NEW RELEASE: Made In Portugal by Ana Newfolk

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Author: Ana Newfolk
Book: Made In Portugal
Series: Made In, Book #1
Page/Word Count: 80K words
Categories: Contemporary Romance, Gay Romance
Release Date: June 1, 2018
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Buy Links:
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Get Made In Portugal by Ana Newfolk on Amazon & Kindle UnlimitedAt 10 years old Joel was uprooted from his home and everything he knew in Portugal to start a new life in the States. At 26 he finds himself returning for the first time in thirteen years. So what if looking into the eyes of his childhood best friend again still makes his heart race out of his chest?

Living in sunny, laid-back Portugal isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For David, dreams of being a pastry chef come second to working in his family’s café where his renowned custard tarts draw in the crowds. Seeing Joel brings old feelings back. Feelings he’s not sure he’s brave enough to acknowledge to anyone other than himself.

With the inspiration of an old travel journal, the two friends embark on a real journey through memories in a country where looking back into the past runs as deep as the blood that courses through their veins.

Falling in love was never meant to be a stop along the way, but maybe inevitable when you have the adventurous spirit and courage to pursue what you want, make love under the stars and even figure out how to jumpstart an old Citroen 2CV in the middle of the Alentejo countryside.

We went as close to the cliff as safely possible and sat down on the wild grass. I imagined my parents coming here together. Thirty years ago they would have looked at the waves crashing the same rock formations, the miles of uninterrupted beaches in the distance, the colors of the ocean, the almost cloudless blue sky and the occasional seagull flying past.

No other place on the planet held such a significant meaning to me; and letting my parents rest here wasn’t just about following their wishes – but doing what was right for them.
My chest ached, and my hands shook as I opened the small box I was carrying. I dropped to my knees and ran my fingers through some of the small wild flowers. I didn’t know what they were but I liked the colors.

I let some of the ashes fall from the box onto the spaces between the flowers and allowed them to mix with the brown-orange soil, making my mom and dad part of this special place.

I got up and took just a few more steps closer to the cliff edge. David was right there with me. He held my hand and squeezed it tight showing his support.

In one swift movement I released the ashes towards the ocean. I let out a sob when I saw the cloud of ashes caught on an updraft making them float in front of us for a moment before they dispersed in the wind, flying to their final destination.

With each particle that settled on rock, soil or water I said goodbye to my parents. They would now live in my heart and my memories.

I thought of all the great moments we had as a family and knew I would never forget them. The day I told my parents I was gay and found nothing but unwavering support, the day Max and I graduated from high school, and the day I secured a job as a teacher in one of the top elementary schools in Manhattan. If one day I married and had children I would tell them all about my parents so they’d know what amazing and caring people they’d been.

I almost forgot I wasn’t on my own, and I didn’t realize I was sobbing until David scooped me up into his arms and wrapped them around me. David, my best friend, the first person I remember ever other than my family, he was here for me even when I was breaking. Little did he know that his presence alone was enough to put me back together.

About Ana Newfolk:
Ana Newfolk was born in Portugal where she grew up surrounded by sunshine and countryside. She has always had a deep love of reading, and ever since she can remember her favorite presents and treats have always been books. She would often be found in her not-so-secret spot reading her favorite adventure books (when she was younger) and romance novels (when she discovered boys). At 20 years old she moved to the UK where she has lived since.

In 2015 Ana stumbled across her first MM romance novel by chance, and she was hooked. She loves reading about men falling in love, hard, fast and ever so sweetly. This new found love for LGBTQ+ romance has opened a new world for Ana, and in 2017 she decided to finally listen to the voices in her head and write them down.

In addition to the time she spends reading and writing Ana has a full-time job that involves meeting lots of people with interesting stories to tell. She also loves baking as much as she loves watching people eat what she creates, much to the delight of family, friends and work colleagues alike.

Interview with Ana Newfolk:

  1. As an author myself, I know inspiration can strike at the most inopportune moments (like in the shower, when you don’t have anything to write with!). So, what was the inspiration behind Made In Portugal? The inspiration for Made In Portugal started with a location, the Sanctuary of Our Lady of the Cape which is near Cape Espichel on the Portuguese coast, south of Lisbon. Once I had the location, the rest of the plot started unraveling in my head. I wanted to take readers on two journeys with Made In Portugal. One is quite literal, and I self-indulged in showing my favorite locations. The other is a more subtle internal journey. I have now lived in the UK for the same length of time as I did in Portugal where I grew up. I drew upon my own experience to show Joel’s journey finding his forever home. Does he belong in New York? Portugal? Or somewhere else entirely? You’ll have to read Made In Portugal to find out.
  2. What is your writing process? Writing Made In Portugal was like getting in a car and realizing I didn’t have a map. I also hadn’t decided where I was going, only that I knew I wanted to go somewhere. Unlike other authors who have been writing since way before they published, I had never written a piece of fiction until now. There was a considerable amount of learning as I went along. I saw what others did and found out if it worked for me.I learned that I like the structure of plotting but with enough space to move things around. Quite often I have ideas for scenes and dialogue while I’m driving (which I do a lot of) and then figure out where that fits in the story. I can’t say I have a process as such. The story tells me what it needs, and I go along for the ride. Maybe that’s my process!
  3. What would one piece of advice you give an aspiring writer? Just do it. Everything you need to learn you’ll learn it along the way. Be nice and make friends. Most authors are really lovely people who will be happy sharing their experience and expertise. Most of all, I repeat, just do it. When I started Made In Portugal, I found that the more the story progressed, the more I wanted to know about it. I wanted more from the characters, even the secondary ones, except no one was writing it but me so I had to carry on if I wanted to know what happened to these very real (in my head) people.
  4. Do you have any strange writing habits or rituals? I don’t think I have any writing habits or rituals. My favorite location to write is the coffee shop. If I can’t get to the coffee shop, I have a few youtube videos with coffee shop background noise I play in the background.
  5. What can readers expect from you next? I am now working on Isaac and Max’s story. You’ll meet them in Made In Portugal, but you can also have a sneak preview of their story in Made In New York – A Christmas Short Story, which is available on Amazon KU. For those who like to read books in timeline order, Made In New York – A Christmas Story happens first and then Made In Portugal happens this summer. Made In New York ends on a cliffhanger so readers who don’t like cliffhangers should wait until Max and Isaac’s story is out.

5 Fun Quickies

  1. Least favorite endearment: Hun
  2. You’re auditioning for a singing competition, what’s your song: Christina Perri’s Jar of Hearts because I can hit all the notes.
  3. If you were ice cream, what flavor would you be: Chocolate and Salted Caramel with a few nuts sprinkled on top
  4. Sleep with your socks on or off: Off
  5. Ask for permission or ask for forgiveness: It depends to whom but quite often than not I ask for permission. I’m a good girl at heart.

Where to find Ana Newfolk:
Ana Newfolk Amazon Author Page Ana Newfolk on Facebook Ana Newfolk on Goodreads Ana Newfolk on Instagram Ana Newfolk on Twitter Ana Newfolk Website

NEW RELEASE: Refraction by Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga

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Jodi: Hey there! I’m Jodi Payne. I’m a proud Jersey Girl, I love Broadway musicals, the beach, tequila, and I’m almost always caffeinated like whoa. I’m here with BA Tortuga to talk about our new release, Refraction!

BA: Hey y’all! I’m BA Tortuga, the resident redneck, and lover of rubbing characters of different types together. 😀

Jodi: Refraction is a fish out of water story that takes Tucker, a hot and haunted Texas artist, and drops him in New York City in the snow. There he meets Calvin, a beautiful but insecure underwear model. The two of them couldn’t culturally be more disparate, but emotionally (and physically, like whoa) they prove to be the piece the other one has been missing. Their relationship is an intense journey, sometimes achingly raw and sometimes so sweet.

We did a little interview (after the excerpt) for you about our writing and answered some fun questions at the end too.

Author: Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga
Book: Refraction
Series: Collaborations
Page/Word Count: 87K words, 260 pages
Categories: Contemporary Romance, Gay Romance
Release Date: June 12, 2018
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Aaron Anderson
Buy Links:
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Buy Refraction by Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga on AmazonTexas artist Tucker Williams arrives in New York City for a gallery showing of his work and finds the city blanketed in snow. He meets free-spirited underwear model Calvin McIntire on the steps of the Midtown library and is captivated by a wild beauty that manages to compete with the demons that occupy his soul and fuel his work with their lust for blood and erotic imagery.

Unable to deny a new inspiration, Tucker sublets a studio and finds the city’s energy almost as addictive as Calvin.

Tucker is obsessive, barely holding on to sanity as his art consumes him, and Calvin is dealing with demons of his own, trying desperately to protect his soul in a business where only his appearance has value. They each prove to be the perfect remedy for the other’s personal brand of crazy until, in the midst of stress and exhaustion, they discover that a promise Calvin needs is the one thing Tucker can’t give him, and their heaven turns to purgatory.

Can both men find a path toward wholeness in Tucker’s beautiful but chaotic Texas home? In order for them—and their passionate relationship—to thrive, they’ll need to adapt, share their psychoses, and find a true balance between New York City and rural Texas.

Tucker Williams leaned against the steps of the library beside the big stone lion and watched the white stuff fall out of the sky. Colder than he’d ever been in his whole life, he shivered, trying to figure out what the fuck a guy like him was doing all the way up here.

The logical part of his brain, the part not frozen solid, reminded him that he had a gallery opening tomorrow. A major opening. Right.

So he was up here touristing all by himself and freezing his nuts and his toes off and waiting to show up in his best jeans and jacket tomorrow night.

Go him.

Christ on a sparkly pink crutch, everyone here wore black, and no one smiled a bit. Surely there had to be somewhere here with friendly folks and heat.

Right on cue, one of those black-clad Yankees—this one in a black knee-length coat, black earmuffs, and chunky black boots—came trotting down the steps right past him. Like every other guy on the busy street, he was on the phone.

“That spread is mine, Michael. I want it. You make it happen. I’ve got the best ass of the bunch, and you know it.”

The man stopped two steps below Tucker. “I’m easier to work with too. You tell them, okay? I need to get out of the weather. Who ordered this shit? Later.”

Huh. Earmuffs were a thing. Go figure. Tucker had to admit, the whole pseudo-duster thing was pretty hot.

“’Scuse me, sir, but is there a decent place to get a cup of joe around here?” Tucker asked.

The guy turned his head, but Tucker couldn’t get a good look at him behind the collar he’d pulled up against the weather. He was squinting against the snow, and his hair was mostly hidden under a knit hat, but it looked like it might be blond.

“There’s no such thing as a bad cup of coffee in New York. You look like you’re freezing your ass off, man. Come on, I’ll show you.” The guy just took off down the steps, and Tucker didn’t have much choice but to follow.

Good Lord and butter, these folks walked like huge flocks of birds. Great big old flocks of ravens. Oh. Oh, he could—he could paint that, right now.

“Calvin.” He was offered a gloved hand. Black leather, of course.

“Williams. Tucker Williams. Pleased.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and shook.

“Not from around here, I take it?” Calvin gave him wink and a grin.

Cool. This one smiled. “No, sir. I’m a bit from home, but that’s obvious, I reckon.”

“I’ll say. In here.” Calvin opened a door, and Tucker was hit with the smell of baking bread and a beautiful blast of warm air.

Interview with Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga:

  1. What is your writing process?
    • BA: Process? I have a process? I mean, I plot with index cards, but I never follow them. I read all the books. Basically I sit on my butt and write words. When I’m playing with someone else? I try to write words they’ll be proud of. Periodically I go — Jesus fucking christ, that was hot, because I’m classy like that.
    • Jodi: I’m a panster. My process is basically sit down at the keyboard and start writing. I’ve tried the note cards, I’ve tried the sticky notes, I’ve tried timelines… I’m hopeless. Thankfully, BA and I have found a lovely rhythm.
  2. What is the hardest part of that process for you?
    • Jodi: Not having a process? I confess to staring at a blank screen some days. Unless I’m writing with BA. Then the screen is never blank, we seem to share a great creative energy
    • BA: *grins* The best part about me is that it’s mostly all fun. Sometimes fun enough to stay up til 2 a.m….
  3. What do you think makes a good story?
    • Jodi: Good characters make a good story. You could put two good characters together on a raft in the middle of the ocean with no oars and still be able to create a good story. Hmm… BA, I have this idea…
    • BA: Is it cheating to say a good story makes a good story? I mean, for me, I want something to happen. I like when things happen. I like characters that are a little cracked. I like when Jodi says, “BA, I have this idea.”
  4. Do you have any strange writing habits or rituals?
    • Jodi: I come from a theater background where everything is a strange ritual, so I don’t really know what normal people consider strange. I need music when I write, and the louder the better. It helps me concentrate. A good pen for note-taking (Uniball Signo anyone?) and a cup of tea are good things too.
    • BA: My wife and I have rituals (Julia is a writer too). We write Monday-Friday, 10 a.m. to bedtime. I get music until 4. She gets TV after. Coffee is a necessity. So are basset hounds. She makes breakfast and lunch; I answer the phone. We talk about EVERYTHING as we write. Saturday and Sunday are for cooking, shopping and ‘fun’ writing (that’s code for OMG that’s hot, btw).
  5. What can readers expect from the two of you next? Exciting new books! Refraction is the first in a five-book series. The second one, Syncopation, is tentatively scheduled for spring and features a Cajun blues guitarist and a New York City ballet dancer. We also have a stand-alone novel coming out in the fall. It’s a friends to lovers story titled Heart of a Redneck, set in Boulder, CO, about a displaced cowboy and a restaurateur who unexpectedly find themselves parenting a five year old girl.

5 Fun Quickies

  1. Least favorite endearment:
    1. BA: Does bitch count as an endearment? Seriously, I’m Texan, I’m made of nicknames — baby, Pooh, Auntie, honey, sister, Momma, baby girl. You call me, I’ll answer.
    2. Jodi: When it comes to endearments, I consider the source. For example, the customer service rep on the phone better not call me honey. Hell no. But BA? Sure. A friendly Texas “honey” is not at all the same thing as that condescending, sarcastic “honey” thing we Yankees do. 😉
  2. You’re auditioning for a singing competition, what’s your song:
    1. BA: “May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose”
    2. Jodi: Oh. “Practically Perfect” from Mary Poppins.
  3. If you were ice cream, what flavor would you be:
    1. BA: Cherry nut from Braums in Greenville, Texas
    2. Jodi: Vanilla soft serve from the Mister Softee truck (and you have to eat it on your stoop!)
  4. Sleep with your socks on or off:
    1. BA: I can’t bear shit to touch my feet when I’m sleeping.
    2. Jodi: If it’s cold, socks on. If it’s warm, socks off. If it’s hot, definitely no socks. Socks aren’t sexy, people.
  5. Ask for permission or ask for forgiveness:
    1. BA: Y’all, please. Have I EVER asked for permission? Ever?
    2. Jodi: Ask for forgiveness? Although… I don’t really do that too much either.

Refraction by Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga
About Jodi Payne:
Jodi Payne takes herself way too seriously and has been known to randomly break out in song. Her men are imperfect but genuine, stubborn but likable, often kinky, and frequently their own worst enemies. They are characters you can’t help but fall in love with while they stumble along the path to their happily ever after. For those looking to get on her good side, Jodi’s addictions include nonfat lattes, Malbec and tequila any way you pour it.

Where to find Jodi Payne:
Jodi Payne Amazon Author Page Jodi Payne on Facebook Jodi Payne on Instagram Jodi Payne Newsletter Jodi Payne on Twitter Jodi Payne Website

About BA Tortuga:
Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she’s not doing that, she’s writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA’s personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.

Where to find BA Tortuga:

BA Tortuga Amazon Author Page BA Tortuga on Facebook BA Tortuga on Goodreads BA Tortuga on Instagram BA Tortuga on Pinterest BA Tortuga on Twitter BA Tortuga Website

Words: Frivolous


I had a very different post in mind for today. I had a post about Pride, because it’s June, and as part of my birthday “celebration” I’m going to my local Pride parade for the very first time at the youthful age of 43.  (Well, I’m turning 43.  I’m still bothered enough by society’s obsession with women’s youth to cling to that last week’s worth of being 42.)

And then I woke up this morning to the news that a celebrity I admired had taken his own life.  It hit me hard.  I sat down and scrolled through my Twitter feed.  I saw a lot of posts about him, his life, all the wonderful things he brought to this world.  And I saw a lot of other news to fill my outrage quota for the day, before I’d even had my first cup of coffee or hugged my daughter.

And then I saw a picture of an actor I enjoy.  He’d stopped to take a picture with some young fans, and the fan’s delight brought a smile to my face.  In the middle of all of this terrible news, here was this person who had been moved to actual giddiness by the kind gesture of a man I know to be busy, dealing with his own crap.

So, this month’s word is frivolous.  The top definition of frivolous is “of little weight or importance.”

In the Western world right now, it can feel like everything is going straight to Hell.  Social media is a wonderful tool in that we can educate ourselves as to the experiences of people who are not like us, but it can also be very disheartening to realize things we thought were getting better are still pretty awful.  The political situation, certainly in the US where I live but also in other areas, is dangerous and is proving how precarious our hard-won rights truly are.  Many of us are dealing with personal issues that are equally dangerous, and more immediate.

Add mental health issues into that mix.  The assault on health care has a strong effect on mental health.  Personally, I live in Massachusetts, and we have fairly strong protections for now.  That doesn’t change the stigma associated with seeking help for mental health issues, or the fact that bisexual people are more likely to face mental health issues than our monosexual brethren.

What does any of that have to do with the word “frivolous?”

Well.  For one thing, my profession is often attacked for being “frivolous.”  Only recently, in an article on Electric Lit*, an author made a vocal complaint about the existence of male/male romance at all.  He wasn’t the first, he won’t be the last.  I’ve taken grief from my Spouse, because I’m “wasting time” on frivolous things like TV that I could be using for work or for study.  Activists can be very hard on themselves, which has the end result of shaming each other, if they “indulge” in something as frivolous as a night at a house party instead of organizing against money bail or whatever their cause is.

And sure, study and fighting and High Literature are all important.  So is joy.  So is hope.  So is connecting with our friends, our family, and our community – all of the reasons we’re fighting in the first place.

Someone once said, and I want to say it was the awesome Beverly Jenkins, “Romance is the literature of hope.”  We’re in dark times right now.  We need that hope more than ever.  And even if some people out there want to turn up their noses, there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to wrap yourself up in the comfort of a certain happy ending when we know about all of the evil going on in the real world right now.

There is a lot of ugliness out there.  Isolating ourselves from it would be foolish.  Some people have an easier time hiding from reality than others, but at the end of the day it’s going to be ugly for everyone at some point.  There’s nothing wrong with appreciating beauty and joy where you can find it.  Pop music, consensually taken pictures of fave actors or singers, hell even a funny TV show are awesome.  We need that joy.  That little bit of happiness, that small spark, can be a lifeline.

LGBTQ+ people face a double whammy when dealing with mental health issues**.  Dealing with bias and discrimination exacerbates illness and can lead to anxiety and depression, and of course we have the fun of dealing with the stigma of mental illness on top of said biases.  This is especially true of bisexual individuals, who face bias within the LGBTQ+ community as well.  Medication can help – it’s been helpful for me – but it’s not effective for everyone, and it’s not accessible to everyone either.  There is nothing wrong with doing what you have to do for your own mental health.

I can’t emphasize that enough.  If what you need is to seek help, don’t let anyone shame you about it.  And if you need to take a break and recharge, put your feet up and enjoy something for a little while, you do that.  There is no shame in it.  Don’t become a martyr to someone else’s idea of who you should be, whether you’re in or out of the closet.

It’s great if someone can put all of their focus, all of the time, into being a hundred percent serious about whatever it is that they’re doing – fighting the good fight, Making Great Art™, whatever.  I think setting that as the expectation is a recipe for disaster.  We’re living in an era of mental health crisis right now.  Taking care of yourself isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity.   “Frivolous” things like books we enjoy, things that make us smile, food that tastes good – these are all things that can give us the energy to keep on fighting, and every single one of us needs that.

* I am not linking to the article, because while there were some good points to be made I think a lot of it was rooted in misogyny and it was distinctly angry-making


NEW RELEASE: On the Ice by Amy Aislin

NEW RELEASE: On the Ice by Amy Aislin

Author: Amy Aislin
Book: On the Ice
Series: Stick Side, Book #1
Page/Word Count: 348 pages, 87,500 words
Categories: Contemporary Romance, Gay Romance, New Adult, Sports Romance
Release Date: May 8, 2018
Cover Artist: Lee Hyat
Buy Links:
Buy On the Ice by Amy Aislin on Amazon Buy On the Ice by Amy Aislin on Barnes & Noble Buy On the Ice by Amy Aislin on iBooks Buy On the Ice by Amy Aislin on KOBO Add On the Ice by Amy Aislin on QueeRomance Add On the Ice by Amy Aislin on Goodreads
Buy On the Ice by Amy Aislin on AmazonFor college sophomore Mitch Greyson, determination and persistence are the name of the game if he wants to make it as a professional hockey player. A busy schedule of practices, games, classes, homework, two part-time jobs—and now, working with a tutor to help him pass the class he’s failing so that he can keep his scholarship—shouldn’t leave him with enough time to flirt with the NHL player in town. But that doesn’t stop him.

Placed on the injured reserve list until his broken arm heals, NHL defenseman Alex Dean is using the time off to be with his ailing grandfather and get a head start on the book he’s been commissioned to write. He doesn’t expect to get roped into a tutoring gig, especially not for cocky, smart-ass Mitch.

But Alex soon discovers that there’s more to Mitch than meets the eye…and he really likes what he sees. Only Alex doesn’t dare risk his NHL career by coming out, and a relationship between them would jeopardize Mitch’s chances with the organization too.

It looks impossible. Then again, the best things usually do…

The nine-to-five stint on Sundays was Mitch’s only shift at the long-term care facility in Montpelier, and since it was about as interesting as reading the phone book, he inevitably left the place every weekend tired and grumpy. Combined with the head-banging math tutoring session with his freshmen this morning, he was ready for dinner and a nap—not necessarily in that order—before hunkering down with the reading for tomorrow’s biomechanics lecture.

Finding a dejected pro hockey player in the facility’s parking lot wasn’t part of his evening plans, but Mitch didn’t mind, especially when that hockey player was Alex Dean. Mitch’s heart leapt, and then crashed when Alex’s slumped shoulders registered.

Alex sat on the trunk of his car, his feet on the bumper, elbows on his knees, with one hand buried in his hair. He stared at the ground and was so lost in thought, he didn’t react when Mitch stopped in front of him and cleared his throat. Mitch shifted on his feet and cleared his throat again. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers through Alex’s beard, but resisted the urge. Alex would probably slap his hands away.

Bending at the knees, Mitch peered up at Alex’s face until he caught Alex’s eyes.

NEW RELEASE: On the Ice by Amy Aislin“Jesus!” Alex jerked up, hand on his chest. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

A witty reply was on the tip of Mitch’s tongue, but he resisted that urge too. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I work here.”

“You…” Alex’s brow furrowed. “Doing what?”

“Office stuff. Filing, returning phone calls, inventory, ordering supplies, restocking, that sort of thing.”


“It’s about as much fun as my creative writing class.”

Alex laughed, and Mitch mentally patted himself on the back for putting a little bit of light back into his friend’s dark eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Mitch said.

Alex lost his smile, and his shoulders slumped further, if that was possible. “I was here to visit someone, but the nurses said he’s not having a good day and I should come back tomorrow.”

Questions raced through Mitch’s head. Who are you visiting? How long’ve they been here? What does ‘not a good day’ mean? How long have you been sitting here?

Can I touch your beard?

Stop that!

Mitch shook his head to scatter his wayward thoughts. Dropping his backpack next to the car, he hopped up to sit on the trunk next to Alex. “What are you up to now, then?”

Alex shrugged those massive shoulders and squinted against the setting sun. “Dunno. I was going to go home, but…”

Mitch waited, but Alex never finished his sentence. Instead, he stared off into space, unmoving, looking so hopeless that Mitch had to bank the desire to reach out and put his arm around him.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, breathing in the chilly evening air. Mitch shivered in his long-sleeved T-shirt, but didn’t get up to fish the hoodie out of his backpack, afraid any sudden movements would ruin the comfortable silence they’d settled into.

The facility was built on the outskirts of Montpelier, nestled between a hill with trees that were slowly losing their leaves to winter, and a stretch of flat land that led downtown. Away from the relative hustle and bustle of State and Main Streets, it was peaceful and still, and it smelled like wet grass. Mitch felt the stress that was a constant weight on his shoulders release.

Alex turned to him with narrowed eyes. After a few seconds of yet more silence, Mitch looked down at himself, but didn’t note any stains. Was Alex looking at something behind him? Mitch turned to check, making Alex laugh.


Alex shook his head, lips quirked. “Nothing. I’m hungry. Let’s get dinner in town.” He hopped off the trunk, making Mitch bounce in place as the car adjusted to the sudden loss of over two hundred pounds, and headed for the driver’s side door.

“Actually,” Mitch said. “I have a better idea.”

About Amy Aislin:
Amy started writing on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class was forced to stay inside for recess. Tales of adventures with her classmates quickly morphed into tales of adventures with the characters in her head. Based in the suburbs of Toronto, Amy is a marketer/fundraiser at a large environmental non-profit in Toronto by day, and a writer by night. Book enthusiast, animal lover and (very) amateur photographer, her interests are many and varied, including travelling, astronomy, ecology, and baking. She binge watches too much anime, and loves musical theater, Julie Andrews, the Backstreet Boys, and her hometown of Oakville, Ontario.

Interview with Amy Aislin:

  1. As an author myself, I know inspiration can strike at the most inopportune moments (like in the shower, when you don’t have anything to write with!). So, what was the inspiration behind On the Ice? My inspiration actually came from an earlier book, my very first published one, The Play of His Life. That’s where Mitch and Alex were first introduced, as side characters we see very, very briefly. But in that book, Mitch and Alex have already been together for years. I never really intended to tell their story. They were always meant to be side characters we never see again. But last summer they started speaking to me, and as they introduced themselves more fully to me, I just had to write the story of how they came to be together.
  2. What is your writing process? I start writing and don’t stop until it’s done. No, seriously. I’m not a plotter, I’m a pantser, so I start writing and hope the story itself will take me in the right direction. Most of the time it does, sometimes it doesn’t. And I tend to get sucked into my writing. I want so badly for my characters to have their HEA that I power through it until I write “The End,” to the detriment of…well, pretty much everything else ☺
  3. What is the hardest part of that process for you? Not knowing where the story is going. When I start writing, it’s with the first scene in mind, and sometimes only the first scene. I know the characters’ backgrounds and what their issues, goals, and conflicts are, and how they’ll intersect with each other. But everything else is a huge unknown so I can’t really plan ahead for plot points that might crop up, which means I end up usually having to go back and fill in details.
  4. There’s a big leap a writer takes from putting words down on paper for the love of it and actually publishing those words for public scrutiny. What was that journey like for you? Extremely nerve-wracking! Writers go into this knowing that not everyone will like their books, so they need to have a thick skin. But no matter how thick it is, bad reviews still hurt. Yet the more books I put out, the less impacted I get at bad reviews. Plus when I first started out, I used to read every review, good and bad, and one bad review can undo all the good feels of 10 good ones.
  5. What can readers expect from you next? I’ve just finished edits on my next novel, The Heights, coming September 2018! It’s about a dancer from NYC who moves to a small town in Oregon and meets a grumpy woodworker who’s just trying to make his deceased father’s dreams come true. My current WIP is a Christmas novel I’ll be releasing this December, tentatively called Christmas Lane. This one is a May/December romance and will have the feel of one of those made-for-TV Hallmark Christmas movies.

5 Fun Quickies

  1. Least favorite endearment: pretty much all of them. I have a name. Use it.
  2. You’re auditioning for a singing competition, what’s your song: oh, wow. Good question. Something from Les Misérables, I think. Possibly “One Day More.”
  3. If you were ice cream, what flavor would you be: Strawberry.
  4. Sleep with your socks on or off: off.
  5. Ask for permission or ask for forgiveness: permission.

Where to find Amy Aislin:
Amy Aislin Amazon Author Page Amy Aislin on Facebook Amy Aislin on Goodreads Amy Aislin on Instagram Amy Aislin Newsletter Amy Aislin on Pinterest Amy Aislin on Tumblr Amy Aislin on Twitter Amy Aislin Website

ANNOUNCEMENT/GIVEAWAY: Jacqui the Cat Mysteries, by Alexis Duran

Jacqui the Cat Series

Alexis Duranhas a new book out in her Jacqui the Cat cozy MM mystery series – “Roam” – and there’s a Giveaway!

About the Series

Jacqui Corleone is a fashion designer, a yoga-instructor and a concerned citizen who selflessly helps the police solve crimes. Oh, and he occasionally turns into a small wild cat. Probably due to a wizard’s curse or an evil government plot to create super warriors.
Or, he’s a cat cursed to turn into a human and only the bite of a sexy alpha lion will allow him to remain in his superior form of Cat.

Jacqui does not have a split personality, but sometimes his cat personality can get rather loud.

Loud? You’re loud.

Jacqui Corleone is a cat shifter who doesn’t know why or how he turns into a cat. He lives a solitary life in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. He’s not afraid of intimacy (yes, he is) but sensibly refrains from potentially awkward entanglements. Unfortunately, the sexy new deputy sheriff just moved in across the street and Jacqui’s vow not to get mixed up with island dudes is sorely challenged.

When the mysterious disappearance of three blue pots draws Jacqui to investigate, he’s drawn ever deeper into danger–and into the arms of Deputy Wyatt West (you wish).


Alexis is giving one lucky winner a $10 Amazon gift card. Enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win.

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Book One: Prowl


Jacqui Corleone is a fashion designer, a yoga-instructor and a concerned citizen who selflessly helps the police solve crimes.  Oh, and he occasionally turns into a small wild cat. Probably due to a wizard’s curse or an evil government plot to create super warriors.

Or, he’s a cat cursed to turn into a human and only the bite of a sexy alpha lion will allow him to remain in his superior form of Cat.

Jacqui does not have a split personality, but sometimes his cat personality can get rather loud.

Loud? You’re loud.

Jacqui Corleone is a cat shifter who doesn’t know why or how he turns into a cat. He lives a solitary life in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. He’s not afraid of intimacy (yes, he is) but sensibly refrains from potentially awkward entanglements.  Unfortunately, the sexy new deputy sheriff just moved in across the street and Jacqui’s vow not to get mixed up with island dudes is sorely challenged.

When the mysterious disappearance of three blue pots draws Jacqui to investigate, he prowls ever deeper into danger–and into the arms of Deputy Wyatt West (he wishes).

Prowl Excerpt:

Not that anything could make Jacqui a dull boy, but hours spent stooped over his sewing table had given him a kink in his neck along a strong urge to throw aside his needle and leap out the window.

Instead he sighed dramatically, pressed his palms against the edge of the heavy table and stretched his neck, tilting his head to one side and then the other. He arched his back, slouched, arched again. Not working.He stood, padded across the hardwood floor and slid open the glass door to his tiny balcony.

He’d been working for hours and still had two jackets to finish. Zee was arriving the next day to pick up the new outfits Jacqui had created. Everything had to be perfect. And complete. Complete and perfect and amazing. Because Zee was a rising star, and when the rabble got a look at the Cat’s Eye creations adorning Zee’s nearly famous bod, Jacqui would have it made. That was the assumption, anyway. Orders would flood his inbox, gobs of money would flow into his bank account, and he could hire an assistant and stop working these dog-awful hours.

Or not. After all, what else would he do with his time if not toil?

Right now, he had a strong urge to prowl.

Now is not the time, Cat. Now is the time of toil.

He stepped out on his second-story balcony and took a deep breath of fresh, slightly salty air blowing in off the water. His studio apartment overlooked Friday Harbor, and at the cusp of sunset, both town and harbor were bathed in a pinkish glow, doing that twinkly and picturesque as all get-out thing that happened on lovely summer evenings like this.

Must prowl.

No. The stitching had to be perfect. The lines exquisitely formed to Zee’s angular shape, the drape immaculate. The last version hadn’t been up to Jacqui’s exacting standards. He’d pulled out a day’s work in a pissy rage at himself, and now he was paying for it.

You’ll be more efficient after a prowl. And Zee’s seaplane won’t arrive until midday.

Jacqui made the mistake of looking down, letting his gaze wander across the street, to where a moving van had recently been parked.

Jacqui had a new neighbor.

Back. To. Work.

Jacqui’s new neighbor was Wyatt West, the new deputy sheriff in town. Yes, Jacqui had played around with the name in an endlessly juvenile fashion. Wild Wild West, with the broad shoulders, lean waist, and an ass to die for. Dark brown hair, amber eyes, and a crooked smile that made Jacqui’s heart do a little squeezy thing, leaving him breathless. How wild was West, Jacqui couldn’t help but wonder?

So they’d never spoken. Minor detail. Didn’t matter. Until this weekend Wyatt West of the exceptionally hot body was a live aboard, a local brand of lunatic who lived on a sailboat surrounded by fucking water. Jacqui wasn’t about to go sniffing around a mental case like that.

But now Wild Wyatt Hot Bod was Jacqui’s across-the-street-two-condos-down neighbor and required closer inspection. Because all neighbors required inspection. Because curiosity.

“Wait for it. Anticipation makes it all the more sweet.”

To hell with that. Do the change and let’s check Wild West out.

Get it On Amazon/Kindle Unlimited

Book Two: Pounce

Half-cat, half-human, all-awesome, Jacqui has spent his life avoiding getting too close to anyone.  But despite his best intentions, he just can’t stay away from the sexy deputy sheriff, Wyatt West, especially after Jacqui is the victim of a local band of thieves and turns to the police for help.

When the call of curiosity grows too insistent, Jacqui does a little prying around on his own, an activity that quickly leads him into danger.

Is this the end for our Furry Fashionista, or will the heroic and altogether too handsome Wyatt save the day? And more importantly, will they finally have sex?? Read Pounce, Book 2 in the Jacqui the Mysteries, to find out.

Pounce Excerpt:

Jacqui stretched out long, ass in the air, paws out in front of him. As Cat, he was strong, fast, invincible. He could see in the dark, leap tall fences in a single bound, smell and hear every nuance of change in his neighborhood, and spy on Wyatt without getting arrested for being a creeper. Everything about being Cat was good, except for doorknobs and dogs. And the inability to sew or make anything. And the fact that ordinary cats took one look at him and freaked.

He sat on the sidewalk outside his apartment. The gin had released its hold on his brain. The crowd at Wyatt’s had long ago dispersed, and Jacqui could not sleep. At two o’clock in the morning, the street was empty of people. A possum rooted around in someone’s compost pile on the next block. Two cats were facing off in a yard behind the apartment building, still in the growling low stage. Bats zinged through the air, chasing bugs.

His ears twitched and his tail flicked back and forth across the pavement. From a long way off, he heard a bicycle. Because he had nothing else on his prowling agenda, he went toward the sound, vaguely curious to see who was peddling home in the wee hours.

He padded across the street and peeked into Wyatt’s backyard. If the tree in the corner were positioned differently, he’d totally be peeking into that bedroom window.

No. That’s just wrong.

Another reason why being a cat is better. Peeping is required. It’s a survival skill.

It’s creepy.

Jacqui peered into the dark rectangle of Wyatt’s patio door for a while, thinking back on how dangerously close to flirting they’d come. They’d flirted with flirting. He knew if he changed back into Jacqui and rapped on that door, Wyatt wouldn’t be surprised. Except for maybe the naked thing. And maybe Wyatt would think Jacqui was more than a little weird, but he wouldn’t turn him away.

Jacqui turned away. It kind of felt inevitable, this imminent collision of body parts and exchange of fluids, but it had to be carefully controlled and limited.

Okay, Wyatt, we can fuck, because we’re guys and that’s what guys do, but here are the rules:

One: No getting all up in my business.

Two: No looking at me funny when I have out loud arguments with myself.

Three: No asking me where I’ve been all night.

Four: No questioning why a guy who loves cats and volunteers at the local shelter doesn’t own a cat.

Five: No falling in love.

Six: No suggesting I see a therapist to address my fear of intimacy issues.

Seven: No prying into my life prior to two years ago.

Eight: No whining when I drop you like a hot potato for no reason whatsoever.

Nine: Who the fuck is that?

Jacqui stopped on the corner of Harrison and Oak to watch the Midnight Biker push his bike up the hill. He was a young dude Jacqui hadn’t seen before, with stringy blond hair poking out of a stocking cap. He wore a lived-in, slept-in, rolled-in-the-dirt-in dingy canvas coat and shredded jeans. He had a big pack on his back and his eyes darted this way and that, peering into people’s yards.

Suspicious? Oh, yeah.

Jacqui slipped into a convenient pool of shadows and watched the interloper trudge by.

Get it On Amazon/Kindle Unlimited

Book Three: Roam


Being half-cat isn’t easy in a human world, and Jacqui’s life has just gotten a lot more complicated now that he’s dating the hot deputy sheriff who lives across the street. Wyatt’s brain might explode if he finds out his lover turns into a cat sometimes.

And even more unthinkable, Wyatt might REJECT Jacqui if he discovers that his boyfriend and Satan the feral wild cat are one and the same! As if Jacqui doesn’t have enough to worry about, he becomes the unwilling foster parent of a drooling dog, and soon discovers a nefarious plot involving marauding Rottweilers with a taste for Cat.

Follow Jacqui into trouble in his most exciting misadventure yet!

Roam Excerpt:

Several desperate phone calls did not procure any dog-sitter leads. Mei Lin was off island. Rose laughed derisively at the suggestion. Mary Lou, who ran the shelter, was ferrying visiting relatives around the island and just couldn’t possibly take in an extra dog, no matter how much she really wanted to.

When Sam pulled to a stop in front of Jacqui’s apartment, Jacqui’s spirits were low. All Cat could do was emit a low moan every now and then.

“I’ve got to give the beast a bath before I let it anywhere near my stuff.”

“Can I watch?” Sam asked, grinning.

“Help? Surely you meant to ask if you could help?” Jacqui said, turning a withering glare upon him.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

Jacqui slid out of the truck and ran up the stairs to his loft apartment. He was half-tempted to lock the door, pull the drapes, and hope that Sam would give up and drive away with the dog.

Not likely.

He grabbed a bottle of expensive shampoo that he’d decided left his hair too dry, and a thick beach towel. Clutching these items, he looked around at his pristine upholstered furniture and shining wood floors with increasing trepidation. He set down the supplies, rummaged around for an old sheet, and threw it over the couch.

Jacqui didn’t have much in the way of old stuff. He quickly got rid of items that didn’t please him. In other words, he had little he was willing to sacrifice to the ravages of Stinky. Worst-case scenarios began to fill his mind: images of dog toenails shredding cushions, dog slobber staining silk, and so he forced himself to pick up the bath supplies and go back down the stairs.

Sam had found the hose the groundskeeper used and was playing a game of spray-Stinky-from-behind every time the poor dog turned around, which was constantly. The sight of the lumbering man-child and the soaking wet, hairy dog sent a shiver up Jacqui’s spine. He didn’t like hoses, and didn’t like the merriment with which men like Sam turned them on others.

“Put the hose down and step away,” Jacqui said in a low, hopefully menacing tone.

“What? Don’t want to get wet?” Sam asked with a grin, but when he saw the glower on Jacqui’s face, some glimmer of self-preservation stopped him in his overly playful tracks. He took his thumb off the trigger of the nozzle. “I promise I won’t spray you on purpose.”

“Not good enough. Put the hose down, Sam.” Jacqui reached for his best Clint Eastwood, steely-eyed glare.

Sam carefully lowered the hose to the ground and lifted both hands as he backed away a few steps.

“There’s the look that puts the fear into a Rottweiler.”

Stinky ran circles around Sam, barking gleefully, a sound that grated on Jacqui’s already taut nerves.

“This is not a game. This is not fun. We are going to clean that damn dog with no shenanigans. Understand?”

“No shenanigans.” Sam nodded and hung his head in fake shame.

Jacqui strode forward with confidence. Never let them see your fear.

He dropped the towel and the shampoo on the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the road, and picked up the hose. He took a deep breath and said, “You hold the beast. I’ll douse him.”

Get it On Amazon/Kindle Unlimited

About the Author

Alexis Duran was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. At the University of Oregon, her fascination with people and relationships led her to major in Sociology, but her main love has always been creative writing.

She’s worked in museums, finance, film production and for several performing arts organizations. Her favorite job so far has been inventorying the collection of a haunted Victorian Mansion. She is the author of the Masters and Mages and Edge of Night m/m fantasy series as well as several stand-alone romances.

Her fiction has won awards including the Rupert Hughes Award from the Maui Writers Conference.

She lives with one dog and four and a half cats. She is currently working on the next Jacqui the Cat mystery and always has several new ideas brewing.

Author Website:

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BOOK TOUR: Kalong by Carol Holland March

BOOK TOUR: Kalong by Carol Holland March
Author: Carol Holland March
Book: Kalong
Series: The Dreamwalkers of Larreta, Book #3 (Series should be read in order)
Page/Word Count: 238 pages, 70K words
Categories: Fantasy/Paranormal/Sci-Fi, Gay Romance
Release Date: November 5, 2017
Publisher: Ellysian Press
Cover Artist: Joseph Murphy
Buy Links:
Buy Kalong by Carol Holland March on Amazon Buy Kalong by Carol Holland March on Barnes & Noble Buy Kalong by Carol Holland March on iBooks Buy Kalong by Carol Holland March on KOBO Add Kalong by Carol Holland March on QueeRomance Add Kalong by Carol Holland March on Goodreads
Buy Kalong by Carol Holland March on AmazonThe gripping conclusion to The Dreamwalkers of Larreta trilogy.

Leo has found the source of the deadly time rifts threatening Larreta. His new life with Jesse is unfolding when a rift pierces Larreta and seizes him. Leo finds himself on the dark planet Kālong.

No one has ever left Kālong, but Leo must return to Jesse. He sets out to find Kālong’s ruler and teams up with Ballan, a Horse That Once Flew, to escape the dying world.

On Larreta, Jesse grieves for Leo. Refusing to believe his lover is dead, he begins the Call of Grief. Joined by other dreamwalkers, Jesse’s Call reaches across time and space for Leo, but the cost is high and his energy wanes.

On Kālong, Leo learns the truth that has kept him from Jesse for so long. When the mysterious being who causes the time rifts informs Leo that Jesse is calling him, Leo returns the Call, although the effort may end his life.

Searching for each other, the dreamwalkers of Larreta find themselves facing a door that hides the key to ancient mysteries. All they have to do is open it.

Nara shimmered silver. “We must go.”

“We have time.”

“Perhaps not,” Nara said.

Leo faced her. “What do you mean?”

“We must return to Jesse. He called for you longer than any dreamwalker has ever called and in all that time, he did not speak or drink or rest. His life force ebbs.”

Leo sensed fear in Nara. Her lights had paled. “He’s in danger?”

“He may be.”

Ananta lowered her head to his level. “When the Mentors arrived on Kālong, I ceased to breathe on the passageway. It collapsed, as you did. When you ceased your call, your consort could not maintain his focus. Now nothing connects our worlds.”

Leo clenched his teeth. “I am sick and tired of being played. Tell me the truth, snake. Are the dreamwalkers you stole from Larreta still here?”

Ananta swung her head over his, causing a breeze to form. “I secreted them away so you would not be distracted.”

Leo swallowed. “You must release them now.”

“If Nara does as I ask.”

“What is that?”

“I have a desire only she can fulfill. If she complies, I will recreate the portal. Your beloved lives, dreamwalker, but he grows weak. I feel him through the connection I placed in his field when you found me with your time passage.”

Nara’s lights flashed. “That connection remains. Will you use it to harm him?”

“You were wise not to tamper with it, Mentor,” Ananta said. “The dreamwalker on Larreta has served his purpose, but if you fulfill my desire, I need not harm him or you. If you fulfill my desire, I will use my connection with him to focus the direction of your return passage.”

“Will you allow all of us to go?”

“All who wish to leave may.”

Leo stepped closer to the snake. “Bring me the dreamwalkers you have secreted. After I see that my friends are alive and well, you tell Nara what you want.”

Ananta lowered her head to the grass. “You push your luck, human.”

If she loosed her forked tongue, it would skewer him as effectively as her fangs. Leo swallowed. “Your world was lost. You’ve manipulated us into the position you wanted, but if we don’t go back, you’ll stay lost. The ruler will decimate your world again and your efforts will be for nothing.”

Ananta’s yellow eyes never wavered from Leo. “You are braver than I thought.” She turned and slithered along the ground toward the highest hill that bounded the meadow.

“I understand, Nara.” Leo’s breath came in gasps. “All of this – the rifts, the portals closing, Jesse and Sara coming at exactly the right time, my bargain with you, everything – it all fits together because it’s one thing. I’m here because I love Jesse. Because I’ve always loved him. But I am here. I brought you here. If we’re going back, we’re all going.”

He hoped he was right.

I’m coming, Jesse. I love you and I’m coming back, but I can’t leave the others behind.

About Carol Holland March:
Carol Holland March lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, one of the last places where the veil between the worlds is visible. She writes about the intersection of dreams, reality, and time, and, of course, love. She has published short fiction in various magazines and anthologies. Her books are published by Ellysian Press and Fireborn Publishing.

Interview with Carol Holland March:

  1. As an author myself, I know inspiration can strike at the most inopportune moments (like in the shower, when you don’t have anything to write with!). So, what was the inspiration behind The Tyro? The idea for The Tyro, and the whole Dreamwalkers trilogy, came to me when I lived in California and was driving through Big Sur, one of the most beautiful places on earth, in my opinion. In my mind, I saw an image of a woman living in one of those huge houses on the cliffs and being unhappy because her world was so perfect. She was waiting for someone she hadn’t seen in a long time. it occurred to me that it was a parallel world and she had landed there because she walked through a portal from earth. The person she waited for had to come from earth and he was late. That was the seed. Even though that scene did not make it into The Tyro, I never gave up the idea of people living in a “perfect” world but still longing for what they don’t have. 
  2. There’s a big leap a writer takes from putting words down on paper for the love of it and actually publishing those words for public scrutiny. What was that journey like for you? Long and difficult. Lacking confidence (in more than just my writing), it took a long time to finish the book. After I did, it was too long. Then I realized I hadn’t paid enough attention to its structure. I rewrote it several times, learning tons about craft, and myself, along the way. Meanwhile, I had started to publish short stories, so that helped in the confidence department. After I found a small press publisher, the book changed more to accommodate the publisher’s ideas. It seemed to go on forever, but I learned a huge amount, most notably that planning a novel is a better approach than pantsing, for me anyway. 
  3. What would one piece of advice you give an aspiring writerIf you really want to publish, keep writing, keep learning, don’t compare yourself to anyone else, and realize it’s a process. Most of what impedes us is our inner critic, so tell it to go take a hike. 
  4. What do you think makes a good story? A memorable character with an insoluble problem, a strong narrative voice, and a satisfying resolution. Genre doesn’t matter to me as much as a character with heart.
  5. Do you have any strange writing habits or rituals? Strange? Is it strange to walk around my chair three times, light a candle, inhale the smoke of white sage, and call on the spirits of the ancient Muses to come to my aid?
  6. What can readers expect from you next? I’m working on an historical fantasy novel set in ancient Sumer. One of the characters is the first female author in history, Enheduanna. Having learned my lessons the hard way, I am using Lisa Cron’s approach and developing the interior arc of my POV character along with the plot, so I don’t get sidetracked and end up rewriting quite so much. I have high hopes.

5 Fun Quickies

  • Least favorite endearment: Sweetie
  • You’re auditioning for a singing competition, what’s your song: I am Woman
  • If you were ice cream, what flavor would you be: Rocky Road
  • Sleep with your socks on or off: Off, always off.
  • Ask for permission or ask for forgiveness: Permission. I’ve learned not to overstep others’ boundaries since I don’t like them trespassing on mine.

Where to find Carol Holland March:
Carol Holland March Amazon Author Page Carol Holland March on Facebook Carol Holland March's Facebook Author Page Carol Holland March on Goodreads Carol Holland March on Google Plus Carol Holland March on Twitter Carol Holland March Website

ANNOUNCEMENT/GIVEAWAY: Love Aggression, by Cindy Sutherland

Cindy Sutherland has a new MM paranormal book out:

Tyler Calvano knew his ex-wife’s boyfriend was bad news from the way the little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, from a smell of danger, from an animal instinct his ex had once appreciated. He wished she’d listened to him. Custody exchanges were hard enough on Jesse, now Ty had to wonder—did Jesse have enough wolf bursting inside him yet to have heard his mother’s pleas as she was gunned down? He couldn’t trust the police to protect them. He took Jesse and he fled across the continent, as far as he could go.

Ty and Jesse became Tanner and Jason—different names, different lives. The nightmares still woke Jesse. Ty kept looking over his shoulder. The only spot of light was a man at the daycare, Kelan, a shifter like Ty—a wolf in human guise, ready to change, ready to protect. The daycare was safe. But another shifter was something Ty hadn’t counted on. With it came the complications of pack rivalries, of shifter brothers who tormented Kelan, of the unreasoned animal want that grew every time Ty caught scent of him.

And every day, the killers kept looking for them, the only people who might identify them. Ty couldn’t take risks. Ty couldn’t open his heart. Ty had to keep Jesse safe. Nothing else mattered.

Buy Links Coming Soon


Cindy is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card to one lucky winner. To enter, like her page on Facebook via the Rafflecopter contest here:

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Ty took a deep breath, trying to calm his irritation and a familiar scent caught his attention. Looking up from his coffee, he saw his ex-wife and son walk into the McDonald’s they’d chosen for the custody exchange. Picking Jesse up and dropping him off at Jeanine’s had been easier but now he couldn’t do that. Last time he tried, her asshole of a boyfriend tried to hit Ty with a shovel. Now she insisted that they meet in public instead.

Like it was Ty’s fault that the guy ended up with a broken nose and his two buddies ended up in the hospital with concussions. They’d attacked him but according to Jeanine that was his fault too, like everything else that went wrong in their marriage. Apparently, he was “an aggressive asshole who pissed off everyone on purpose.” He’d been lucky when the cops she’d called had actually listened to his side of the story and investigated further. The officers had spoken to the neighbors who’d witnessed the whole thing and had grudgingly decided that he’d acted in self-defense.

Ty smiled when Jesse whooped as he spotted his father, running across the room to jump into his arms. Six years old and already a handful—Ty loved him more than his own life.

“Daddy! You’re here!” Jesse wrapped his small arms around Ty’s neck and squeezed tightly.

“David said you’d forget, but I told him you wouldn’t. You’re always here!”

“You’re right, baby. I’m always here and I’m always gonna be.” Ty ignored the irritated huff from his ex. He nuzzled his face into Jesse’s hair, breathing in the calming smell of sugar and sunshine that was Jesse’s unique scent.

“Daddy?” Jesse pulled back to look at him. “What did you lose at?”

Ty shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

He looked up at Jeanine for clarification in time to see understanding and panic cross her face.

“Jesse, you need to—”

“Did someone say I lost at something, squirt?”

Jesse grabbed Ty’s face with both hands and looked into his eyes. “David said you were a loser who couldn’t get a real job.” Jesse’s adorable face scrunched up in confusion. “Why isn’t your job with Mr. Mike a real job?”

“I didn’t lose at anything, Jesse. And I love my job with Mr. Mike. It’s as real as it can be. David was just being a dickhead as usual.”

Jesse giggled and not for the first time, Ty was struck with how much he loved this kid. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him.

Ty glared at his ex. “Really? That’s how you let him talk about me around our kid?”

Jeanine’s discomfort showed for a moment, but she quickly regained her icy composure. “He’s only saying the truth. If you’d given up that crappy mechanic’s job and been the lawyer you were supposed to be, we’d still be married.”

“No, we wouldn’t.” Ty fought back a growl as he tried to remember when her determination to have a better life was one of the things that had attracted him to her.

“You can’t talk about David that way to Jesse.” Jeanine’s shrill voice was like a hammer to his head and he could feel the pain starting to build behind his eyes. “He’s taking good care of us, better than you ever did. We have nice stuff now and Jesse can go to that private school and David buys him all the toys he asks for.”

Ty snorted. “I don’t know where he’s getting all his money, but it’s nothing legit. If I find out he’s into anything dangerous—”

“He’s not stupid like you. David is a businessman. He’s one of the best salesmen at his dad’s car dealership.”

David came running into the restaurant and grabbed her arm before Ty could respond. “We gotta go, babe,” David said. “Now!” He started pulling her toward the door, Jeanine bitching at him and trying to shake off his grip all the way across the room.

With Jesse still in his arms, Ty started after them to find out what was going on when he noticed two men coming in the same door. The hair on the back of Ty’s neck stood up as the smell of metal and sweat reached him and then he saw the guns. One of the men smiled when he spotted David and headed toward him.

His instincts taking over, Ty ducked behind the counter and sped to the back of the kitchen looking for someplace to hide. He spotted a walk-in freezer and headed towards it. The thick, heavy, metal door offered them some real protection and he might be able to hold it closed from the inside if he was lucky. A couple of teenagers stood inside moving boxes around and they opened their mouths to protest as Ty shut the door.

“Shut up” Ty snapped before they could get any words out. “There’s some real bad men out there. You don’t want them to come back here, trust me.” Whatever they saw in his face convinced them not to argue. They all sat quietly in the dim light and waited.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” Jesse whispered in his ear.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He set Jesse down and pulled off his hoodie. He wrapped it around the boy to keep him warm before taking him back in his arms.

One of the teens had his cell phone out, typing frantically. When he was done he put his hand on his co-worker’s shoulder and whispered, “I didn’t think I’d get a message out of here, but I did. The cops are on their way.”

Ty jumped as the sound of gunfire reached his ears.

Author Bio

AUTHOR PHOTO - Love AggessionI’m a writer and a reader and I’m completely in love with m/m fiction. My family thinks I’m absolutely bonkers but they love me and are very proud of me. I’ve always been an advocate of equality but it wasn’t until lately that I’ve actually come to understand what that means…and I’m still learning.

Around my 40th birthday I discovered something that changed my life. I was a big fan of Torchwood and was looking around Youtube for fan vids when I discovered the Luke and Noah story on As the World Turns. I sat and watched the whole story in less than a week and I was hooked. But the writing was terrible…really really terrible and I got so frustrated and though “I can do better than that!” I sat down and wrote my first story and I never looked back.

From there to being published the first time felt like it took forever, but it really happened so fast my head is still spinning to this day. These days I’m reading and writing and working and I love sharing myself this way with others. I have met amazing authors and received fantastic messages from people who have read my books. I hope to keep doing this for a long time!

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ANNOUNCEMENT/GIVEAWAY: The River City Chronicles, by J. Scott Coatsworth


J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer magical realism book out:

A group of strangers meets at Ragazzi, an Italian restaurant, for a cooking lesson that will change them all. They quickly become intertwined in each other’s lives, and a bit of magic touches each of them.

Meet Dave, the consultant who lost his partner; Matteo and Diego, the couple who run the restaurant; recently-widowed Carmelina; Marcos, a web designer getting too old for hook-ups; Ben, a trans author writing the Great American Novel; teenager Marissa, kicked out for being bi; and Sam and Brad, a May-September couple who would never have gotten together without a little magic of their own.

Everyone in the River City has a secret, and sooner or later secrets always come out.

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Matteo stared out the restaurant window into the darkness of Folsom Boulevard. It was getting dark earlier as summer edged into fall. Streetlights flickered on as cars drifted by, looking for parking or making the trip out of Midtown toward home.

The sign on the window read “Ragazzi” (the boys), lettered in a beautiful golden script just two months old. Investing in this little restaurant his uncle had left to them when he’d passed away had been their ticket out of Italy. But now with each passing day, as seats sat empty and tomatoes, pasta, and garlic went uneaten, the worry was gnawing ever deeper into Matteo’s gut.

Behind him in the open, modernized kitchen, Diego was busy cooking—his mother’s lasagne, some fresh fish from San Francisco, and some of the newer Italian dishes they’d brought with them from Bologna. The smells of boiling sauce and fresh-cooked pasta that emanated from the kitchen were entrancing.

They’d sent the rest of the staff —Max and Justin—home for the evening. The three customers who had shown up so far didn’t justify the cost of keeping their waiter and busboy on hand.

Matteo stopped at the couple’s table in front of the other window. “Buona sera,” he said, smiling his brightest Italian smile.

“Hi,” the man said, smiling back at him. He was a gentleman in about his mid-fifties, wearing a golf shirt and floppy hat. “Kinda quiet tonight, huh?”

“It always gets busier later,” Matteo lied smoothly. “Pleasure to have you here. Can I get you anything else?”

“A little more wine, please?” the woman said, holding out her glass so the charm bracelet on her wrist jangled.

“Of course.” He bowed and ducked into the kitchen.

He gave Diego a quick peck on the cheek.

His husband and chef waved him off with a snort. “Più tardi. Sto preparando la cena.”

“I can see that. Dinner for a hundred, is it? It’s dead out there again tonight.”

Diego shot him a dirty look.

Matteo retrieved the bottle of wine from the case and returned to fill up his guests’ glasses. “What brings you in tonight?” Maybe they saw our ad.…

“Just walking by and we were hungry. I miss the old place though.… What was it called, honey?”

Her husband scratched his chin. “Little Italy, I think?”

“That’s it! It was the cutest place. Checkered tablecloths, those great Italian bottles with the melted wax… so Italian.”

Matteo groaned inside. “So glad you came in” was all he said with another smile.

Author Bio

J. Scott Coatsworth

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a little yellow bungalow in East Sacramento, with two pink flamingos by the front porch.

He spends his time between the here and now and the what could be. Indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine, he devoured her library. But as he grew up, he wondered where the people like him were.

He decided it was time to create the kinds of stories he couldn’t find at Waldenbooks. If there weren’t gay characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

His friends say Scott’s brain works a little differently – he sees relationships between things that others miss, and gets more done in a day than most folks manage in a week. He seeks to transform traditional sci fi, fantasy, and contemporary worlds into something unexpected.

He runs Queer Sci Fi and QueeRomance Ink with his husband Mark, sites that bring queer people together to promote and celebrate fiction that reflects their own reality.

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SERIES SPOTLIGHT: Ardulum Series by J.S. Fields

SERIES SPOTLIGHT: Ardulum Series by J.S. Fields
Author: J.S. Fields
Book: First Don, Second Don, Third Don
Series: Ardulum Series
Page/Word Count: Average 95K each
Categories: Lesbian Romance, Fantasy/Paranormal/Sci-Fi
Publisher: Ninestar Press
Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Book 1: First Don
First Don: Ardulum Series by J.S. Fields Amazon:
The planet that vanishes. The planet that sleeps.

When Ardulum first appeared, the inhabitants brought agriculture, art and interstellar technology to the Neek people before vanishing back into space. Two hundred years later, Neek has joined the Charted Systems, a group of planets bound together through commerce and wormhole routes, where violence is nonexistent and technology has been built around the malleability of cellulose.

When the tramp transport Mercy’s Pledge accidentally stumbles into an armed confrontation between the Charted System sheriffs and an unknown species, the crew learns the high cost of peace—the enslavement and genetic manipulation of the Ardulan people. Now a young Neek, outcast from her world for refusal to worship ancient Ardulans as gods, must reconcile her planet’s religion with the slave child whom she has chosen to protect—a child whose ability to manipulate cellulose is reminiscent of the ancient myths of Ardulum. But protecting the child comes at a cost—the cultural destruction of her world and the deaths of billions of Charted System inhabitants.

Book 2: Second Don
Second Don: Ardulum Series by J.S. Fields Amazon:

The Charted Systems are in pieces. Mercy’s Pledge is destroyed, and her captain dead. With no homes to return to, the remaining crew set off on a journey to find the mythical planet of Ardulum—a planet where Emn might find her people and Neek the answers she’s long sought. Finding the planet, however, brings a host of uncomfortable truths about Ardulum’s vision for the galaxy, and Neek’s role in a religion that refuses to release her. Neek must balance her planet’s past and the unchecked power of the Ardulans with a budding relationship and a surprising revelation about her own genealogy.

Ardulum: Second Don blends space opera and hard science into a story about two women persistently bound to their past, and a sentient planet determined to shape their future.

Book 3: Third Don
Third Don: Ardulum Series by J.S. FieldsAmazon: (pre-order, available June 4)

The planet wakes.

Atalant is torn between two worlds. In uncharted space, head of a sentient planet, the new eld of Ardulum now leads the religion she once rejected. Emn is by her side, but the Mmnnuggl war brewing in the Charted Systems, threatening her homeworld of Neek, cannot be ignored. Atalant must return to the planet that exiled her in order to lead the resistance. She must return home a god, a hypocrite, a liar in gold robes, and decide whether to thrust her unwilling people into the truth of Ardulum, or play the role she has been handed and never see her family, or her world, again.

“Were we just attacked?” she asked incredulously. Neek took a closer look out the viewscreen. The rectangular cutter that sparkled with pinpricks of light and the wedge-shaped, agile skiffs, were Risalian. The pods—both the smaller purple ones and the frigate-sized, maroon ones—were unfamiliar. Their fomations were just as strange, stacked in columns like stones on a riverbank instead of in pyrimidal and spherical formations like Systems ships would. “Are those all Charted Systems ships?”

Yorden threw up his hands in disgust. “They’re not just Charted Systems ships—they’re Risalian ships. The cutter and skiffs are, anyway. No clue on the pods. What those blue-skinned bastards are doing out here with fully weaponized ships, I can only guess. However, they’re firing lasers. If we lose our armor and take a hit from any of those, we are space dust.”

“Comforting,” Neek mumbled. She hadn’t noticed the laser ports on any of the ships, but now that she looked closer, all of the vessels were covered with armor plating and had at least two laser turrets each.

Neek continued to watch as the pods begin to cluster around a Risalian cutter. A pod ship zipped beneath the cutter, firing wildly at its underside, before making a quick right turn and heading back to a larger pod. Five others followed suit. The cutter’s shielding began to splinter, but the ship remained where it was.

Neek leaned into the viewscreen, still unsure what she was seeing. “The Risalian ships aren’t chasing, they’re just defending. What is going on? If they’re going to appoint themselves sheriffs of the Charted Systems, they could at least fight back.”

Yorden smacked his hand against the wall, loosing a shower of dust. “Something on that Risalian ship is holding their attention. Get us out of here, before either of them gets any closer.” He pointed to a cluster of ships to Neek’s right, and her eyes followed. Little flashes of bright light sparked and then died intermittently as ships were destroyed, their flotsam creating an ever-expanding ring. A large piece of metal plating floated past the Pledge’s port window. The edge caught and left a thin scratch in the fiberglass as it slid off.

“What are they protecting that is so damn important?” Neek wondered out loud and then snorted. “Something worth more than our hold full of diamond rounds and cellulose-laced textiles?” she added cheekily.

Scowling, Yorden pushed Neek’s hand away from the computer and began his own scan of the Pledge’s systems. “Communications are still up, but I don’t think either party is listening right now.” Frustrated, he kicked the underside of the console. “Try one of them. Better than being crushed.”

“Captain, come on. We are dead in space. If another one comes at us, why don’t we just fire at it? It’s better than being rammed.” She pointed upwards at a circular hole in the ceiling. “What’s the benefit of flying a ship so ancient it falls apart if you’re not taking advantage of the grandfathered weapons system?”

Yorden’s terse response was cut off when a short burst impacted the ship. Another group of skiffs flew past, depositing laser fire as they did so. The Pledge banked to port, carrying momentum from the impact. From the direction they had come lay a trail of shattered ship plating.

A panicked voice called down from the laser turret. Neek bristled, steeling herself against the inevitable irritation that came whenever their Journey youth spoke. “That skiff just fired at us. How does it even have weapons? I thought we were the only ones in the Systems with a ship older than dirt.”

Neek wrapped her right hand back around the steering yoke. Each of her eight fingers fit perfectly into the well-worn grooves, and the brown leather darkened a shade as her naturally secreted stuk smeared from her fingertips. She smiled to herself. Flying a geriatric tramp was still better than flying nothing at all.

“Look, Captain,” she said, keeping her eyes on the battle. “I can steer this thing if we get pushed, but that is it. We don’t have any other options. They have guns. We have guns. Well, we have a gun. Why don’t we use it?”

About J.S. Fields:
J.S. Fields (@Galactoglucoman) is a scientist who has perhaps spent too much time around organic solvents. She enjoys roller derby, woodturning, making chainmail by hand, and cultivating fungi in the backs of minivans. Nonbinary, but prefers female pronouns.

Fields has lived in Thailand, Ireland, Canada, USA, and spent extensive time in many more places. Her current research takes her to the Peruvian Amazon rainforest each summer, where she traumatizes students with machetes and tangarana ants while looking for rare pigmenting fungi. She lives with her partner and child, and a very fabulous lionhead rabbit named Merlin.

Where to find J.S. Fields:

J.S. Fields Amazon Author Page J.S. Fields on Goodreads J.S. Fields on QueeRomance J.S. Fields on Twitter J.S. Fields Website

This contest is hosted by the author and/or promotional company, and Jessie G Books does not have access to any data collected as a result.

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ANNOUNCEMENT/GIVEAWAY: The Curse, by Kethric Wilcox

The Curse - Kethric Wilcox

Kethric Wilcox has a new MM paranormal vampire book out:

Cain Slays Abel!

In this day and age, that’s not an earth-shattering headline. We want headlines that scream of life-altering events.

Terrorists Nuke Peace Conference!

Wow! What a gripping headline. This is something to change the world. Oh, wait! The world did transform. This ran as the lead story a few hours before the beginning of The Upheaval. The current world birthed in nuclear fire and electromagnetic disruption. Gone are the nations I grew up with. My life altered again.

Cain Slays Abel!

The truth behind such a classic story is far more complicated than anyone could imagine.
The brothers’ tale is a life-altering event, at least for me. Twice a report of murder transformed my life in an unpredictable way. I am Richard St. Martin, Master of Darkness. Before my story can be told, you need to learn the story of the first dark monster, Cain. My stepchildren call him Father Cain because he was the first. To find the actuality behind the myth, I recruited two talented mortals – Dr. Jeremiah Banks, Archaeologist, and Professor Juan Di Vargas, Theologian and Religious Scholar. Together they found the secret origin of the vampires:

The Curse!

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The Curse banner

JEREMIAH SURVEYED his clothing choices for the conference and grimaced. He hated suits, but Dr. Sinclair, the dean of his department, and Mrs. Pike, the dean’s secretary and sort of a second mother, both insisted he dress in professional academic attire.

“You’re representing the University of Arizona and the Republic of Texas, Dr. Banks. Think of the university’s reputation. Don’t appear like you are fresh off the boat following months in the field,” Jeremiah recalled Dr. Sinclair saying as he handed him his clearance to travel. During a visit to her house, Mrs. Pike said similar things before she called her late husband’s tailor and made an appointment to fit Jeremiah for new suits. Suits made Jeremiah uncomfortable, he preferred sturdy field clothing, but Dr. Sinclair held firm, no wild field archaeologist attire. Resigned to his fate, Jeremiah gave into almost all the dean’s requirements, but refused when the request came to cutting his long copper locks. Jeremiah brushed through his hair, twisted, and slid the length into a sapphire-encrusted leather tube to hold everything in check.

The Emir, who oversaw his dig on behalf of the caliph’s government, gave him the hair binder as a gift. The man developed a fascination with Jeremiah’s copper hair and its silky texture. With his hair under control, Jeremiah dressed to impress in a navy-blue suit with a subtle white pinstripe. Sapphire cufflinks and tie tack finished the ensemble. The cufflinks came as a second present from the emir after a night of admiring Jeremiah’s body in all its naked glory. The combination of Jeremiah’s pale skin and fiery chest hair and pubic region, plus the impressive prick and balls in their natural state, fascinated the noble. The emir never touched him or asked for contact; the man wanted to check if the red hair remained the same color all the way down.

All three pieces of jewelry helped to highlight his bright blue eyes. Jeremiah checked himself in the mirror before picking up his notes and slides for his lecture and heading down to breakfast. During the evening, the staff worked their magic, transforming the ballroom from reception hall into a dining room. A waiter led Jeremiah to his assigned table and seat right next to Prof. O’Grady. The rest of the table filled with other scholars from universities in the Republic of Texas. He found Dr. Lanister’s vacant seat next to his and opposite Prof. O’Grady. “Prof. O’Grady, I want to apologize for the rude comments last night at the reception.”

“No, Dr. Banks, if anyone got out of line last night, I did, and should be doing the apologizing. Thank you for correcting my attitude towards Dr. Lanister. I spoke way out of line. I wanted to apologize to him in person, but the hotel informed me Dr. Lanister checked out late last night claiming illness and returned home.”

“I’m sorry he departed. He stopped by my room last night reeking of alcohol, so I encouraged him to retire for the evening. I’m sorry to learn he caught something,” came Jeremiah’s reply as a waiter stopped and filled his coffee cup. “I wonder, are you familiar with Prof. Juan Di Vargas from the University of Madrid?”

“Only by reputation, Dr. Banks. I understand he’s presenting today on how the story of the Flood developed in several early cultures,” O’Grady remarked, signaling the waiter to take her plate. “Don’t you present today as well, Dr. Banks?”

“Yes, about an hour after Prof. Di Vargas. I hope to catch a moment of his time between lectures. His latest paper mentioned the possibility of the biblical city of Enoch being in the Tigris-Euphrates Delta. I think Enoch might be part of the culture, which produced the tablets I found. I wish to compare research with him.”

“Good luck in your endeavor. Di Vargas doesn’t often deal with those who pursue the more physical aspects of their researches, at least according to his reputation. I can arrange for you to speak with a scholar of the period more open to using archaeology. Let me introduce you to Prof. Chevalier from the University of Paris.”

She missed Jeremiah’s grimace of distaste, which he hid behind a sip of coffee. Chevalier’s research clashed with every line of the investigation he pursued while Di Vargas’s headed in a similar direction from a different angle. Jeremiah wiped his hands with his napkin, picked up his notes and slides, and rose from the table.

“Thank you for the offer, Dr. O’Grady. Perhaps another time. Please excuse me. I need to make sure the media team receives enough time to arrange the presentation before lecturing. I’m confident we’ll cross paths at dinner.”

“I think they plan to mix things up tonight, but there will be other meetings during the conference. Such a pleasure to meet you again, Jeremiah, or I should say Dr. Banks. You stood out, one of my more promising students, and I’m proud of how well you blossomed under Adamson’s direction.” O’Grady offered Jeremiah her hand. “I’m eager for your lecture this afternoon.”

Jeremiah shook her hand and left to track down the media team. He still needed to set up his slides before attending the lectures he wanted to listen to this morning.

Author Bio

Kethric WilcoxKethric Wilcox began writing and publishing as a personal challenge to be creative in a new medium. He was attracted to the LGBT Romance genre after reading several paranormal romances where it seemed like the shape-shifters never faced dangers outside the relationship issues thrown at them by their authors. Thus was born the shifter hunting House of Beauty on the premise of a twisted fairy tale. What if Beauty and the Beast didn’t end with happily ever after? Wilcox’s Legend of the Silver Hunter trilogy looks at this question and then asks what happens if a member of this family falls in love with a descendant of the Beast, can they find happily ever after or are they doomed to repeat the tale. Born and raised in Massachusetts, Wilcox now lives and works in Little Rock, Arkansas in a house that he and his partner renovated. By day Wilcox is a graphic artist and exhibit designer, and at night an author of paranormal romances.

Wilcox currently has two new trilogies in progress: Origin of the Vampires (The Curse, Lord Hunter, and Lord Slayer) set in a dystopian future of the Silver Hunter world; and Legacy of the Silver Hunter (The Goldilocks Pledge, Ruby Wine, and Black Snow) which continues the story told in the Legend trilogy from the view points of other couples in Kieran and Cory’s lives.

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