Mac’s three goals: keep
Tony safe, catch the killer, don’t come out.
Tony Hart’s a dedicated teacher, though he’s not much
older than his high-school students. Between his profession, a few good friends, and plenty
of books, he’s content with his quiet life. Then the murdered body of another teacher falls
into the elevator at his feet, and Tony’s life becomes all too exciting. Jared MacLean is a homicide detective, widowed
father to a young daughter, and deeply in the closet. But from the moment he meets Tony’s
blue eyes in that high school hallway, Mac can’t help wanting this man in his life. Mac’s not
out ― can’t afford to be out ― but Tony makes him want the impossible. Mac isn’t the only one with their eyes on Tony,
though. As the murderer tries to cover their tracks, Mac has to work fast or lose Tony,
permanently. (This is a rerelease of the 2011 original with
Tony said after a pause. “You’re not the only person trapped in the closet. All those guys in
the military, stuck with don’task, don’t tell; other guys with macho jobs or religious families.
Lots of guys are doing it.”
“But you don’t want to,” Mac acknowledged.
“It wouldn’t be my first choice, no. I’ve put a lot of effort and pain into being out so I
wouldn’t have to hide. But I do want you, and I know that comes on your terms.”
“They’re not my terms,” Mac protested.
“Whatever. It comes with being secret and hiding whatever we have together. The question
is whether that’s better than not having anything together.”
Mac wanted to shout that of course it was, but he bit his tongue.
Tony looked at him hard. “The other question you have to ask yourself is whether you want to take the risk. No matter how careful we are, you may get caught. A
wrong look, a note in your pocket, someone tracking down your cell in an emergency; there
are lots of ways this could come out in the open. It’s not a problem for me. But is that a risk
that you want to take?”
Mac opened his mouth to say yes, and hesitated. How have I come this far this
fast? He’d been willing to cut away anything in his life that risked his daughter Anna
or the job. And sex had never been that important. But this wasn’t about sex; it was about
Tony. And Tony had somehow become too important to cut away. It might hurt less to
give up breathing.
“There’s never been anyone I could go to, to just be myself. I’ve never had a lover, or even a
fuck-buddy. I thought I could live without that, but now… I don’t want to. Even with Mai, I
wasn’t… I couldn’t relax completely. With you, I’m just me.”
“Yeah.” Tony smiled at him. “That’s part of being gay, you know. It’s not just who you want in
bed. It’s who your emotional relationships are with the other twenty-three hours of the day,
whose arms you want around you when life hands you shit.”
About the Author
I get asked about my name a
lot. It’s not something exotic, though. “Kaje” is pronounced just like “cage” – it’s an old
nickname, and my pronouns are she/her/hers. I’ve been writing far longer than I care to
admit (*whispers – forty-five years*), although mostly for my own entertainment. I write
M/M romance, often with added mystery, fantasy, historical, SciFi, paranormal… I also have
Young Adult short stories (some released under the pen name Kira Harp.)
After decades of writing just
for fun, my husband convinced me I really should submit something, somewhere. My first
professionally published book, Life Lessons, came out in May 2011. I now have a good-sized
backlist in ebooks and print, both free and professionally published, including Amazon
bestseller The Rebuilding Year and Rainbow Award Best Mystery-Thriller Tracefinder: Contact.
A complete list with links can be found on my website “Books” page at https://kajeharper.com/books/.
An alliance forged through
marriage. The cost? One Man’s dream.
An alliance forged through marriage. The cost? One Man’s dream.
Tristan dreams of the day he’ll succeed his father as the
next Warlord of Markaytia. Elves—creatures famous for their darker passions and
tantalizing culture—approach the Markaytian king with an offer he can’t refuse: an alliance
with the Elves for the one Tristan Kanes.
Tristan is forced to give up his dream.
He’s not thrilled, but Tristan is a man of duty above all else.
What choice does he have? He cannot refuse the king or Markaytia. He begrudgingly comes
to terms with the arranged marriage. Is he a tad sour about it? Yes, but he’ll get over it.
Maybe it won’t be so bad. Elves have cool weapons,
maybe he’ll get one?
Corrik bans him from cool weapons.
Corrik’s seen Tristan’s gruesome death on the point of a
sword in a prophetic vision. He bans Tristan from picking up a sword ever again. Tristan
wants to accept the marriage with grace to make his people proud, but he resents Corrik for
his remorseless attitude over his life’s work.
Facing the Ice Prince and himself.
Tristan’s conflict follows him on the journey to the
mysterious Elven land of Mortouge. He hates Corrik for taking him from the life he loved,
boy does he, but his new Elven husband is an enigma and he’s captivated. He sets Tristan’s
blood on fire and freezes it at the same time. Corrik unravels Tristan’s true nature and
despite his best efforts, Tristan falls for his ice prince.
But Corrik won’t bend.
Corrik wants to be obeyed. He’s demanding and
possessive. He’s overbearingly protective.
Can these two find a suitable compromise? Or will Tristan’s
resentment and Corrik’s arrogance ruin forever their chance at love?
Tristan by Mock (S. Legend) is a gay romance fantasy featuring enemies-to-lovers vibes, an age
gap, arranged marriage, first times, and a happy ending (um, eventually). This is the first
action-adventure romance in the Tristan Trilogy. Mock may have written it down, but truly
it’s told by your lovable host, Tristan Kanes. He’s funny, sarcastic and while it may not seem
it at times, he’s the real person in charge of this story.
I remember the day I was called to the Great Hall alone, which set o all kinds of warning
bells. Lucca and I were attached at the hip then and were usually called to the Hall together.
In hindsight, I think it was because my uncle, King Amarail Kanes, knew Lucca would react
poorly when he heard the news.
I walked into the hall with my stomach already churning and when I saw that my father and
uncle were not alone, it plummeted like it had been shoved in ice-cold water.
That was when I saw him for the rst time.
The power of his features came from what wasn’t there, rather than from what was. The
man was devoid of imper‐ fections; not one thing about his face or his body hinted to a
deciency. There was no weakness in his impenetrable demeanor—the man was used to
winning and getting what he wanted. His cold purple eyes knew no warmth or sunshine and
sat as sentinels atop the high bridge of his patrician nose, complementing the supercilious
manner that surrounded him. Without a smile on his face, he looked cruel and stony. At the
same time, there was no darkness in him, whatsoever. Gold hair owed long over silver robes
that were open to reveal porcelain white skin; unmarred, and solid. The breezy, pretty robes
did nothing to diminish the restrained force of his chest and abdomen muscles—he seemed
to dominate the eeminate attire, as if he’d already defeated it. Not a body built for eldwork,
but for blood—war.
My cock stirred for him and made it impossible to deny that I was attracted to this ice
mountain of a man—I blushed. This was not the place I wanted to have an erec‐ tion. I
shifted my eyes away from the prince, down to my boots, placing my hands over my crotch.
“King Vilsarion, Prince Corrik. This is Tristan, my son,” Father introduced me.
“Welcome,” I said, giving a deep bow to each using the Markaytian etiquette Papa taught
me, then I took my place beside Papa.
“Tristan,” my uncle said. “We are honored to announce that we have reached an alliance
I smiled my best smile. Absolutely, bloody fantastic! The Elves didn’t align themselves with
just anyone and knowing what I knew of the recent unrest in the Northeastern Plains, since
we helped them a while back, I knew it was best to have as many strong alliances as
possible, if the Kanes were to maintain our hold of Dragon’s Rock. For the rst time in
millennia, we had to take extra measures to protect Markaytia’s crown city.
“That is excellent, Sire.” I turned to the Elven king. “I’ve been named as successor to my
father at my coming-of- age ceremony, and as future Warlord, I will look forward to dealings
with your Warlord. We Markaytians could learn from your teachings. I’ve read much about
your weapons—I know you forge the best ones,” I gushed.
I wage for peace, but war is inevitable and the prospect of ghting alongside an Elf was
exciting. All I knew of Elves at the time was of their weapons and great wars. I had little
interest in their other qualities. The Elves are a beautiful, mysterious race, but I didn’t see
much use getting involved in their politics or anything else about them since they were also
a private race who didn’t often allow outsiders into their grand kingdom.
I didn’t expect the Elven king to frown at my words. The smile on his face lit up the room
before, and especially standing next to his grouchy-looking son, the contrast was far
reaching. I turned to look at Papa, confused, and he took a sharp breath, ready to cry. Father
stepped between us; his dark eyes pinned me in place.
Uncle continued. “The alliance will be sealed with a marriage, Tristan. You to Prince Corrik.”
The displeasure must have been plain on my face, though I tried for the life of me to hide it.
About the Author
Some of you know her as
Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S. She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a
name given to her by her readers.
Mock is an ambitious
creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories. She is an architect,
building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings. It’s an
intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit.
It helped that storytelling was
the language spoken at home. One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation. ” In
Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my
path. I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry. In that
moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.” The natural flow of conversation always took
When Mock wrote her first
novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of.
But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along. She knew how the
story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it
rushed toward. Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for
the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing. All she had to do
was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing.
This is her peace, her healing
and solace: Gifts better shared.
Mock’s works are the comfort
you seek when you need to come home. Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring
reader, to unexpected destinations.
She always says, “I’m not in
the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tried. I’m lucky enough to get picked to
share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe. Someone answers; I write
Curtis Michael is a worldly
creative and proud member of the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities. Having traveled and
taught drama overseas for upwards of the past decade, he has somewhat recently taken up
voice acting and narration. You’ll hear some of the flavourings of his experience in the
Tristan audiobook, as the characters are wildly inspired from not only the world of Tristan,
but also Curtis’ different cultural encounters. With two dogs, two cats and a Corrik of his
own, Curtis currently resides in Southeast Asia. He can be found on the many beaches or
secluded in his vocal booth poring over juicy stories at every chance he gets.
A Tracker who can find anyone except the mate he’s
Benjamin Coulton is a tracker employed by the Consortium, the ruling counsel of vampires.
When he’s sent to investigate a rogue vampire killing indiscriminately in a remote region of
Alaska. Bad weather hampers his effort and he loses the vampire he’s been tasked to find.
Leon Davis and his friend Brian agreed to be winter caretakers for several cabins and a
fishing lodge, thinking it would be easy money. They settle into their daily routine of
checking the cabins for animal break-ins, or broken water pipes, and prepare for a long
Until a run in with a vampire changes everything. Ben finds a newly turned vampire left for
dead by the rogue vampire, and suddenly Ben’s mission changes course. In the freezing
wilderness of Alaska, he uncovers more truths and the mate he’d always longed for… and
now the killer vampire is tracking them.
MM Paranormal Romance.
Letting my senses guide me, I came upon a small grouping of cabins that surrounded a lake,
just like the sign promised. It was so far removed from where I’d turned off the main road
that I couldn’t believe there could be a human out here. But there was.
I was slammed from behind and tumbled toward the ground but managed to land on my
feet before spinning to face whatever had attacked me.
Before me crouched a vampire who appeared to have been feeding to the point of being
blood crazed. He had no control over his instincts at this point and was consumed with the
need to feed, and by the way he bared his teeth at me, he didn’t know any better than to try
to feed on me. His face was partially hidden from view by the hood of his jacket,
and what looked like a stocking hat pulled down low.
“Stand down, vampire, or I will end you.” I readied for his attack that I knew would come. He
was far past caring about consequences and believe me, there would be consequences.
He snarled and attacked; grabbing my hair and running up the trunk of a tree, he ripped my
head back. Twisting around, I tore myself from his grip and stood on his back as I pressed
him into the snow.
“Get off me or you will die.” He fought, even though he knew he would not win. The
madness that overtook him left him unreasonable to a point he would not be saved, and I
grunted as he heaved me off him and against a tree.
He was up in a flash charging at me again. “Must feed,” he screamed, his hands curled into
claws as he charged. I spun as he reached me and pulled the knife from my waistband.
Though it only left him off balance for a split-second, it was enough to give me the
advantage. When he attacked again, I spun the knife and plunged it into his heart. It wasn’t
enough to destroy him, but it would injure him.
He screamed in pain before running off into the woods. Fuck, why did it always have to be
About the Author
BL Maxwell grew up in a
small town listening to her grandfather spin tales about his childhood. Later she became an
avid reader and after a certain vampire series she became obsessed with fanfiction. She
soon discovered Slash fanfiction and later discovered the MM genre and was hooked.