A cursed, haunted hotel. Old scandals and secrets that won’t stay buried.
Can Ben and Erik find the killer before they become Cape May’s newest ghosts?
Erik Mitchell traveled the world uncovering art fraud and relic theft, which pitted him against spoiled billionaires, unscrupulous collectors, mobsters, and cartels. He worked with law enforcement across the US and Europe, but then a sting goes wrong, Erik ends up injured and returns to find his partner cheating. He decides to stop globetrotting and buy an antique shop in scenic Cape May, New Jersey, rebuild his life, and nurse his broken heart.
Undercover Newark cop Ben Nolan went down in a hail of bullets when a bust went sideways, after a tip-off from a traitor inside the department. When he recovers, he spends a couple of years as a private investigator, only to tire of seeing the worst of human nature. So when his aunt offers him the chance to take over her rental real estate business in Cape May, it seems too good to be true. Now if he could just believe he could ever be lucky again in love.
Sparks fly when Erik and Ben meet. But when a cursed hotel’s long-ago scandals resurface, the two men are pulled into a web of lies, danger, and deception that will test their bond – and might make them Cape May’s newest ghosts!
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
Vampires are attempting to integrate into human society.
When Alec MacCarthy first meets a ‘haemophile’ in the flesh, it’s not the obvious dangers that frighten him.
Alec MacCarthy, Lord of Aviemore and largely-forgotten descendent of a once-proud family line, keeps the wolf from the door of the crumbling family mansion by restoring classic cars.
He leaves the real world alone and wishes nothing more than for it to return the favor. But in a reality where haemophiles—still colloquially known as vampires, despite the publicity campaigns—have come out of hiding and are attempting to integrate into human society, the real world is rapidly becoming a disrupted and conflicted mess that threatens to trouble even Alec in his remote Scottish hideaway.
When he unwittingly attends a Blood Party to please a friend, he has his first meeting with one of these mysterious and dangerous beings. Terje is like nothing he has ever encountered before…literally. His reactions are as troublesome as they are undeniable.
Alec’s snap decision to help the haemophile rather than sample his sense-heightening and addictive blood sets them both on a path that will lead them into a tangled web of intrigue with consequences that will change their lives—and the world—forever.
Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, murder, kidnapping, blood stealing, drug use, addiction and blood drinking.
“You have questions.” He sat and uncorked the bottle. The electric lantern made his pale skin glow. It shone off his high cheekbones and the lines of his neck. His mouth was soft, his lips slightly curved, even at rest. I remembered it open, redder than blood, the teeth shockingly white and sharp. I remembered his hands, strong enough to crack the wood of the basement door, strong enough to break Brody’s bones. But now he sat easily in my kitchen chair, regarding me steadily with calm, entrancing eyes. He was terrifying, but he was beautiful, like a freezing winter morning in the very heart of the mountains. I bridled at the thought and dropped my gaze to the tabletop.
“How old are you?” I heard myself ask.
“Not old enough to have known Jacob More,” he said, with something like amusement in his voice.
“That’s not an answer.”
He still didn’t smile but something like humor flickered in the dark depths of his eyes. “I don’t know exactly. Over eighty, less than a hundred.”
“How do you not know how old you are?”
He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “You stop counting after a while.” I narrowed my eyes and his mouth twitched. “And, well…at the time, it wasn’t considered important where I’m from.” His brow creased slightly, his eyes far away. “I remember the Second World War but not the first. Do I get to ask a question now?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, regarding him closely and trying not to think about the fluttering in my belly. “What question?”
“Is this really your home?”
He tilted his chin slightly. “I knew you must live here when we arrived. I could smell it. But the place looks like it belongs to someone else.”
Something prickled over the skin of my back. “Again, why do you care?”
“Just curious, like you.”
“I’m not curious about you,” I said in tight voice. “That’s not what this is.”
He inclined his head. “Very well. You don’t have to answer. Next question?”
I picked at a splinter on the table, not looking at him. “Daylight…”
“What about it?”
“Does it kill you?”
“The cellar?” He sipped his wine. His mouth was stained slightly pink. I hurriedly lifted my gaze. “We have to sleep, just like you do.”
“During the day?”
“We’re sensitive to sunlight,” he said slowly, factually. “We don’t produce melanin in the same way, so we burn easily. And it’s hard to see.”
“So you just…sleep?”
He frowned at his glass. “Not the way you sleep. The Blood requires us to…offline. Recharge.”
“Could you stay awake if you wanted? During the day?”
“Yes, though it’s hard. But the Blood wakes us if there’s a threat. Is it my turn now?”
I hesitated and reached for the other glass. “I thought you said you were supposed to answer my questions.”
“Polite conversation normally goes both ways.”
I fought a scowl. “We’re not exactly meeting at a dinner party here.”
“No,” he said softly, looking into the fire. “But that’s not my fault, is it?”
About the Author
S.J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.
She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.
Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.
Only one of them can take the prize…may the best wolf win.
They’re bond-mates. They’re rivals. Only one of them can take the prize…may the best wolf win.
Alpha Zach Logan is taking part in the Top Dog survival challenge to secure his billion-dollar inheritance. The odds are in his favor. He has awakened his latent wolf, becoming the first verified shifter in over a century; no way can he lose. But his biggest rival is also his bond-mate, the omega he’s destined to spend the rest of his life with. Can Zach keep their conflict from spilling over into the bedroom?
Omega Sebastian Gage came to the Island to win. That trophy is his, and he will fight anyone for it. Yes, including his bond-mate, who is smart and generous and doesn’t deserve to lose. But them’s the breaks, because Sebastian needs this win to free himself from unjust suppressed shifter laws that limit omega rights.
The Island isn’t a tame playground, however, and not every competitor plays fair. Will the deadly game tear Zach and Sebastian’s fragile bond apart, or will love come out on top?
Bonded is Book 2 of the steamy paranormal m/m romance series Latent. If you like high stakes, sizzling chemistry and fiercely protective shifters, you’ll love Alana Timms’s wild adventure.
Bonded is best read after Fever, Book 1 of the Latent series. Unresolved plot elements make this story’s strong HFN ending a cliffhanger. Themes include hurt/comfort, pack dynamics, fated mates and rivals-to-lovers. Bonded contains adult material and is not intended for audiences under 18. Includes steamy scenes, strong language, violence and minor character death.
Outside on the deck, Sebastian set the table with a crisp white table cloth, glasses, and silverware. Table for two under a waxing moon. He lit a couple of candles, placing each in a candle lantern.
Too much? Kill the candles?
Too late; Zach came into sight carrying his backpack and shopping bags. He swept his gaze over Sebastian. Then looked him over again, slower, eating him up. Sebastian shivered; he couldn’t hold the ocean breeze responsible for it. Not when his pulse raced as well. Zach dumped the bags, and prowled onto the deck. He fucking prowled, telegraphing his X-rated thoughts through a subtle change in his scent and the fierce intent in his darkened gaze.
“You look good,” said Zach.
His voice was laced with gravel; a near-growl that pitched Sebastian into full-blown lust. His stiffening dick pushed at the front panel of his kilt. His hole clenched hard around the butt-plug, wild for the real thing.
“Thanks?” Sebastian heard it, the uncertainty as though he were asking a question. He injected more authority into his voice. “You too. I like the haircut.”
Zach smiled. His dimples told a lie. Cute, they said, adorable.
Yeah, same way a tiger was adorable. Zach’s aura pulsated with barely leashed power. Raw and intoxicating, it put a dent in Sebastian’s authority. He hated this shift in their dynamics. But he loved how hot Zach made him feel.
“You’ve been busy,” said Zach, stopping within kissing distance.
So why weren’t they doing that, kissing? He couldn’t think of a good reason why Zach’s tongue wasn’t in his mouth. “Busy? You mean the table?”
“I mean busy claiming points for nailing my ass.”
He was supposed to feel guilty, but that was difficult to do given the memory of him fucking Zach through the jungle floor. “Oh, that.”
“Yeah, we’re not doing that anymore.”
A flare of panic. “What, nailing your ass?”
“Sex points.” Zach grabbed his hips and walked him backwards across the deck until his back hit the wall. “We’re not claiming points for sex anymore, Sebastian.”
Wedged between a wall and a hard Zach, staying on topic was becoming a real problem. He curled his hands on Zach’s shoulders, his fingers twitching as a tide of sensation swept through him from Zach.
“It’s the rules, Zach. We have to put in claims for all transactions.”
A muscle ticked in Zach’s jaw. He exhaled with force. “Apart from intimate ones, those are ours. They’re between me and you. Not between you, me, and the Auditors.”
Intimate was exactly it. A tide of intimacy flowing between them. He’d swear it was the bond creating new pathways, opening them up to each other. He bent his head a little to line his mouth up with Zach’s.
Zach kissed him softly, taking such infinite care that Sebastian lost his breath.
“How much for that, Seb? Ten points, a hundred? How about this?” Zach asked, and kissed him again.
No softness this time. Zach took what he wanted with the demanding sweep of his tongue. Sebastian let him in on a throaty moan, basking in pleasure. And sighing in frustration when Zach pulled back.
“Answer me. How many points?”
He tipped his head back to rest it against the wall, all kinds of turned on by Zach’s commanding tone. “I get it, all right? Points are stupid. But can we just play the game like it’s supposed to be played? Please?”
“It’s none of their business what goes on between us, Seb.”
He recognized stubborn when he saw it. Zach wouldn’t budge on this. But neither would he, because he wasn’t about to risk getting fined for flouting the rules.
“A foot race,” he said. “I win, we forget this conversation ever happened. You win, we quit claiming sex points.”
Zach cocked his head. “You’re challenging me?”
“Yes, I am.”
Zach’s eyes flashed, his smile wolfish. “Challenge accepted.”
His own wolf stirred at the flashing eyes: tread carefully. But there was no risk involved here, was there? He could break free of Zach’s grip on his hips any time he wanted.
What he wanted were more kisses.
About the Author
Alana is an avid fan of romance novels, mostly reading m/m romance. Drawn to growly alphas and their feisty omegas, she set out to write her debut paranormal m/m romance trilogy, Latent. Alana loves to write flawed characters and works at giving them complexity. Their paths to happiness may not be smooth, but they always get there in the end! When she’s not reading or writing, Alana enjoys hiking in the forests and beaches near her home on the east coast of England.
A beta in an oppressive werewolf society must participate in a mating ceremony where alphas hunt their future mates.
As a beta in Wereduin society, Fern has no choice but to be mated when he comes of age. The ideal beta wereduin was subservient to their alpha, bears young, and knows their place in society.
Fern isn’t like that.
Rather than become an extension of his alpha, Fern wants to play in his band, hang out with his friends, and stay himself.
Now of age, Fern is to be placed in the Offering—an annual ceremony where alphas hunt and claim their beta mates. And whose attention does Fern attract? None other than Donovan Blackfang, a Highborne alpha who will stop at nothing but to claim Fern’s heart, body, and soul.
Someone grabbed the nape of my neck. Shit, no! Why hadn’t I paid more attention to my surroundings?
This alpha male was stout and gray. His jagged claws dug into my shoulder, and it ripped a cry from my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another beta. This alpha must have been cornering her before I showed up. She didn’t look back at me as she made her escape. The alpha who had me could have come from my worst nightmares. He had a large scar across his eye. His thick, weather-worn hide told me he’d been at this game for a while. He could be my papa’s age, not that age mattered for werewolves, but his face was truly menacing. The glee I found in his glowing red eyes terrified me. Veins riddled his muscular physique. One of his ears had been chewed off. He gripped my shoulder, tearing my skin. I clawed at his hands, face, biting wherever I could as he forced me onto the ground.
I felt sure I was a goner when he was knocked off of me. Growling surrounded us. It was the large, black alpha that had taken on the slaver. He snarled at the alpha who had been about to rape me. Slowly, I crawled away on my hands and knees. That was when he turned his fangs on me, growling. He didn’t want me to leave, as if he already felt some ownership of me. Something in his eyes halted me and trapped my breath in my throat. I shook my head rapidly.
There was no way I would be claimed tonight. And certainly not by a male. I took off running, leaving them to their fight.
It was over shockingly quick. The dark alpha won. My alpha. It confused me when I momentarily thought of him as mine. My body wanted to submit. Arousal grew heavy in my groin, heating up my body.
Instincts be damned, I was not born so I could have some male alpha’s pups.
The black alpha picked up speed.
Just then, two alpha males sprang from either side of the woods. I ducked low, and they collided into each other. I dodged around them. The left one snatched me back before the alpha on the right knocked him to the ground.
Both alphas were beautiful—if I allowed myself to think something like that about the same sex. One was a scarlet red, while the other a golden bronze. Hopefully, the two would also stop the black alpha who still followed me, and I could make a getaway.
Both tried, not wanting to let a challenger slip by.
I dragged out a relieved sigh. Part of me was disappointed, and that part scared me. The rest of me was thankful. I didn’t want any of them to win—especially the strong dark alpha.
It was apparent by their beauty that all three alphas fighting over me were from the upper-class. But my eye was drawn to the dark one—jet black with those piercing neon-blue eyes and riddled, muscular physique. Of the three, he was the most handsome. Shaking my head and trying to remove those unwanted thoughts about the beautiful alphas fighting for me, I left them to battle.
When I heard them following me, I stole a glance over my shoulder. My heart stopped. Both the scarlet and golden-bronze alphas chased behind me. The dark werewolf must have been beaten. My heart sank. I wanted to slap myself. Why did I feel so let down?
I ran blindly through the forest and over the rocks until I backed myself against a cliff. Both werewolves approached me, snarling. I retreated as far as I could go before I drew my fangs. There was no way I was going down without a fight.
Perhaps they formed an alliance because they no longer fought each other. Instead, they homed in on me. Was I about to be claimed by two males?
How would they take me? I only had one opening. Would they both try to fit? My body trembled, but my beta brain started to submit. It craved having the alphas’ cocks inside me.
Backing away, I shook my head and crouched low. They sprang at me, but before they could touch me, a black shadow leaped from the cliff over my head. He landed in front of me.
There he is again!
The black alpha.
Gratitude overwhelmed me, and I could do nothing but stare at him. I wanted this alpha. I ached inside. Precum dripped from my hard cock. I wanted him inside of me.
Violently, I shook my head. No. I did not want to be claimed by anyone tonight. I found a small opening created by their fighting and snuck out. The black alpha growled at me, and I couldn’t stop my shiver. He wanted me to wait for him. He wanted me to let him claim me. Already, it felt like he had his claws around my heart.
About the Author
Rosary is an author of erotica ranging from sweet and fluffy, to dark and taboo. She aims to foster a sex-positive experience for readers to indulge their fantasies in a fun and safe space. Sometimes she uses her writing to journey into the often hidden and taboo depths of human sexuality, and hopes readers will take away from her stories, not an acceptance of violence and sexual abuse, but rather a way to embrace their inner desires often shamed by society.
Personal assistant Sam Coleman can do it all: housekeeping, groundskeeping, bookkeeping. The catch? It’s a con.
Ed Simon, his newest millionaire boss, doesn’t know Sam Goldman is a Robin Hood for hire who targets rich jerks. Sure, Sam keeps the money for himself, his crew, and his real employers, but at least they only steal from bad people.
Until sweet, fumbling Ed, who doesn’t seem to have a single vice. Too bad the people who hired Sam won’t let him back out. They want Ed’s money, and they’ll hurt Sam and his friends to get it.
For years Ed has kept people at arm’s length, but Sam’s charms wear down his defenses—just as he learns their budding relationship was an act. Sam isn’t who Ed thought he was, but Ed has a dark secret too: he’s a vampire. And someone is framing him for a series of bloody murders.
When the real villains force their hand, Sam and Ed must choose: work together, trust each other, and give in to the feelings growing between them… or let what might have been bleed out like the victims piling at their feet.
Sam was exhausted, probably because he hadn’t slept well in the past two days, but when he was ready to call it a night and looked around for Ed, he was surprised to find him outside, already in the pool. Sam was usually gone before Ed took his swims.
The tricked-out radio by the patio doors was blasting loud enough to carry outside, playing Blue Oyster Cult and making Sam smile. He didn’t fear the reaper so much himself anymore either.
Ed wasn’t doing any complicated strokes, just floating serenely on his back, arms gently moving to keep him up while he gazed at the stars beginning to glitter above him. He’d left the doors open as if to invite Sam to watch, so it was easy to do so without calling much attention to himself.
Ed didn’t look like a predator while swimming, his trunks clinging to him, chest bare. Sometimes it was hard for Sam to accept that dissonance—this version of Ed compared to the swift, brutal one—but then, wasn’t a lion capable of seeming like a housecat even if it was always dangerous?
“Would you like to join me?” Ed called without turning to look at him. “I have an extra suit upstairs.”
Sam wondered if that made him the lion tamer.
Enjoying the way Ed’s eyes fixed to his mostly bare body when he descended from upstairs in the spare trunks, Sam took his time walking to the edge of the pool, set his clothes on one of the lounge chairs, and stepped off for a simple, smooth drop into the water. He shook the excess from his hair and face when he resurfaced, seeking out Ed at the other end.
“Tell me,” Sam said, lifting up to float lazily on his back, “even without your telescope, how many of those can you name?”
“The stars? Or constellations?” Ed lifted as well, both watching the sky as they orbited each other.
“Does it matter?”
“No. I can name most of them.”
“Then where am I?”
Ed navigated to drift up beside Sam, tracing over invisible lines in the sky. “Gemini. Sort of like two stick figures holdings hands.”
Sam chuckled. “And you?”
“Pisces is there.” Ed dragged his finger the other direction. “See the way the ends connect and then it makes a sort of tilted V?”
“Doesn’t really look like a fish.”
“We had to be more creative back then.”
Blinking as what Ed was implying sunk in, Sam righted himself, not sure if he could ask, “You mean…?”
“I’m not that old.” Ed grinned. He didn’t clarify how old he was, however.
“You know, one of these days, I’m going to get you up on that roof to use your telescope properly.”
Ed scrunched his nose. “I wasn’t lying about not caring for heights.”
“I figured. Any particular reason?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because there weren’t as many tall buildings in my time.”
“Which was…?” Sam tried again, but Ed glanced away.
“Is this our first date?”
“If it was, would you tell me?”
“I said my age wasn’t a first date reveal, so….”
Sam read Ed’s hesitancy and didn’t want to push. “I don’t think this counts.” He smirked when Ed looked at him with a start. “We need to leave the house for a real date.”
“We’ll have to start thinking about our rain check, then.” Ed smiled back at him.
Drifting closer, Sam slid his hands around Ed’s waist to finally connect and pull him in. Even in the heated pool, Ed’s skin felt bracing. “I guess we will,” he said and started to lean forward.
“Sam.” Ed wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, but his hands fidgeted, and he held back from letting Sam reach his lips. “You’re not only pretending because you think this is the only way to be safe from me, are you?”
The idea that Ed still expected treachery surprised him, but then, Sam almost had betrayed him again, scared as he’d been. Ed was the most powerful and deadly creature he’d ever met, but he was still vulnerable, still so human.
“According to you,” Sam said, “I’m putting myself in more danger by being with you. You gave me an out, Eddie, and I chose to stay.”
About the Author
Amanda Meuwissen is a bisexual author, with a primary focus on M/M romance, and works in marketing for the software company Outsell. She has a Bachelor of Arts in a personally designed Creative Writing major from St. Olaf College, and is an avid consumer of fiction through film, prose, and video games. As author of the paranormal romance trilogy The Incubus Saga and several other titles through various publishers, Amanda regularly attends local comic conventions for fun and to meet with fans, where she will often be seen in costume as one of her favorite fictional characters. She lives in Minnesota with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga, and can be found at http://www.amandameuwissen.com.
Because sometimes it takes dying to have the time of your life.
Nord wakes up to find himself sort of dead. Well, that is to say, he’s dead, alright—murdered, in fact—but not in heaven, at least not yet. In this limbo-like state, he meets Max and learns that everyone there is waiting for the final poof, hopefully to a better place. Only, with unfinished business back in the real world, like bringing his murderer to justice, Nord’s poof is nowhere in sight. And so, he and Max set out to find the killer and make things right again. Of course, that’s easier said than done when you’re nothing more than a couple of randy spirits.
With the help of Voltan, a diminutive mystic with a predilection for turbans, and Clark, a nerdy computer geek eager to shed his loner past, plus a ghost accountant, Bruce, Bruce’s drag queen brother, Eve O’Destruction, and Nord’s kick-ass mom, the newly enamored pair set out to hunt for the murderer, and are quick to discover how much they’d taken for granted when they were alive.
In this hysterically funny and often poignant mystery about fate and love and family, it ultimately takes dying for our heroes to have the times of their lives.
I woke with a start and stared up at the ceiling. “That’s weird,” I said. “Where’s my ceiling fan?” I blinked. I blinked again. I thought to make it a trio, but then realized I hadn’t blinked the first two times—which is to say, I blinked but there wasn’t that whole ceiling, no ceiling, ceiling, no ceiling thing, which is what happens when I blink and I’m staring up at my ceiling. Not that what I was staring at was a ceiling to begin with, but still.
I continued staring up. I supposed what I was staring at was white, given that it looked white, and I supposed that what I was staring up at was a ceiling because, give or take, most ceilings are white, mine included, but the white I was staring at sort of shifted around a bit. FYI, my ceiling didn’t do that, except perhaps when I was drunk.
“Did I get drunk last night?” I asked myself. Only, I couldn’t remember last night. I couldn’t remember going to sleep, even. I remembered waking, but that was it. And I didn’t feel drunk. In fact, I felt great. Better than great, actually. Blissful would’ve been a good word for it. Light, too. As if I’d been weighed down and now I wasn’t. “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty—”
“You can try, but He doesn’t seem to listen,” I heard, then jumped in place.
My head whipped right. Nothing. My head whipped left. “Um, how did you get in my…” My what? This wasn’t my room. This wasn’t my ceiling. Was what was above me a ceiling anyway? “Wait, who doesn’t seem to listen?”
The man to my left grinned. He looked about my age, early thirties, give or take, nice looking guy, too. Very Bradley Cooper like, stunning blue eyes and all. He was prone. He was lying next to me. He was naked. I stared down at my body. I, too, was naked. I continued staring down. There was no bed. There was my body, there was his body, there was that shifting white. “Don’t freak out,” he said.
My heart wasn’t madly pumping in my chest and I wasn’t sweating, but I felt like I was freaking out, nonetheless. Especially because my heart should’ve been madly pumping and I generally start to sweat when I’m freaking the fuck out. All that is to say, I was FREAKING THE FUCK OUT!
“I’m freaking the fuck out!” I shouted his way. “Who are you? Where are we? Why is the wall and ceiling and floor shifting?” I blinked. It felt like I blinked, but I didn’t get the right effect again. “And where are my fucking eyelids?”
“You get used to that,” he replied.
I sat up. That is to say, I tried to sit up. Only, I didn’t think I was actually lying down, and you can’t sit up if you’re not lying down to begin with. “Stop the ride,” I squeaked out, “I want to get off.”
I was still staring at him. He was still grinning. “Give it a minute,” he said. “Takes about five minutes for all of it to right itself.”
“All? What all?” I continued staring. It seemed like a minute went by. I was no longer lying there. I was standing. He was standing next to me. The not-a-ceiling was now not-a-wall, and it was still shifting, and I was, duh, still freaking out, fuck and all.
“You were lying down before you got here, so it seemed like you were lying down when you arrived. Get it?” He said it very comfortingly. I felt less than comforted. Very.
“Max.” He held out his hand. I shook it. I felt his hand in mine. There was indeed comfort in that.
“Nordstrom,” I said.
He laughed. He had a nice laugh. He had a nice grin. Max seemed nice. “Did your mom have a penchant for upscale shopping?”
I shook my head. “I was born in one. And my mom had a penchant for making sure I was teased well into adulthood.” I let go of his hand. “Nord. My friends call me Nord. Otherwise, they don’t get a Christmas present.”
About the Author
Rob Rosen is the a author of the award-winning novels Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, and Sort of Dead, and editor of the anthologies Lust in Time, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015, and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.
When Toby meets his sexy neighbor Sean, he embarks on a new romance,
but there’s also a haunting and a murder mystery to deal with.
There’s romance waiting for Toby at Darkwater House. Set on the edge of London’s beautiful Hampstead Heath, what better place for love to blossom with a stunningly handsome stranger?
But as Toby explores a passionate relationship with his dream man, dark forces are stirring within the walls of Darkwater House. There’s an angry spirit haunting the corridors and Albert the creepy landlord might be a killer.
As passion grows between Toby and his new neighbor Sean, they also work at unearthing the secrets of Darkwater House, looking for the evidence that will convict Albert, finally lay the angry ghost to rest and allow their love story to deepen.
He entered the code into the electronic keypad next to the main front door and waited for the now-familiar click before pushing it open. Sean was standing in the communal hallway, his back to Toby, bending forward so that the material of his running shorts stretched across his muscular buttocks, revealing a tantalizing crack. God, Toby would have liked to smell that arse, run his nose from one end of the crevice to the other, taking a long, deep breath.
Sean was rubbing his right calf. Toby hesitated, then cleared his throat.
“Are you okay?” he asked, still staring at Sean’s butt while he had the chance.
Sean straightened and looked over his shoulder at Toby.
“I think I pulled a muscle,” he said, hobbling toward the lift.
Toby considered taking the stairs to avoid an embarrassing trip in the compact elevator, but instead followed Sean and pushed the button for the fourth floor.
“Is it painful?” he asked, breathing in the smell of Sean’s fresh sweat, reveling in the closeness of the other man. He could feel heat radiating from his post-exercise body.
“A bit,” said Sean, staring ahead. “I think I overdid it today. That was my second run.”
“I know. I saw you this morning,” said Toby. In his head, he was slipping a hand down the front of Sean’s shorts, playing with his flaccid but growing cock, his hand getting slippery from Sean’s sweat and pre-cum.
Then I’d lick my fingers, he thought.
The lift pinged and the doors opened.
“After you,” said Toby.
Sean nodded a thank you and walked awkwardly toward his flat. Toby followed, fixing his eyes on the other man’s butt, growing hard and once again fantasizing about burying his face between those cheeks, breathing in the masculine scent.
“See you later,” said Sean as he reached his apartment door, resting his gaze briefly on Toby’s face.
Toby blushed. “Yes, see you later. I hope your calf gets better.”
As he headed for his own flat, Toby wished he had some sort of medical training so he could have offered to check out Sean’s injury, maybe administer a gentle massage on the injured leg. The thought of his hands caressing Sean’s muscular calf, rising to his thigh, Sean watching him intently with his dark eyes, was all too much. Toby hurried to open his front door, pulling his cock out of his fly almost before the door had closed behind him. He jerked himself fast, still clutching the carrier bag of food and wine in the other hand. Several jets of cum shot across the hallway carpet. I’ll have to clean that up later.
Toby fell back against the front door, breathing heavily, pushing his cock back into his pants. He really did have it bad for Sean, even though they’d barely spoken and Sean seemed to dislike him, or at best, be indifferent toward him. Or perhaps that was the attraction? If he fell for someone he stood no chance with, he wouldn’t get hurt like he had before, because nothing would ever develop.
He dropped the carrier bag onto the kitchen surface and pulled out the bottle of wine he had bought at the supermarket. He studied it as if it were some ancient relic of great interest, rather than a cheap bottle of plonk. Then, with a sigh, he unscrewed the top and reached for a glass. It was Saturday night, after all, he told himself.
About the Author
Samuel King is London born and bred, and spent his twenties and thirties hanging out on the London gay scene, mixing with some true characters and even finding romance on a few occasions. Now more likely to be found eating in a nice restaurant on a Saturday night than clubbing, he also enjoys reading across many genres and watching films–especially old horror films and romantic comedies.
He is the author of four hot short reads—The Black Mask, Hard Lessons, Sage the Immortal and Mirror Man. His first full-length male/male romance Darkwater House is out now.
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.
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 ;).
Nothing brings two men—or one man and an ancient god—together like revenge.
Nothing brings two men—or one man and an ancient god—together like revenge. Private investigator Sloane sacrificed his career in law enforcement in pursuit of his parents’ murderer. Like them, he is a follower of long-forgotten gods, practicing their magic and offering them his prayers… not that he’s ever gotten a response. Until now. Azaethoth the Lesser might be the patron of thieves and tricksters, but he takes care of his followers. He’s come to earth to avenge the killing of one of his favorites, and maybe charm the pants off the cute detective Fate has placed in his path. If he has his way, they’ll do much more than bring a killer to justice. In fact, he’s sure he’s found the man he’ll spend his immortal life with. Sloane’s resolve is crumbling under Azaethoth’s surprising sweetness, and the tentacles he sometimes glimpses escaping the god’s mortal form set his imagination alight. But their investigation gets stranger and deadlier with every turn. To survive, they’ll need a little faith… and a lot of mystical firepower.
“I’m sorry,” Loch said suddenly, his attention stolen away from the television and focusing intently on Sloane.
“What?” Sloane turned his head, staring in shock. He didn’t think gods were much on apologies.
“I obviously caused you great discomfort with my actions earlier today,” Loch explained, his hand reaching for Sloane’s, “and yes, while I am a trickster… I don’t aim to always be a complete bastard.”
“Loch,” Sloane murmured softly, surprised by how genuinely sorry he sounded.
“I got this for you,” Loch said, a tentacle reaching over to present Sloane with an incense bowl. “It upset you, but… it also brought you joy. I thought you might like to have it.”
“This is from the museum!” Sloane gasped, recognizing it immediately as the one that had reminded him of his mother’s. “You stole this? Loch! How did you, it, it was in a glass case! We need to take it back!”
“Technically, the museum stole it from my family,” Loch said smugly. “It was an offering for my aunt, and I was merely making an effort to return it to its rightful owner. Since she’s asleep, it’s my responsibility to liberate it on her behalf. I am now giving it to you.”
“I can’t… I can’t accept this!”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Then please take it,” Loch urged, “with my most sincere apologies.”
“Thank you.” Sloane was touched and looked over the bowl with a helpless smile. It was as good of an apology as he would likely ever get from an immortal being, with or without the well meaning theft. Suspicious, he added quickly, “I’m still not going to have sex with you.”
“We’ll see.” Loch laughed, giving Sloane’s hand a playful tug.
“No, we won’t,” Sloane said despite a big grin creeping onto his face. He didn’t pull his hand away, letting their fingers tangle together even after he put the incense bowl aside. It felt nice.
A few more sips from his drink and Sloane ended up cuddling against Loch’s side with his arm around his shoulders. That was nice too.
“Do you… uhm… do you want something to eat?” Sloane asked quietly as the hour grew late, and he realized that sandwich was the only thing either of them had had all day.
“I don’t require sustenance,” Loch replied, smirking fondly down at Sloane. “Immortal, remember?”
“Would you like… something?” Loch asked innocently, his tongue swiping slowly over his lips to indicate he was definitely not talking about food.
Sloane’s cheeks flushed immediately, his attention drawn to Loch’s mouth as he stammered, “N-no, I’m actually pretty good right now.”
Loch shifted, using his arm around Sloane’s shoulders to pull him closer. He cradled Sloane’s face, fingers running into his hair as he purred, “Are you absolutely sure?”
No one had ever looked at Sloane the way Loch was right now, with such heat, such adoration and raw desire. It made his blood pump excitedly and his breath catch in his mouth before he could properly inhale.
“Not really,” Sloane replied weakly.
Loch nosed along Sloane’s cheek, sighing, “Why are you so afraid to let yourself experience pleasure with me?”
“I don’t just go around ‘experiencing pleasure’ with people!” Sloane protested even as his voice cracked when he felt Loch’s tongue slide along the edge of his ear. “Fuck….”
“Why not?” Loch asked, his breath hot and husky in Sloane’s ear.
“Because… because….” Sloane couldn’t think straight, stammering to think of an answer. It was impossible to gather his thoughts with Loch’s tongue at his ear and his fingers curling so sweetly through his hair.
“Because?” Loch pressed, calm and perfectly innocent.
“When I’m with someone, I want it to mean something,” Sloane said finally, his head foggy and trying to remain firm. “I want something that will last.”
“It can last all night,” Loch promised, his lips lightly pressing against Sloane’s jaw. “And the night after that… and the night after that….”
“Fuck it,” Sloane hissed, dragging Loch into a hot kiss, shoving his tongue into his mouth with a loud moan.
About the Author
K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their six children, three of whom have paws and one who sometimes thinks he does.