Trope/s: Hidden Villain, Hurt/Comfort, Man in Peril, Opposites Attract
Themes: Love, Cultural Differences, Revenge
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Someone is out to murder his husband and he might just be the reason they succeed.
Imperial Crown Prince Darshan knew his journey home wasn’t going to be the modest one he hoped for, especially not after eloping with Hamish, a former prince—and now exile—of Tirglas.
When he thwarts a clumsy attempt on his husband’s life during a soirée hosted by his long-standing rival and half-sister, he figures the worst is behind them.
Yet, the threat of death continues to shadow them across the empire. Someone is intent on making the rumours of his husband’s demise a reality, someone who can erase the memory of their very presence from people’s minds.
Darshan must discover who is behind the attempts before they succeed. But who can he trust when the culprit is capable of slipping by the most vigilant of guards?
About the Author
Aldrea Alien is an award-winning, bisexual author of fantasy romance with varying heat levels. Born and raised in New Zealand, she lives on a small farm with her family, including a menagerie of animals, who are all convinced they’re just as human as the next person. Especially the cats. Since discovering a love of writing at the age of twelve, she hasn’t found an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind with all of them clamouring for her to tell their story first.
Arthur grew up a peasant, but when he was fourteen, Excalibur chose him, and now as King Arthur, he must learn to play the game of royalty quickly … or suffer the consequences.
There was no reason for Arthur to think he would ever become king.
A peasant and son of a baker, Arthur grew up in the castle town of Camelot. When he attended the choosing ceremony, it was merely to see who would draw the Holy Sword, Excalibur – to see who would inherit the throne of the recently departed King Uther. He never expected the sword would choose him…
But it did.
Now, at the young age of fourteen, he has become King Arthur, and for all the power he has gained, he has made just as many enemies. Surrounded by the Knights of the Round Table, and led by the mysterious mage, Merlin, Arthur is grateful for his allies, though he would just as soon return to his old life. Surely, someone more worthy should be chosen as king.
Arthur is in the middle of chaos, a world where everyone wants more than they let on, where many hate the idea of a young boy with no noble background being crowned king; where cold stares and whispered words are just as sharp as an assassin’s blade.
As Arthur fends for his life, he must draw on the strength of his knights, especially fifteen-year-old Mordred, who becomes closer to him than the mere bounds of duty. He must become king, not just in name, but in his heart.
And he must do it quickly, because his enemies want more than just his crown…
I tried not to look too out of place or inconspicuous. Even so, the people who came by us sent me strange looks, and when they noted the Holy Sword in my grip, there were many reactions. Shock was the most prominent. It made my face hot with embarrassment and my heart clench tightly.
“Here we are, Your Majesty.”
I stumbled as Merlin addressed me. Your Majesty…I will never get used to that, I thought sourly.
I looked up from where I’d glued my eyes to the floor. The door that stood before us was ornate and decorated with the same dragon that adorned the castle gates. Merlin opened it.
My mouth fell open at what I saw. “I’m staying in this room?” I could barely get my voice to come out as I took in the elaborate bedroom before me. A large fireplace took up most of the right wall. A giant bed took up the left side. There was a wash basin that looked as if it were made of pure gold, two dressers, a desk, and a giant wardrobe. Beyond the bed, the room stretched farther and there in the secluded area was a giant tub with dragon heads as the feet. Directly across from me, the stonework opened to an elegant archway leading to a balcony.
The room was decorated with reds and golds, and purple too. The bed had all three colors, but in a very tasteful design. The pillows took up almost half of it and I knew I wasn’t ever going to sleep well in that massive monstrosity.
“Yes. Believe me, you get used to this far quicker than anything else,” Merlin said. “This room is yours, your sanctuary, as it were. Do whatever you like to it. Now, why don’t you wash up, rest. I’ll send the boy as soon as I find one. Should you have need of anything, there will be guards in the hall. Don’t hesitate to ask, Your Majesty.”
I shook my head and turned to face him. I let anger boil forth to cover my insecurities. “No more ‘your majesty’!”
Merlin tilted his head at me, confused at first. Then he gave me the same mischievous look I’d seen at the plaza. “Oh? And what should I call you, then?”
“Arthur. Just, Arthur.”
“Well, you’re not ‘just Arthur’ now. You’re King Arthur and you will be addressed as such. So, if you dislike ‘your majesty’ then my only advice is to get used to it.”
I glared at him. “You’re awful.”
Merlin’s smile didn’t cease. If anything, it grew larger. He gave me a sweeping bow that I was certain was more to mock me than out of actual respect. Then he backed away and closed the door.
I was left alone in the room and the silence was heavy again. I turned from the door and cringed at the gaudy riches sprawled before me.
I squeezed my hands into fists. It was then that I realized I still held the Holy Sword. It weighed heavily in my grip, my shoulder aching as I lifted the blade. It was almost too much for me to hold upright. How could I have forgotten such a weight?
The beautiful silver weapon reflected the sunlight. Orange rays spread into the room from the giant balcony across from me.
This can’t be happening. I chewed on my bottom lip as I examined the weapon. This was a dream, it had to be. There was no other believable explanation. I put the sword on the desk, laying it down gently. I backed away from it and eventually turned to the bed.
I tested the mattress and found it to be just soft enough to beckon to me. Slowly, I crawled up on it and lay flat on my stomach. The cool red doublet felt amazing and I found myself slipping into sleep. It wasn’t long before weariness took me.
And when I wake up, I’ll be at home with Mother…
About the Author
Siryn Sueng is a writer of fantasy, paranormal, and even Sci-Fi genres. She’s married to a wonderful husband with a minion of two years. They have a full house with three adorable fur babies, Anubis -the mighty cat hunter- Kida -the momma bear- and Mishka -the loveable husky-.
Siryn is a lover of games on a wide range of platforms. She plays on the PC, console, and hand-held devices including the phone. Japan is where she would love to visit sometime and is a huge inspiration to many of her projects. She’s a huge fan of Japan, including manga and anime. Siryn has even begun to dabble in comic/manga script writing. Future works in this will be posted on WebToon.
Allesandro Loyalty. My life revolves around it. Loyalty to me and to the Family. I demand it and in return, I will protect them. Emilio thinks he has me fooled but he doesn’t. No matter what I have to do, he will be my most loyal boy yet. Emilio Loyalty. He offers me vengeance but insists I kneel and pledge my loyalty. Do I give in and if I do will I look in the mirror and see a monster staring back at me? What happens when vengeance and the heart are tied together? Trigger Warnings: Contains graphic violence Book 2 of the Vendetta Series ends in a cliffhanger.
This must be read after Il Padrone, Book 1 of the Vendetta Series. It cannot be read as a standalone. Book 3 coming October 2020!
I turn on the water and grab my soap and shampoo while it heats up. By the time it’s ready, the room is filled with steam. I quickly wash my hair and body as I count the minutes down. I know Ignacio enters the shower at a certain time, and I want to play. Master may be able to stop me from having too much fun, but so far, he hasn’t stopped me from torturing the other boys.
I pour some more soap in my hands and then slowly stroke my cock while I play with my balls. It doesn’t take long for my cock to become hard as I use the right pressure and twist at the top. The suds dripping down tickle my balls, making me shudder. I remove my left hand and brace it on the wall when Ignacio steps inside. All of the training has really defined my muscles, and I can feel his stare on me. It’s a heavy weight I embrace.
I tighten my grip and start to move my hips, fucking my hand. I do it slowly at first, making sure to flex my ass muscles with every thrust. I moan when I occasionally swipe my thumb over my slit that’s leaking precum. Even with the noise of the water, I start hearing his own groans. I spur him on by pushing into my hand even harder. It makes me groan, and my head falls forward to rest on the wall. Despite the soreness and exhaustion from the training, I want to see how far I can push him. I fuck my fist hard and fast, imagining Ignacio coming up to me and sliding into my ass. I start a constant stream of “fuck, fuck, fuck,” and start shaking. I know it’s not going to take much for me to come, but I try to make it last. Finally, the pressure building gets to be too much, and my balls become too tight. Right before I come, I throw my head back.
“Ignacio!” I shout. I hear an answering groan from him and I turn my head to look at him, reveling in the dark, lust-filled gaze roaming across my whole body. I’m breathing heavily and in no shape for any other activities, but I take my time looking at him. The veins in his neck are standing out, disfiguring some of the tattoos stretching along there. His body is covered in ink, swirls of dark with the rare pop of color. I’ve never seen anyone so covered, but it makes me want to trace every one with my tongue. I look at his thick uncut cock, red and pulsing with need. I want to feel it inside me. I want to know if that curve would hit my spot just right.
I rinse off quickly and stalk toward him. I come so close to him it would only take one tiny movement and we’d be touching. I’m careful, though, knowing I can’t push Master too far. I let my lips rest right by his ear.
“Are you going to throw me down again tomorrow? Think about all the fun we could have?” I whisper, hearing the hitch in his breathing. I lean a little further away and take a deliberate, slow look at him. “You may want to take care of that.”
About the Author
Leigh is a dark M/M romance author from Texas with two needy terrors of terriers and a chaotic family. She considers coffee a major food group and her family fears broken coffeemakers. She writes in her spare time, forced to the keyboard by characters entirely too vocal in her opinion and often falls victim to plot monkeys. In between creating mayhem with her characters and friends, her hope is to transport readers to fictional places and provide darkness with a twist.
Can love and acceptance help Callum forgive himself?
Callum’s past haunts him and he’s desperate for a fresh start. When his uncle takes him in and the manager of the Heaven and Hell Club gives him a chance, things might be looking up.
Then he meets Dylan—a cocky, make-up wearing twink who challenges all his assumptions about himself.
Getting to know each other changes everything, as they give each other the love and acceptance they’ve both craved throughout their lives. But will it be enough to ease their doubts, heal their wounds, and allow them to have their own happy ever after?
Forgiven is the third book in the Heaven and Hell Club series. It’s a hurt/comfort romance, with a slow burn relationship, a bi-sexual awakening, tattoos, and piercings in interesting places. It can be read as a standalone, but works better as part of the series.
Content warning: homophobic parents
Callum didn’t move until he heard the door shut, then he started the level again. It was easier now that he was alone. His inhibitions dropped away from him and he focused on slicing his beams of light through the coloured blocks. He’d selected easy mode, which was fun but not a challenge. He managed to hit every block the second time through the song, so upped the difficulty level.
He had to move his body a little more on standard mode. The blocks came faster, the patterns were slightly harder. As they were more in time to the music, it actually made the level easier. He had to stretch to hit blocks when they were right at the sides or up high.
He upped the difficulty again and found himself moving even more—only to reach the blocks, he wasn’t actually dancing or anything. The pace of the blocks was almost frantic, and he quickly bombed out of the level. He tried again and again, quickly losing track of time as he became determined to get to the end of the level. Once he’d finished it, he set himself a goal to hit all the blocks in the right direction.
He wasn’t sure how many times he played it through. Being within the virtual world meant he was completely absorbed in what he was doing. He’d worked up a sweat, his heart beat faster and adrenaline made him buzz. He’d learnt the words to the song and was singing along to it. He was moving more now, his body reacting to the music as well as the blocks that flew at him. It was fun.
It was only when his stomach rumbled that he wondered how long he’d been playing. When he got to the end of the level, he stopped and carefully took off the headset. Dylan was sitting on the sofa. Callum glanced around, but there were no pizza boxes in sight. He hadn’t smelt any food either, but he’d needed to be sure.
“You never left, did you?”
Dylan shrugged. “You look like you’ve been having fun.”
Callum scowled. “You tricked me.”
“Maybe, but it gave you the freedom to let loose, didn’t it?”
Callum stared at the headset in his hands.
“I told you the game would get you moving.”
“I still can’t dance.”
“You should have seen yourself, darling. You’ve got a good sense of rhythm and some moves.”
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.
But while he doesn’t want to be there, a change of heart may be just what he needs…
The oldest translation of a Gospel is returned to the world by a secret society long dedicated to its preservation. In it, Jesus explicitly condemns bigotry and homophobia. In a new world in which LGBTQ passengers receive preferential boarding for flights and the United States has elected its first lesbian President, Pastor Rick Harris is stalwart, closeted preacher who doggedly holds onto his increasingly unpopular convictions.
When an incendiary sermon goes too far and offends an influential family, Rick makes a painful choice to keep his job: He attends an atonement camp run by drag queens for society’s most unrepentant and terminally incurable homophobes.
Atonement Camp is immersion therapy for Pastor Harris, and it might be working. An open bar with pedicures, a devastatingly attractive roommate and an endless supply of glitter help him manage to make new friends. Soon, Rick and his cohorts learn the camp may hold its own secrets. Amid the smiling faces and scantily clad pool boys who staff the camp, a clandestine group plots to discredit the New Revelation and everything it stands for.
If Rick has the conviction to confront his own hypocrisy, he might be able to uncover the conspirators with help from his adopted flock—and find new truths within himself.
It was just after sunrise. The call to prayer from the nearby city’s rooftop loudspeakers receded as Dr. Michael Donahue’s driver left a familiar road for the makeshift trails that led deep into the desert. One faith bridged to the next, he thought. Before long, he wouldn’t need the light jacket, but he wore it anyway. It was a mysterious quest, and he tugged the jacket tight around his chest.
The jeep bounced over the rough terrain as Dr. Donahue carefully poured hot water from his thermos over his yerba mate leaves. His second mate would be less bitter than the first. Each time he made a fresh tea, the leaves lost more of their bitterness to the boiling water. The same leaves could be used again and again any given morning. It reminded him of his profession. Archeology was the sober study of the forgotten—people who lived, laughed, suffered, and died, their history diluted by each passing year. Dr. Donahue was determined to learn as much as he needed to reanimate their past with subtle detail, adding context to what would otherwise be merely more than a list of dates and details for his undergraduates to memorize before a test.
As promised, a man stood by the still-empty dig site. He was dressed in a Western style—no keffiyeh or other head dressing. With short sleeves and rugged boots, his attire was more practical than fashionable. Dr. Donahue always appreciated utility and function above much else. He acknowledged that his estimation of the man’s credibility was thus-far unearned, but he nonetheless felt more comfortable in the company of the familiar.
The site had been Dr. Donahue’s home for most of the past year. His team would return after Ramadan. Dr. Donahue’s research specialization centered almost primarily around the early Christian era. He took a certain guilty pleasure in casually admitting his atheism each semester to the newest crop of freshman at his university in Washington, D.C. Like all things, he saw it as a learning opportunity. One is not excused from understanding something just because they don’t agree with it, he’d remind them. The site itself was an early Christian refuge under the Roman Empire. Forgotten by time, but now rediscovered. Painstakingly, he and his team would uncover artifacts and consider what stories they told about the people who made them. Dust from the jeep’s tires made a gritty fog that enveloped the air. Dr. Donahue squinted, his eyes already dry. He coughed and plodded through the sand to the man silently awaiting his arrival.
“Dr. Donahue.” The professor extended his hand to the stranger.
The man took his hand and smiled. “Thank you for coming. Your research associate mentioned your name last year when he worked with us, and we immediately knew we needed to meet with you.”
Dr. Donahue fanned the remaining traces of the sand from his face. “We?”
The man flashed a half smile. “Consider us like yourself, Professor. Archeologists.”
“I would assume, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
The man chuckled. “By the end of the day, I expect that to change. Come. Follow me,” he beckoned.
Still confused, the professor followed the man down the makeshift stairs to the dig site.
“We’re not certain where it was found,” the man said, waving his arm over the site, “but this is likely close and as good a spot as any.”
“What, exactly, was found?”
The man frowned. “Technically, it was never lost. Let me be more precise. This is where it will be rediscovered.”
The professor felt his frustration growing. “What, and by whom?”
The man turned to face the professor, still smiling. “The oldest copy of the Gospel of Mark ever discovered. I’m what we refer to as a Custodian—a group of people committed to protecting this draft as we have done for more generations than our history may account for.”
The professor’s jaw dropped. He looked for answers in the man’s eyes to questions he could not manage to formulate.
“Every truth has its season, professor,” the man said, lowering himself to sit next on an empty crate near an assortment of digging tools. “This region has been plagued with war. We fear that if the artifact is not returned to the world now, it may never be.”
If his research associate hadn’t already vouched so strongly for the meeting, the professor was certain he would have already left the madman in another cloud of obscuring sand. Instead he asked: “Why have you kept it in the first place?”
“It contains a passage not found in any modern text. What’s the American expression? ‘One man’s waste is another man’s treasure’? That’s how our forefathers saw it. They saw something worthy of protection until the world was ready for the message. That time is now.”
Dr. Donahue smiled. His birthday was the following week, and the realization that his research associate might have set this up as an elaborate practical joke began to seem like the most likely explanation. It wouldn’t be out of character for him, he thought.
“So, where is it?” he asked, playing along.
The man pointed to a black chest. Taking the bait, Dr. Donahue carefully lifted the lid, expecting some puppet to pop out and exclaim “Happy Birthday!” Instead, the heavy lid creaked open to reveal a scroll bound in plastic and wound over on itself. His smile faded. Even without the aid of his radiocarbon dating equipment, he could tell the document was old. Very, very old.
About the Author
Evan is a member of the LGBTQ community who fancies himself as a playboy socialite, living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Between work and lucid moments of sobriety, he writes a little. His debut novel is a light-hearted work that still manages to confront religious hypocrisy and contemporary LGBTQ struggles to balance their loss of culture with new-found civil rights. His friends say the book is great! Hopefully, you will as well.
There’s no such thing as fairytales—until there’s a happily ever after.
There’s no such thing as fairytales—until there’s a happily ever after.
When mob boss Nico Drakos dies, his son, omega Zane, knows the time is ripe for change. Just because all the mob’s business dealings have always been illegal, that doesn’t mean they need to stay that way. Zane is well-loved by everyone, and the council is ready to follow him wherever he might lead them. Time to put his business degree to work! The only person that stands in his way is his father’s second-in-command, Donovan Morelli.
Alpha Blaze was practically raised by the mob, groomed and trained to follow orders, no matter how dark. But, seething with jealousy, Donovan gives Blaze a command. One he can’t refuse. While Blaze keeps a wary eye on Zane, he falls under the omega’s spell. Then the alpha does the unthinkable. He defies his order.
Zane needs a safe place to hole up, but he doesn’t give a damn about his surroundings because the alpha everyone considers a bad apple lights a fire in his heart, one Zane is powerless to extinguish. With a memorable cast of supporting characters, this classic fairytale gets a modern mpreg twist.
For fans of alphas and omegas who give everything to be with the one who they love, this first book in Colbie Dunbar and Trisha Linde’s Once Upon An M/M Romance series checks all the boxes. It includes an alpha and omega who refuse to be defined by their past; seven men and women with whimsical quirks whose fierce loyalty to Zane earns them a place in his heart; plus a baby who arrives safely, despite the odds.
And while there is no once upon a time, they do live happily ever after.
I studied the man on my doorstep. He seemed kinda familiar and his scent washed over me, reminding me of coffee and something else I couldn’t pinpoint. Why? He smelt nothing like a good brew. One of Sam’s co-workers, I guessed.
I was disappointed and hoped my favorite delivery man hadn’t been fired or taken another job because I didn’t fancy this creep on my doorstep every time I craved a taco or quesadilla.
I made to grab the bag and hand over the tip, but the guy held on tight to the food. That’s my dinner! My right hand crept to my pocket as I asked, “Is there a problem?”
He nodded and his muffled voice said, “Payment didn’t go through.” He shrugged. “Gremlins in the app.”
Seriously? Gremlins? No hit man I’d ever met—and I hated that I’d made the acquaintance of more than one— ever talked like that. Tension released from my body as the guy held up his phone showing what I owed. “Okay. I’ll get the money.”
I was searching for my wallet, tossing cushions across the room and swearing, when an aroma that commanded attention struck me in the face and had the hair on the back of my neck standing up.
A pair of boots appeared in my line of vision, and I reared away. “Fuck me sideways with a broomstick!” The words exploded from my lips. I’d never seriously considered having someone order a hit on me, but faced with potential death, my pulse sped up and my mouth became dry.
Seconds passed, but time stretched out and it seemed like hours. It was as though everything was moving in slow motion. The grandfather clock ticked in the corner and dust particles floated past my head as my trembling fingers reached for the gun.
The intruder cocked his head. “Wouldn’t a broomstick be painful? Not a place you want to get a splinter. Ouch!” He put his hands on his hips.
I froze. Who is this guy? Air whooshed out of my mouth and I took a moment to compose myself. “You scared me. What in the hell are you doing barging into my house?”
“You said you’d get the money.” His voice was echoing in that stupid helmet.
“You must be new. Or been raised by wolves.” Come to think of it, wolves would have taught him better manners.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
I rubbed my forehead, convinced I’d aged ten years in the last few minutes. “Nothing. But next time, wait at the door.” I shoved a fistful of bills in his palm and curled his fingers around them. And that was my first mistake. One of many.
Skin to skin. My breath fogging his visor. The warmth of his hand seeped into mine and a tingling sensation spread over my body.
I should have let go.
I should have taken a step back.
I should have shoved him out the door and complained to the restaurant owner about the lousy service.
But I did none of those things. I didn’t move and neither did he. If this was his first day on the job, he might think all his customers held his hand. Poor guy. I pulled away and he made a strangled sound. It was hard to tell with that stupid helmet. “You okay?” If he was choking, I could give him mouth-to-mouth.
He bobbed his head.
He mumbled something.
“Rays?” Were there two of them? Ray One and Ray Two?
Okay, I heard that loud and clear. “Take off that thing, please. If you’re going to be bringing my dinner a couple of times a week, we should introduce ourselves.”
About the Authors
My characters are sexy, hot, adorable—and often filthy—alphas and omegas. Feudal lords with dark secrets, lonely omegas running away from their past, and alphas who refuse to commit.
Lurking in the background are kings, mafia dons, undercover agents and highwaymen with a naughty gleam in their eye.
As for me? I dictate my steamy stories with a glass of champagne in one hand. Because why not?
Trisha Linde spends all her time immersed in books, both reading and writing, mainly because she lives where it’s too cold to do anything else, and what better way to keep warm than a hot book. The first time she read mpreg, it was love at first sight, and there’s no turning back now.
Soothing his boy is a pleasure in more ways than one
Once upon a time, there was a boy who wanted a Daddy…
Henley knows what he wants from a relationship: to be taken care of by a Daddy. He’s under no illusions that he can be a handful. When he starts a new job, his gaze is taken to a prime specimen. Maybe Henley could persuade him to be his Daddy…
Isaac is worn out from the clubs, the scenes, the boys who say they want a Daddy then change their minds. When he’s given the responsibility of training the most obedient guy he’s ever met, Isaac is hooked. But does the guy even know what a boy is, despite acting like one?
They are powerless to stop their relationship. They complement each other so well.
Is Isaac the right Daddy for Henley, and is Henley the right boy for Isaac?
This is a 40,000 words sweet Daddy/boy romance
“I don’t want you to change yourself for me, Henley.”
“What do you mean?”
“You need to be yourself from the beginning. Don’t act or speak how you think I want you to. If I think something about your behaviour needs correcting, I will discuss it with you and help you alter it.”
“If I believe that is the best way to remind you, yes.” Isaac hesitated. “For me, being a Daddy is a twenty-four-seven responsibility. I would need you to realise that everything I do for or to you is for your own benefit. I want to help you become all that you can be, and in return, you need to trust me wholeheartedly. Telling me the truth at all times, even when it scares you. You need to trust that I will catch you should you fall. I will hold you close and protect you with everything I am.”
Isaac gazed at Henley, seeing a shimmer begin in his eyes before they filled and overflowed.
“Come here.” Isaac issued the order, and they both scooted out of their opposite seats, Isaac guiding Henley to slide over in the booth seat so he could sit next to him. Isaac wrapped his arm around Henley’s shoulder, hugging him close and resting his fingers against the side of his face as his tears continued to fall soundlessly.
Once Henley had calmed, Isaac lifted his face. “Are you okay?” Henley nodded. “I need your words, sweetheart.”
“I’m okay,” he croaked. “I…You…It’s everything I want.”
“Alright. Let’s eat our food, and once we’re full, we can talk some more.”
Isaac reached for Henley’s plate from the opposite side of the table and placed it in front of Henley. Henley smiled, and though a little watery, it filled Isaac’s heart with joy. He couldn’t believe he had found someone who already knew about Daddies and boys, and in fact, was one.
After they had finished their meal and Isaac deduced Henley didn’t want a dessert, he gripped Henley’s hand and left the restaurant. It wasn’t particularly late, and the air was warm, so he suggested a short walk.
“For a relationship to work with me, I would need to give you a routine to stick to—”
“What kind of routine?”
Isaac raised his eyebrows at Henley, waiting until he apologised for interrupting before continuing, “Things like when you’d need to go to sleep, when to wake, when to eat. I don’t do this because I think you are incapable of doing them yourself. I do it because then I will know you are looking after yourself like I have asked you to. I trust that if I ask you to do something, you will do it. For example, if I ask you to eat at midday, and you agree, I expect you to eat at midday, barring any unforeseen circumstances.”
“That sounds good.” Henley glanced up at Isaac from underneath his eyelashes. “I do sometimes forget whether I’ve eaten or not.”
“Good to know, and thank you for being honest with me. I have seen that you can be a little excitable at times. I would like to help you find a way to manage that. I think your work, however amazing you already are at it, would benefit a great deal from you being calmer and more in control of your actions.” He paused and smirked. “And mouth.”
“Hey!” Henley pouted for a second before grinning. “Yes, okay. I know I can be a chatterbox. But I have so much to say.”
“And I wouldn’t ever want to stop you from saying it, but I do think there is a time and place for certain topics of conversation.”
Henley scrunched his nose up. “Is there really?”
“Yes,” Isaac said firmly.
They walked in silence for a few steps before Henley asked, “What should I call you?”
Isaac exhaled deeply. “I would love for you to call me Daddy. But you don’t have to. Isaac is fine, too.”
Henley rested his head against Isaac’s shoulder, wrapping his free hand around his biceps. “I would love to call you Daddy.”
“Does everything sound okay so far?”
Henley nodded, and when Isaac raised his eyebrows, he added, “Yes…Daddy.”
Isaac inhaled and briefly closed his eyes, his pulse skyrocketing at the word. “Perfect.”
About the Author
Elouise East is a bestselling author of contemporary MM romance. She writes a variety of themes: sweet and fluffy to high angst to taboo, but there is a huge nod in the direction of friendships being integral to each character’s experience. She writes books that are emotionally realistic, even if liberties are taken with other aspects of her stories.
Reading and writing have always been a part of her life, although her debut book wasn’t published until July 2019, when she was 36 years old. Her experience has come from reading thousands of books over the years and being a perfectionist when it comes to trying to make things right. She lives in the centre of the UK with her two children, who make life worth living, keep her (in)sane and make her laugh. She loves Zumba, yoga and walking, all things that can be done alone as she is very introverted.
The Age of Man has passed, and a new age is upon the Earth. An age of magic and technology ruled by the supernatural beings that once hid amongst humanity has begun.
Talos – Vampyr King, Supernatural Council Member, and Despiser of Humans. Fate has a surprise up their sleeve for him.
Bayne – Raised by the human resistance, Would-be Assassin, and Despiser of Supernatural Beings. He’s ready to sacrifice himself to kill his enemy.
Bayne is thrust into a world he thinks he knows but quickly discovers his whole life has been built on lies. Talos, perfectly happy ruling his corner of the world, is faced with an unexpected and unwelcome change that comes with the mate chosen by Fate. Together they must discover how to live and, in the end, love one another. But will Fate have more in store for them than just learning to love the species they hate?
Bloodlines of Fate is a new urban fantasy series set in a world destroyed by humans and resurrected by supernatural beings. Fate has many plans for the vampires, fae, unicorns, therianthropes, and humans of this new world. While their mates may be fated, learning to love isn’t that easy.
This book contains depictions of gladiatorial combat, snarky fem twinks who will cut you, kings in stilettos, and awkward heats with a pinch of daddy kink.
Talos strode calmly into his office. His skin tingled with pins and needles all over. Odin and Majid were on his heels, and Majid closed the door behind him. Talos leaned on his teak desk as his discovery crashed into him. Claws extended from his fingertips and dug into the dense wood, marring its polished surface.
“Why of all days would this happen today?” Talos asked Fate.
“Brother, what is it?” Odin closed in and put a reassuring hand on Talos’ back, but it made his skin crawl. He shrugged Odin off and turned back around.
“It’s him.” Talos still couldn’t believe it. He wanted to race to his bedroom to confirm it, but he had to wait.
Majid cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, it’s him?”
Talos looked up at Odin and realization dawned on Odin’s face. “Oh, him him?” Talos could only nod. His throat constricted.
“I knew I had to come to you, Brother. And it seems this is why. I was there when our father found his beloved, your pa.”
Talos sat on the edge of the desk, crossed his arms, and massaged his temples with one hand. Majid stepped closer, started to put his hand on Talos, then took his hand back with an apologetic smile.
“Congratulations on finding your mate, my old friend.”
Talos raised his head with a weary smile. “Thank you, and that was a magnificent display in there. I’ll never tire of seeing you get horny.” Talos chuckled softly. “Although my new mate called you a horse. Apparently, he’s never heard of a black unicorn.”
Majid snorted. “He’s lucky I can’t read his thoughts like you can,” he scowled.
Odin’s deep booming laugh caused Majid to snort again. Odin cleared his throat nervously, trying to cut off his laughter.
“Your idea to let one of the other resistance members through with him was good. It gave me an idea as to what kind of man my mate is. He was scared but he held his ground. His stubbornness to see his mission through shored him up. It’s going to be interesting to see how he reacts to spending an eternity with us leeches.”
Majid smirked. “You know how much I like a good impaling.”
“I got something you can impale.” Odin shook his butt at Majid and Talos snorted out a laugh.
Majid ignored Odin’s interruption. “Your mate jumped a little, but you’re right. He held steady even when I slowly killed that weakling.” He scoffed in disgust. “Like anyone that weak would have made it through the selection process. It’s a wonder they survived the games. They were lucky to have been killed by me.”
“It is quite an honor. I think it’s been a full month since you’ve impaled someone in the throne room.” Talos rubbed his forehead. His skin continued to tingle. “I won’t be able to bond with him until his blood is clean.”
“Gideon is having the hemodialysis machine brought to your chambers along with a bed he can be properly restrained on. The doctors estimate it’ll only take two rounds for his blood to be cleaner than when he was born,” Majid reassured Talos.
“He will fight. I have no doubt. And we will most likely have to sedate him,” Talos added.
“The sooner you get it done, the better, brother. Your body will not allow you to wait too long.”
“It’s almost dawn now.” Talos looked at the clock on his wall. “Go to bed. Majid will stay up with me to watch over my mate.”
About the Author
A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.
A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.
Sam never expected to move back to Cleveland. Donovan never expected to be attracted to a man. Well, shit happens.
After high school, Sam Shelby moved to New York. Eight years later, he returns to Cleveland and lands a job at the best ad firm in town. It would be the perfect gig, if his boss weren’t such an ass.
After his wife leaves, Donovan Cooper questions everything. The arrival of a young, arrogant, gifted graphic designer at Donovan’s firm is the last straw.
Tempers flare over office gossip, and following a nasty argument and scathing kiss, Donovan flails away from heterosexuality while Sam struggles to keep his “no relationship” rule intact.
Despite ugly socks, fiery fights, and their best intentions to not fall in love, these bullheaded coworkers can’t deny their chemistry. Donovan seeks happiness while Sam seeks success, but is there room for more?
Donovan sifted through a few hand-drawn logos on the desk and froze when he found a crudely drawn sketch of himself. Sam must have done it during a meeting at some point, capturing Donovan’s faux hawk, wide jaw, and severe expression.
Jesus, was this what other people saw when they looked at him? Did he really look so miserable?
“Make yourself at home?”
Donovan dropped the picture and stood straight at the sound of Sam’s voice.
He leaned against the doorframe, with one ankle crossed over the other.
“It’s really bullshit when people say that, you know?” Sam said. “Make yourself at home. No one actually wants their friends to take off their pants, drink all their beer, and binge The Great British Bake Off.” He paused. “What are you doing in my office?”
“I didn’t mean to snoop.”
The office door closed as he stepped inside. “Sure you did, or you wouldn’t be in here, so what’s up?”
Sam circled the desk, so Donovan circled the other way, although he noticed it was true what coworkers said: Sam did smell good—like clean laundry and cedar. “I think we started off on the wrong foot.”
Sam snort laughed and flipped through some files on his desk. “More like wrong continent, man.” When he found what he was looking for, he tapped the file’s corner against his palm. “I can handle guys like you, you know.”
Donovan shifted back on his heels. “Guys like me?”
“Hmm. Corporate assholes. All you see are dollar signs. You take no pleasure in your work. Advertising is money to you, not art, but without the artists, there wouldn’t be advertising, so…” He sucked his cheeks into his mouth, a momentary fish face.
Donovan wanted to tell him it wasn’t true. Donovan loved art.
He used to love art.
Sam continued, “I know I look like a six-foot-two Disney princess, but you’re not gonna rattle me.” To prove his point, Sam got right up in Donovan’s personal space until Donovan took a step back. Again, he was not used to dealing with someone his own height. “And I’m right about the Great Lakes ad campaign. If you’d pull your head out of your ass, maybe you’d notice.” He turned away abruptly.
“I’m sorry.” Ouch, that hurt coming out.
Sam’s rebuttal: “Prove it.”
He rested a hand on the desk and cocked his hip out—the very picture of young attitude. “Listen to me in meetings.”
“I was listening.”
“Nope.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his unkempt, unprofessional hair. “No, you were hearing. I need you to listen. There’s a difference. And I know I’m just some fucking kid to you, but I ruled the New York City advertising scene. I know what I’m doing, Donovan, so let me do it.”
“Fine.” He’d had enough. He’d apologized, okay, so he’d done his Monica-enforced duty. He didn’t owe Sam anything else.
He didn’t run for the door, but he definitely moved with speed.
About the Author
Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling author, model, and mental health / LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film.
Fate doesn’t use dating apps to pair true mates…except when it does.
Fate doesn’t use dating apps to pair true mates…except when it does.
Alpha Brad Galway is a hot successful lawyer and Beta of his Den with omegas throwing themselves at his feet. From the outside, it appears as though he has everything he could possibly desire. Inwardly, he has a bear clawing to get out—no longer willing to stand by and let his mate go unclaimed. But there’s a problem with his bear’s plan. Brad doesn’t know who or where he is, just that they crossed paths in an airport over a year ago. If he doesn’t figure out how to control his bear soon, he risks losing everything—including his life.
Human omega Gabe Rafferty is excited to start his new job as a professor of English Lit. Ever since a layover in an airport last year, he’s felt like his luck has changed. He can’t explain how or why…but something happened that day, and everything from that point was onward and upward. He just wishes he had someone to share it with.
When Gabe is talked into using a dating app, he isn’t expecting much until he stumbles onto profiles that are fixated on the TV series, Shifter World. And he definitely isn’t anticipating the smoldering alpha who recaptures that feeling he experienced at the airport. Sparks fly, feelings grow, and their worlds are turned upside down in the very best of ways, but is it too late for Brad’s bear?
Matched To His Bear is the second book in the sweet with knotty heat Dates of Our Lives, an M/M mpreg shifter dating app romance brought to you by the popular co-writing duo of Lorelei M Hart and Colbie Dunbar. It features a human who stumbles into a world he never knew existed thanks to a silly little soap opera, an alpha who is losing his humanity, a stalker bear who turns out to be more trouble than anyone could’ve suspected, and an adorable baby. If you like your shifters hawt, your omegas strong, your mpreg with heart, and your HEAs complete with true mates and a bundle of joy, one-click today
The kitchen island was covered in bowls, pans, and other stuff. “Has the food delivery guy been and gone?”
“Nope. We’re cooking breakfast.” He glanced at his watch. “More like brunch.”
“You cook?” I asked, holding up a bunch of green things and studying it.
“No,” I replied.
“I do,” he informed me.
“And about the whole ‘we’ cooking thing…” My voice trailed away as Brad handed me a wooden board, a knife, and an onion. “What do I do with this?”
He grinned and kissed the end of my nose. “Can you chop it, please, Gabe?”
“Okay.” I was game for anything. I placed the onion on the board, and with both hands on the knife, brought it down over my head, and missed. Though I got the board, the knife sticking out of it reminded me of the aftermath of a pirate battle in a swashbuckling book.
“Sorry, I’ll try again.”
Brad stood behind me and murmured, “Here lies our dearly departed knife…”
“Did I kill it?”
“Almost. Let’s try again.” He placed his hands on mine, but I wriggled my ass against his crotch. A sharp intake of breath from him had me giggling. He pressed himself against my body and placed his lips on my ear. Food first, and then I’m taking you back to bed.”
“First we have to peel the onion, and then we chop it.” But by the time he cut into it, I was blinking tears from my eyes. “Owww! It hates me.” Brad took over and I sat on a stool. “You watching, Gabe?”
“Mmmm. Yes. Taking it all in,” I said as I leaned sideways and peered at his ass. That wasn’t a fib. I was paying attention, just not to what he was doing.
“Liar.” He held up an oddly shaped red lump. “Know what this is?”
“Something you’re going to cook?” I was quite proud of my answer.
“A pepper. A red pepper.”
“I thought pepper was something that came out of a grinder.”
Brad slapped a hand on his brow. “How is it you’ve managed to survive in the world up until now? And have no idea what you’re putting in your mouth.” And as he said it, his mouth formed the perfect O.
He understood the hole he’d fallen into, and I was going to tease him about it. I tilted my head to the side. “I always know what I’m eating, but I’m not talking about food.” I grabbed a dish cloth and swatted his ass.
He leveled a glowering look in my direction. “Keep distracting me and we’ll never get brunch.”
“Promise?” But my belly grumbled and I bowed, awarding the first round to him.
He made quick work of cutting the pepper, threw oil in a pan, and asked me to stir the red pepper and onions while he assembled herbs and spices, which were all shades of red or brown. I peered at the mixture as I stirred, not sure what it was supposed to be.
“You can leave it for now. We’ll keep an eye on it,” he told me as he turned down the heat and opened a tin of tomatoes.
“Time for extracurricular activities, I asked?”
I swooped under his arms and bobbed up, kissing him on the mouth. “You are a delightful distraction,” he croaked as my tongue flicked over his teeth. “But let’s finish cooking and then you’ll be my prisoner, unable to leave the bed for the rest of the day.”
I clapped my hands. “Are you going to tie me up?
“I wasn’t planning on it, but if you behave…”
About the Authors
Lorelei M. Hart
Lorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming now joined by their friend, Ophelia Heart. Friends for years, the three decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).