In a small New England
town, three men, each facing unthinkable horrors, must rely on their friendship to destroy
an evil beyond imagination.
Blurb
Four men are about to discover things are definitely not
what they seem…including themselves. Declan Makavoy, small town farmer and single
father, finds out it’s not just his thumb that’s green. Ivan Soresceau, a local reporter, who
always plays with fire in life and love, is about to discover what it means to be burned.
Chester Silberglocke, the ailing but sage chiropractor, finds his death only the beginning of
an atmospheric afterlife. Vinny Pirelli, the local swimming champ may make waves inside
and outside the pool but has no idea he is the last piece in a dangerous and life-changing
puzzle. Seduction and unearthly occurrences are only the beginning in what proves to be a
race against time as Declan, Ivan, Chester, and Vinny are pitted against a dark force beyond
imagination, in the ultimate battle of good versus evil.
Excerpt
The wind carried the unpleasant smell of decay. In the heat
of summer, the odor is nectar sweet, but in autumn, decay is unexpected. In the summer, it
could be tomatoes left too long on the vine, fresh roadkill or sewage wafting up from the
dank sidewalk grates. Autumn chilled the stench, offered it bite and acid. The hair on my
neck stood on end. I dug my hands deeper into my pockets.
Coming out of the tree-lined path leading to the fields
reminded me of emerging from a dream. Overwrought and graphic, like an illustration in a
bad comic, the scene unfolded block-by-block, piece-by-piece. The fields were barren, except
where remains of gourds and pumpkins jutted from the earth like fevered skulls, things
emerging to the cold dreary light. The distant pine trees lined the border of my property like
sentries sent from a general to contain the scene. Beyond the trees, the forest appeared a
black mass; empty and full at the same time. Perhaps Adam’s body—or Adam
himself—waited, hidden in the woods.
They hadn’t found a body.
Hadn’t found…
A new but not unfamiliar wave of pain welled within my
chest so I thought I’d burst. Adam was dead. Dead…How could he be…?
Chester turned toward me, his eyes wide. He
pointed.
Antonia sat, facing him. She’d been playing house or school
with her gourd-squash students. Her singsong contrasted with the fouled air, unnerving
me.
Behind her, centered in the field, something either unaware
or unconcerned with our presence was consuming the remaining pumpkins.
Some thing.
“Declan,” Chester breathed, “stay still.”
The stench coming from the field hit like a ton of putrid
bricks.
“Get her.” I heaved, trying to breathe through the stink. “I have to get her.”
Chester restrained me with more strength than I thought he
possessed. “She must stay still.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Just then a huge crow dove and we watched as the creature
reached with a massive clawed paw, grabbed the bird and crushed it. It then stuffed the bird
into its mouth and made horrific bone-sucking sounds of pleasure.
Antonia smiled and called, “Daddy, have you seen the
goblin?”
About the Author
Xavier Axelson is a writer and
columnist living in Los Angeles. Axelson’s work has been featured in various erotic and
horror anthologies including Best Gay Erotica 2016
Volume 2, Best Gay Erotica 2015.
Longer written works include
“The Incident”, “Dutch’s Boy”, “The Birches”, “Earthly Concerns”, “Velvet,” and “Lily”.
Perfection comes in many
forms, and true courage is beautiful.
Blurb
Preston Hawthorneonca-Stone is a warrior. In a fit of rage,
his father changed Preston’s life on a horrible day in 1994. Now a brain injury survivor,
Preston lives with his brother and their growing family. A recent addition to the Council of
Sorcery and Shifters, Preston has landed his dream job of working with animals.
Resurrected in 1995, Ridgely Walsh is dedicated to his job
and the tightknit group of friends he considers family. With his penchant for honesty, Ridgely
is the level-headed and sometimes hard-assed member of their little group. Ridgely doesn’t
play foolish games, and he accepts people at face value.
Although Ridgely yearns for a mate, nothing prepares him
for the moment he meets Preston. The beautiful jaguar-human hybrid with the big brown
eyes halts Ridgely in his tracks. Ridgely rapidly discovers his true purpose is to be a good
partner to his other half. Preston is equally taken with Ridgely but fears how the fallen knight
will handle his imperfections. Together, they must navigate the path Fate chose for them and
discover what it means to love unconditionally.
Excerpt
As Preston walked to the table, Ridgely rose and
immediately understood by the hitch in the hybrid’s gate that his slow speech wasn’t the
only unique thing about him. Ridgely’s mind processed that information. In the Council
world, they staffed hospitals and clinics with druids capable of mending nearly every malady.
What they could not fix was anything in the brain and some issues in the spinal cord.
Ridgely wondered if Preston had been born with some
anomaly or if he’d suffered an accident. As a human hybrid, Preston was more delicate than
an average shifter, but neither that nor his physical challenges bothered Ridgely. His curiosity
was genuine, but Ridgely would allow Preston to reveal his secrets in his own time. When his
mate was ready, Ridgely hoped to understand what set him apart, but it was one of the
many things intriguing about Preston.
With a smile, Ridgely circled the table and aided Preston
into his seat.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Ridgely told Preston.
“I’m sorry I walk slow,” Preston replied, consternation
making his brow furrow, and he locked his gaze on the shiny white plates on the
table.
His lips pursed, Ridgely strode to his chair and sat. “I can’t
imagine why you’re apologizing to me for how you walk. It makes no difference to me how
you get to the table, just as long as you’re here.”
Preston’s dimples deepened as he lifted his head and
smiled at Ridgely. “Dates are scary.”
“Right? I changed my shirt three times.”
“I picked mine out yesterday. My family helped.”
Their server appeared and took their drink orders. Ridgely
went with a beer, while Preston chose a raspberry tea.
“I feel bad that I’m drinking and you’re not,” Ridgely
said.
With a twist of his mouth, Preston’s thick lashes concealed
his dark eyes. “I have to take some medications, and I’m not supposed to have alcohol with
them.”
“I hope you don’t feel like apologizing for that too.”
Preston pulled his lips in, and humor danced in his gaze. “I
was considering it.”
“Believe it or not, I figured that out. Your face is pretty
expressive.”
“I know. It makes me a terrible liar.”
Ridgely chuckled. “That’s fine with me. I’m not a fan of
dishonesty.”
“I don’t like it either.”
“Let’s decide what we’re ordering so we can compare notes
and find more things in common.”
“Okay,” Preston said. “Have you eaten here
before?”
“Once. I had steak, I think. I remember the food being
delicious.”
Their drinks arrived, and they informed the server of their
choices of cuisine. The server took the menus and left them alone again.
“I have a hard time remembering things,” Preston informed
Ridgely quietly. His lanky frame tensed, and Ridgely’s instinct was to soothe the troubled
man. “Jordan used to make me lists for my daily hygiene and other routine tasks. Without
them, I’d forget to do the basics like brushing my teeth, taking my medications, putting
everything I need for the day in my bag, and feeding my kittens.”
“Sounds to me like you guys approached a problem and
found a workable solution.”
“You have a positive attitude. I like that about you.”
“Thank you, Dimples. I like you too. Tell me more about
your job. I know you’re a big animal lover. Have you always worked at rescues?”
Preston grinned at the nickname, and Ridgely loved the joy
on his beautiful face.
“No, I couldn’t get anyone to hire me when we lived as
humans. The Council has programs designed to help people like me, and that’s how I was
hired at Felidaes. I worked in a restaurant prior to that. My boss was nice, but it was
boring.”
“I’m glad you joined the Council, otherwise it might’ve
been a long time before we met.”
“I read that humans killed the leaders of the fallen
knights.”
Ridgely nodded. “They did centuries ago. I try not to be
biased against anyone, but the humans I’ve interacted while I’m working haven’t treated me
or my co-workers kindly.”
“It wasn’t horrible to live as humans, but it was a lie. I
didn’t want to make friends because I hated being dishonest about myself. Although Jordan
worked hard to ensure I had the care I needed, I had to switch doctors constantly so they
wouldn’t discover I was a hybrid. I’m happy I don’t have to deal with that any longer. I have
more opportunities, and it’s a relief to be myself. And we had to shift in our apartment, so
my beast didn’t like that.”
Their food arrived, and Ridgely eagerly dug into his
potatoes. Just as Ridgely remembered, the taste was exquisite, but not nearly as enchanting
as the man across from him.
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley lives in
Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she
dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in
love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute
favorite.
Jessamyn is married and
working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent
of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and
gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is
only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.
Dane Jones works from home with only his three dogs for
company. When he stumbles onto a social media page about urban exploring, he’s curious
about different sites around Sacramento that seem like they’d be interesting to investigate.
He starts chatting with Griff Warren, and after a few conversations he’s even more excited to
go.
Griff Warren is also curious about urban exploring, but he
has very little interest in experiencing something paranormal. When the guy he’s been
chatting with in the online group is so enthusiastic to go, it’s contagious. They plan to go to a
warehouse and while there, experience something they can’t explain.
Dane and Griff were looking for an adventure, but they find
more than they bargained for at a deserted farmhouse on the river. When Dane finds an old
toy discarded in one of the rooms, both of them are thrown into a world neither
understands. Full of cursed objects, strange markings, and powers, neither knows how to
handle. Lucky for them, Griff’s Friend knows exactly who can help.
#MMParanormal #UrbanFantasy #Friendstolovers
Excerpt
“Blake said everyone is ready to go as soon as you two want to.
I think he’s surprised you were still interested after what you saw at the cemetery.” Sid didn’t
look up from his phone as he talked.
“Let’s go soon, if I think about it too long, I’ll talk myself out of
it.”
I could see Dane wasn’t completely sold on this idea, but I also
knew how badly he wanted to know the mark he wore would protect him if he needed it to.
And I wanted him safe. I didn’t want him to ever be at the mercy of another being taking
control of him. “Let’s go on Thursday, we can take off early and get there before dark.”
“Good idea, it’s a slow week so we can definitely get out of
here early. Let’s make sure we have everything we need so we can leave as soon as we’re
done. I’d rather not be there after dark.” Sid looked at the two of us before clapping his
hands together. “Okay then, if we’re all done here?”
“Yeah, give me just a minute to walk Dane out.” I took his hand
and led him to the door. “Thanks so much for the coffee, that was sweet of you.” He gave me
an odd look until we walked out the door and I pressed him against the wall. “Sorry, but I
didn’t want you to leave without a kiss.”
“This feels like more than a kiss,” he whispered.
“Oh, it’s more than a kiss. If we were alone, it would definitely be more than a kiss.”
He laughed and bowed his head before meeting my eyes again.
“Do you think we’re making a mistake going back?”
About the Author
BL Maxwell grew up in a small town listening to her grandfather spin tales about his
childhood. Later she became an avid reader and after a certain vampire series she became
obsessed with fanfiction. She soon discovered Slash fanfiction and later discovered the MM
genre and was hooked.
Fated mates, thrown
together by chance, and the looming threat of a fabled Huntsman who might tear them
apart forever.
Blurb
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
forever.
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. Intended
for readers 18 years of age or older.
Excerpt
Flashing lights broke Liam out of his gloomy thoughts.
The tow truck headed toward him, then did a U-turn and pulled in front of Liam’s car,
backing up until it was close enough to hook up the Honda.
The truck driver got out and walked toward Liam,
who reluctantly got out of the car. Even though he had called for assistance and it was clear
the stranger was a legitimate responder, Liam couldn’t help feeling jittery, with his hands
sweating, and heart thumping.
Those reactions doubled when he got a good look at
the driver.
Oh, just shoot me now. Fuck my life. Why did he
have to be so fine?
In the glare of the truck’s spotlights, Liam made out
all the important details. The man had broad shoulders, strong arms, powerful legs, and a
solid chest, standing a good five inches or more over Liam’s five-foot-seven frame. Liam had
thought he might be saved if the driver was ugly as sin, but he was out of luck. His face was
as utterly lickable as the rest of him.
“You called for a tow? Mr. Reynard?”
Liam nodded.
“I’m Russell Lowe—everyone calls me Russ. I own
Lowe’s Auto Shop in Fox Hollow, and tonight I’m your personal tow truck driver,” he said with
a broad smile and dimples. The man’s sharp cheekbones, full lips, and strong chin were
highlighted by dark brown scruff. Liam’s gaze traveled upward, surprised at gray hair flecked
with brown framing a face that couldn’t be older than thirty-five. Green eyes made Liam
wonder what kind of shifter Russ might be.
He swallowed hard and might have blushed when he
realized Russ seemed to be checking him out too. No matter how attractive his roadside
savior might be, Liam’d had enough man trouble to last an eternity, and he sure didn’t need
more in a new town.
“Yes, I’m Liam Reynard. Just Liam,” he said, wishing
he could conjure up the natural charm that had always served him well in community
theater performances. His fox could be quite dramatic. But now, on the run, scared for his
life, and in the dark with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t muster his usual
flair.
“The engine started making strange noises, and I
pulled off. I didn’t want to break anything.” Liam cringed because heknew next to nothing
about cars. Admitting that takes points off my “man score,”
doesn’t it? Then again, so does being a sports-hating, gay fox shifter twink.
Well, at thirty, I’d thought my twink days were
behind me. But when he compared his own shorter, lithe,
dancer build to the solid man-mountain in front of him? Yeah, twink still fits.
“I’m glad you stopped the car without waiting for the
car to stop you.” Russ finally shifted his attention away from Liam and focused on the Civic.
“Let’s get the tow set up, and then you can ride in the cab with me to Fox
Hollow.”
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!
Kings of the Mountain Books 1 and 2 by Morgan
Brice
MM Supernatural Suspense
Fast cars, outlaw country boys, snarky werewolves,
vengeful ghosts, menacing monsters, and a love that can’t be denied.
NEW RELEASE – BOOK 2
Book Title: Sins of the
Fathers—MM Supernatural Suspense
Author: Morgan
Brice
Publisher: Darkwind
Press
Cover Artist: Natania
Barron
Length: 62 000 words/ 213
pages
Release Date: August 28,
2022
Genres: Urban fantasy, MM paranormal romance
Tropes: Hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, established relationship, evolving
relationship, learning to trust, dealing with the past, dealing with family secrets.
Themes: Letting go of the past, moving on after loss, intergenerational
trauma, family secrets
Heat Rating: 4 flames
It is book 2 in the series but
can be read standalone. It does not end on a
cliffhanger.
Reckoning with the past
just might destroy Grady and Dawson’s plans for the future
Blurb
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
fulfill.
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.
Excerpt from Sins of the Fathers
Dawson’s heart went out to Jason, worried about his long-time
partner without news of how he was doing and now afraid of being left alone.
“Lily sent us here to talk.” Grady tag teamed. “She knew you’d
be upset. She also knew how much you two loved each other.”
Lily Franklin was the long-time Meals on Wheels volunteer who
had delivered to Jason and Everett for many years. She’d become a good friend and was
Everett’s emergency contact once Jason passed away.
A door slammed. Grady’s head snapped up, and he shot a
questioning look at Dawson. Dawson reached out to take his hand, intertwining their fingers
and holding their hands in the air.
“We’re like you and Everett. We understand wanting to stay
together.” Dawson picked up the conversation.
The planchette trembled before beginning to move. “D-A-N-G-
E-R-O-U-S,” Dawson said as the pointer moved.
“Dangerous to admit what you and Jason were to each other?”
Grady asked.
The planchette moved to “YES.”
“It can be, but plenty of people are ‘out’ these days. Even
married,” Dawson answered.
A framed photo rocked back and forth on the mantle. Dawson
saw that it showed two men in their thirties decades ago on a sunny day, grinning with arms
slung over each other’s shoulders.
“If Everett can’t come home, do you think you could go to
him?” Grady asked.
The planchette went wild, circling “YES” over and over.
“Is there something here that means a lot to you that you
could ‘travel’ with if we took it to Everett?” Dawson looked around, wondering what objects
among the collections of a shared lifetime might be special enough to anchor a ghost.
A crash sounded from the back of the house. They headed
toward the noise and found the door to a bedroom open and a painting on the floor in a
broken frame. As soon as Dawson entered, he was shoved by invisible hands sending him
stumbling toward one side of an unmade king-size bed.
He nearly fell, and when he braced himself against the edge of
the mattress, he saw a leather jewelry tray on the nightstand, and in it, two silver military
rings.
“These?” Dawson felt a puff of cold air in response.
“What are they?’ Grady stood in the doorway, respecting the
privacy of the old man who had lived there.
“Army service rings. Vietnam, if I’m right.” Dawson picked up
the rings and looked at them in the light.
“Lily said they met when Everett was a nurse at the VA
hospital, and Jason came home wounded from the war,” Grady replied.
Dawson’s gaze went to a photo of a younger version of the two
men standing together in uniform. They were circumspect in their pose, but Dawson
imagined that he could see a slight lean, a bit less space between them than usual, and
broad grins.
That could have been Grady and me if we’d been born
then. I’m glad they found each other and were happy.
Fast cars. Outlaw
country boys. A love that can’t be denied.
Snarky werewolves,
vengeful ghosts and menacing monsters.
Blurb
Fast cars. Outlaw country boys. Snarky werewolves,
vengeful ghosts, and menacing monsters.
Dawson King’s family has been hunting things that go bump
in the night in Transylvania County, North Carolina, since before the Revolutionary
War.
Dawson was never happier than when he was racing his
souped-up Mustang along winding mountain roads and hunting monsters with his best
friend, Grady. Then Grady fell in love with him, which should have been perfect since
Dawson had already fallen hard for Grady.
But Grady was only seventeen, and Dawson feared that
sooner or later, Grady would realize his feelings were just a first crush, and then he’d be
gone, leaving Dawson devastated. They both needed space to figure things out. So Dawson
joined the army, while Grady stayed on the mountain.
Four years later, Dawson is coming home. He’s more sure
than ever Grady is his forever love, and they’ve both agreed to begin this new aspect of their
relationship as soon as Dawson gets back.
Then Grady’s father is killed in a werewolf hunt gone
wrong. Grady is devastated, and he’s throwing mixed signals about moving forward. Dawson
knows he needs to hold off on this new thing between them until Grady has time to grieve.
But monsters never sleep, and one hunt after another throws Dawson and Grady into
constant danger, while tension and unresolved feelings ripple between them.
Making it even harder, Dawson’s got a secret. He’s dreamed
of death omens—which point to something stalking Grady. Can Dawson figure out who’s
trying to kill Grady, save his life, and win back his heart?
Plenty of mutual pining, hurt/comfort, spooky chills,
sexy thrills, and a very happy ending. The Kings of the Mountain is the first novel in the
series. It is a MM romance intended for readers 18 years of age and older.
Excerpt from Kings of the Mountain
The longer they spent time on the road and on hunts together, the more Dawson felt a
powerful attraction to Grady. He’d always been fond of the younger man, but Dawson found
himself admiring the person Grady was growing into. Grady deserved to find the right
guy—if that’s what he wanted—who could make him happy. And as much as Dawson wished
fervently that could be him, he knew he couldn’t take the chance that Grady might feel
pressured or obligated to respond if Dawson made any advances.
Not to mention how Grady’s mother had always carried on about how awful it was to marry
a “cousin,” something that she claimed no one in her family had ever done.
She’d made her position loud and clear while she was married to Aaron, which had not
endeared her to the rest of the community. Such marriages were legal in North Carolina, and
not uncommon in the rural areas.
The fact that Grady wasn’t a cousin by blood probably wouldn’t matter to Camille. But what
if Grady had accepted his mother’s bias? Maybe Dawson had imagined the flirtation, or
worse, projected his own feelings onto the other man. So Dawson took the edge off with
hookups and out-of-town one-night stands, very aware that he tended to choose partners
with a resemblance to Grady.
Until he couldn’t stand it any longer.
That’s when Dawson enlisted.
Once they were on the main highway, Dawson turned to watch Colt’s profile.
“So…what happened with Uncle Denny and Grady?”
Colt’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and the tic in his jaw told Dawson that the other
man didn’t want to have this conversation. “They’re both alive. But a hunt went wrong a
week ago, and Grady isn’t dealing with it very well.”
A week, Dawson thought. That was when he’d stopped getting emails from
Grady. He had tried to convince himself the silence was due to any number of impersonal
reasons, but Dawson knew in his gut something wasn’t right. His responses from Uncle
Denny had gotten short and less frequent around the same time.
Was this what his nightmare had been warning him about?
“Could you be a little clearer?” Dawson knew Colt could read the warning in his tone.
“Grady got hurt. Aaron was killed. Grady’s not dealing well with it. Uncle Denny didn’t want
to leave Grady alone. So they sent me.”
Dawson’s head swam. Uncle Aaron, dead? That’s hard to even imagine. He was always
so full of life. And Grady—it’s got to be bad if he couldn’t come. Oh, God. I almost lost him.
Plus there’s something Colt isn’t saying, something even worse. Because if Uncle Aaron died
on a hunt, then Grady had to have been right there when it happened. That’s bad, really
bad. No one should see their parent die, especially not like that.
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.
Good vs. evil, angels vs.
demons, and rednecks running wild across the Middle East. What could go
wrong?
Blurb
What happens when a hunky demon visits you and
commands you to break all ten commandments? Or when a handsome angel orders you to
do the opposite? And what if you’re Bobby Ray, and you’ve already broken nine of the ten,
and thou shalt not kill is a close brick away, and the demon has tacked on a cushy afterlife in
hell as a reward? Decisions, decisions. And poor Bobby Ray has never been good at one
decision, let alone multiple ones. Broke, divorced, and pretty darn miserable, does he do
what’s right or what’s easy?
In this darkly comical romantic adventure, Bobby Ray, with
the help of numerous friends and just as many enemies, one being his ex-husband, travels
from Georgia to Israel and ultimately across Egypt and the Gaza Strip in search of the one
clue that will hopefully save them all, and possibly the entire world. Will good win out over
evil, love over hate? Or will Bobby Ray ultimately break the universe?
Good vs. evil, angels vs. demons, and rednecks running wild
across the Middle East. What could go wrong?
Excerpt
As I stood over the sleeping man, brick in hand, heart
beating a rhythmic drum solo in my chest, a brilliant flash of white light punched me straight
in the face. “What the f –”
“Bobby Ray!” boomed the voice, seemingly from all
directions. “Though shalt not kill!”
“Well, not yet, anyway,” I replied. “Wait just another
minute.” I tried swatting the blinding light away, but, well, it was light, so swatting didn’t
seem to do the trick. “That thing got a switch?” I didn’t know who I was talking to. I guessed
this was all my subconscious, some sort of guilt trip I was laying on myself for killing my
neighbor Tom. Or trying to. But with my eyes watering something awful, I was having a bit of
a hard time of it. Maybe I shouldn’t have had the bourbon beforehand. Or finished the
bottle. And smoked a joint to calm my nerves. But see, I liked Tom. Right on up until I found
out that he was sleeping with my husband, I liked him. Or, okay, to be fair, my ex-husband,
but still.
“Bobby Ray!” again boomed the voice, the floor beneath
me suddenly rolling like a wave. “Though shalt not kill!”
Funnily enough, the voice didn’t sound like mine. I’d have
thought my subconscious would’ve sounded something like me, but nope, not even close.
Also, Tom wasn’t moving. And the voice was fucking loud, and the waving floor was still
waving, and the bed was waving right along with it, but Tom was still lying there snoring.
Ambien, I figured. Had to be. In any case, I set the brick down next to him and wiped my
eyes with my sleeve. Soon as I did that, the lights went out in Georgia — Georgia being where
we were at the time and not simply the lyrics to a catchy old song.
“What the f –” I repeated as my eyes focused on the
apparent source of the booming voice. “Shouldn’t have mixed the bourbon and the pot.” I
wiped at my peepers again. And again. Only, the angel floating in front of me with his
massive wings spread out and a sort of pale glow all around him wasn’t blinking away as I
had hoped. “I bet that pot was laced with something. Shouldn’t have bought it off that
stranger at the bar. That was my first mistake.”
The angel grinned. As grins went, this was one was quite,
well, angelic. Duh, I suppose. “It doesn’t even break the top one hundred mistakes you’ve
made, Bobby Ray.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it hasn’t been a good year for me.”
Understatement. Of the gross variety.
The angel folded his wings and stepped a foot closer to me
as just his toes touched the ground. He was tall, almost seven feet, if I had to take a guess.
Handsome as all get out, too. Smooth as alabaster and naked as the day he was born.
Though I was guessing he hadn’t ever really been born, what with him being an angel and
all. Either that or I was hallucinating. Or I was dreaming. I was betting on one of those last
two.
“It hasn’t been a good life, either, Bobby Ray.”
And still, I shrugged. Or maybe I hadn’t stopped from the
previous time. “I blame my parents for that.”
The angel shook his head. “Honor thy father and thy
mother, Bobby Ray.”
I snickered. “Have you met the Beauregards? Flies keep
their distance. Too shitty, even for them.” I glanced at the brick. I figured I could take this guy
if need be. He didn’t look like the fighting type. Flying, sure, but not fighting.
“The Lord said to honor thy father and thy mother, Bobby
Ray, and so honor you must.”
I sighed. Tom was still fast asleep. Probably dreaming of
Matty, my ex.
“Seems kind of a waste of time to honor the likes of them,”
I told the angel. “They wouldn’t even appreciate it. Don’t much like that I’m gay, but
honoring sounds sorts of pansy-ass. Their words, not mine.” And those were nice words in
comparison to their usual words.
The angel moved a step closer, a step closer still, tippy toes
dragging the floor. He was now standing directly in front of me — or maybe it was closer to
hovering, really — leaning down, in. I stared into eyes blue as the heavens. Go figure. It was,
in fact, a bit like looking into eternity itself. “Your parents sound delightful, but be that as it
may –”
I held up my hand. “I get it, I get it. Honor. Don’t kill. Blah,
blah, blah.” I squinted up at him. “You visit everyone who’s about to break a commandment?
Because I’d have thought we would’ve met a hell of a lot sooner than now.”
The angel straightened his back and moved an inch in
reserve. Up until that moment, he looked, I don’t know, sort of at peace. All angelic looking.
Like he didn’t have a care in the world. But just for a second, I could’ve sworn I saw a flinch
of pain. Maybe it was my choice of words. Or word. Hell, I mean.
“I –” he said, but suddenly got cut off.
No, there wasn’t a bright light again. I was glad for that. My
eyes were still watering from the first one. This time, there was a puff of foul-smelling
smoke, very fire and brimstone stinking. I mean, I guess. Not like I’d smelled brimstone
before. Not that I even knew what brimstone was. In any case, I coughed, rubbed at my nose
as the black cloud disappeared to reveal what I assumed was a demon. I mean, the guy was
red all over and had horns protruding a good foot from his temples, so demon was probably
a good guess, as guesses went. Plus, I already had an angel, so a demon seemed logical. As
much as anything did right about then, I mean.
About the Author
Rob Rosen is the 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, Sort of Dead, and
Genie in a Vodka Bottle, 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.
Luca Bassani enjoyed a quiet, ordinary life. As an IT guru, most of his time was spent engrossed in technology and away from people. Now all that’s changed. As the one man who is a compatible donor, he’s suddenly essential to keeping his alpha healthy and preventing him from succumbing to The Slow Death. But serving his alpha, Zander Kingston, is something Luca is proud to do.
Diesel Jones is an enforcer. Following in his father’s footsteps, he has big boots to fill. But he’s focused and dedicated to the East Territory pack and avoids anything that distracts him from his duty. His dedication, together with his brawn and brains, ensure his reputation as being the best at his job.
When a possible threat on Alpha Zander Kingston’s life is uncovered, tensions rise within the pack. Security is increased and Diesel is assigned as the personal bodyguard for Luca. They find themselves paired against the enemy while battling their growing attraction.
Diesel must keep Luca safe and ensure his alpha’s life by doing so. But pack rivalry is strong and when threats become actions, suddenly Diesel is in the race of his life to ensure the future of the pack and to save the person who has come to mean everything to him.
The Final Salvation is part of the Four Packs Trilogy. While it can be read as a standalone, to ensure maximum enjoyment, it is best read in series order.
“Alpha, we came as soon as we got your message. We’re here to accompany to you to the North Territory as soon as you’re ready.” The one that spoke was the head enforcer, a big man with grey hair that somehow made him seem less intimidating—until he turned his eyes on Luca. They were not the warm, friendly eyes of someone’s grandfather, but the cold emotionless glare of a serious enforcer.
“Luca and my mate will also be joining us. I want one of you on each of them,” Zander directed.
The head enforcer bristled but bowed his head in respect. “Of course, Alpha. I suggest we take two vehicles. That way it won’t be quite so obvious that we’re all traveling together. The less conspicuous the better.”
One of the enforcers was familiar to Luca, but he couldn’t place where he knew him from. He was younger than the others, but in height and bulk he was bigger than them. He scanned the room while Zander spoke more in depth to the older enforcer, as Marrok watched on. He had yet to start the transfusion, and Luca wondered if they’d still be doing a treatment. When Luca’s and the enforcer’s eyes locked on each other, the strange feeling Luca had earlier intensified. The enforcer’s eyes widened in shock, but just as suddenly as it had happened, he looked away. Luca narrowed his eyes as he focused on the enforcer. His hair was cut short, and his eyes were both intelligent and vigilant. He seemed to see everything and analyze it as either a threat or a minor annoyance. He was all muscle, and it was no small feat that his shirt didn’t explode from all it contained.
Luca laughed at his thoughts, making everyone look. A blush crept up from his neck to his cheeks. “Sorry, I was just remembering something funny I saw on television,” he mumbled.
About the Authors
BL Maxwell
BL Maxwell grew up in a small town listening to her grandfather spin tales about his childhood. Later she became an avid reader and after a certain vampire series she became obsessed with fanfiction. She soon discovered Slash fanfiction and later discovered the MM genre and was hooked.
Nic Starr lives in Australia where she tries to squeeze as much into her busy life as possible. Balancing the demands of a corporate career with raising a family and writing can be challenging but she wouldn’t give it up for the world.
Always a reader, the lure of m/m romance was strong and she devoured hundreds of wonderful m/m romance books before eventually realising she had some stories of her own that needed to be told!
When not writing or reading, she loves to spend time with her family–an understanding husband and two beautiful daughters–and is often found indulging in her love of cooking and planning her dream home in the country.
You can find Nic on Facebook, Twitter and her blog. She’d love it if you stopped by to say hi.
A fallen angel with a broken heart. The third horseman
who rejected him. A love that can destroy them both.
Blurb
Punished for choosing love over faith, the Archangel of
Kindness emerged from a century of confinement enshrined in darkness, a shell of his
former self. Rejected by the very Being for whom he sold his soul, the last threads of his
sanity were stripped away. He is now Lucifer, the King of Hell.
Famine’s choices have only ever caused suffering for those
he loves. He struggles with guilt, blaming himself for what Lucifer has become. He’s certain
keeping his distance is the only way he can ensure Lucifer falls no further.
But together or apart, on the same side or not, it doesn’t
matter. They are forever bound, forced to endure a never-ending loop of anguish. Betrayed
and surrounded by new threats, they find themselves relying on each other while battling
their own demons. But soon a choice must be made: allow their love to destroy them both
or embrace it before the world ends.
Famine is the
third book in the Four Horsemen series. This book is not a standalone and must be read in order.
Content Warnings: Religious themes, extreme violence,
gore, and others.
Arachnophobia warning: There is also a dog-sized pet
spider named Paul who just wants to be loved.
This is a paranormal, second chance, lovers-to-enemies-
to-lovers, MM romance filled with snark and morally questionable characters. It ends with a
HFN and a mild plot cliffhanger.
Excerpt
Famine moved closer to Lucifer as though being drawn into his
orbit. Lucifer wondered if it was a conscious movement or if it was instinct. It was instinct for him. Every fiber of him always wanted to be closer to Famine. He hoped—even
knowing how moronic it was to hope after every hand he’d been dealt—that
Famine felt the same. Lucifer needed him to. Needed him to want Lucifer with the same raw
need that Lucifer wanted him. It had to be mutual. This much longing and anguish and
palpable loss was too much for him to shoulder alone.
He savored any chance just to be in Famine’s presence—had
summoned the Horsemen for no other purpose than just to see him again. The
carnage of it was delectable, of course, but it was a pleasant bonus, not the aim. The mere
minutes Lucifer spent with Famine between years apart was agony, but every waking
moment was spent only in anticipation of them. Being this close to Famine and not touching
was the worst torture he had ever endured.
He couldn’t be alone in this. He couldn’t.
“These are only the start of the creatures that God has under
his command,” Famine continued. “If he’s choosing to let these loose, there’s no telling
what’s next.”
“No,” Lucifer said. They all turned to look at him, and he gave
them a secretive closed-mouth smile. He did enjoy being the center of attention. And
making them wait.
He closed the remaining distance between himself and Famine,
pressing the tips of his fingers against Famine’s cheek. Famine’s light-blue eyes darkened,
and the sight of them heated Lucifer’s blood and made lust curl in the depths of his
stomach. He had never touched another after Famine, even after all this time. And he was starved for the kind of touch that only Famine could gift him. That Famine had
been keeping from him.
“Sometimes,” he murmured, for Famine’s ears only, “I want to
peel the skin from your bones, make you hurt and bleed the way you make me.”
The heat in Famine’s eyes didn’t diminish from the words. If
anything, they darkened further, the pulse in his throat visible and tempting Lucifer to bite
down, to taste.
“It is never my intention to make you hurt.”
“You think intent matters?” Lucifer gripped Famine’s upper arm
and tugged him closer until their breath mingled. “When I lie broken and bruised and aching for you, do you think I care about intent?” They would continue to hurt
each other for eternity regardless of intent.
“Get your fucking hands off him,” War snarled.
Lucifer didn’t move, his eyes flicking to where War was
pointing his sword at them. As though Lucifer was afraid of him. Lucifer feared no one. No
one but Famine, who had the power to destroy him. Who already had, too many times to
count.
Famine lifted a hand to placate his brother. “It’s fine.”
Uriel rolled his eyes and turned from them, surveying the area.
“Tell us what you meant, Lucifer, or be on your way to do whatever it is you do when you
have no purpose.”
Lucifer stroked Famine’s cheek and then moved up to lightly
grasp the curls of his brown hair. He urged Famine forward and Famine followed, bending to
him and resting his forehead on Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer’s insides wobbled, pleasure and
joy singing in his veins at the instant, easy acceptance of his touch.
Lucifer breathed in deeply, his nose pressed against Famine’s
hair. It smelled like blueberries, freshly mowed grass, and a hint of lemon.
About the Author
Sienna Moreau is a dark MM
romance author who likes to let the darker side of life come out to play. If you’re looking for
morally grey characters, snark, mayhem and steamy situations then you’re in the right
place.
