Violins and Vampires CEE BEE
Published by: Monster House Books
Publication date: June 26th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
Lexa Uznetsov is trapped To save my sister, I take on my father’s massive debt to Konstantin the Rus, leader of the New York Bratva. My life becomes a never-ending (and incredibly illegal) stakeout for the mob. There’s barely time to sleep, let alone find love. In desperation, I approach Caelin MacGregor, the handsome Scotsman who runs Empire Investments. After all, what’s the worst that can happen?
Caelin MacGregor is a lost king Ages ago, I ruled a clan of Bloodkin vampires. My people are born to wield magic, drain humans, and live forever. That’s all over now. I’ve been alone for a thousand years. Today, I no longer care about the sunrise, let alone truly desire a woman. Then, I look upon Lexa. My world turns upside down…
Vampires of the Daemonverse Series
1. Violins and Vampires
2. Veils and Vampires
3. Vixens and Vampires
4. Valor and Vampires
This time, I’m in the Big Apple Café, watching the apartment of Dr Khatun. It’s a lot of nursing the same cup of java while staring out a window.
Suddenly, a man pauses on the sidewalk outside. This isn’t just any guy, mind you, but Caelin MacGregor, the so-called King of Empire Investments. Rumors are, Vass is a ruthless in business and a bastard in general. I believe those tales. Then there are other whispers. Folks say Caelin is a vampire with mind control powers. I have a different opinion on that.
What a load of B-S.
Caelin pauses, giving me a chance to inspect him more closely. To say that Caelin is just handsome is like declaring that the Mona Lisa is simply a painting.
The slightest shiver rolls across Caelin’s shoulders. Inch by inch, he turns toward me. My pulse skyrockets. Our gazes meet.
Everything goes haywire.
Lights flash in the coffee shop. Street lamps pulse and crackle. A breeze strikes up out of nowhere. Mist pours across the floor. An electric shock of worry moves through my limbs.
This can’t be good.
Everything in the coffee shop goes dark, except for a few beams of moonlight. Moments pass as my eyes adjust. Once I can see clearly again, I can’t believe what’s around me. The cafe is empty. The street outside is deserted as well. The entire city appears dark and abandoned.
And I’ve changed, too. Now I’m sitting on the tabletop with my skirt up and legs parted. A man towers before me.
It’s Caelin.
Maybe I should scream now or run for the exit, but I don’t. Instead, my entire being seems frozen in shock… Except for my ability to soak in more details of Caelin. Up close, this so-called king even more magnetic. A gentle scruff lines his chin. His face is framed with strong bone structure. His full lips appear ripe for a kiss. The gentle scent of musk and leather assaults me. It isn’t fair for this man to be gorgeous and smell good as well.
All this time, Caelin has been staring at me with a look that can only be described as worshipful hunger. Don’t get me wrong. I make side money in bikini contests. Getting ogled is nothing new. But I’ve never been visually devoured in the way that’s happening right now. The sheer intensity makes my core twist with desire. With every cell in my body, I want to touch the curl of hair at the base of Caelin’ neck. Some part of me screams that this whole situation is impossible.
More of me doesn’t care.
Author Bio:
CEE BEE writes stories that blend epic fantasy, steamy romance, and lots of sass. If you want immersive tales that transport you to fresh worlds (and new book boyfriends) then you’ve come to the right author. To learn more about CEE BEE, please visit http://www.ceebeeauthor.com. Her new book, VIOLINS AND VAMPIRES, is available on Kindle Unlimited: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09ZYVCNC3
CEE BEE also writes young adult fare under the name Christina Bauer. Check out Christina’s books at http://www.christinabauerauthor.com. There’s a literal sh*t ton of them.
Micah the Unwilling, fae King of the Forgotten, can tame even the most violent of beasts. Forged on the battlefield, this iron-willed warrior considers his soldiers his family, and he will stop at nothing to reclaim their dispossessed land. Gearing for war with a sadistic enemy, he is disciplined and focused—until a feral beauty he encountered long ago wanders into his camp.
Viori de Aoibheall wields a terrifying ability to sing monsters to life. Having spent her childhood in a forest, raising herself and her frightening creations—the only friends she’s ever known—she’s ill prepared for the scarred royal and his fearsome brutality. Not to mention the ferocity of their connection and the carnality of his touch. But the real problem? Her brother is Micah’s greatest foe. And though the sensual king makes her burn, she must stop him, whatever the cost.
Fifteen-year-old Micah spun slowly, his jaw slack. What is this place? Spears of lightning forked across a dark sky heavy with darker clouds. Glowing silvery orbs hung from tree branches, illuminating a forest clearing he wished he hadn’t discovered. The eeriness of it all boggled the mind.
From the outside, thick white fog had enveloped the interlocking trees set in a wide circle. From the inside, however, he had an unobstructed view of the dried blood that stained the bark—and the faces carved within. Fierce expressions projected everything from dread to malice, and he shuddered.
Someone had gone to great trouble to make the gnarled giants resemble belua. Monsters of unimaginable strength, somehow birthed from the elements themselves. Able to live and breathe and walk among fae.
Micah tightened his grip on a makeshift dagger—a twig he’d sharpened with his teeth and what remained of his nails.
Beady eyes seemed to track his every movement as he trod deeper into the clearing. A large, moss-covered stone with a wide base and a flat top occupied the center of the ring. An altar?
A chilled breeze blustered past, rousing goose bumps on his skin. Scanning… The vibrant moss provided the only foliage here. There were no animals or insects. No other life whatsoever.
Death reigned here.
A crack of thunder boomed, punctuating his thought, and he almost jumped out of his skin. The next lightning bolt charged the atmosphere; electric currents pricked his spine. Micah dragged in the scent of ash and… What was that? Sweetness itself? A unique fragrance brimming with all the glories of the Summer Court. Sunshine, flowers and citrus.
His mouth watered, and his empty stomach protested. When had he last eaten?
Twig at the ready, he approached the stone and gathered a fistful of moss. The first bite proved bitter, the second more so. But as the greenery settled in his stomach, some of his pains faded; he only desired more.
He shoveled another fistful into his mouth, then another and another, unable to slow himself. For over a year, he’d wandered the wastelands of Astaria alone. Originally, he’d traveled with his guardian. A great warrior named Erwen. A great man, period. He’d found baby Micah inside a basket, and saved him from being eaten by trolls.
He bit his tongue, tasting blood. Erwen had died in battle with a belua. A massive snow beast in the Winterlands.
Micah had expected to perish alongside his guardian. A part of him had hoped to die. How he’d loved Erwen, his sole companion—the only person willing to be near him.
Like his guardian, Micah was a chimera. A rare fae born with dual glamaras that were constantly at odds. The clash created a negative force field around them. Unwanted by fae and humans alike. Feared by everyone. Known for scarring—outward evidence of weakness and a badge of shame.
Chilly wind rattled branches. Lightning peppered the sky, spotlighting— Micah froze, his breath hitched. Were their limbs untangling? Had the one to his left narrowed its eyes?
An illusion?
Genuine belua? Had he stumbled into a nest?
He dropped the newest handful of moss, preparing to bolt. But, from the corner of his eye, he perceived an array of color. Smooth gold. Vivid pink. Gleaming scarlet. He meant to glance, nothing more. A quick peek to ensure no one sneaked up on him. Instead, he stared and reared back, his eyes going wide.
Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing? Surely not. And yet…
Maybe.
Heart jumping, he lurched closer to the stone. Sucked in a breath. A girl. A fae. Exquisite. She slept upon the slab, seemingly growing from the surface. Or from the forest itself.
Lightning flashed, there and gone, showcasing a smattering of freckles, pink cheeks and cherry lips that were bowed in the center. Other details hit him, throwing him for loop after loop. They might be the same age. Flawless skin the color of sunlight, vibrant with life. Delicate features usually only found on royalty. A plain gown too short and tight to cover the abundance of shapely curves.
Who was she? Why was she here? What color were her eyes?
Excitement arced through Micah. Would she mind being friends with a chimera?
A rolling rumble precipitated the first splatter of rain. Cold droplets splashed his cheeks, and he grinned. Let the liquid soak him. What did he care? He’d uncovered a treasure of unsurpassed value.
The rain deluged her, too, her gown becoming transparent. Trembling suddenly more pronounced, he reached out to brush droplets from her cheek.
A rustle sounded behind him, and he wheeled around, ready to defend his prize. Too late. A tree loomed before him, and the truth hit, hard.
“Belua!” Hiding in plain sight.
A fat branch slammed into his head. He flew across the clearing, dropping his makeshift weapon when he crashed into another tree.
His lungs emptied. So dizzy. No time to recover. Another branch flung him in the opposite direction.
Ribs broke on impact, and agony seared him. Before he could rise, roots coiled around his ankle and attempted to eject him from the clearing. He clawed at the ground, determined to hold his position and shield the girl. Dirt and blood coated his tongue.
Bark scraped his spine. Limbs stabbed into different bones. Wheezing, fighting the urge to vomit, Micah rolled out of the way.
A limb pierced a vital organ, and an agonized scream burst from him. The pain! Then, suddenly, he was airborne, soaring across the expanse. When he landed, a world of darkness crackled open its jaw and swallowed him whole.
As Micah healed, he realized a startling truth. The monsters safeguarded the girl. They hadn’t attacked until he uncovered her. More than that, they hadn’t struck to kill him. Otherwise, he would be dead.
Why they guarded her—why they had shown him mercy—he didn’t know. But he wondered. Was little Red on that stone slab of her own volition or a captive?
There was one way to find out…
Micah returned to the clearing—to her—with a firm goal in mind. Befriend these belua. If he could join them, protect the girl until she awoke…
Was this a betrayal to Erwen and everything he’d stood for? Surely not. His guardian had lived by four rules.
Do no harm to the innocent. Protect what’s yours. Always do what’s right. Never be without a backup plan.
The sleeping beauty was vulnerable and in need of another fae. Just in case the trees held her against her will.
What better path to travel than keeping her safe?
Micah advanced on the creatures cautiously, both hands lifted. “You had every right to eject me,” he told them. In their minds, he’d committed a terrible offense. Touching a female without her willing consent. Or theirs. Now, he hoped to prove the innocence of his intentions. “I did your fair lady wrong. Allow me to present her with a gift of apology. And respect.” He revealed a red crystal he’d dug from the earth bright and early this morning. “So much respect.”
A prolonged hesitation followed his words, anticipation stealing his breath. Finally, the trees opened a doorway for him.
Giddy but remaining vigilant, he entered slowly, placed the present on a step leading to the altar and backed away. Rather than exit, he faced the largest of the bunch. “I mean her no harm, and I won’t touch her again. If you’ll let me, I’ll help you with her protection.”
He wasn’t immediately impaled, a good sign. Micah set up camp. As one week blended into another, the trees relaxed around him. As their tension faded, bright leaves budded, creating a vibrant paradise.
For the first time in Micah’s life, provision without price abounded. Various species of flowers, fruits and nuts flourished without cease, dropping from overburdened limbs.
Nourishment rained all hours. In offering or apology, he didn’t know which.
Morning and evening, he thanked his companions for the bounty. Never had Micah enjoyed such delicious meals. But…when will she awaken?
Fresh moss covered the girl, protecting her from sun, wind and rain. Her sweet scent magnified daily, coating the air; he considered every inhalation a precious gift.
How did she sleep so deeply? And why? For how long? Why did belua continue to protect her, no matter how much time passed?
Did she crave a friend? If the beautiful fae with freckles sought a fellow fae companion, shouldn’t he oblige her?
Longing gripped Micah. But you aren’t a fae, are you? Not exactly. He shifted in the bed he’d constructed with twigs and fallen hanks of moss. He just…he wanted to belong to someone. To be welcomed. Maybe even admired.
What did such affection even feel like? And what was the beauty’s name? Would she like his offerings? There were many.
Anytime a troll or centaur neared the clearing, Micah departed the ring to end the threat. He collected supplies left by the dead, amassing a treasure trove of weapons, dried meats, clothing, maps, coins and jewels. All for her. Well, mostly for her. He’d kept some of the clothing for himself, exchanging a filthy, tattered tunic and ripped leathers for higher quality garments. Even a cloak to help him hide the scars left by the tree attack.
Would she like him?
As he gathered an array of fruit for breakfast, he stole glances at her. For the first time, much of the moss withered, baring her fully. Morning sunlight lent her golden skin an otherworldly glow. Silken locks of auburn hair gleamed.
Curling black lashes cast spiky shadows over pinkened cheeks. Plump red lips with a bowed center and a stubborn chin added to her captivating allure.
The girl— Wait. Had that cherry mouth parted? Micah froze, every cell buzzing. Even the trees stilled, as if time suspended. Then…
A soft moan left her. The first sound she’d made since his arrival. Then she stretched her arms over her head.
He dropped the bundle in his arms, pink-and-red fruit thudding to the ground, rolling away. Startled by the noise, the girl jolted upright, auburn locks tumbling around her delicate shoulders. She blinked to orient herself.
His mind raced with a thousand thought fragments. Even more beautiful… jade eyes, brighter than the leaves…gown soon to tear apart at the seams…friend… Mine?
She turned, maneuvering her legs over the side of the bed. Standing. Stretching. As graceful as a swan he’d once spied in the Summer Court.
Micah stood in awe, utterly transfixed.
As if sensing him at last, she looked his way and gasped. Her mouth floundered open and closed, fright overtaking her expression.
He hurried to offer a reassurance. “I mean you no—”
A high-pierced scream burst from her. The most horrifying sound he’d ever heard. Sharp pains stabbed his brain, hot blood dripping from his ears. He slapped his palms over the blood-soaked shells, but it didn’t help.
The trees snapped to attention. In an instant, leaves wilted. Fruit dried up. The belua army lunged at him, and this time, they attacked to kill, stabbing and pummeling full force. Pain wracked him, each injury teaching him a new lesson in agony.
Deserve this. He’d foolishly shown favor to an enemy. Had thought to become friends with vessels of evil.
But the girl…
Will come back for her. The trees wouldn’t harm her. Even now, they kept her out of harm’s way. If she required freedom, Micah would free her. But first, he must survive.
He escaped the clearing, crawling out of range before collapsing in a beam of sunlight, eating dirt. Then the darkness came…
Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over seventy books, including the acclaimed Lords of the Underworld series, the Gods of War series, the White Rabbit Chronicles, and the Forest of Good and Evil series. She writes sizzling paranormal romance, heartwarming contemporary romance, and unputdownable young adult novels, and lives in Oklahoma City with her family and menagerie of dogs. Visit her at GenaShowalter.com.
Spark of Madness Brynn Ford
(Ember Glen, #1)
Publication date: July 21st 2022
Genres: Adult, Dark Romance, Dystopian
In Ember Glen, men purge under the full moon. It’s the duty of women to serve them. When Mercy refuses to serve, Arlo will force her to find absolution through three brutal trials. But will their forbidden romance destroy their world?
Mercy
Neglecting my duty to serve is a sin, and during the last full moon, I became a sinner.
He saw me run from my duty, chased me, and caught me.
He promised me that I would be punished.
But I never could have imagined the hellish fate that would be chosen for me. More than that, I never could have imagined the maddening lust that would spark between me and the man who caught me.
This passion is forbidden…and it might set us on fire.
Arlo
It’s my role to catch the sinners, and Mercy sinned gravely.
I saw her and I chased her, drawn to her inexplicably.
She sparked something within me, but she had to be brought to judgment.
Her punishment is coming in the form of an archaic ritual we’re bringing back to make an example of her. I’ll be her warden, her keeper, the man to ensure she stays alive between her torturous trials.
Something within her brings out the worst of me…and the worst of me wants to ruin her.
AUTHOR NOTE: This is a dark romance series that involves many triggering elements which may be upsetting for some readers. A complete list of tropes and triggers can be found on the author’s website at brynnford.com/triggers.
SERIES NOTE:Spark of Madness is book 1 of 3 in the Ember Glen series and it ends on a cliffhanger. The author plans to publish all 3 books by the end of 2022. The trilogy follows Mercy and Arlo and must be read in order.
READING ORDER
Book 1: Spark of Madness (July 21, 2022)
Book 2: Blaze of Misery (October 20, 2022)
Book 3: Embers of Mercy (December 29, 2022)
I rebelled from my soul’s purpose, and I was promised punishment.
He’s come to punish me.
As soon as the realization hits me, I scramble, kicking against the earth to push myself backward and crawl out from beneath him. He ignores me as I awkwardly rush to my feet and back away; instead, he bends to pick up my mother’s journal.
No!
I lunge for it, but he jerks his hand away, holding the journal beside his head.
“Give that back.”
“No,” he says plainly.
He slowly lowers it in front of him, thumbing open the pages.
I lunge again to snatch it, but he only steps back, narrowing his eyes at me with his head tilted toward the pages. “Stop. Your property is my property now.”
“What?”
What is he saying?
I’m entitled to have my own things.
Except, the Control has license to take authority over the personal property of sinners.
And I’m a sinner now.
I feel frozen as I watch him flip through the pages, reading a sentence here and there. A shiver runs up my spine despite the warmth of the sun, and I hug myself, running my hands up and down my arms. Movement in the distance catches my eye; standing at the tree line, at the edge of the meadow, are the other six members of the Control.
Watching.
Waiting.
The notion of my death claws through my mind, scratching away all other thoughts.
Have they come to kill me?
Will I die today?
How will they do it? Burned at the stake like my mother?
“What is this?” Arlo asks, closing the journal and holding it up. “Is this your mother’s?”
I hear him, but I struggle to respond. The very essence of my being is trapped behind a thick wall of ice inside my mind, frozen and paralyzed to thoughts of punishment and death.
“Forget it,” he says with exasperation. “Come with me.”
He holds out his palm, covered with a black leather glove, and I stare at it as if it’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen, as if it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen…because it is.
If I take his hand, he’ll lead me away, only I don’t know where to and I don’t know what will happen then. I don’t know if I’ll be hurt or tortured, or if I’ll be killed immediately.
I lift my gaze from his hand to meet his stare. “Are you going to kill me?”
His eyes are blue—bright blue, like the clear sky above. They sparkle as he watches me, waiting for me to take his outstretched hand.
I think it’s the first time I’ve ever really looked at him. I’ve only known him by name and in passing before the other night in the forest. I knew of him; I’d seen him and could identify him easily. But looking at him now, I know I’ve never truly seen him before.
“Not personally, and certainly not today,” he offers. “Come along now. We have things to discuss.”
“What things?”
He takes a step closer, and instinctively, I step back.
“Mercy.”
“What’s going to happen to me? Please. Can’t you just tell me now?”
“I’m not going to ask you again.” His offered palm twitches with threat. “We will drag you away if you insist on resisting.”
Part of me wants to resist. If my fate has already been decided—and I suspect it has—then resistance won’t change the outcome. Resisting might make me feel like I did something, that I at least tried. That part of me makes my knees bend with the urge to run.
Author Bio:
Brynn Ford writes dark romance for daring readers. She is a lover of the dark, twisted, and playful, and strives to bring these elements into her stories.
When she isn’t obsessively writing, you may find her binge-watching favorite shows while eating far too much junk food or fanatically reading, always seeking to lose herself in the emotional roller coaster of a damn good story.
She’s a firm believer that her characters continue to live outside the pages in the minds of her readers. Stories don’t end just because there aren’t any more pages to turn.
Hey everyone! As you may know I have been tackling Camp Nanowrimo again and I’m glad to say that the July session is going far better than the April session. Mostly I’m bouncing between a few different projects and both writing new content as well as editing.
I’m mostly on track to hit 50k for the month, but it’s a soft goal so I’m not going to be upset with myself if I don’t hit it. Still, I’m at almost 25k words cumulatively, so I think if this upcoming weekend goes well I will be able to hit it.
Love You Again Julia Kent
(Love You, Maine, #2)
Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Set in the woodsy small town of Luview, “Love You,” Maine – a tourist favorite where every day is Valentine’s Day – local police officer and single dad Luke Luview has spent the last two years making his young daughter his priority after his wife’s death. When first-love Kylie Hood comes back into town under bizarre circumstances, he learns that nothing’s a coincidence – and maybe second chances are possible after all.
If you’re looking for a fun read about first kisses, second chances, featuring a hot single dad small town police officer and his accidental nanny, set in a small town in New England, with a golden retriever named Jester, a heroine whose dream in life is to run a fairy camp, and a hero who wants to build a place where everyone belongs – then this is your book.
Grab a cup of coffee, tea, and maybe some edible glitter, and get your happy meter ready as you read the second book in the Love You, Maine series – where love isn’t just a feeling – it’s a way of life.
✓Single Dad
✓Second chance
✓Small town romance
✓Local police officer and his last-minute nanny
…and a Golden Retriever named Jester
A white puff of air filled the space between him and the steering wheel, and he realized he’d sighed. How long had he been sitting here, mind and memory in the past? Shoving his hands into gloves, he opened the rear door, grabbed the white plastic bag, and made his way to the front of the bin.
Determined, focused, and grim: That was Luke Luview these days. A bad match for a town that existed to make people feel good about love.
Living in Love You, Maine–heck, being a Luview–was never harder than when you had a broken heart.
Time to let go of some of the pain.
“AAAAAAooooooooo,” called out a band of coyotes in the distance, making Luke jolt. His personal weapon was at home. He didn’t carry it in the glove compartment or on his body when he was off duty, but as the coyote population grew in the area, maybe he should.
A few feet from the donation bin’s front, he looked at the lever to pull down, squeezing the bag slightly. A whiff of Amber’s perfume caught his nose, so faint he almost imagined it.
Colleen had washed all the clothes a few weeks ago, so he knew he imagined Amber’s scent. Didn’t matter. He’d take the illusion. That was how much he hurt.
A skitter inside the box made him frown.
Damn animals. They got in those bins all the time. He felt sorry for the poor sap who emptied these metal boxes, carting all the goods to the warehouse in Manchester where they cleaned and sorted, getting it all ready for the second-hand retail stores.
Just do this, he thought, swallowing hard as the coyotes mated in the distance. The sound was violent and creepy, but for whatever reason, it felt fitting.
Throwing the tangible reminders of that terrible day into the donation box felt dangerous, too.
“I love you, Amber,” he murmured. “But I have to let you go. Have to let that day go. Harriet needs a daddy who isn’t tied down by grief. Just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean I love you any less, though.”
Tears pricked his eyes. “Why is this so hard? Because it’s hard,” he said with a huff. “That’s what you would say if you were here. You’d hug me and comfort me and tell me feelings are meant to be felt or they’d be called something else. You’d have all the right words. I don’t have any. I just have a big hole in my life, Amber. And you’re never going to fill it. Colleen says I can’t feel guilty for moving on. I don’t. But I sure do feel weird.”
And then he reached for the handle, pulled it down, and threw the bag in while calling out loudly, “I love you.”
To his utter shock, she replied from the darkness of the box, “I’m in here!”
Author Bio:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com
Strut Jay Hogan
(The Style Series, #2)
Publication date: July 14th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance
New Zealand farm boy turns New York fashion model.
Fairy tale? Maybe. But it hasn’t been easy. A year in this crazy city, working my tail off just to survive in a ruthless industry where sex sells and boundaries are too readily crossed.
A year and a reassuring ocean away from Hunter Donovan—a sexy, humiliating mistake that I’m not about to repeat. Distance is good. Distance is safe.
But now Hunter is back. In New York. In my life. In all those treacherous feelings that haven’t gone anywhere. But when my world suddenly crashes and I have to piece myself back together and fight for my career, will Hunter be there when I need him? Will we have what it takes to make it through this, together?
Note: This book contains themes of sexual harassment and sexual assault.
Halfway down the block I came upon a small queue outside a tidy brick establishment which proved to be Color. The distant thrum of Ariana Grande leaking through the double wooden doors onto the sidewalk reminded me I was close to a generation older than most of the guys ahead of me waiting to get in.
I joined the line, ignoring a low whistle of interest from one of the guys as I passed. I took his appreciation as reassurance that my skinny black jeans paired with one of Rhys’s new season tight black-and-white-checked T-shirts passed muster. I checked my phone as I waited and fired off a text to my younger sister knowing it was afternoon in New Zealand. A few seconds later the phone rang in my hand, and I smiled and swiped it open.
“Hey, sis.”
“Hey, you. I’m heading to the supermarket. What’s up?”
The line shrank by a couple of guys, and everyone shuffled forward. “Not much. I’m waiting to get into a bar and thought I might catch you.”
Silence. “Hunter Donovan is in a queue?” She chuckled. “You don’t do queues, bro. I thought you rarefied fashionista types skipped those pesky things.”
“It’s not that level of club,” I explained. “Think popular, off-the-beaten-track gay bar. I doubt I’ll see anyone I know and certainly no one who knows me.”
“A gay bar? Ohhhhh, are you on a date?”
“No, I am not on a date. You know me. Besides, I’ve only been here two days.”
“You’re right. I do know you. Which means you’re cruising for some pretty arse. You after a bit of downtown rough, big brother?”
“Jesus, Patty, you sound like a low-budget movie, and we are not having that conversation. Ever. If you must know, I met a guy I worked with in Auckland and he happens to tend bar here. I said I’d drop by.” Kind of, almost.
“Riiiight.” She sounded sceptical. “Do I know them? You’ve always said the best thing about your trips to New York was all the great clubs. I’ve never known you to waste your time on suburban bars.” My sister was way too perceptive.
“True, but this is that model from fashion week last year? The guy Rhys discovered—”
“Oh my god,” she blurted. “That gorgeous hunk of drool you shot for Flare. Alec someone, right?”
“Alec Williamson. He got signed by Cage Talent after the show and has been in New York since. I ran into him quite by chance.”
Patty was quiet for a few seconds as the cogs in her brain ticked over. “But you liked him, right?”
What the fuck? I said nothing
.
“You can’t lie to me, Hunter. I know you. He’s the one hanging in your office on your wall of fame, aka my personal wall of hotness. He’s wearing Rhys’s design. Holy shit, Hunter. Do you have a thing? Are you—”
I needed to shut this down fast. “He’s hanging there because it was my best friend’s signature shoot for his new label,” I argued. “Not because it’s Alec.”
“Mm-hmm.” There was an irritating smile in her voice. “Pull the other one. I called into Flare that day, remember? You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Neither could I, to be honest, but you were a little smitten kitten.”
I so was. “I so wasn’t. You’re dreaming. Alec is a great model, that’s all. If I was smitten, it was on a purely professional level.”
“And yet you’re queuing to have a drink at the place he works?”
Well, when you put it like that. “Maybe.” It was all she was getting. “It’s the friendly thing to do, right?”
“Aha. Yep. Very neighbourly of you. Oh, here’s a thought. If you like him, how about you keep it in your pants for once, at least for more than a day? Get to know him.”
Too fucking late. “Oh, look at that, the bouncer’s waving me in. Gotta go, sis. Nice talking to you.” I stabbed the End Call button, stared at the double doors for a second, took a deep breath, and then pushed through.
The immediate assault to my eardrums almost rattled my brain from my skull. Add that to the heaving crowd and multicoloured light display circling the room and dripping down the walls, and I needed a minute to orient myself. I passed the coat check desk and slid against the closest wall to take a look around.
The place was humming, the music pulsing loudly above the thrum of a hundred different conversations, while the surprisingly spacious dancefloor writhed with every possible combination of couples, throuples, and dogpiles of slick bodies. Like the queue outside, it was a younger crowd, mostly early twenties, but with enough around my age to drop the creep factor to acceptable. I watched the dancers for a bit, appreciating all the hot skin and tight muscle on display before scouting the bar.
“You wanna dance?” A warm body leaned close, and I turned to find an attractive dark-haired man just inches from my face. He had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen and a pouty mouth made for sucking cock. He licked his lips and ran his hand up my arm. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
On any other night I would’ve had him down the back and on his knees with my dick down his throat in about five minutes flat, but I wasn’t even tempted—a disturbing fact that was worth an alarm bell or two. Instead, I simply smiled and covered his hand with mine.
“Thanks. You’re pretty hot yourself, but I’m meeting someone.”
Author Bio:
Heart, humour and keeping it real.
Jay is a 2020 Lambda Literary Award Finalist in Gay Romance and her book Off Balance was the 2021 New Zealand Romance Book of the Year.
She is a New Zealand author writing mm romance and romantic suspense, primarily set in New Zealand. She writes character driven romances with lots of humour, a good dose of reality and a splash of angst. She’s travelled extensively, lived in many countries, and in a past life she was a critical care nurse, nurse educator and counsellor. Jay is owned by a huge Maine Coon cat and a gorgeous Cocker Spaniel
One Kind Hero Christine DePetrillo
(Heart of a Wounded Hero)
Publication date: July 14th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
What do you do when your life plan goes up in flames?
Army sniper Reid Colborn has nothing left. His last mission was technically a success. Enemy hit. Boy rescued. Day saved. Getting trapped in a burning building, however, wasn’t part of the plan. Now Reid doesn’t have a steady shooting arm, and his military career is over. Heading back to his hometown of Maplehaven, Vermont is not the next target he’d hoped for, but he’s out of choices.
Until architect Valerie Bellerose gives him another option.
When Valerie sees Reid, every detail of their one night together as teens nearly ten years ago comes flooding back. Not that the memory had ever died. Reid had given her something that had made it impossible to forget him. Now that he’s back, can they have a second chance to hit their mark?
Is one kind hero high enough caliber to build the family they’ve always wanted?
One Kind Hero is a second-chance, small-town, steamy contemporary romance novella with a wounded military hero searching for what comes next after losing everything. For more romances set in Maplehaven, check out the One Kind Deed Series also by Christine DePetrillo.
The Heart of the Wounded Hero series was created to pay tribute to and raise awareness of our wounded heroes. Each of the over eighty authors involved have contributed time, money, and stories to the cause. These love stories are inspiring and uplifting, showing the sacrifice of our veterans but also giving them the happily ever after they deserve.
By increasing awareness through our books, we believe we can in a small part help the wounded heroes that have sacrificed so much. Thank you for reading.
I have a place to stay and a job to go to. I need to quit whining and suck it up. That’s hard to do, however, when the treasured motorcycle I owned and rebuilt myself as a teenager is staring at me right now.
Straddling it, I love feeling it beneath me. The seat contours to my body. The paint finish is still glossy because Uncle Karl kept a cover over it. The chrome parts glint in the overhead lights. My left hand wraps around the left handlebar, the grip molding to my palm, as I lean forward a bit. I tighten my hold and imagine zipping down the open road.
I reach for the right handlebar with my right hand. The grip hits my palm, but my fingers won’t close all the way around it. My entire right arm shakes at being stretched out. There’s absolutely no way I can steer this motorcycle ever again.
I slam my left hand into the handlebar and get off the bike. The urge to kick the thing onto its side is overwhelming, but I get rational at the last second and refrain from doing so. Instead, I drape the cover back over the motorcycle.
Out of sight, out of mind.
If only I could drape a cover over myself, but all I have is a green Brenton Sawmill baseball hat and a matching sawmill T-shirt. Smoothing the wrinkles out of the shirt, I stomp out of the barn. The morning sunlight is too harsh, too cheerful. I should have picked a rainier, gloomier place to restart my entire life.
Author Bio:
Christine DePetrillo can often be found hugging trees, conversing with dragonflies, and walking barefoot through sun-warmed soil. She finds joy in listening to the wind, bathing in moonlight, and breathing in the fragrances of things that bloom. If she had her way, the sky would be the only roof over her head.
Her love of nature seeps into every story she tells. As does her obsession with bearded mountain men who build, often smell like sawdust, and know how to cherish the women they love. Today she writes tales meant to make you laugh, maybe make you sweat, and definitely make you believe in the power of love.
She lives in Vermont with her husband and cat who defend her fiercely from all evils.
Detective Anjelica Henley confronts a series of ritualistic murders in this heart-pounding thriller about race, power and the corrupt institutions that threaten usfor fans of S.A. Crosby and Tami Hoag
When Detective Anjelica Henley is called to investigate the murder of popular preacher in his own church, she discovers a second victim, tortured and tied to a bed in an upstairs room. He is alive, but barely, and his body show signs of a dark religious ritual.
With a revolving list of suspects and the media spotlight firmly on her, Henley is left with more questions than answers as she attempts to untangle both crimes. But when another body appears, the case takes on a new urgency. Unless she can apprehend the killer, the next victim may just be Henley herself.
Drawing on her experiences as a criminal attorney, Nadine Matheson’s new novel deftly explores issues of race, class and justice through an action-packed story that will hold you captive until the last terrifying page.
“We all lost,” said DS Paul Stanford as he held out a Quality Street tin in front of Henley.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Henley asked as she took off her coat and flung it onto a spare desk. “Are there any toffee pennies in there?”
“You might want to keep your coat on. The heating’s on the blink again. Either that or they’ve forgotten all about us and haven’t paid the bill. There’s a hundred and forty pounds in the pot and no toffee pennies.”
“Why is there a hundred and forty quid in there?”
Stanford rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Remember our bet?” he said. “On him. Our illustrious fully fledged Detective Constable Ramouter.”
“What have I done?” Ramouter asked from his position in the kitchen where he’d been eyeing the bottom of a mug with disgust.
“This is ridiculous,” Henley said. Her ears picked up the whirr coming from the electric fan heaters and the ice-fueled wind whistling outside and rattling the glass.
“You lasted, Ramouter; that’s what you did,” said Stanford. “We had a bet on how long you would last in the SCU.”
“And you didn’t think that I would last six months?” asked Ramouter as he picked up another mug.
“Mate, I didn’t think you would last six days. I’ll have a coffee if you’re making.”
“You shouldn’t be so mean to him,” said Henley as she took off her scarf and pushed it against the rotting frame of the window to block the icy draft that was sweeping across her desk.
“How am I being mean? I’m paying him a bloody compliment. After everything that happened, no one would have blamed him if he’d bolted for the door.”
“Well, he didn’t. He’s stuck with it. So, what are you going to do with the money?”
“I could give Ramouter the money. He could spend it on a train ticket to Bradford or something.”
“Now who’s getting soft?” Henley said. The phone on her desk started to ring.
“Or I could book a table at the curry house down the road. It will be teambuilding.”
“Or a normal Friday night out with you falling asleep in your chili chicken.”
“Rude,” Stanford replied as Henley picked up the phone and Ramouter appeared by his side with a mug of steaming coffee for him.
“Right. I see,” said Henley, reaching for the pad of blue Post-it notes on her desk and a ballpoint pen with a chewed cap. “I didn’t realize that we were still on duty. Can you send me the CAD details? No, I can’t get it myself because the system has crashed again. Thank you. Who found the body? Right.”
Henley pulled off the Post-it note and stuck it to the side of Ramouter’s mug. He peeled it off and looked at it quizzically. “Depending on traffic, we should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re not going to have time to finish that,” said Henley, putting the phone down and grabbing her scarf.
“There’s a body in a church?” Ramouter said as he read the note. “Seriously?”
“That’s what it says.”
“Why are we dealing with this?”
“We’re dealing with it because the borough commander decided that the Serial Crime Unit should be helping out Homicide and Serious Crime with their caseload,” Henley replied wearily.
“Anyone would think that we were just sitting here watching Netflix all day,” Ramouter moaned. “Is it even a murder?”
“We won’t know until we get there, will we?”
“Can I say it?” asked Stanford, a grin spreading across his face.
“No, you can’t,” Henley replied. She picked up her bag and headed toward the door, with Ramouter in tow. She knew Stanford well enough to know exactly what he was going to say.
“I bet you a tenner that it was the Reverend Green with a candlestick in the library,” Stanford shouted out as Henley slammed the door shut behind her.
“I’m not telling you again. Step away from the tape.”
“What’s going on?”
“If I knew I was going to spend the afternoon standing out in the freezing cold I would have stayed in bed this morning.”
“I bet that they’ve found a body or something.”
“Look, those CSI lot have turned up.”
“I only popped out for a coffee and now the old bill are saying that I can’t go back into my own office.”
“F this. I’m going home.”
“I’m telling you that they’ve found a body.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I don’t understand these kids. Too busy stabbing each other up. No value for life.”
“You can dress it up as much as you like. It’s Deptford innit.”
The murmurings of the curious and disgruntled crowd met Henley and Ramouter as they walked toward the scene of the crime.
“This is a church?” Ramouter asked as he looked up at the cream-colored facade of the brickwork. “I was expecting something a bit more… I don’t know, church-like. Maybe a steeple. This looks like a bank.”
“It used to be a NatWest when I was seventeen. The space was once cheap to rent. Not so sure now,” Henley replied.
“I did a quick Google search—”
“Of course you did.”
“And there’s another seven churches on the Broadway.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Henley. “Betting shops, churches and chicken shops on literally every London high street.”
Henley and Ramouter held up their warrant cards to the officer behind the police tape. Henley scoped the gathering crowd. Nothing about them raised any alarms, but she knew from experience that some murderers were voyeuristic by nature.
“Look likes Dr. Choi is here,” Ramouter said, pointing out the car of Henley’s friend and the Serial Crime Unit’s favorite pathologist, parked between a police motorbike and small white transit van that had ‘Forensic Services Crime Scene Investigation’ marked in black font on the side.
Henley stopped and looked around the small car park. There were no security cameras. She felt a sense of calm as she walked closer to the crime scene. It was a welcome emotion and a respite from the anxiety that was usually coursing through her veins, which she could keep at bay if she bothered to take her prescription to the chemist. She spotted the police officer that she was looking for leaning against the side of a police car, flipping through the pages of his notebook with a pen in his mouth.
“PC Tanaka? DI Henley from the SCU.”
PC Tanaka looked up and then stood to attention a little bit too quickly as Henley walked toward him.
“Ma’am,” said PC Tanaka.
“This is my colleague, DC Ramouter.”
“Shit,” said PC Tanaka when he dropped his notebook. “Sorry.” He brushed off slush from the cover. “It’s bloody freezing.”
“You were first on scene?” Henley asked.
Tanaka nodded. Henley could tell that he wanted to get it right. Giving a senior officer information about a murder scene was a lot different to dealing with burglaries, domestics and breaking up a fight between a couple of crackheads at the bottom of the high street.
“We, that’s the sarge, Sergeant Rivers, and I were driving back to the station. We’re based around the corner at Deptford station. We had just finished our shifts and was coming back from the McDonald’s up the road…”
PC Tanaka paused and took a breath.
Henley felt sorry for him as nerves or possibly shock overtook him. She saw a look of sympathy on Ramouter’s face as they both waited for PC Tanaka to continue.
“Sorry, guv, I mean ma’am,” said PC Tanaka straightening himself again and lowering the volume on his crackling police radio. “As I said, we were heading back to the station and one of the guys who works in the design agency practically threw himself onto the bonnet of the car. He was screaming about a body. We found the cleaner in hysterics in the staffroom of the agency. She refused to leave and take us to the church. I left her with the sarge and I went into the church and yeah, I won’t forget what I saw.”
Nadine Matheson is a criminal defense attorney and winner of the City University Crime Writing competition. She lives in London, UK.
Two for the Show Skye Warren
(One for the Money, #2)
Published by: Dangerous Press
Publication date: August 16th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Pregnant. Alone. And heartbroken. The only thing Eva Morelli knows for sure is that she wants this baby. She learned how to depend only on herself a long time ago.
The father, however? He made his position on marriage and children very clear.
Finn Hughes has fought his fate for years, but it’s finally catching up to him. Duty took away his choices. How can he hope for forever? He already knows how this ends.
There’s only one thing worse than having a family.
Losing them.
“I was hooked from page one. With steam and grit, Warren captures your attention and has you begging for the next chapter. Book gold!” — USA Today bestselling author Adriana Locke for Private Property
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance. Her books have sold over one million copies. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.
Mermaid of St. Moritz Jincey Lumpkin
(Mermaid of Venice, #5)
Publication date: July 11th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Billionaire mermaid Gia Acquaviva is back for the riveting fifth installment of the Mermaid of Venice series. Gia struggles with intense feelings for a man from her past, while her passionate love affair with a Hollywood actress threatens to ruin it all.
The Mermaid Civil War unleashes Ancient Magic, putting both mermaids and mankind in danger. Caught in the middle of warring factions is Gia’s daughter, Serena. Will the child master her magical powers, or will she become a casualty of war?
Everything’s on the line for Gia. Will her risky behavior cause her to lose everything she’s worked so hard to regain?
They call it the “Top of the World.” The glitterati come to St. Moritz for its famous ski slopes, but they stayed for the champagne climate. Home to mineral springs and abundant forests, the chic village also draws a summer crowd. Late spring brings heavy rain and wildflowers as far as the eye can see. Today, though, the sun awoke and claimed the day.
Gia rose from her slumber to find Florent making her an espresso. They had their coffee on the deck, soaking in all that Alpine glory.
She finally felt relaxed again, knowing that she had taken care of Yiannis for good.
“The scenery reminds me of the Sound of Music,” Florent mused.
“Oh?” Gia asked. “Will you run to the top of the mountain and serenade me like Julie Andrews?”
Florent chuckled. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Seeing me turn round and round in circles?”
“I am sure we can find you an apron somewhere. I would like the full experience, please.”
He slid out of his chair and approached her, nuzzling her face with his prickly, unshaven skin.
She put both hands on his cheeks and kissed him.
“Mmm!” Florent smiled with a devilish grin. “I almost forgot, Gia! I have a surprise for you.”
She grunted. “You know I hate surprises.”
“Oh, but you will love this. I have organized a private yoga session… with baby goats!”
“Florent, stop. Do not tease me.”
“I am quite serious, Gia! I thought you could bring the au pair… and Serena could pet those smelly little goats. My daughter loves all animals. Serena is probably the same.”
Gia realized for the first time that Serena had never been around any animal. The baby didn’t exactly have a normal start to her life.
“All right,” Gia accepted, feeling amused by this new development on the itinerary. “I will shower and then… baby goats.”
Author Bio:
Jincey Lumpkin is a writer who splits her time between NYC and Lisbon. She has been profiled by Dateline NBC, Vice, and GQ, among others. Out Magazine listed her in its “OUT 100,” naming her as one of the world’s most influential LGBTQ+ people, alongside celebrities like Laverne Cox and Ricky Martin. Sign up for free stories at JinceyLumpkin.com
The Wandering Wordsmith 