When it comes to
transformation, magic only fixes what’s skin deep…
In a world where an artist’s magic brings tattoos to life, ink
gone wrong can spell lasting heartache for those unlucky enough to experience it. Jaded and
cynical on both life and love, tattoo artist Ashton is about to find out that even the most
deeply-etched scars can be transformed into something beautiful when the right person is
holding the pen.
“Enchanted Ink” is a ground-breaking romance that
showcases how, with a bit of ink, some love, and a whole lot of trust, even the ugliest scars
can be transformed into something impossibly beautiful.
Using the art of tattooing as a metaphor for life,
“Enchanted Ink” makes it a mission to show even the most cynical and scarred of us that it’s
possible to heal, to find love, and that it’s never too late to start all over again.
Excerpt The twelfth annual “Enchanted Ink” Tattoo Convention has been in full swing for hours,
but Ashton has yet to venture inside. It’s not as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find there: a
fairly standard convention space, divided using equally standard black curtains hanging from
predictable portable frames creating both booths and stations offering displays that are
anything but ordinary. Various tattoo artists and their work, in the flesh—the best of the
best, by both fact and opinion.
In addition to the booths, there are always several centralized
showcase stands, right in the middle of all the hustle and bustle. Elevated platforms where
human works of art strip down to their underwear and pose, proudly displaying full-body
and wildly colorful tattoos boasting some of the most intricate and beautiful imagery that
probably exists in the entire inked world.
This particular convention admits artists by invitation only, and
while Ashton isn’t technically here to work this year, it’s an event he’s enjoyed immensely in
the past. It’s bittersweet—perhaps a touch heavy on the bitter—hovering on the
outskirts, wondering whether he’ll ever find himself behind a booth and promoting his work
again. While that remains to be seen, there’s plenty here to worry about in the
The thought of Whitaker working somewhere inside the
building behind him crosses Ashton’s mind and makes him grimace. He can practically feel
the tentative nerve he’s so painstakingly gathered, the courage to finally wander
through the front door, trickling away like water through a sieve.
Good thing it’s a nice day out, today. Sixty-eight degrees and
sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and Ashton brought a book. He can wait. The courage to go
inside will come.
Sighing, Ashton rubs the sleeve of his too-dressy collared shirt
across the backs of his eyelids. The button on the cuff pokes his eye, and it feels like a call-
out. He’s too dressed up, he looks out of place. Too covered, if nothing else. Which isn’t to
say that tattooed folks can’t be modest—naturally, that’s false and would be a terribly
judgemental view to hold. Either way, the whole point of a tattoo convention is to show off
one’s body and as much art decorating skin as possible. It’s supposed to be a positive,
That’s definitely the point, and his body is aesthetically
pleasant to look at, both sculpted and toned—yet here Ashton is, buttoned up solidly from
head to toe. Acting like he cares more about looking the part of a corporate stooge rather
than flaunting the walking canvas he is. Lame. So lame.
Lame, but necessary, he reminds himself.
About the Author
Robin Lynn is a 36-year-old
queer, autistic mother of two, an unabashed fangirl sometimes known as “Wings,” and a
disabled former firefighter, paramedic, and registered nurse. She writes for queer audiences
with the goal of reflecting and centering the lgbtqia2s+ community in more media, because
everyone deserves to see relatable, imperfect main characters who mirror themselves
simply existing and getting their happy endings. Find out more and follow Robin for additional content and future
Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for a chance to win
one of 5 ebook copies of Fire
& Ice or one of 2 signed Enchanted Ink
paperbacks with related swag: temporary tattoos and stickers.
Talented Serafino is apprenticed to Mastro Filargiro, one of the city’s leading artists.
Serafino finds love, but his mastery takes him on a perilous journey across Italy’s feuding city-states, unaware that his virtuosity is a threat to the pre-eminence of the hitherto unchallenged masters of the Renaissance.
His life must take a dramatic new turn in the hope of escaping their enmity.
Washington DC, 2008.
Parker’s first year at Georgetown High is coming to an end.
His father is appointed Consul General in Florence. Parker enthusiastically embraces his new life and befriends handsome Beppe.
But almost everyone around him has been keeping secrets. And the fifteenth-century palazzo where his family now lives unexpectedly reveals its long-buried mysteries.
Separated by five hundred years, yet united by their talent, Serafino and Parker embark on similar journeys of discovery while fellow artists, assassins, princes and envious classmates rage and scheme around them.
He hears the final bell. The school erupts, classroom doors slam open barely holding on to their hinges, the metallic noise of lockers being opened and shut again is deafening.
Summer break is here. A torrent of students regurgitates into the street causing an almighty traffic jam. SUVs with mothers or nannies at the wheel vie for space, right of way, and ultimately a not-too-subtle parade of the best four wheels in Georgetown.
This is no cheap suburbia, most of their husbands or employers are toiling at some desk or chairing important meetings at Foggy Bottom, on Capitol Hill or the White House. Most often all three.
Parker walks out of the front door with his hands in the tight pockets of his slacks and his rucksack on his shoulders. A few hugs with the girls and some high-fives with fellow boys ensue. His older brother is already waiting at the bike stand. When he gets there the high-five is followed by a manly hug.
‘Dude, summer break and birthday tomorrow. Lucky little bro.’
‘Bet you know what the old folks have got me.’
‘Sure I do.’
They start cycling. When Parker reached the age of fourteen, their parents went out and bought a cheap bike for his growing frame. The Hendersons’ pristine drive sports the standard two SUVs parked neatly by each other, yet their mother wasn’t fond of school runs. In their opinion he was still a bit too young to cycle all the way to school by himself but the city had finally built some decent bike lanes and Tommy was now seventeen so they made them promise to stick together on the journey.
Tommy, who finds cycling by himself rather dull – he’s not much of a loner, any activity has to involve other people – had gone out of his way to promise to look out for his little brother at traffic junctions.
They had also promised never to set off without their helmets, though Tommy had swiftly pointed out to Parker that “setting off” with them was not the same as “wearing them”. Parker, the more academic of the pair, had found the distinction clever though he had laughed while retorting that it was still cheating.
So when they are a couple of blocks away from home they stop, unlock their helmets from their rucksacks’ straps and don them before reaching the driveway. A few times Parker had remarked that one day they might get caught by their mother driving by.
He walks to the garage door to open it but he’s shouted down by Tommy who parades himself in front of it.
‘Off-limits until tomorrow, bro.’
A smiling Parker leaves his bike with his brother and heads for the kitchen door. Tommy has just narrowed down his guesses for his present. One doesn’t need a garage to hide a watch or a pair of trainers.
To his surprise he finds them both at home, sat at the kitchen table with two mugs of coffee in their hands. After kissing his mother on the cheek (Tommy is starting to cringe at that, but Parker still likes it. Tomorrow’s birthday might change that), he meets his father’s closed fist with his; they have gradually stopped hugging.
‘Why are you home?’ Parker’s face frowns in suspicion. ‘You’ve got the day off tomorrow, haven’t you, Dad?’
‘‘No worries. All free tomorrow. Left office early, not much to do at the moment. There might be a few changes in my career; new President, new direction.’
About the Author
Paolo G. Grossi was born and raised in Milan. Thirty years ago he spent a weekend in London and decided to stay. Like most Italians, opera and the visual arts are his main passions. When not writing, you will surely find him attending a performance, visiting a museum and, of course, spending some time cycling in Berlin or around the Wannsee. He lives in London with his partner David.
Separate Development is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Many names, places and timelines have been altered to provide anonymity to third parties. Character names do not reflect anyone, living or deceased, whom I have ever known. However, I would like to thank the real-life members of the family portrayed in this book for being part of my life, and for their understanding and acceptance. I recognise that their memories of the events described in the novel may be different from my own. There was never any intention to misrepresent anyone; in fact, I am honoured to have known them.
At twenty-five, recently qualified Dr Jonathan Conner leaves his comfortable life and love in London, taking up a charitable post during the last months of South Africa’s apartheid system. Weeks from a planned visit by his long-standing girlfriend, he falls in love with a young African man in the northern homeland of Venda.
Their passionate, heart-rending love story unfolds against the backdrop of conflict between social tolerances that lag behind political freedoms. Returning to England after eight years, he’s forced to confront the consequences of his decisions for those left behind in two very different worlds.
Through this story of love’s endurance beyond society’s acceptance and geographical separation, can the enduring power of the human heart overcome adversity?
The stark beauty of Venda’s voluptuous landscape could have replaced many an artist’s requirement for naked models of either sex. Rounded hills, writhing between cleaved valleys, yearned for lustful hands to caress their contours in pleasurable embraces. Admittedly, on that solemn day, it was not a mental image to dwell on. But I was to make the journey more than once.
The last twenty miles were dirt, dust dry, following the undulating curvature of parched hillsides. Rain was a distant memory, the last breath of summer’s bounty, yet portions of verdant green interspersed the struggling rampant growth of a forgotten season. Soon the skies would fill again with heat born clouds, storage towers of sustenance, destined to release daily torrents. Today, the brightest greens picked out pockets of humanity, cultivated patches and plots, tall stands of maize, fringed with bananas and peppered with papayas. Water was available for those who worked hard enough to find it, and the rich African soil rewarded those who took the trouble. These oases were increasing in frequency, many still surrounded by round, thatched, mud-wall huts or rondavels, some supplemented by larger rectangular versions, roofs still often traditional but occasionally replaced by bright or rusty zinc. Tracks worn by years of footfall fed the settlements. Vehicular access was rare, but where it existed, the residences built of brick, though often rendered: similar modern bungalows to mine.
As the frequency of dwellings increased, so did the appearance of structures clearly having other functions. Eventually we reached a broad flat plane. Gone were the patches of green, and in their place, the straggling thorn bushes — which conquered any area where humanity didn’t — had grown to tall spreading trees; all were bare of leaf, yet in the seasons of rain, broad panoplies of shade would provide protection from Capricorn’s sun. The space, ringed with buildings of a relatively modern construction, had occasional notices of printed or hand painted letters attached. Enclosing one side of the quadrangle stood a long dormitory style block of rough plastered walls, patched and peeling paint representing the faded choices of many years, or perhaps revealing the use of colours kindly donated at the time. Windows, placed only a few inches below the rusty corrugated overhang of the roof, in some sections without frame or glass, allowed light yet probably deterred its occupants from external distraction. Three well-worn steps led to broad double doors, also reflecting the indecision or availability of bygone supplies of colour. Only the signage appeared to have received regular maintenance. Bold black lettering, written with skilled hands on a fresh blue base, told me Sarah’s directions had led me to park in front of Ha-nthabalala Secondary School, Established 1972. Headmaster: Mr Joseph Ramanala. The name had a slightly deeper blue background, suggesting it represented the most recent promotion to the post.
About the Author
David Blyth was born in Staffordshire, in the UK. He graduated from Nottingham and Wolverhampton Universities with a BSC.hon and a PGCE. He lived for many years in South Africa, where he witnessed the political and social transformation during and after apartheid.
His interests, apart from writing, include anything that helps him to stay relatively sane.
Separate Development, which is in fact, his second novel, was written at his home in the English Midlands. It is due to be published in the spring of 2023.
His first novel, The Scars of Life, was written during a two-year overland exploration of southern, central and east Africa. Much was achieved sitting under the shade of a huge mango tree on the shores of Lake Malawi, always with a beer near at hand. It will be published during the summer of 2023.
Blurb Pitch and Sickle have survived enraged fae queens,
murderous forest guardians, walking corpses, and ghosts turned monstrous by the
Blight. They been tortured by sorcerers and made
playthings by enemies who have sided with the Morrigan. The ankou and his daemon prince have been forced
to confront awful secrets from their pasts. Both have made terrible sacrifices to keep the
other safe. And would willingly do much more to protect the
unimaginable bond that has grown between them. In the midst of the chaos and carnage a deadman
and a daemon have found each other. Now, Prince Vassago will need his Pale Horseman
more than ever before. With the escape from the Fulbourn comes the truth
about what lies ahead. The journey will be perilous. The great hunt has begun. And all is not as it should be for a beleagered
daemon. Can Silas and the Order outwit the Morrigan, and deliver Pitch to where
Seraphiel’s secrets lie? Or will the sorcerers’ Herlequin succeed where all the rest have failed?
CHECK OUT THE OTHER BOOKS IN THE
Book Title: The
Bandalore – Pitch & Sickle Book One
Cover Artist: Deranged Doctor
Release Date: February 25,
Heat Rating: 2 flames
Genre: Historical Fantasy MM
Tropes: Slow, slow burn, opposites attract
Themes: Loneliness and friendship
It is not a standalone book.
This is the first book in the Gaslamp Fantasy series, The Diabolus
It has an unresolved
storyline rather than an outright cliffhanger.
When the King of Daemonkind comes to call, be ready
for hell to follow.
After Lucifer’s disturbing visit,
the quest to destroy the Blight takes on a desperate urgency.
Finding Lieutenant Edward
Charters is paramount.
But what role does a mortal man
play in Seraphiel’s dangerous game?
The angel has sent Pitch a
talisman from beyond the grave, a seemingly innocuous watch that may be the key to
ending the Watcher King’s dark legacy. But to learn its secret Pitch and Silas must find the
man intended to carry it.
As the search for the lieutenant
begins, the Horsemen find themselves gifted with something more precious than any angelic
token. An evening of unexpected freedom. A night that will deepen their intimacy and bring
long-stifled feelings to the fore.
But what price will they pay for
choosing breathless pleasure over rigid duty?
The Morrigan have not forgiven
the destruction at the greensward. They are prepared to do whatever it takes to rid
themselves of the Horsemen and heed the Watcher King’s ghostly call.
The Fulbourn is Pitch and Silas’s
greatest threat yet. A place that will drive them into the depths of their
most terrible fears and seek to tear them apart.
They are closer than ever before but will that fragile new bond be
enough to save them?
Or have the daemon prince and his ankou found the nemesis that will destroy them once
and for all?
Excerpt from ‘The Bandalore-Pitch & Sickle Book One’
A rather pretty gentleman, sharp featured, pale and fine,
stepped into the room with a flourish of raised hands. His tousled light brown hair was wild
about his shoulders, and his eyes so green it was as though emeralds had been pressed into
the sockets. ‘Let the amusements begin…or should I say…continue.’
His velvet coat, a red almost as bold as the woman’s lips,
was unbuttoned, revealing a black shirt with a silver brocade of Chinese dragons upon it. An
elaborate ruffling of silk tumbled from the collar and covered a good portion of his chest. His
choice of trousers was equally curious, a rather outdated fall-front style in black silk.
The baron groaned, but his smile was ever-present. ‘Good
god, man, we thought you two would never be done.’
‘Perfection takes time, does it not?’
‘Take your seat, you rascal, and stop your showmanship, at
least just for a moment.’
Silas scratched his right palm absently, attempting to stymie
the prickle. Like many things about himself he wasn’t certain of his age, his late twenties was
likely, much the same as the man who had just swept into the room.
Mr Astaroth tilted his head, pursing lips that held a near-
perfect Cupid’s bow. ‘Am I to stand aside so another showman can perform?’
‘Exactly,’ the baron declared.
As Mr Astaroth made his way to his seat with his
companion, he had a notable effect on those in attendance. The ladies all at once seemed
incapable of deciding how they should adjust their gowns upon their seats, and the men
were equally as fidgety. All of them were fixated on Mr Astaroth’s procession across the
room. The man had not spared Silas a glance yet, even when he was deriding him, and Silas
had no issue with that at all. He was not sure he’d enjoy the pierce of those green eyes upon
him. But he could not deny there was indeed something mesmerising about the lad, the
sway of his hips, the coiled tension in his body that gave the impression he might suddenly
leap unannounced in any direction.
Mr Astaroth stopped to take a glass of champagne from the
tray offered by a somewhat flustered young footman. The liquid wobbled in its crystal
confines, and the boy’s eyes darted so quickly between the floor and the man before him, it
was as though he’d lost control of his eyeballs.
‘Thank you, kind sir. What a wonderful job you do.’ Mr
Astaroth’s smile was discomfortingly suggestive, his whispered appreciation of the boy’s
offering far too intimate, and the serving boy nearly stumbled over his own feet to move
Mr Astaroth was slender, not remarkable in height, and the
angles of his face were delicate to the point of being feminine, but he held a presence that
quite overwhelmed the room. Silas’s gaze moved down the length of the man’s body to his
feet. He wore heeled boots, which meant he was shorter than first impressions allowed. The
glean of polished leather distracted Silas from what became startlingly obvious a moment
later. He tensed and closed his eyes a second, as though that might change things. But alas it
was not to be.
The ground at Tobias Astaroth’s feet held no
Whoever this man was, he was not, for all intents and
purposes, human. Silas took hold of the arms of the chair, filled with the sudden desire to
depart. No one had thought to instruct him on an encounter such as this.
‘Stop frightening the help and get your arse on a chair,’
declared the bespectacled man at Silas’s left. ‘We know how you hate to have attention
diverted from you, so do try and behave, Pitch old boy.’
Evidently the group knew the man well enough to have
endowed him with a nickname. Silas could only imagine its origins.
‘Oh Brenton,’ Victoria, Mr Astaroth’s companion, said. ‘As
far as I’m concerned, Tobias has been on his best behaviour all evening.’ She had taken her
seat and leaned her elbows upon the table, utterly at ease.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Mr Astaroth said. ‘You are as sensible
as you are extremely talented in the art of, what were we calling it? Tarot reading.’ He tilted
his glass towards her before turning to Silas. The air quite vanished from Silas’s lungs
beneath the daggers of his emerald stare. ‘How very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr
Mercer. I do hope we are in for a wonderful show.’
About the Author
Danielle K Girl is an Aussie who lives in stunning Tasmania with
her three furkids, cats Luffy, Sweetie and Ren.
Her idea of heaven is a farm full of rescue animals, with a
vegie garden that sprouts peanut M&M’s and chocolate wheaten biscuits.
When she’s not keyboard-deep in mysterious, beguiling
worlds, she is binge watching K-Dramas, listening to K-Pop or hiking through the beautiful
Reckoning with the past just might destroy Grady and
Dawson’s plans for the future
Three deadly accidents that might have been magical
murder. A dark witch with a grudge against the King family. Federal agents with supernatural
abilities. And, as usual, Dawson and Grady are smack dab in the crosshairs of trouble even
they can’t outrun.
When Grady King’s brother Knox is targeted by shady
characters, old secrets, coverups, and lies come to light. Grady and his boyfriend Dawson
begin to question what really happened when Grady’s grandparents and Dawson’s parents
died. Then agents with the Tennessee Bureau of Supernatural Investigation show up
pursuing a different case, only to discover that the crimes appear to be connected, with a
vengeful dark witch at the center of the plot. And since monsters never sleep, Grady and
Dawson are still carrying out their duty to hunt dangerous paranormal creatures, restless
spirits, nefarious faeries, Civil War ghosts, creepy cryptids, and things that go bump in the
night. It’s all part of the centuries-old King family mandate to protect the people of
Cunanoon Mountain and Transylvania County, a mission Grady and Dawson are sworn to
But when it looks like something is hunting the people
Grady loves, it’s time to dig into the family’s painful past, uncovering dangerous details of
long-ago hunts against immortal creatures who never forget—or forgive.
Can they solve the mystery and figure out who’s behind the
deaths, or will they bear the deadly consequences of their hidden history? Reckoning with
the past just might destroy Grady and Dawson’s plans for the future and set loose a tide of
malicious magic that could sweep them all away.
Sins of the Fathers is a thrill-packed MM romance
adventure full of fast cars, outlaw country boys, snarky werewolves, vengeful ghosts,
menacing monsters, and a love that can’t be denied.
Book Title: No
Surrender—An MM Psychic Detective Romance Adventure
Release Date: April 20,
Genres: Urban fantasy MM paranormal romance, psychic
Tropes: Hurt/comfort, established relationship, learning to trust, grumpy-
sunshine, cold case, ghosts helping/interfering, lots of magic, wedding planning
Themes: Found family, loyalty, dealing with unresolved issues, putting the
past to rest
It is Book 5 in the Badlands
series but can be read as a standalone.
Cold cases, hot leads, a
psychic psychopath, a copycat killer, cursed objects, the trial of the century–and wedding
Psychic medium Simon Kincaide and sexy homicide
detective Vic D’Amato met hunting a supernatural serial killer. Since then, Simon has
become a police consultant on cases involving the paranormal, and Vic has gotten over his
doubts about Simon’s abilities being real. Along the way, they fell in love and got engaged.
But it seems like the danger never ends.
Now, the first case Simon and Vic worked together comes
back to haunt them as the killer goes to court and all hell breaks loose. The killer has a crazy
fan setting curses on key players in the upcoming trial. Ghosts from an old cold case suggest
that someone got away with murder. And a supernatural creature attracted to fear and
death is using the Grand Strand as its feeding ground. Simon and Vic feel like they’re waging
a war on all fronts, but with the stakes so high, there can be No Surrender!
No Surrender is a fast-paced thrill ride MM
paranormal romance packed with supernatural suspense, haunted tourist attractions,
monsters, visions, hot sex, hurt/comfort, loyal friends, wedding planning, found family,
ghosts galore, dark magic, and an evolving, established romantic relationship with all the
Book Title: Again: Fox
Hollow Zodiac Novel 2–MM Shifter Romance Suspense
Release Date: July 5,
Genres: Urban fantasy MM shifter romance suspense
Tropes: Shifters, one true pairing, reincarnation, fated mates, psychics,
magic, curses, hurt/comfort, found family,
Themes: Long-distance relationship, knowing you can depend on each
other, navigating a new relationship
It is book 2 in the Fox Hollow
Zodiac series. It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger.
The fast, furry, and furious!
A lynx shifter, pursued by a cryptid trophy hunter. A wolf shifter desperate to rescue a lover
who’s not just his fated mate—but his one true pairing across past lives. And a love that
The fast, furry, and furious! A lynx shifter, pursued by a
cryptid trophy hunter. A wolf shifter desperate to rescue a lover who’s not just his fated
mate—but his one true pairing across past lives. And a love that transcends time.
Lynx shifter Noah Wilson narrowly escaped being captured
by the Huntsman. While recuperating in Fox Hollow, he meets his fated mate, wolf shifter
Noah has to return to Canada to finish filming his TV
projects, so he and Drew visit when they can and come up with creative solutions to their
long-distance relationship. Noah and Drew are sure they’re meant for each other and start
Drew’s dreams make him wonder if he and Noah are more
than fated mates—could they be a true pairing, destined to find each other lifetime after
Then Noah accidentally records a murder, and the killer is
on his trail. Can he elude a master tracker and reach the safety of Fox Hollow, or will he and
Drew have to wait to find happiness in another life?
Again is a thrill-packed MM shifter romance adventure full
of sexy shifters, hurt/comfort, one true pairing, reincarnation, sincere psychics, hunky
mechanics, first responders, a sexy wildlife photographer, found family, and fated
book plus audio release
Book Title: The Devil
You Know: MM Supernatural Romance Adventure
Release Date: February 8,
Genres: MM romance, supernatural romance adventure, urban
Tropes: Hurt/comfort, friendship/partnership/lovers, found family,
second chance at love
Themes: Evolving established relationship, healing, learning to trust,
facing old fears
It is a standalone book and
does not end on a cliffhanger.
Seth and Evan met “on the job” when Evan was the
intended sacrifice of a dark coven, and Seth came to the rescue. Now, they’ve teamed up to
stop a century of ritual murders and get justice for Seth’s brother Jesse and the other
Seth and Evan have a plan to stop the next witch disciple,
plus new allies and magic. But this time, the warlock knows they’re coming, and he has plans
of his own. When Seth disappears and is trapped in a spell that gives him his heart’s desire,
can he free himself in time to help Evan?
And when Evan’s younger brother shows up unexpectedly,
can Evan trust Parker to have his back? It all comes down to trusting the devil you
The Devil You Know is a thrill-packed urban fantasy
MM paranormal romance with plenty of supernatural suspense, hurt/comfort, hot sex,
found family, and dark magic and features an evolving, established romantic relationship
with all the feels.
Book 5 – audio book release
Book Title: Blink: MM
Narrator: John Solo
Release Date: April 19, 2022
Genres: Paranormal/urban fantasy M/M Romance, action/adventure,
Tropes: Second chance love,
hurt/comfort, true soulmates, psychic, witches, ghosts, mobsters, resort town
Themes: Learning to trust, hurt/comfort, second chance love, established
It is part of series but could
stand alone. It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Erik Mitchell helped Interpol bust cartels, oligarchs, and
spoiled billionaires for art fraud. As an undercover cop, Ben Nolan helped bring down a
Newark crime family. Now Erik and Ben have started over in Cape May, leaving their danger-
filled jobs behind them, excited about a fresh start and their new relationship.
Plans to renovate a historic old theater stir up dangerous
ghosts and revive interest in unsolved Mob hits. The curse of a murdered witch strikes a
close friend, old movie props reveal clues to long-ago crimes, and a shakedown scheme
sends Ben’s cousin running for cover.
Time is running out to lift the curse. The Russian Mob wants
revenge on Erik, and the Newark Mob is gunning for Ben. A grieving ghost seeks justice.
Secrets, lies, and deception unravel in the blink of an eye.
Erik and Ben were planning for happily ever after. But
unless they can outwit witches, wraiths, and wise guys, they could go down in a hail of
gunfire and a blast of dark magic—and see their plans go up in smoke.
Blink is a suspenseful MM paranormal romance
mystery-adventure filled with second chance love, hurt/comfort, true soulmates, awesome
food trucks, dangerous secrets, restless ghosts, psychic visions, powerful witches, angry
mobsters, and a very haunted theater.
BOOK 6 – Audio release
Book Title: Huntsman
Narrator: John Solo
Length: 5 hours, 36
Release Date: August 23,
Genres: Urban fantasy MM paranormal romance, shifter romance, gay
Tropes: Friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, learning to trust, second chance
at love, fated mates, small town romance, found family
Themes: Love conquers all, starting over
It is a standalone book and
does not end on a cliffhanger.
Huntsman is full of sexy
shifters, hurt/comfort, second chance love, sincere psychics, hot first responders, found
family and fated mates.
A grieving wolf. A hunted fox. Fated mates, thrown together
by chance, and the looming threat of a fabled Huntsman who might tear them apart
Fox shifter Liam Reynard is running from a killer. He uproots
his life to find sanctuary in Fox Hollow, deep in the Adirondack Forest in New York.
When his car breaks down, sexy wolf shifter Russ Lowe
comes to the rescue, and one touch makes it clear they’re fated mates. Neither man was
looking for love, and both are still mending from past heartbreak. When mysterious fires and
disappearances threaten Fox Hollow, Liam fears the killer is hot on his trail. Can he protect
the town and his fated mate from the evil hunting him, or will an ex-lover’s betrayal cost
Liam everything he loves?
Huntsman is full of sexy shifters, hurt/comfort, second
chance love, sincere psychics, hot first responders, found family and fated
mates. Book One in the Fox Hollow: Zodiac series
…and these holiday favorites for Xmas and New
Book Title: Christmas at
Caynham Castle – Crewel Fate ~ Gail Z. Martin
Authors: Gail Z
Martin plus Jeanne Adams, Caren Crane, Seressia Glass, Donna MacMeans, Nancy
Northcott, Anna Sugden
Publisher: Rickety Bookshelf
Release Date: November
Romance—note—Gail’s story is MM paranormal romance. The others are
MF romance and MF romantic suspense
Tropes: Friends to lovers,
established relationship, enemies to lovers, second chance at love, paranormal romance,
Themes: Learning to trust,
found family, hurt/comfort, family secrets
These are seven individual
novellas all set at the same fictional castle/town and Christmas ball
And an ancient castle with adventure, mystery, ghosts and
romance in every corner.
Celebrate the Christmas season with seven authors,
each telling the story of the holiday at Caynham Castle in her own spectacular
Crewel Fate ~ Gail Z. Martin
When Teag Logan and his fiancé Anthony Benton travel to England to celebrate their
engagement, Teag’s magic and supernatural experience hone in on restless spirits, an old
scandal and century-old secrets that could turn deadly. Can Teag and Anthony solve the
mystery and settle the spooks before the Ball, or will more people join the ranks of the castle
Book Title: Ring in the
New at Caynham Castle
(Memory and Malice: A Badlands MM Psychic Detective
Romance by Morgan Brice )
Publisher: Rickety Bookshelf
Release Date: December 21,
Genre: Romance. Note – the Morgan Brice novella is MM paranormal romance. The rest are
MF romance/romantic suspense
Tropes: Friends to lovers,
established relationship, enemies to lovers, second chance at love, paranormal romance,
psychic, ghosts, historical mystery, gargoyles, witches, magic
Themes: Learning to trust,
found family, hurt/comfort, family secrets,
What better way to celebrate the new year than by
partying in an ancient castle, now a hotel, in a small English town? Join us in lifting a glass to
the holiday with these festive novellas:
Memory and Malice: A Badlands MM Psychic Detective Romance by Morgan Brice
Psychic medium Simon Kincaide and his fiancé, homicide detective Vic D’Amato, planned a
relaxing Christmas and New Year’s at Caynham Castle. But when Simon encounters a man
possessed by a malicious ghost, he fears that a spirit with an ancient grudge intends to
disrupt the holiday festivities. Can Simon and Vic prevent a disaster and protect the Earl, or
will a ghost from the past destroy the chance to ring in a bright new future?
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Fear not those who are innocent, for I shall cause you no
harm. I seek out only those who have yet to pay for their sins. Fear me if you have no
remorse, for I am the Reaper, and I will ensure that you reap what you have
The serial killer known as The Reaper is loose on the streets
of Norfolk. Its victims have two things in common: They have each hurt a child but served
little to no time in jail for it and none of them regret their actions.
Detective Mel Tanner is close to retirement when she is
assigned to investigate a murder that leads her in a hunt for the serial killer known as The
Reaper. As a seasoned homicide detective of fifteen years, she now finds herself jaded and
unfeeling to the atrocities that she has had to witness every day.
When rookie Detective Nat Petrov lands her dream
assignment, to work with the best Detective in Norfolk, she is thrown headfirst into The
Reaper’s perverse sense of justice. The Detectives race against the clock as body after body
turns up with the signature Grim Reaper tarot card, each life ended in a way specifically
designed for the individual victim. Will the detectives be able to catch a twisted serial killer
before time runs out or will The Reaper exact revenge in a way more personal than anyone
could have ever fathomed?
Michael watched with a sense of foreboding as the masked
figure in the black cloak stood looking down at the various items on the table, fear of the
unknown beginning to take hold of him. A thousand thoughts and images ran through his
mind as he tried to work out the reason for why he was there on that table, but as hard as
he tried, he couldn’t come up with a single explanation for his circumstances. He tried to
figure out who his captor might be, but the only name he could come up with was the Grim
Reaper, because that’s what his captor looked like. The Reaper came back and held a card in
front of his face with its left hand. It was a three-by-five-inch tarot card, and on it was a
picture of the Grim Reaper. Michael felt the color drain from his face. The Reaper pulled the
card away and with its right hand, held up a laminated newspaper clipping for him to read. Michael Fitzpatrick received a six-month
sentence for the beating death of his then-girlfriend’s six-year-old son. Questions on the
mishandling of evidence dropping the charges from murder to child abuse.
His stomach dropped. “I did my time for that,” he said, his
voice shaking with dread. Out of nowhere, his captor’s fist came swinging down hitting him
square on his nose. The sound of his nose breaking resonated loudly in his ears. Instantly his
eyes began to water, and blood began flowing down his throat. He tried to turn his head so
he could spit the coppery-tasting substance from his mouth, but the Reaper held him still,
forcing Michael to swallow the thick fluid. The Reaper slowly shook its head from side to
side. Fear of repercussions should he move kept him still and motionless even when his
captor went back to the table again.
When the Reaper returned, he was shown another news
article. This one detailing all fifty-three injuries the boy had sustained by him during a
drunken rage. While he read the article, tears spilled from Michael’s eyes in earnest as he
finally realized that he wasn’t going to get out of this room alive. Again, his captor went to
the table, returned the news article, and came back to look down at him with its unblinking
gaze. It held the Grim Reaper’s card up to him again, only this time it showed him the
message that had been written on the back of the card. Swallowing several times to clear
the blood from throat, Michael read it out loud, “Fear not those who are innocent, for I shall
cause you no harm. I seek out only those who have yet to pay for their sins. Fear me if you
have no remorse, for I am the Reaper, and I will ensure that you reap what you have sewn.”
Michael looked from the card to the Reaper, tears flowing down his cheeks as he begged for
his life. “Please, no. I did my time for that. I would never have hurt him if I hadn’t been
drunk. It wasn’t my fault. She knows how I am when I get drunk. She should have kept him
quiet and away from me.”
The Reaper placed the card on Michael’s chest and shook
its head. With its other hand, the Reaper slowly lifted up a ball-peen hammer, holding it in
front of Michael’s face so he could see it, the intention clear.
“Please, no. I’m sorry,” Michael sobbed, frantically pulling
against his bindings as panic began to take over.
The Reaper slowly turned and walked around the table until
it was standing next to Michael’s right knee. As the hammer was steadily raised over its
head, the Reaper looked down into Michael’s eyes.
He didn’t feel the wetness pooling around him as his
bladder released nor the pain of the restraints as they cut into his already raw and bleeding
skin. The only thing he felt was pure unadulterated terror. “No, please! You don’t
The Reaper tilted its head, the hammer still hovering high in
the air over Michael’s knee and placed one black-gloved finger to its mouth. Shhh. It said as the hammer came down hard, shattering his kneecap.
Born in New England, Rae
Scott spent her childhood hiking, fishing, and enjoying the outdoor life inherent to the area.
This love of adventure led her to travel the world in a quest to discover new and exciting
things, feeding her thirst for knowledge and creativity that she now draws on for her books.
In between her travels, she can be found on her porch in Virginia with her family coming up
with new ideas as to where their next adventure will take them.
“I swear to God it was Willoughby. My brother stood not
two feet away from me, called me Lina to my face, and pulled Harley into his arms, saying he
was sorry, sobbing, and calling him his boy.”
An apparition in Sydney’s fruit and vegetable market leaves
the mother of one of Clyde’s best friends believing that her brother, hanged for murder
twenty-four years beforehand, has somehow risen from the grave and confronted
She is adamant that the visitation was real and visits Clyde
asking him to investigate the mass murder her brother was supposed to have committed.
She believes he was either set up or was covering for someone else’s crime.
Could this vision have been a folie à deux, a delusional
vision shared by both mother and son? As Clyde investigates, clues lead him to one of
Australia’s most famous silent screen actors, a man who, together with his murdered father,
becomes intrinsically linked to the mass murder, known as The Killing at Candal
Wheels within wheels, lies, extortion, and coverups lead
Clyde to a bloody confrontation on a deserted beach in the tropics. This time, it’s not only
his own life at risk but also that of one of his most valued and closest friends.
I was in my “puzzle room” when I heard Harry’s cooee from
the front door.
I called it a puzzle room because that’s the phrase we’d
used during the war to describe a safe place where we could discuss plans, devise strategies,
and toss ideas around. Mine was my bathroom, lying on my back in the bath with the lights
out and the shower falling onto my legs, the only illumination from the flickering blue light
of the gas geyser. After eating dinner, I’d listened to Mama Lena’s Arrivederci Roma
radio programme then had got stuck into some research on Elwood Pearson.
I could hear Harry clunking around in the hallway. “I’m in
here!” I called out.
“I know!” he responded, then appeared in the doorway,
totally naked except for the black bow tie around his neck and wearing his socks and
“What happened to the master of the house looking for the
lazy footman?” I said, laughing because I could see he was more than three sheets to the
He climbed into the tub and sat between my legs, water
pouring over his head, grinning at me stupidly. “I changed it,” he said. “It’s master of the
house, pissed out of his skull, ravishing the naked footman in the bathtub.”
“Come here,” I said, and pulled his head down for a kiss.
“You’re not that drunk,” I added, my hand having found no evidence of brewer’s
“Shh!” he said, biting my chin. “Mark’s crashed in the spare
“Too many cocktails, both of us. We caught a taxi and he
helped me up the stairs.”
“So, no noise then?”
“Nup,” he said, then pulled my legs around his hips and let
forth a loud wolf-howl.
I laughed then pushed my wet washcloth between his
teeth, which he spat out then attacked my mouth with his own. I really hoped Mark had
closed his bedroom door. When Harry was in this sort of mood, he could make a lot of noise
… not that I was complaining.
About the Author
From the outback to the
After a thirty-year career as a
professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all
over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central
Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQUniversity.
Brought up in Australia,
between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in
the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a
connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an
Alois d’Pierrepont and Marton Prawer have been attending
black market antiquities events trying to recover treasure stolen by Nazis during World War
II. Marton is particularly interested in a certain missing Picasso.
Following the trail to France, the two stumble into far more
than they bargained for when a shady auction they’re attending in Paris’s Latin Quarter is
raided by Interpol. Alois’s uncle Frederick, from Bring Me Edelweiss, is soon hot on the case
along with his lover Joel McIntyre.
After recovering the journal of a Nazi general the four men
race across western Europe, chased by fascists desperate to find the treasure for
themselves. Gunfights and car chases ensue as the group uses a map in the journal to track
down the treasure and its contents, rumored to include the fabled Spear of Destiny.
Alois d’Pierrepont knelt at the door to the study and pulled
a small black pouch from his breast pocket. With a grunt, he undid the button on his Versace
“Black Baroque” evening jacket. It fit a little too snugly for squatting. Opening the bag, he
selected two picks, inserted them in the door lock, and went to work.
“How’s it going?” Marton Prawer asked, appearing beside
him and flashing his winning smile.
Alois looked up at his boyfriend. I’d go a lot quicker if you wouldn’t hang on my
shoulder, he thought. “Just bloody fine, dear,” he grumbled between gritted teeth.
They’d come to the party to find evidence that the host
collected Nazi memorabilia. Marton was obsessed with returning stolen loot to the Jewish
people. A noble pursuit. And being a history buff and amateur archaeologist himself, Alois
found him fascinating and intense.
The owner of this house had a reputation for acquiring
antiques with a sketchy provenance. But reputation was not proof, so the two young men
were looking for something they could leverage for information. Something that might get
them an in to the black market antiquities scene. To be fair, Alois was at a loss as to how to
accomplish that, but Marton was determined. Seems a bit of a stretch.
It was a good thing he was able to use his own contacts to
get an invite to this party, but . . . May wind up
paying for that. That particular person, a
socialite named Denis, was a pill and likely to bring it up to gain his own leverage. He let out
a long, deep breath. So far, it’s worth
it. After all, they’d made it here. But still, the games people
play. It’s all so exhausting.
He wiped beads of perspiration off his forehead and
frowned. Locks never gave him this much trouble. Then again, he wasn’t used to performing
under pressure. Before, it was always a lark, a trick he picked up as a kid running around his
grandfather’s drafty old home, picking the locks on all the doors for fun. Though he’d long
ago gone pro and bought a professional lockpick set, this was different. They were on a
“Take a breath.” Marton’s voice was easy and
Alois shook out his hand and let out a long exhalation, then
went back to it. After a moment, the tumblers clicked easily like they’d been waiting for him.
The lock let out a satisfying chunk.
“Sorry, just a bit nervous.” Alois chuckled as he stood.
“Never done this ‘in the field,’ as they say. Before, it was always a party trick or me larking
about. Never actually tried housebreaking before.”
Marton looked up at Alois and gave him a kiss on the lips.
“You did great.” He ran a hand along the front of Alois’s slacks, teasing him until he
hardened. “I’ll give you something special when we get back to your place.”
A deep moan escaped Alois’s chest. “I’m looking forward to
it already.” Grabbing the door handle, he stepped inside the office and flicked on the
They stepped into a nondescript modern office.
“Oh,” Marton said in surprise.
“What, were you expecting a Nazi flag on the wall?” Alois
asked, nudging the shorter man in the side. “Or an autographed photo of Hitler?”
About the Author
Kyle is an artist, playwright,
and writer. As a playwright, Kyle has had his plays performed in New York at the NY
International Fringe Festival, and the Midtown International Theater Festival. As an artist
and illustrator, he has had his art exhibited in both New Orleans and New York.
Born in Hawaii, Kyle is an
Army brat and grew up in Erlangen, Germany, as well as Augusta, Georgia, and several cities
in Texas. After stints in Louisiana and New York, he resides again in Honolulu with his black
Labrador Retriever Brady.