Extraordinary Things is a continuation of Leo and Caleb’s love story from Terrible Things.
It should not be read as a standalone.
Leo and Caleb have been through hell—addiction, destruction, and even a five year separation—but they’ve come through on the other side with their love stronger than ever.
Caleb knows he’s earned Leo’s forgiveness. He wants to believe he deserves it, but just when Leo needs him more than ever, a voice in his head insists that maybe he doesn’t. It’s so loud, he can’t block it out. So loud, he’d do anything to silence it.
Including risking everything he and Leo, and the rest of Star Shadow, have built together.
“If you don’t want to buy another house, you just need to tell me,” Leo said, and then wiggled out of Caleb’s grasp, walking over to their big oversized walk-in closet. “Then I’ll tell the realtor,” he said, his voice muffled. “But I feel stupid going to look at all these great places, when you end up hating all of them.”
“I don’t hate them,” Caleb said quietly. That was true. He didn’t hate them. There wasn’t even anything really wrong with them, but there was this voice that kept telling him it was a mistake to move. A mistake to buy a new house, even though they had enough cash they could buy ten houses. “I just like this one.”
“I do too.” Leo walked out of the closet, wearing only a pair of skintight briefs, leaving nothing to the imagination and sending Caleb’s pulse through the stratosphere. His voice and expression had softened, and Caleb thought if he kissed Leo, he wouldn’t push him away. Not now. “I just wouldn’t mind having some additional space.”
“Maybe,” Caleb said, clearing his throat as he began to unbutton his own shirt, “maybe we could look into an addition.”
Leo gave him a soft, chiding look, like he could see right through Caleb, straight into him, into all those ugly places that he tried to hide, and tried to hide from. “Maybe,” he said. Even though they both knew perfectly well that there was no extra room on their small, beachfront lot for an addition. If they wanted a bigger house, they would need to buy one. But for right now, Leo seemed to have let the problem go, and so Caleb decided that now when they had so much to celebrate, what was the point of continuing to argue about it? They’d figure it out—someday, anyway, Caleb reasoned.
“Hey,” Caleb said, shucking his shirt and reaching for Leo again, his hands sliding up his soft curves, reveling in the way his skin felt against his hands. “Hey, let’s go to bed.”
Leo gave him a sly, lopsided smile, reaching up and intertwining his fingers through his curls, pulling Caleb down so their lips were nearly touching. “And what do you think I was trying to do, this whole damn time?”
“Maybe just a little,” Leo acknowledged, raising himself up so their eyes were nearly level. That deep, endless blue was something that Caleb had gotten lost in for the first time at the age of sixteen, and he’d never ever gotten over it—and the truth was, he never ever wanted to. Leo was as much a part of him as his red hair or his too-big hands or his mediocre ability to play the bass. Even when they’d been separated, and it had been years since he’d seen Leo, there’d always been a part of him yearning to be with him again, to feel that hot wild blue gaze wash over him, calming and exciting him, somehow all at the same time.
“I love you,” Caleb said, even though the words didn’t feel like enough to possibly explain the feelings surging through him. Love and lust and tenderness and winding through all of that, a golden thread of abject gratitude.
Leo was the toughest person Caleb knew—the most relentless, and possibly the least forgiving person on the planet. So if he’d forgiven Caleb, and they’d moved on, that must mean Caleb deserved that forgiveness.
“You look,” Leo said thoughtfully, tapping a finger on Caleb’s bottom lip, “you look like you’re not thinking of what you should be thinking about.”
About the Author
A lifelong Oregonian, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband and their sweet kitten, Earl Grey. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh. Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published eighteen novels and six novellas.
“SATC is my religion, so I’m offended by this book. But fuck, it’s funny.” – Dario Holley, Gay Icon
“I couldn’t help but wonder….”. If you cringed while watching Sex and the City but still can’t get enough of it, this is the book for you. A modern recap of this iconic television series, for diehard Sex and the City addicts.
“Sex and the City Plotholes” is a dryly hilarious summary of each of the ninety-four episodes and two movies of Sex and The City, an enormously popular American romantic comedy-drama which ran from 1998 to 2004. The show was ground-breaking in many ways. It introduced many plot features which had never been seen so openly on mainstream television, including sexual promiscuity, non-standard relationships, coarse language, fetishes, and homosexuality, to name a few. Enjoy discovering the multitude of flaws in the plotlines and characters, explored through the more politically correct 21st century lens.
Included are several “top ten” lists covering such subjects as “Ten Worst Dates” and “Ten Unresolved Plotlines”. You’ll also find Inane Dialogue, Miranda Moments and Best Quotes throughout.
8 “I Love a Charade”
Carrie wears a terrible dress and worse hairstyle to a Hamptons wedding. We are assailed with mentions of “zsa zsa zsu”, a made-up term of speech that thankfully only lasts one episode. Berger shows up again, now single but no more likeable. Charlotte realises she has fallen for Harry, but is dismayed when he tells her it can never be because she’s not Jewish (which explains why he was OK with being a fuck buddy). Samantha demands Smarmy Richard, who she dumped a while ago, allow her to use his Hamptons house for a huge party. The SATC girls crack continual jokes about Bitsy von Muffling marrying the gayest man in New York.
The girls are off to a wedding, amidst their disbelief and amusement that Bobby Fine, a cabaret piano entertainer who tells his audience he wears pink caftans and a Peggy Lee wig in the privacy of his own home, is marrying Bitsy Von Muffling, a thin middle aged socialite with platinum hair. There is much consternation among the SATC girls about why they are getting married at all, but the general agreement is that it must be for companionship. Carrie bleats on about the zsa zsa zsu – the butterflies in your stomach you get when you’re in love – and how it couldn’t possibly exist in a gay/straight union. I’m already wishing zsa zsa zsu didn’t exist as vocabulary in the script.
In ongoing coincidences, Harry handled Bitsy’s divorce, so he’s invited to the wedding. He wants Charlotte to go with him, and as they are slowly progressing away from fuck buddies to something more, Charlotte agrees to go; but only if he waxes his back. He must have it done at the same place that butchered Samantha’s face peel, because after the wax his back looks as though it’s been grilled on a Broil King. We’ve all waxed our legs, haven’t we ladies? There should be no ongoing redness or welting, and certainly no pain after the procedure. Charlotte is horrified to see Harry’s back looking like breakfast bacon, but at least it’s hairless. She finds other things to complain about though: Harry’s shirt, his use of the word “tits” and his tendency to eat without caring about food on his face. Harry is characteristically good natured about it all. He’s slowly becoming my second favourite SATC lead cast member (after Miranda). Except for the teabag thing, but we’ll get to that.
On their way to the huge party that Samantha has decided to host at Richard’s house in the Hamptons, Jack Berger makes another appearance, just in time to create some drama in season 6. He rides badly on a motorcycle to the very same fast food joint where the SATC girls minus Charlotte are having lunch. It’s quite the coincidence. The motorcycle is an impulse purchase Berger made to get him through a breakup with the girlfriend Carrie was hopeful he would break up with. However, he’s not very confident in riding it, which makes me wonder how he got his license, and if he should really be riding it up to the Hamptons. Carrie invites him to Samantha’s party, and he knows the house because Berger has a Hamptons house as well. (So does Harry; have you noticed how many people have Hamptons houses on SATC?)
At the party, Carrie and Berger sit outside the house together on the grass and Carrie delivers a one-woman monologue about her last breakup and breakups in general, crapping on well long enough to make her seem a dozen kinds of crazy. Berger can’t get away fast enough, even pulling his jacket out from under Carrie so suddenly she tips sideways. Carrie, in her characteristic narcissistic way, has scared him off. I’m still waiting for someone to quote Lisa Kirk to Carrie:
“A gossip is one who talks to you about others; a bore is one who talks to you about himself; and a brilliant conversationalist is one who talks to you about yourself.”
It may have helped Carrie a little in life. Anyway, moving on to the actual wedding reception. Harry professes to Charlotte that he’s falling for her, but then follows up that he can never marry her because she’s not Jewish. They decide to just dance and figure it all out in season 6. Miranda is ruminating over her recent accidental sex with Steve (again!) and realises she may be falling for him too. Berger shows up yet again, invited that very day by the groom (because when you pay $500 a head for a lavish Hamptons wedding, it’s ok to ask random people on the street to attend on seven hours’ notice). Carrie keeps her mouth firmly shut, embarrassed by her earlier verbal haemorrhage, and they decide to date properly before their (spoiler) rocky relationship and spectacular breakup in season 6. Samantha isn’t falling in love with anyone, I’m relieved to say, because that’s enough love (or simulation thereof) for one episode.
Style note: I can’t even say how much I hate the dress and hair combo Carrie wears to the wedding. The other girls somehow always put it together for events, but Carrie is generally relied upon to wear unflattering frocks, like this one that is just a strapless gathered piece that looks like the towel you wear under your arms when you’re stripped off and about to get a massage. Don’t get me started on the hair.
About the Author
Nicole Taylor writes from Sydney, Australia, where Sex and the City reruns are a constant on Foxtel. In addition to her SATC addiction she has a Seinfeld addiction, a pole addiction (the kind you dance on) and two adorable cats who helpfully sit on her keyboard while she types. She has released an album of pop music called “Ambiguosexual” and is writing her next novel.
Nathan Rhodes has put hockey first for most of his life, but as graduation looms, he has a different goal in mind. He needs to come out and reclaim his first love. If only Caleb will believe him…
Theater geek Caleb Stockwell gave up on love when his boyfriend chose the closet over being with an openly bisexual guy. Now, he hides his heartbreak behind a string of casual hookups. He loves the drama on stage, but he’s done with the drama of Nathan Rhodes. For good.
Nathan is determined to right the wrongs of four years ago, but the clock is ticking.
One month until he and Caleb go their separate ways. One month to take a final shot at winning Caleb’s heart back.
Former hockey player Brent Cameron has a plan now that he’s out of the closet. He’ll take a summer road trip, find a job, and settle down with a fellow jock. Lowell Prescott is not part of that plan, but when Brent’s travel companion bails, he’s the only option.
Out and proud, Lowell has a love of sports, a flair of fashion, and a disdain for anything conventional. Burned by past relationships, he’s wary of jocks who want to change him—and that includes Brent Cameron.
Tempers flare and sparks fly as the miles disappear behind them. Just as it seems they might be on a journey to something more than Lake Superior, Brent receives a phone call that could change everything.
Will Brent stay with Lowell and ignore a friend in need, or go sit by the bedside of the man who broke Lowell’s heart?
Micah Warner spent his whole life dreaming of pitching in the big leagues. Signing with a minor-league team near Chicago puts him one step closer to making that a reality. But there are no out players in pro ball, so any involvement with a man must be discreet.
Physical therapist Justin Lamb loves his job with the Cougars. A romantic at heart, he wants to find lasting love—with a man or woman—but traveling with the team makes it difficult to maintain a long-term relationship.
Micah offers Justin a no-strings-attached way to blow off some steam, and Justin reluctantly agrees. It doesn’t take long before they’re both in over their heads but falling in love will risk everything.
With their careers and relationship hanging in the balance, they have one last play to make.
It’s time to take a swing for real and lasting love.
Openly gay college swimmer Ian Harrington feels like he’s fighting against a current of tragedy. He’s grieving the loss of his parents and best friend, and now he’s dealing with a toxic coach and judgmental brother. But he won’t let that stop him from chasing his dream: Olympic gold.
Ricky Chavez has just about everything he wants in life: a great career, a supportive family, and a side gig as drag queen Rosie Riveting. The only thing he’s missing is a partner to share it all with.
When the two men connect after Rosie’s performance, they’re immediately drawn to one another. But it’s never that simple. Ricky isn’t the type of man to hide, and with Ian’s coach breathing down his neck, he can’t openly love a drag queen without making waves.
They’ll have to brave deep waters to make it to the finish line.
Excerpt from Bully & Exit
Nathan’s voice was soft when he spoke, gentle like it’d always been. “Caleb Stockwell. I’ve been looking for you.”
Caleb cleared his throat and ignored him, tipping the bottle up for another long drink. He licked the spiciness from his lips as he debated making another run for it. There was a shrub blocking his way in one direction and a hockey player in the other. Even if he hadn’t been drinking, the odds weren’t in his favor. “Nathan Rhodes,” he managed.
“Damn I can’t believe it’s you!” Nathan leaned in and Caleb pulled back, uncomfortable with him being so close.
Caleb laughed bitterly. “It’s me. Now that you’ve satisfied your curiosity, you can run along.” He motioned with his hand, encouraging Nathan to leave.
“It’s really good to see you,” Nathan said, ignoring him. He took a seat on the pile of discarded construction materials, his knees brushing Caleb’s as he lowered himself down. Caleb pulled away as if scorched.
“Yeah? Too bad I can’t say the same,” he muttered, his head swimming as the alcohol began to hit him. He eyed Nathan’s long, long legs and the way he was pinned in by them, remembering the way they’d felt tangled with his as they came, panting shallowly against each other’s skin. It brought it all back; the scent of Nathan’s cologne, the taste of his skin, the way Caleb’s heart raced in his chest when Nathan held him close. It brought back the memories the ones he’d worked so hard to run from. The good and the bad. The sharp, intense happiness of falling for Nathan. The aching, crushing hurt that paralyzed Caleb for months after Nathan was no longer in his life. Everything he’d buried four years ago and vowed never to touch again.
He caught the first glimpse of doubt on Nathan’s face. “Are you okay, Caleb?”
“Oh, I’m mother fucking peachy,” he snarked and took another long drink. “I’ve made it through four fucking years trying to ignore the fact we’re on the same campus and with barely a month left in my senior year, I thought maybe I’d managed to pull it off. But nooo, Lowell had to drag me to this goddamn party, and of course you showed up too. Just my fucking luck.”
He raised the bottle again, but Nathan wrapped a hand around the neck and tugged. He was stronger than Caleb, so Caleb let go, afraid he’d end up getting pulled into Nathan’s lap if he didn’t. Nathan took a drink and passed the bottle back, licking the taste of rum off his lips before he spoke. “You’re so angry at me.”
“Ya think?” Caleb snarled. “Didn’t it ever occur to you I would be? What the hell makes you think you can waltz in here and pretend like all the shit that went down between us didn’t happen?” He tried to stand, but Nathan’s dark denim-clad knees were on either side of his, pinning him in place. He pried the bottle from Caleb’s suddenly limp fingers and set it aside.
“I don’t think that,” Nathan protested. “I was just glad to see you and I … I wanted a chance to apologize. I didn’t … I wanted …”
Caleb’s lips parted in surprise as cool fingers framed his face and for the first time in four long years, Nathan’s lips were pressed to his again. Involuntarily, Caleb closed his eyes, feeling a rush of heat wash over him, taking him right back to the first time. Before Nathan broke his heart.
About the Author
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time author. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Her books range from short stories to novellas to novels. They explore gay, bisexual, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
Serial Investigations follows a private detective duo, Will and Ram, through tricky cases, mortal danger, and the horror of (maybe) unrequited love for your best friend – with plenty of demons to battle along the way.
A body cut up into pieces and left in Highgate Wood. It sounds like the most exciting case that private detectives Ram and Will have had to deal with since leaving their FBI training and returning to London.
As each new body is piled up amongst the trees, the stakes get higher – and Serial Investigations London embraces their first real challenge.
But Ram’s lifestyle – staying out all days of the week, drinking too much, and having sex with a different man every night – soon catches up with him when the police realise there’s just one link that connects the bodies.
And it’s him.
Will faces a battle around the clock to prevent his best friend from being put away for life – and while the two of them face their own demons, there’s a secret hanging over their heads that might just bring it all crashing down.
If you’re a fan of BBC’s Luther, Jo Nesbo’s Harry Hole, or sharply witty gay men, you’ll love Serial Investigations. Jump into the action from the very beginning with Bloodless, the first book in a series you won’t dare to put down.
Private detectives Ram and Will got their name in the news by catching a high-profile serial killer, and now they’re getting more clients. When they’re hired to find a missing person, all they’re worried about is having to spend a night away from home. They go to check his last known sighting in Kent, staying in a quaint country inn.
Little do they expect that Serial Investigations London are about to get thrust into a new murder investigation – one that happens right under their noses.
A confession seems to solve the case, but is it genuine? With suspicions running high, the duo still have to find time to sniff out the whereabouts of their client – and avoid getting arrested themselves.
With Ram hitting the bottle harder than ever and Will fighting to stay in control, they might be about to lose more than just the case.
Private detectives Ram and Will thought they’d wrapped everything up when they found Ray Riley’s body in Sevenoaks. But it turns out that things aren’t what they seemed – and Riley may be the latest victim of a torture-happy murderous duo.
For the second time, Serial Investigations London are called in to assist as civilian consultants with DI Alex Heath’s team at the Met – but they have their own personal problems getting in the way of clear thinking.
Will has something to get off his chest, and it’s related to that kiss they shared – the one they both tried to forget. But Ram can’t stop drinking to push away the confusion, and this time he’s going to land himself in more trouble than ever before.
Can they get over their issues for long enough to stop another murder – or even keep themselves alive?
Book Title: Blood Sucker
Length: 65 000 words/ 191 pages
Release Date: March 28, 2020
Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller
Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers/misunderstandings
Will and Ram’s private detective partnership seems to be unravelling. After they ended up sleeping together, the tension between them is at an all-time high – and the unsolved Simon Shystone case is haunting them and their police contacts.
DI Alex Heath normally wants their help, but when a murderer posts images of his victim on social media, the chase is on to trace his digital footprint. With his superiors breathing down his neck, he might not be able to bring Serial Investigations London in on one of the biggest cases of their career.
They should be focusing on the artist who seems to have disappeared without a trace from his home studio. Could his latest commission have something to do with it? And will they be able to handle finding another client turned up dead?
Things are spiralling out of control for Will and Ram – and this time, they might not have each other to rely on.
Book Title: Blood Sport
Length: 164 pages
Release Date: June 30, 2020
Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller
Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers/misunderstandings resolved
A copycat killer who knows every detail. A locked room with no escape.
Serial Investigations London is officially closed for business – with private detectives Will and Ram still not talking to one another after an explosive argument. Even when a copycat killer springs up, seemingly targeting only their own cases, they can’t see eye to eye.
Little wonder, given that they both have something more important on their minds. Someone knows about San Francisco – about the man who died on a rooftop at their feet. Who has discovered their deepest secret? And what will they do to keep it buried?
That’s when another mystery piles up on top of the rest: a traditional trope that every seasoned detective must face, the locked room. But this one has a deadly twist, and if they don’t come to terms with their differences and work together, one of them might not live to regret it.
Will and Ram face the most pressing and personal danger yet – but the question is, who’s behind it? And will they realise they’ve been set against one another before it’s too late?
If you’re a fan of BBC’s Luther, Jo Nesbo’s Harry Hole, or sharply witty gay men, you’ll love Serial Investigations. The story continues with Blood Sport, a nail-biting series of twists and turns that will have you questioning how they’ll ever survive.
Click ‘Buy Now’ to enter the minds of troubled yet brilliant detectives as they struggle inside an interconnected web of lies – and the spider is getting hungry…
Praise for Serial Investigations:
“The front cover didn’t lie; Bloodless is exciting and thrilling.”
“Sets up a really great atmosphere right from the start and constantly leaves you wanting to find out what happens next.”
“A punchy storyline makes it difficult to put down and leaves you wanting more.”
“Just the right amount of action, plenty of intriguing deception and detective work.”
“Love the plot twists! Can’t wait for the next book to see what happens next to Will and Ram.”
Bloodless – Chapter One
Unlocking the door to your new home for the first time is supposed to be exciting. I guess it was the jet-lag, but I couldn’t even force myself to smile as we walked in. Not even for Ram’s sake.
We crashed in hungover and out of it, the sparkling wine and whisky of the plane no longer seeming like such a good idea. I chose a bedroom and dragged my suitcases inside. It felt good to no longer have all of my worldly possessions attached to my person. Without the weight of my backpack on my shoulders, I could feel just how much strain the muscles had been under.
I found Ram still standing at the wide windows of the living room. He was looking out of the clean, fresh glass into the grey and drizzling London of December. It felt like a jolt to look out and see not palm trees, but old Victorian factories and blocks of flats as far as the eye could see.
But then again, no one has ever mistaken Whitechapel for California. It was always going to be a bit of a culture shock, coming back home again.
I shook him by the shoulder, trying to ignore the pit in my own stomach. Maybe if I could get him to snap out of this weary daze we had both fallen into, he would be able to wake me up in return.
“Ram?” I asked, after a moment. He simply swayed under the movement of my hand, like a doll. I wasn’t even sure he was actually looking out at anything.
He turned and looked at me when he heard his name. It was like he was looking at someone he didn’t recognise from a long distance away. If I had felt uneasy before, that expression made my scalp itch with worry. Of the two of us, Ram is the calm and centred one. Even when he’s so drunk he can barely walk, he doesn’t lose it. Not like me. But I’ve never seen him like this before.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, after a moment, seeming to rouse. He shrugged off my hand and walked away, leaving me stood watching the place where he had been stood watching. I felt like a sentinel. Something had left us behind and we were plunging into a bowl of cold water, too confused to even try to hold onto the side. I wondered if it would even wash away what we had on our hands.
I was alone, without the option of distracting myself by looking at him. The only thing I could do was to keep moving. I heard the sound of the shower turn on, and I guided my weary feet into my new room. It felt like midnight, but the sun wasn’t even at its midday apex. I went from task to task, like an automaton, letting the cogs turn by themselves to keep my mind empty. Suitcase unzipped; clothes pulled out; find hangers; one by one, up on the rail. Knick-knacks. Decorations. Picture frame.
The flat came furnished, but now I realised that on our hasty flight out of San Francisco we forgot to take a few things into account. The beds had mattresses, but no pillows or sheets. The drawers in the kitchen held no cutlery, crockery, or mugs for tea. Even if they did, there was no kettle, no bags of tea, no instant coffee machine.
I ran out of things to do but I had to find something. I stalked from room to room, tablet in hand, stabbing the pages of an online shopping site. Kettle — black, chrome, retro. Tea bags — Earl Grey, Caramel Rooibos, Herbal Blend. Bed set — plain blue, reverse check, king size. Next.
Ram’s room. Suitcases still locked, black leather bag slung onto bare mattress, leather jacket discarded next to it.
He wouldn’t mind. It’s not like we have any secrets from each other.
Or many, at least.
Open the suitcase (correctly guess the code on the lock). Take out clothes, one by one, to string them up on hangers and leave them waiting for him. Personal items. Books stacked by the bed. Jewellery case. Boots on the floor by the door. Leather jacket hung up last, finally, the only thing left untouched.
I wondered how long it must have been now.
A long time, surely, but all I could hear still was the water hitting the shower tray. Over and over, the same hiss in the same tone.
A long time for Ram to be in there, on his own, with those thoughts swirling around in his head.
With razors and scissors and other sharp things.
“Ram?” I shouted, pounding on the locked bathroom door.
Nothing but the sibilant hiss of the water.
I threw my shoulder into the door, felt it bounce back against me, sending a shockwave through from the impact. Again. The door rattled, the lock unable to give. Again. Again. As many times as it took, again, ignoring the flower of pain blooming out across my shoulder and back. Once more, and I was stumbling forward into the room, momentarily disorientated as the momentum carried me onwards.
The glass of the shower door was all steam, except for a patch near the bottom where the spray of the water was heavy enough to keep it clear. I saw his legs, sprawled across the floor, and I could barely breathe for the fear that I had realised too late.
I wrenched open the door and saw him, and for a moment I understood nothing. He was whole — yes. No blood. But he was lying naked under the water, letting it hit his face and open eyes without blinking, not even reacting to my appearance.
“Ram?” I said again, but his eyes didn’t even flicker in response.
I reached in and grabbed his shoulder, ignoring the water. It quickly drenched my shirt through to the skin, spreading up over my chest and into my eyes as I shook him.
Slowly, like he was caught in a time lapse, his face swivelled around. His eyes looked at me, but they were empty. I don’t think he even saw me.
“Everything’s going to be alright,” I said, reaching up and turning the shower off. I didn’t know if it was the truth, but he was alive. For the time being, that was enough.
He stirred a little when the water stopped hitting him, but only for a moment. His shoulders slumped back down and he rested, resigned, still looking fixedly at nothing.
I grabbed a towel from my bathroom, thankfully one of the few things I did remember to bring with me. I ran back to find him still sitting in the same place. It was like there was no one left inside to notice that he must be cold and uncomfortable. I pulled him out of the shower and into my waiting arms. He came willingly, falling against me like a doll. I towelled him dry as best I could and held him tight, like we were kids again, trying to take some small comfort from one another. His head slotted under my chin, and it felt right but so wrong, because Ram is supposed to be the strong one.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Ram, I promise,” I said, closing my eyes and praying that I was telling the truth.
About the Author
Rhiannon D’Averc is a crime writer based in the UK. She works as a ghostwriter and author under her own name as well as under pseudonyms. As a professional writer for over a decade, she also keeps herself busy as Chief Editor of London Runway, an indie fashion magazine. Her short stories have been published in Litro, Devolution-Z, Storgy, Literati, and more.
A strict Daddy. A sassy neighbour. Can opposites attract?
After taking early retirement, Liam is happy avoiding people and tending to his roses. Or he was, until young film star Felix moves in next door.
With his cheeky, persistent, and very naughty behaviour, Felix gets under Liam’s skin instantly.
Felix needs Liam to teach him how to behave, but will calling the older man Daddy be enough to bring sunshine into Liam’s life?
A boy Made of Sunshine is a standalone gay romance, with mild D/s play, Daddy kink, a cute Dalmatian puppy, a ridiculous glow in the dark toy, and lots of brattish behaviour.
When a removal van finally arrived in the first week of summer, Liam’s hopes that his quiet existence would continue undisturbed were dashed.
He’d never regarded himself as a curtain twitcher before, but he found himself peering out of his bedroom window as three burly men unloaded the large van. The furniture didn’t scream ‘quiet retired couple’ to him. It was too modern, too loud. Who on earth owned a bright purple sofa, for crying out loud? The bed was even worse. It was a huge monstrosity, easily king-sized, and Liam couldn’t help but feel sorry for the men carrying it into the house. The bed frame was black, probably made of leather, judging by the way the sunlight made the fabric shine, with a massive surround, part of which looked like some kind of lounge chair. Did it even have a built-in speaker? Who needed a built-in speaker in their bed?
His jaw dropped a little more at every item of furniture that was brought into the house. The coffee table looked like it doubled as an aquarium, although thankfully there were no fish in it. There was a bookcase in the shape of a dog, a dining table with what looked like a solid marble top, overstuffed dining chairs, a pool table, and even a bar!
The painting was the last straw.
The canvas and frame combined must have been six feet tall, making the man that had been painted upon it almost life size. Not only was he nude, but he was grasping his cock, his head tilted back slightly, eyes closed, making it obvious that he was in the midst of pleasuring himself. Liam had never been so glad to have no other neighbours. The painting was glorious—he had to adjust himself to make his aching cock more comfortable in his pants—but why in God’s name hadn’t it been covered up? Clearly, his new neighbour had no decorum whatsoever.
About the Author
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
Catch up with The Aztec pack, as four traitors are found Azkin offers a compromise in order to save the packs Omegas, will the traitors take him up on it or will they run?
Aztec Warriors Angel and Brad are not happy to sit this one out, in order to keep many omegas safe, they agree. Many first rescue omegas are now much stronger and have been training with Warrior omega Scotty in secret.
The omegas want equality and too fully train with the main Aztec protectors and warriors, the only way to allow that is to go head to head in war games with the Aztec protectors, as mate is pitied against mate will the omegas back down?
The pack is attacked from all sides by a force of Theta wolves, attempting to steal pregnant omegas, Azkin puts a kill order on those who dare come onto Aztec pack lands.
Stragglers from packs across the United States start to arrive in a pitiful condition, Azkin turns to the Ancestors for guidance.
As the prophecy looks like it will unravel, The Warriors need to prepare to enter the Callum Medical Facility to bring home Joe’s mate, Adam, though surprise awaits Joe inside the facility.
Follow the Aztec pack, as each new rescue brings heartache, pain, and hope. More twists and turns as some loopholes are closed and others are opening up.
Azkin closed his eyes. He imagined he was looking at the red wolf in shifter form. Calling on all his strength as an Aztec shifter, in his mind’s eye, he projected to Zain so he could also see the very skinny young shifter, around twenty-one years with shocking red hair, very pregnant, and very much alone.
Zain knelt, placed his hand on the wolf’s foreleg, and whispered, “Shift. We know you’re pregnant. We won’t hurt you, but you’re going to harm your cub if you don’t.”
This seemed to kickstart the wolf’s self-preservation, and he shifted. Then, he scurried along on his ass toward the wall, trying to make himself appear small.
“Zain heal him. I’ll hold his arm. Please, before he goes into shock and we lose him.” Zain leaned forward as the smaller, almost feral shifter, growled at him.
“Alpha Zain is going to do a healing on your cub now. And then, we are taking you back to the Aztec pack lands.”
The shifter gasped and settled instantly. Something shifted behind his eyes, and he sighed.
Forcing all the Alpha pheromones, Alpha energy, and calming pheromones Zain could to the smaller shifter, Zain started the healing. From the color of the healing, they knew he was a feral omega from a lab. They needed this young one alive. Even just to birth his cub.
Feral wolves were wolves that had been in shift more than three months. This young one had been in shifter form a lot longer than that.
As Zain started to heal him, he could see his cub, hanging on to a need to survive, a tiny white wolf.
Tears prickled on Zain’s face. Healing with cubs involved brought this reaction from Zain, and each time Azkin witnessed empathy in his mate, it brought him joy.
About the Author
I live in Northern Ireland. Mom to two kids, totally crazy goings on in our house so it’s not surprising I write gay romance, paranormal shifters. Archangels and angels.
I love to channel the characters who waltz into my mind, they refuse to leave until I write their story.
The magic of the spirit/other world is in the books I write. I am a Spiritual and Psychic medium, and we all need a little magic in our lives. I am a spiritual teacher I walk many roads.
I am often found with my head a book, or earphones on as I listen to a book, or I am writing.
The biggest challenge so far has been the dyslexia. I have a set routine, and many people do not run on the same timeline as me, it’s been frustrating. Though lots of coffee seems to help, the animals in my life ground me.
My passion lies with the paranormal of our world, as well as a love of Sci-fi.
I have a rescued cat Theodore, the rescue advertised looking for homes for black cats no one wanted them. I also am mom to three Boxers, Dante, Khaleesi, and Sorcha. And nanny to my daughters two dogs, boxer Aria litter sister to Khaleesi, and brother Dante. Also a little mongrel Riley.
I love showing dogs this takes me out of my head and away from the computer, it brings out the competitive in me. It also helps me hone the vision of boxers for the future helping to promote the breed.
This gives me something to do outside of sitting in front of the PC, Training the dogs in protection as well as the showring. I am looking forward to 2020 in the showring, and 2020 for personal writing goals.