.

The queen of the fae has had enough and tasks Cam with an impossible feat, an undertaking only Everton can help him accomplish.

Without his coven, Sparks Gemmell is a lost witch. In desperation, he casts a spell, hoping to reunite his brothers. But he doesn’t count on the wayward route magic often takes. He finds himself wrapped up in a mandate of the horned god and inserted into his Shadow Brothers’ relationship in order to protect his city from the darkest elements of the Shadow Realm.

As the darkness of the Shadow Realm descends, Cam and his werewolf, along with Sparks and his coven brothers, confront wraiths, mutant werewolves, and witch law enforcement. Chaos erupts in an effort to please queens and gods.

After all, it comes down to the ley of the land.

Excerpt

Cursed
J.P. Jackson © 2022
All Rights Reserved

“I am not wearing this.”

Cam tossed the skimpy garment onto his sun-dappled bed while Sen, his man-in-waiting, a Kijimuna tree sprite, wrung his long-boned but tiny hands. Sen glared at Cam, but his nervous hand wringing never stopped. Cam returned the stare, hoping his stubbornness would win.

Eventually, Cam broke the connection and focused his sights on the far wall of his room. A new tendril wove its way up the wall.

Everything the fae used or constructed was in harmony with the environment. The bed had been crafted from woven tree roots. The mattress pillowed from being stuffed with a combination of dried grasses, tufts from animal pelts, and down. All the textiles were handwoven, and when the summer night air had a chill to it, more skins were brought in for comfort. Extra blankets hadn’t been necessary this summer. Despite the bed’s lumpy appearance, Cam had never slept so well. Although he still wasn’t used to the massive horns on his head or the protruding wings from his back.

The walls and the furniture were constantly changing, but when one lived inside a massive tree, one had to expect the unexpected. As the tree continued to grow, so did the interior of his assigned bedchamber.

“Your Grace, the loincloth is traditional clothing. You were scheduled to meet with the queen, and certain conventions must be upheld. You need to get down to the court room.” Sen tried his best, but Cam’s tenacity would eventually wear out the tree sprite.

“It’s nothing more than a jockstrap and I am not parading around in front of the entire Royal party in nothing but a G-string!” He pointed to the discarded underwear while scrunching his mouth to one side and crossing his arms.

“But Your Grace—” Sen licked his lips while he continued to rub his hands together.

Poor thing. Cam hadn’t made his summer an easy experience. The tree sprite had been assigned as Cam’s manservant as part of an international exchange program meant to expand the knowledge of cultural traditions and court customs from various fae clans around the world. Cam had seen and met Chaneques from southern Mexico, and Menehune from Oceania. Sen’s vibrant red hair, a characteristic of his tribe, contrasted starkly with his paper-birch complexion. Sen’s frame imitated the slender branches of a sinewy willow, so slight Cam mistakenly judged him to be frail, but he discovered otherwise. Fae could be inhumanly strong and there had been more than one occasion when Sen had managed to wrestle and hold Cam still during his magic training.

Sen’s Japanese ancestry meant his tolerance did not allow for the wild range of temperatures inherent in a Canadian prairie summer. Cam had witnessed the creature either shivering to death on the rare cool summer evening or wilting in the August heat which regularly coalesced beneath the dense forest canopy. Sen’s homelands were far more temperate and kinder on a body. Despite Sen’s constant battle with the elements, his elongated limbs and fine features meant he was nimble and quick, which made him an excellent tutor for Cam’s induction in the ways of the fae. Escaping wild and out of control fae magic spells gone awry required additional agility. The fae were supposed to be nimble, graceful, and eloquently able to slip in and out of the shadows when required, a magical talent Cam had not mastered, along with several others. Sen’s intelligence, however, proved the Eldritch clan fae outwitted and outsmarted Cam’s constant manipulations.

Cam struggled with his fae classification and history. The amount of concentration required to take in the volumes of documentation given to him bested his attention span. The antiquity of the clans spanned the course of human existence, and beyond.

Each fae belonged within one of four houses, although there were multiple species within each camp. Earth fae belonged to the clan of the Eldritch, like Sen and Cam. Air fae were the Aethers and Corvins. Their feathered wings and skin made for unusual flying creatures who lived above the clouds. Cam latched on to the name for water fae because he found out Atlanteans were real. But he couldn’t recall what fire fae were called, and at this point he simply didn’t care.

Cam had made the first few weeks frustrating for them both. He refused to study, and his wayward use of fae abilities had resulted in wanton destruction within the village, which landed him in hot water with the Ancestral Lands queen, Lady Aine.

In his defence, Cam had demonstrated his ability to become invisible, and he regularly used probability spells to favour his penchant for doing nothing in the hot August afternoons.

Cam stood beside his bed, naked, staring at the wall and contemplating how he had managed to get here. He had his best friend in the whole wide world to thank for all of this. Devid Khandelwal and his cockamamie summoning board had been the catalyst in forever altering Cam’s humanity, and subsequent captivity within the Ancestral Lands of the forest fae. Granted, his home in Edmonton wasn’t far away, but until Cam had, at a bare minimum, mastered the art of a human disguise, Lady Aine would never let him leave.

Grasping the concept and maintaining the illusion proved inordinately difficult. He had to completely change his new horned and winged form into the way he used to be. That meant being able to maintain the image he wanted to project in his mind’s eye, all while holding conversations, or carrying out mundane tasks like household chores or visiting the local market. Illusions proved to be impossible for Cam, but public appearances with massive, curved horns and a slender furry tail would expose the Shadow Realm and its inhabitants to the mundane world. Exposure was something the entire magical community, fae, witches, beasts, and spirits alike, avoided at all costs.

Cam’s membranous wings sputtered. The appendages had a life of their own, and often reflected his emotional state.

“May I point out you’re not wearing anything right now, and yet I’m here. What’s so different between your nudity right now and satisfying the queen with your presence in clothing which is customarily worn by males?”

“Sen, you’ve seen me naked every day, several times a day. You bathe me, not my choice. You dress me, not my choice. You wake me in the morning, also not my choice. And speaking of morning, where is my required cup of coffee?” Cam’s tail flicked from side to side as he glanced around his room, his wings flapping in annoyance. Camila, Cam’s alter ego and super bitch, showed up when the caffeine levels were bottoming out. The fae folk didn’t consume coffee, and Cam hadn’t had a good cup of velvety deliciousness in weeks. His irritability lately had known no bounds, but the community had made exceptions considering his most unusual initiation into the Ancestral Lands—coffee being one of them. The elders of the Ancestral Lands had commented on Cam’s oddness. His fae body held on to the addiction of caffeine when his stomach no longer tolerated anything more than meat. Protein, and lots of it, was a daily requirement.

In short, Cam moped and perpetuated his miserable mood to everyone around him. His normal routine had been turned upside down, his dating life had been non-existent, and as much as he had relied on Dev for so much of his past life, he had to cut the guy some slack. Dev was going through his own adjustments, what with becoming a witch and getting a boyfriend in the deal.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

J.P. Jackson is an award-winning author of dark urban fantasy, paranormal, and even paranormal romance stories, but regardless of the genre, they always feature LGBTQ main characters.

J.P. works as an IT analyst in health care during the day, where if cornered he’d confess to casting spells to ensure clinicians actually use the electronic medical charting system he configures and implements.

At night, the writing happens, where demons, witches and shapeshifters congregate around the kitchen table and general chaos ensues. His husband of 22 years has very firmly put his foot down on any further wraith summonings and regularly lines the doorway with iron shavings and salt crystals. Imps are most definitely not house-trainable. Ghosts appear at the most inopportune times, and the Fae are known for regular visits where a glass of wine is exchanged for a good ole story or two. Although the husband doesn’t know it, Canela and Jalisco, the two Chihuahuas, are in cahoots with the spell casting.

J.P.’s other hobbies include hybridizing African Violets (thanks to grandma), extensive traveling and believe it or not, knitting.

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Magic or Die (Inner Demons #1) by J.P. Jackson


Author J.P. Jackson and Indigo Marketing visits on the Magic or Die (Inner Demons #1) blog tour! Learn more about characters Thomas Jones and James Martin via their character interview! And enter in the giveaway for a $10 NineStar Press credit!



Title:  Magic or Die
Series: Inner Demons, Book One
Author: J.P. Jackson
Publisher:  NineStar Press
Release Date: July 2, 2018
Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 87300
Genre: Paranormal, Fantasy, paranormal, demons, witches, magic

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Synopsis

James Martin is a teacher, a powerful Psychic, and an alcoholic. He used to work for the Center for Magical Research and Development, a facility that houses people who can’t control their supernatural abilities, but left after one of his students was killed, turning to vodka to soothe his emotional pain. The problem is he still has one year left on his contract.

When James is forced to return to the CMRD, he finds himself confronting the demons of his past and attempting to protect his new class from a possible death sentence, because if they don’t pass their final exams, they’ll be euthanized.

James also discovers that his class isn’t bringing in enough sponsors, the agencies and world governments who supply grants and ultimately purchase graduates of the CMRD, and that means no profit for the facility. James and his students face impossible odds—measure up to the facility’s unreachable standards or escape.

Excerpt

Magic or Die
J.P. Jackson © 2018
All Rights Reserved

One: Call Back
“YES, MIRIAM. YES, I know. I know it’s been over a year. I’m not sure I’m ready.”

The knuckles on my hand cramped from clasping my cell phone in a death grip. I glanced at my watch. This conversation had gone on too long. In the span of two minutes, Miriam had managed to exhume memories and history I wanted buried and forgotten. I sucked in a short breath as nausea surged like a tsunami of fear. Its behemoth wave washed bile against the back of my throat.

I slumped down the stained and weathered wall of the coffin-sized studio apartment I reluctantly called a home. It wasn’t a bad place to live, except for the cockroaches I found on a daily basis. I’m sure they considered it a veritable paradise. Absentmindedly, I toed an old pizza box near my foot while listening to Miriam. One of the insects scampered across the matted Berber carpet.

Gross.

Cody. A pale ghostlike face flashed before me. His hair, the exact colour of fall fallowed fields, hung listlessly over one eye, as blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. His chapped lips parted, asking me, “Why?”

I ignored the vision. Well, ignored wasn’t the right word, more like boxed it up with a heavy rock and pitched it into the abyss of my mind with all the other terrifying nightmares.

“I know. I owe you, yes. I’m just not sure—” I crawled over to the upended crate being used as a coffee table, grasping for my last pack of smokes. I lit one, enjoying the soothing crackle of the tobacco as it ignited, and then inhaled deeply.

Ah, yes. Hello, nicotine, my demon friend.

Miriam continued blithering while I half-heartedly listened to her soul-sucking voice. She was demanding my presence.

“What? You mean, tomorrow? Miriam, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I drew in another steady stream of the toxic smoke. It burned my lungs as the addictive chemicals flooded through my body. I really need to quit. Scraping together the smallest ounce of courage, I attempted to defy her. “No, I can’t.”

A wraithlike hand, desiccated and fragile, inched its way across my shoulder and gripped my tense neck muscle. Its sharp nails dug into my flesh. Its bite, a warning.

Cody’s lifeless lips brushed my ear, sending cold shivers skittering across my back. Eruptions of goose flesh covered my neck and shoulders. His voice was a memory and a sound I would never forget.

“Don’t do this. You’ll kill me again.” His icy breath whispered to me.

Another box, a bigger rock, another addition to the pit of despair in my head.

“No,” I replied to one of Miriam’s inane questions. “There’s an Arcane too? I’ve never been good with them. They creep me out. No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that. Shit.” Miriam had just described a scene for me. My flesh turned buggy, as if I had chiggers nesting and burrowing deep into my skin. “Oh god that’s gross. It’s also not a good sign.” I pointed uselessly at the wall, waving my finger, trying to make a point to the caller. “I never took the exam for the third class.” Miriam had asked if I’d kept up my licensing. I instantly felt guilty. I should have done it years ago. One thing was becoming evident from the conversation—she needed my help. Help only I could give.

“All right, maybe, I think I can. Consult only. Do you hear me, Miriam? Just a consult.” I had tried desperately to stay the hell out of this. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to go back there. “What time? Yes. I’m pretty sure. Miriam—” A thousand reservations ran through my mind, a wild stampede, unbridled, laced with dread and fear. “How many? How many in this class?”

The question sat like the world perched on my shoulders. The higher the number, the bigger the world, the more responsibility, an undeniable possibility of…

“Five! Are you kidding me? I can’t do five. No. No! It’s not possible.”

She was out of her mind.

“Yes, my sister is still on the streets. You know that’s close to blackmail, right?” I stubbed out the cigarette. The lacquer of smoke in my mouth tasted like I had just licked the bottom of an ashtray, and it was suddenly very hard to breathe. Why do I smoke again?

“Fine. Tomorrow. Yes. Ten a.m. Yes, I’ll be there. What do you mean dress appropriately?”

I looked at my cell phone, disgusted as the call ended.

I flipped the device onto the floor as if it had burst into flame and branded the conversation into my hand. I snorted. Like, I’d forget.

Stretching around to the other side of the crate, I grabbed blindly for a bottle I hoped was there. By all the gods’ great divine gifts, it was. And it still had liquid in it. In fact, it was surprisingly half-full.

I tipped the vodka bottle back, allowing its burn to strip away the cancer stick’s smoky film inside my mouth.

Swaying back and forth with my eyes closed, I tried to drown out the endless voices in my head. The words inundated my impending thoughts of doom and failure, and I could feel the chaos and panic mounting. Steadying myself and regaining my mental capacities, I gazed out the window. It was dark already and only six, early evening at best. Yay for daylight-savings time and late fall in Canada. Lights from the downtown cityscape lazily twinkled and danced before me. It should have been a pretty sight, but the darkness always seemed too oppressive, like a shroud. And I knew better. Things lived in the shadows.

I took another swig from the clear glass bottle. The burn hit my throat and disintegrated the bile that had crept up there.

Five very gifted students.

I rubbed the stubble covering my face and took yet another nip. Except it wasn’t a quick sip, it was a good one. A long one.

The window acted like a mirror, and my image reflected against the backdrop of the city skyline. I looked like shit. My short brown hair had cowlicks; thank god I kept it close. But the rest? No wonder Miriam instructed me to clean it up. The shirt I was sort of wearing was only half buttoned and stained in several spots. I had no pants on, but the pair of tighty-whities, which weren’t exactly white anymore, or tight, were ripped and showed more flesh than they were supposed to. Jesus.

How did my life get here?

Five young people had no control of their gifts.

And I had a sister who was lost out in the sparkle-light of downtown’s darkness, up to who knew what, and doing it with god only knew who, mired in her own addictions.

I glanced around my shit-hole apartment, wondering what the fuck I was going to do.

Magic or Die Character Interview with James Martin

Thomas Jones (reporter):“Good evening. My name is Thomas Jones, and here at Global Broadcasting Incorporated, we are committed to providing accurate and reliable news, reporting stories that affect our world, not just our nation. In recent months the ever expanding crisis of untrained and undocumented Magicals is coming to a head.
As our world evolves, we are finding that the number of Magicals, those people who have abilities that supersede what we originally thought humans were capable of, continues to grow within the world’s population. One estimate places the rate at 1 out of every 10 who are to some degree, magical, but other studies are suggesting the rate is as high as 20%.
Today we have both James Martin, ex-teacher and Psyche Magical from the Canadian Center for Magical Research and Development, and his multi-class boyfriend Isaiah Dannenberg. James and Isaiah, welcome, thanks for agreeing to take part in our expose.
Tell our audience, who you are, what your profession is and what abilities you have.”
James Martin: “Evening, thanks for having us. My name is James Martin, I was a teacher, primarily for high school and middle grades, but after my classification, no regular school district would hire on of us”
Thomas: “When you say ‘one of us’, what do you mean?”
James: “Oh, a magical, of course. People are scared of what we are capable of. So, once ‘outed’ as a magical, I couldn’t teach anymore. I had graduated from the CMRD many years ago and the director offered me a job teaching new recruits to the facility. I’m a psyche, with a specialization in Empath abilities.”
Thomas: “And what is an Empath?”
James: “An Empath is someone who can sense emotion, read what other people’s emotional state is, and I can also project emotions and make other people feel what I want.”
Isaiah Dannenberg: “Hi, I’m Isaiah. I’m currently in between jobs and I am all three classes. I have an affinity for lightning, I’m able to teleport and I have an Asmodeus demon living within me.”
Thomas: “That doesn’t really fall into our traditionally held beliefs about Magicals, does it? I thought each Magical had only one class?”
Isaiah: “Yeah, what can I say? I buck the system.”
Thomas: “And what’s an Asmodeus demon? Did I say that correctly?”
Isaiah: “Yeah, that’s right. Um…well, he’s…how do I say this politely? He can control other people through manipulation of sexual desires. He’s like the worst type of matchmaker.”
Thomas: “Oh, I…I see. Alright then. When did you first discover your abilities? And how did that happen? James, let’s start with you.”
James: “Ah, okay. Well, I was in my late teens, but it wasn’t until I was about 25 or so before I really got control and mastery over them. Discovery of them was sort of gradual. I always felt like I knew how my friends in High School were feeling. I had a really good read on them, but it wasn’t until my first year of University when I discovered I could make someone feel what I wanted them to. That was an awkward situation. There was a guy I was interested in, and I inadvertently passed on my emotional longing to him. Turns out, he was straight.”
Thomas: “I can see how that might be very awkward, and potentially unsettling for a lot of viewers. In the wrong hands, that ability could be unscrupulously used.”
James: “Definitely. I don’t take my abilities lightly.”
Thomas: “I see. Isaiah, how about you?”
Isaiah: “The house I grew up in was turbulent. I think the lightning appeared in a self-defense situation, but it was so long ago, I forget exactly what happened. All I really remember is that after one incident where I electrocuted my father, I left and lived on the streets for years. It wasn’t a good situation, but I lived through it, and today I have much better control of my talents.”
Thomas: “So, for both of you it was in your late teens?”
James: “That’s a typical age. Some manifest their abilities younger than that, some older, but most around the late teens, early twenties. It’s usually when the frontal lobe is maturing.”
Thomas: “Interesting. So, do Magicals run in your families?”
James: “My sister has some abilities, but she’s classified lower than I am.”
Isaiah: “No, I’m the only one that I know of.”
Thomas: “James that was an interesting thing you said. Classified? What do you mean by that?”
James: “Each Magical, once discovered, can be subjected to tests in order to evaluate how powerful they are. Category 1 is on the low end, Category 5 is rare and very powerful. Isaiah is a Cat 5, I’m not quite there, but some would classify me at a Cat 5.”
Thomas: “So, I’m sitting with a couple of very rare individuals. I feel quite honored. Let me ask you though, if it was possible would you rather be a normal?”
James: “Well, I am normal. I’m me. But would I want my abilities taken away? No, I don’t think so. They’re part of me. I mean, it’s not everything I am.”
Isaiah: “Yeah, like, that’s asking if I could live without my arms. Sure I could, but given the choice? No, thanks. Although sometimes, you could have the demon. He’s annoying.
Thomas: “Tell me, Isaiah, Arcanes are rather rare individuals, most of the general population wouldn’t necessarily get the chance to meet one. Given your last statement, tell us, what are demons truly like?”
Isaiah: “Well, on one hand, it’s like having a constant companion. Because it lives inside of me, it experiences everything I do. I’m never alone. And it’s a fierce protector. I’ve never tested it out, but I think it would come to my aid if I was threatened. But on the other hand, I have no privacy, my thoughts are not my own, and I can always hear what its thinking. That’s draining.”
Thomas: “I can well imagine. Okay, just a couple more questions. James, I understand that your sister has been known to dabble in the rather unspeakable fourth class of magic. Care to clear the record of that rumor?”


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Meet the Author

 
J.P. Jackson works as an IT analyst in health care during the day, where if cornered he’d confess to casting spells to ensure clinicians actually use the electronic medical charting system he configures and implements.

At night however, the writing happens, where demons, witches and shape shifters congregate around the kitchen table and general chaos ensues. The insurance company refuses to accept any more claims of ‘acts of the un-god’, and his husband of almost 20 years has very firmly put his foot down on any further wraith summoning’s in the basement. And apparently imps aren’t house-trainable. Occasionally the odd ghost or member of the Fae community stops in for a glass of wine and stories are exchanged. Although the husband doesn’t know it, the two Chihuahuas are in cahoots with the spell casting.

J.P.’s other hobbies include hybridizing African Violets (thanks to grandma), extensive travelling and believe it or not, knitting.

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Into the Mystic (Volume 1) by NineStar Press


We're happy to host the Into the Mystic (Vol. 1) blog tour from NineStar Press and IndiGo Marketing! The lesbian/bisexual fantasy/paranormal anthology features 11 stories from authors: Brooklyn Ray, J.C. Long, Kara Race-Moore, Samantha Kate, Nicole Field, J.P. Jackson, Caitlin Ricci, L.J. Hamlin, Kayla Bashe, Charli Coty, and Tay LaRoi! See our exclusive excerpt from Brooklyn Ray and enter in the NineStar Press giveaway!



Title:  Into the Mystic
Series: Volume One
Author: Brooklyn Ray. J.C. Long, Kara Race-Moore, Samantha Kate, Nicole Field, J.P. Jackson, Caitlin Ricci, L.J. Hamlin, Kayla Bashe, Charli Coty, Tay LaRoi
Publisher:  NineStar Press
Release Date: 7/31/17
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 101100
Genre: Paranormal, paranormal, witches, werewolves, lesbian, bisexual, mermaids, fae, zombies, shifters

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Synopsis

Eleven lesbian/bisexual paranormal short stories…

Reborn by Brooklyn Ray – Dark magic, mystical bloodlines, a living forest, and two women fighting to reclaim a love they lost.

Zero Hour by J.C. Long – She can’t outrun the full moon.

Dove in the Window by Kara Race-Moore – As if the Great Depression wasn’t bad enough, Cissy’s first love is back from the dead.

Bottom of the River by Samantha Kate – The demon isn’t always the monster.

If You Want to Walk by Nicole Field – Follow Chess into the Underneath and meet the strange creatures she finds there.

A Tended Garden by J.P. Jackson – Immortality or humanity—which one will win out in the end?

Romancing the Healer by Caitlin Ricci – In a deadly snowstorm a werewolf needs all the help she can get, and the werebear coming to her aid is more than she appears to be.

Midnight Kisses by L.J. Hamlin – A local witch, a new-to-town werewolf, and a mystery to be solved.

Like a Bell through the Night by Kayla Bashe – Guarding a faerie princess? All in a day’s work for a werewolf bodyguard. Avoiding falling in love with said princess? The hardest mission of Jaffa’s life.

The Imp in the Rock by Charli Coty – The cure for a bad breakup might be magic.

Smile Like You Mean It by Tay LaRoi – Ingrid meets a terrifying Japanese legend, but the stories are all wrong.

Excerpt

Reborn by Brooklyn Ray

Thalia Darbonne left Port Lewis three years ago with no intention of returning. Despite being a powerful witch, she’s now known as a deserter – an outcast in the magical society. But after her mother’s untimely death, Thalia is called back to her hometown in order to fulfill her duty as matriarch, and take the place as head witch of the Darbonne Clan.

Being back home isn’t easy, especially when Thalia is confronted by a ghost from her past, the beautiful, dangerous necromancer, Jordan Wolfe.

As Thalia tries to cope with the loss of her mother, she’s also faced with her feelings for Jordan, the responsibility of becoming matriarch, and the strange, dark magic lingering between her and her first love. Thalia and Jordan fight through three years of confusion in the forest they grew up in, where trees whisper, the night sky bleeds, and sigils are carved into flesh.

Zero Hour by J.C. Long

After being bitten by her long-time girlfriend Robbin in werewolf form, Simone does the only thing she can think to do—she gets in her car and drives as far away as she can. As the first full moon since she was bitten approaches, Simone is faced with a difficult choice: does she trust Robbin, who wishes to guide her through her first transformation, after being hurt by her? And more importantly, with the full moon drawing near, does she really have a choice?

Dove in the Window by Kara Race-Moore

In 1930’s Appalachia, Cissy McGurk is still mourning the death of Pearl, her first love. However, Pearl shows up one night and crawls into bed with her, bemoaning that she can’t sleep. More and more people from the local cemetery are crawling from their graves because something won’t let them rest. Cissy has to find out how to fix it, even if that means asking Death himself for advice.

Bottom of the River by Samantha Kate

Anja Bauer is the daughter of rich but cruel parents who care little about her happiness. Despite her revulsion toward men, they plan to marry her off to a faraway suitor. But Anja’s discovers a contract they signed with the demon they’d warned her about, and she learns the true extent of their wickedness and the reality of the demon.

If You Want to Walk by Nicole Field

Chess runs into the world of the Fae to try to escape her depression, only to find it comes there with her. When she finds her way back, she knows she will have to leave many things behind. Is leaving worth that price?

A Tended Garden by J.P Jackson

Alyssa is a natural witch whose thoughts have a way of coming true. Her coven is the only one around—well, the only one she’ll practice her beliefs with – but her high priestess, Rachel, is particularly difficult to please.

Rachel has a secret she hasn’t told anyone in her coven—one that her ancestral witches before her kept from their covens too. If Rachel’s to hold on to her traditions and the immortality she’s been promised, she’ll have to keep the women in her coven returning to the sacred grove, and that includes Alyssa.

But secrets have a way of being revealed, and when Alyssa stumbles across Rachel’s violent and horrifying history with the trees of the grove, the pact between the sacred grove and Rachel’s family may have a price too steep to pay.

Romancing the Healer by Caitlin Ricci

When she takes too long to come back to her pack, Aria is caught up in a snowstorm. To make matters worse, she’s twisted her ankle while running. Hurt, freezing, and alone, her best chance for survival is to stay under an evergreen until the storm clears then try to limp back to her pack. Zoe has a better idea. She’s a healer without a pack to call her own, although she’s desperate for the kind of family Aria has with hers. Being trans, Zoe has never felt all that welcome with other shifters, but Aria promises to show her that there is at least one pack who would gladly have her. All they have to do is wait out the storm together.

Midnight Kisses by L.J. Hamlin

A night out in a bar before a big council meeting to relax seems like a good idea, talking to the cute werewolf at the bar seems like a better idea. But when they meet again will sparks get in the way.

Like a Bell through the Night by Kayla Bashe

Rhiannon, faerie princess in exile, has been on the run for her entire life. Hunted by her most dangerous enemy yet, she turns to her childhood crush for help: immortal, smolderingly sexy werewolf Jaffa Volkovitch.

Jaffa’s scars and secrets haunt her, and she doesn’t let anyone get close. She remembers Rhiannon as an optimistic child… not an alluring, resilient young woman whose every touch awakens forgotten feelings. Keeping up her emotional barriers could mean breaking Rhiannon’s heart. What will Jaffa decide?

The Imp in the Rock by Charli Coty

Wendi Tamura turns to her favorite beach to calm her jangled nerves after she’s dumped by her cheating boyfriend. The water near her home on the Oregon Coast is never warm, and no place for a nude woman, so when one appears before her seemingly by magic, Wendi offers her help. It’s been years since she’s been with a woman, but when the beautiful Hanako reveals her true nature, Wendi doesn’t let either detail keep her from the most magical and steamy night she’s ever had.

Smile Like You Mean It by Tay LaRoi

Ingrid Smith, a young American living in Sendai, meets the cursed Slit-Mouthed Woman of Japanese folklore and does her best to rid herself of the woman. When a conflict reveals that Ayame isn’t as terrible as her legend says, she’s embarrassed by the truth and vows to haunt Ingrid until they can figure out how to lift the curse. For weeks Ingrid tries to lift Ayame’s curse, but with each passing day, she’s not sure she wants to.

Exclusive Excerpt


Reborn by Brooklyn Ray


Night skies bleed. She’d known that all her life, from the time she was a girl, climbing onto the roof to look at the stars, to now, walking on cold misty streets in a town she’d never considered coming back to. Thalia’s chin tipped up, dark skin highlighted by streetlamps and the glow of cracked movie theater signs. She studied the November sky, tracing the blurred pinpricks where stars peeked through fog and deep navy collided seamlessly with pitch-black. Everything dripped—moonlight into the nether, starlight into the horizon.
Look, Thalia, watch time cut it open. The sun would sink and Thalia would wait. The night bleeds and we’re reborn. Once the sun was behind the distant mountain range, Thalia and her family would set off into the woods. The stars and moon would bleed white and gold, and the witches of Port Lewis would mirror the act above by spilling blood below.
Thalia’s hands had been clean for three years. She didn’t intend to dirty them again.
A buzz vibrated the front pocket of her black jacket. She stopped to lean against the brick wall of a familiar pizza parlor and pulled out her phone. “Christ,” she bit, wincing when the bright screen flashed in her eyes. Her gaze fell over one message after the next, the first from her brother, the second from her aunt, and the third from her father.
Every message said the same thing in varying tones.
Your mother is dead, Thalia. You’re the next matriarch. Come home.
Thalia had been reading the same texts for a week now. The Darbonne Witches were without a leader, and a clan without a leader would fall apart within a year. But Thalia Darbonne wasn’t any witch—she was a deserter, a stain on the reputable name her family had carried for generations.
Nights like these, when the sky bled and the fog was thick, Thalia remembered magic.
She felt it echo in her veins, a whisper of heat, a weighty soreness that felt brittle under her skin.
Nights like these reminded her that magic was a terrifying, savage thing.
Her thumbs hovered over the screen. She typed a message to her brother, backspaced it, tried again, line after line after line, and backspaced everything she’d written for the second time.
She settled on two words. I’m here.
Thalia hit send. As soon as she saw Luther had read the text, she slid her phone back into her jacket pocket and looked back up at the sky. Magic stirred within her, jostled awake by her hometown, her mother’s untimely death, and by something else. A familiarity. A distinct shift in the air, odd and transparent, like a switch had been flipped and the lights dimmed, water ran the wrong way, things were unmade.
Somehow, the night recognized the collision of energies before she did. The natural magic in the air shuddered and retreated, urging her to do the same.
But Thalia knew this darkness. She’d had it etched into her skin. She’d worn it under her clothes. She’d let it slither down her throat.
“I felt you a mile away.” Her voice hadn’t changed any. It carried the same rasp, the same quiet wisp. “What’s a Darbonne runaway like you doing in a soggy town like this?”
Thalia remembered the shape of Jordan’s lips, too full on the bottom, too bowed on the top. She remembered her small chin, the cliff of her cheekbones, the prominent angles of her face. They hadn’t softened over time, but her brows were thinner now, higher, and there was a ring through her left nostril. Her hair was still shoulder-length and ashy, the blonde people paid to get rid of at a salon, with loose waves created by coastal air.
“My mom died,” Thalia said because small talk was for people who didn’t kill to appease their lineage, or steal magic to raise the dead. “They want me back.”
“They could’ve asked me,” Jordan purred. The uncomfortable truth of her practice made Thalia’s guts twist. “All I need is a body and an invocation.”
Thalia’s head listed to the side; her arms crossed over her chest. The knot low in her abdomen worked in tandem with the heat rising into her cheeks. Nervousness battled with disregard. Desire fractured the eaves in her mind where Jordan’s low voice dusted old memories.
“Why’d you come find me?” Thalia shifted. The click of her ankle boots ricocheted off the alley walls behind the pizza parlor. She felt Jordan’s sharp gaze on her face, the rake of it down her neck, past the silver chain between her collarbones, to her torso. “You know what happened, Jordan. This town’s too small to get something like a Darbonne death past you.”
“Death never gets past me.” Jordan’s dark, slate eyes caught Thalia’s flighty gaze. “You know that.”
Each word stretched open, filled with purpose and warmth. No matter how many years had gone by, Thalia couldn’t shake the soft brush of Jordan’s magic against her own. Unnatural meeting natural, a drop of blood in a clear lake, a clawed hand wrapped around the stem of a flower.

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