I do a bit of dog show events with my dog, Finn. We recently participated in an event called Farm Dog certification. He had to jump on bales of hay, behave nicely around ducks and rabbits and walk over and around all sorts of strange things. Other requirements were wait politely to be invited through a gate and let a strange dog walk by then have the judge check his ears and feet for ticks! There were no ticks.
Finn is a trooper and he did a great job earning himself a pretty green ribbon, and a toy. His favorite parts are the toy and the attention and treats he gets during these events.
Since the cover of Jewel Cave is also green it'll be on sale for a limited time to celebrate Finn's new title of Farm Dog.
Lisa Oliver has a new MM paranormal shifter romance out, book six in the The Gods Made Me Do It series: "Someone to Hold Me."
Hades, Lord of the Underworld, has spent years searching the world for his Fated Mate. He's watched his brother and nephews find their "light" and yet he can't find his. On the verge of giving up hope, Hades attends his brother Poseidon's wedding; so outside his comfort zone, but his discomfort proves worth it. Because there, at the reception, he finally sees his light.
It wasn't that Ali was uncomfortable around wolves - he'd been a good friend of Claude's for years. But when one of the wolves at Claude's and Poseidon's wedding gets verbally pushy, he feels he has no choice but to shift and find the alpha. What he doesn't expect is to find a beautiful man with soulful eyes, holding out his hand.
After all Ali and Hades have been through in their lives, you'd think the Fates would be kind to them. But between Cerberus's howling, Persephone's snarking, and Ali's family proving there is more to them than their blatant wealth, Ali and Hades have their hands full creating a life with each other. But maybe, just maybe, the Mother has a gift for them after all.
This is an MM paranormal true mates story intended for adults only. This book can be read as a stand-alone. Mpreg elements (Not the MCs, or the focus of the story)
Lisa is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour – for a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:
Cupping his hand carefully, Claude reached around his neck. Sitting on his palm was the cutest little chipmunk Hades had ever seen. He had pale gold fur, mixed with almost white on his belly and paws, and his face had two black streaks that ran from his sharp little eyes to the edge of his pointed ears. And he was pissed off. Sitting upright on his back legs, the little fellow jabbed his wee front legs around as though he was boxing, chattering nineteen to the dozen. Hades doubted anyone could understand what was being said, but they could understand the tone and it was all directed at the hapless Bart.
“Well, would you look at that,” Sei grinned reaching out a finger as it he wanted to touch. “Ali has to be the cutest little shifter I’ve ever seen.”
“Put your finger away,” Hades muttered quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “You touch him, and I’ll strip the skin from your fingers.”
But obviously he wasn’t quiet enough. “Brother?” Sei looked shocked and then a huge smile spread across his face. “You see the light at last?” Claude and the other wolves who’d all stood around wanting to be nosy, looked between them as if not sure what was going on.
Hades only had eyes for his cute little mate, who had stopped chattering and was now twitching his nose madly in Hades direction. “I’m not the greatest catch,” he said quietly, catching the little creature’s eyes, “but I’ll spend eternity doing my best to make you happy if you’ll let me.” He slowly held out his hand and waited.
Time stood still. Hades wasn’t even sure if his heart was beating anymore. The little chipmunk dropped down on all fours, looking over his shoulder at Claude who smiled, then at Bart who growled, and then back at Hades. Twitching his tail madly, he took a flying leap, landing directly on Hades’ palm. Hades quickly moved his other hand to cradle him. He didn’t want his little mate to fall off and hurt himself. But Ali showed no signs of falling. Looking up at Hades he pointed one of his front paws at Bart and started his angry chittering again.
“I know, I know. I completely understand.” Hades said, nodding, keeping an eye on the angry shifter. “This guy has upset you and he deserves to pay. I totally agree.”
“Er, bro,” Sei cast a worried look in Claude’s direction. “The wolves get upset when us godly beings interfere in pack affairs.”
“Ali’s not pack.” Hades called on his power. A voice screamed in the back of his head that this was not the right place, that he could lose his mate if the wee guy couldn’t handle who he was, but Hades wasn’t about to shirk his duty to his precious mate on the very first day. “Do you know who I am?”
The world looked different from his new perspective. In his god form, Hades’ head almost touched the ceiling – the wolves below him not even half his size. His power cloaked the room – dark, dangerous – there was not a being in existence who didn’t immediately recognize how menacing he could be, even if they didn’t know who he was.
Only Ali appeared unaffected. The tiny chipmunk looked even smaller in his huge hand, but the guy didn’t seem worried, rubbing his cheek against Hades’ thumb which Hades found rather soothing.
“I’ll say again,” Hades’ voice bellowed around the room. “Do you know who I am and who’s mate you’ve had the audacity to upset?”
“Oh, my gods,” Bart fell to his knees, blathering. “I’ve done it now. My sexy shaft is going to be the death of me. That’s who you are, isn’t it? You’re Death and you’ve come to take me away and fuck, I’m still hard. I can’t die before I orgasm, that’s just not fair.”
“Actually,” Thanatos pushed through the crowds, his mate tucked in by his side, “I’m Death and I’m not taking you today, although your god reference was highly accurate.” He looked up at Hades and winked. “The man is a simpleton, Lord; I can see his soul. He is one of the classic examples of a man being led around by his dick, but I don’t believe he meant any permanent harm to your mate.”
Hades’ heart almost stopped when Ali leaned over his finger, chittering madly at Thanatos. Tilting his head to one side, Thanatos listened and then nodded. “You are quite right, little one, that anger of his is a grave concern. Any of the Doms here know they have to respect the laws of consent. I’m sure Claude has a suitable punishment for him, though, don’t you think? You really don’t want trash like this cluttering up the Underworld.”
Ali chittered a bit more and Thanatos laughed. Hades wished he had the power to understand all languages but only Death himself had been granted that power. “You’re probably right about that too, little one. But the Fates get upset when someone takes a life unnecessarily and this man isn’t bad, he’s just misguided. I’m sure he’s going to apologize, isn’t he?” He looked back at Bart who was watching, his mouth slack.
“Apologize,” Claude growled, stepping forward when Bart stayed silent, his fist raised. “You’ve upset two gods today and Death himself, not to mention my really good friend. Say you’re sorry, or I’ll castrate you and then we won’t have to worry about your dick leading you astray again.”
“Not my dick, not my dick.” Bart doubled over, clutching the body part in question. “I’m sorry. I’ll listen. I’ll take whatever punishment you give me, but don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.”
“It seems your presence has rendered him more useless than usual,” Sei sighed, digging Hades in the thigh with his elbow. “Why don’t you take your new mate somewhere special and get to know him. You have my word Bart won’t bother you or your mate again.”
Slowly moving his arm, Hades bought his hand up to his face. His sweet little chipmunk showed no fear – even reaching out for him with his cute front paws. “Are you ready to leave?” He asked keeping his voice as low as possible which wasn’t easy in this form. Ali’s excited bobbing of his head meant his fur brushed across Hades’ cheek sending tingles throughout his whole body. Closing his eyes, Hades enjoyed the sensation for just a moment, before translocating them to his favorite earthly home. No matter how accepting Ali was proving to be, he wasn’t about to subject his mate to the cold hardness of the Underworld until he absolutely had to.
Lisa Oliver had been writing non-fiction books for years when visions of half dressed, buff men started invading her dreams. Unable to resist the lure of her stories, Lisa decided to switch to fiction books, and now stories about her men clamor to get out from under her fingertips.
When Lisa is not writing, she is usually reading with a cup of tea always at hand. Her grown children and grandchildren sometimes try and pry her away from the computer and have found that the best way to do it, is to promise her chocolate. Lisa will do anything for chocolate.
Lisa loves to hear from her readers and other writers. You can friend her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/lisaoliverauthor), catch up on what’s happening at her blog (http://www.supernaturalsmut.com) or email her directly at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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Today I welcome Sue Brown! Not only is she a fabulous author, she's an all around nice person (despite what she claims in her bio)! She's got an adorable dog too.
It’s not often I think about tropes before I write a book, and I didn’t this time. What happened was three books about second chances. Second chance romances is probably my favourite trope. I love the idea that maybe first time around wasn’t the right time, but now it is. What about you? Do you think you could give someone a second chance to hold your heart?
When I first wrote Alpha Home I couldn’t work out how to get Si and Howie back together. It took a long time but finally they talked to me. This is their story about a second chance to love again, which of course was the theme for Alpha Barman. Even Alpha Chef is a second chance story, as Greg gets a second chance at family life. I hope you enjoy Si and Howie’s story. I’m very fond of them.
This series is also available in Kindle Unlimited
Will an alpha guy like Si willingly give his heart to Howie for a second chance at love?
Si Raines thought his plans were set for the future. He’d marry his fiancé, the bar-owner Howie Gray, continue with his covert ops career, and when he was ready to retire from that, find a new job and settle down to life together. But a text from Howie throws all the plans into a maelstrom of chaos and hurt, and Si swears he’ll never return to J.T’s Bar again.
Two years later, when an injury ends his covert ops job against his will, he finds himself back at the bar, only to discover Howie is still around, and in danger from a stalker. When Howie begs him for help, Si has to decide if he’s willing to get involved. Apart from doubting whether he can protect anyone with his injury, is he really prepared to be around Howie again? The attraction between them is still electric, and Howie seems willing to explain his behaviour. But can Si forgive him? Faced with the resurrection of old wounds and imminent danger to them both, can Si find it in his heart to rebuild his relationship with Howie and take a second chance on love?
Mitch picked up a burger and looked at Howie. “Start at the beginning. What makes you think someone’s got you in their cross-hairs?”
Howie went through the things he had told Si. By the time he finished Si had managed to eat a burger and wings, and more of Greg’s amazing onion rings. He’d also downed his IPA and gotten a replacement from Moose. He had to admit he felt better.
When Howie trailed to a close, Jake just looked him. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us this before? Why now? We could have done something.”
“I had Mom to think about,” Howie said quietly. “If I’d told you then she would have found out and all hell would have let loose. You know she wasn’t a well woman. I didn’t want to worry her.”
“But you said she’d been targeted too,” Jake said.
“I don’t know.” Howie’s voice rose in his frustration. “This all could just be kids having a laugh with my house and maybe a coincidence that anyone hit mom’s car.
Si took Howie’s hand in his and squeezed it. “I know this is difficult for you, but the more information we get, the quicker we can fix this. It’s the lack of information that causes problems.” He grimaced as his hip twinged painfully and reminded him the last time he was on the receiving end of bad intel.
Mitch nodded in agreement. “You’re right, Howie, it may be nothing. Lots of things happen to people which are just coincidences, but you’ve noticed there’s a trend and that’s worrying. Why don’t you let us look into it and then we can reassure you if it’s just coincidence or more serious?”
“Where are you living now?” Si asked Howie.
He had to wait a minute for Howie to swallow his food. He was behind everyone else as he’d been relaying his story. “Still got my old house.”
“You need to move in here,” Jake said.
Howie shook his head. “I can’t live here.” He looked horrified which hurt Si a little.
Mitch turned to Howie wearing his ‘I’m taking no argument’ expression Si had seen many times. “Jake’s right. You can’t be on your own. Here we can keep an eye on you.”
“The alternative is I move in with you at your place,” Si said flatly. He too was brooking no argument. Howie wasn’t going to take a step away from him unless there was always someone else protecting him.
“You’re in no fit state to protect Howie at the moment,” Mitch said, his tone just as flat.
Much as Si wanted to disagree with that, he was right, dammit. At the moment he could barely walk, let alone fight. It was part of the reason he’d been so quick to bring Mitch and Jake into the conversation. “Howie, this is the best thing to do. You can sleep in the big room, I’ll take the small room.”
Jake snorted and Si turned to look at him. “The small room has turned back into a storage room. You’ll both need to share the big room.”
“I can’t do that,” Howie insisted.
“You don’t get a choice,” Mitch said. “Until we find out what’s going on, or not going on, you’re under our protection. I know this is difficult for you both.” He looked between Si and Howie. “But the first thing you did, Howie, was tell Si you were in trouble. Not Jake, not me. You told Si.”
Meet Sue Brown
Edie Montreux has a new MM fantasy romance out: "The King's Physician." And there's a giveaway!
Devlin was the King’s Physician until a blood mage siphoned Devlin’s magic and used it to wipe the kingdom’s memories. Sir Eldrich, his replacement, has protection against Filvane’s spells, but he only knows the whispered rumors: Devlin, the former King’s Physician, stole King Korgon’s crown on his coronation day.
Once Eldrich is appointed King’s Physician, Devlin notices a decline in King Korgon’s health and wonders if Eldrich is to blame. When Eldrich nearly bleeds to death on Devlin’s doorstep from grievous sword wounds, they’re thrown together in a race to keep King Korgon alive. They question the other’s allegiance to their king, but it will take their combined efforts and trust to stop Filvane from destroying Korgon and the entire realm of the living. In the end, these two King’s physicians may have more in common than their titles. They may even fall in love.
Edie is giving away two $10 Amazon gift cards with this tour. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:
Once he was finished stitching the wounds closed, Devlin studied the young man’s slack face. He had a strong jaw, and his cheeks had only a couple of hours’ worth of blond stubble beneath well-trimmed sideburns. A ponytail of wild blond curls tangled at his shoulders, secured with a band of braided leather. He was probably the best-looking man Devlin had ever seen on his cot, and not for lack of trying. He’d brought many strangers into his operating room for one reason or another.
The young man regained consciousness as Devlin soaked his tools in a jar of alcohol. “How long have I been here?” he demanded, snatching his jacket and shirt from the table and clutching them to his bare chest. He seemed especially concerned about displaying the tattoo on his left shoulder. Devlin hadn’t paid it much attention. He’d been more intent on searching the young man’s clothing for hidden pockets.
“Maybe an hour,” Devlin said. Long enough to go through the man’s pockets and find them empty, even the hidden breast pockets and boot sheath.
“I was robbed,” the young man said. “Did you see my attackers?”
Devlin shook his head. He’d been too preoccupied saving the man’s life to notice anyone following him. Robbery explained why the man had nothing, not even a scrap of coin.
The longer the man sat on the cot, the worse he appeared. Too soon for infection, Devlin was certain. He handed the man a glass of water, which he took and sipped.
“I don’t feel well.”
Devlin couldn’t resist stating the obvious. “You don’t look well.”
“Do you have an indoor toilet?”
Devlin pointed him in the direction of the water closet, on the other side of the stairs from his operating room. After a few moments, he heard retching. Devlin thanked the gods he’d cleaned the toilet before starting to sweep.
After a few moments of intense choking and a few sobs, something solid clattered into the bowl. Devlin kept no trinkets in the small room, and the man hadn’t time to steal anything.
The pipes creaked and groaned, drowning out all other sounds. Devlin returned to work. He dusted the books along the back shelves to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping.
The man returned, a little disheveled but more energetic than before. Devlin noticed a bulge in his breast pocket. He’d checked that pocket while the man lay unconscious. Now, it would be damn near impossible to frisk him again without seeming forward.
Devlin waited for the right time. He offered tea, or coffee, or more water. “You still look a little under the weather.”
“No, thank you. I should be going.”
“Breath mint?” he asked as he followed the man up the main aisle of the store.
“Yes, please,” the man said, licking chapped lips.
Devlin handed him one from the bowl of candies by the cashbox. He grabbed one for himself for good measure.
“I can close up shop, then, and walk you home.”
“No need. I’m on my way to the castle.”
“Oh.” The castle. The one place Devlin could not go, in all of Dovington. Damn Filvane, and damn Korgon for banishing him. “Well, glad you’re all right, then.” Devlin grasped the man’s hand as he turned toward the door. “You never told me your name.”
“Sir Eldrich.” Even his name sounded full of coin, and familiar, damn it all.
“Are you King Korgon’s new physician?” Devlin asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Devlin should have known. Blue and gold were the colors of Korgon’s court. The blush in Eldrich’s cheeks encouraged him. The affirmative identity also eased his conscience. He could steal from his successor, if it meant discovering his dark purpose. The bulge in Eldrich’s breast pocket could be an item of high treason, he thought as he pulled Eldrich into a hug. He snaked one arm between them to pluck the heavy object from the inner breast pocket of Sir Eldrich’s suit coat. He touched cold metal and a smooth glass-like surface.
“Why, sir. This is quite unusual,” Eldrich said, his warm breath tickling Devlin’s ear.
Devlin let go and leaned back to look in Eldrich’s hazel eyes. Eldrich’s lips parted in surprise. Devlin took the invitation and leaned in for a kiss, the perfect distraction.
Eldrich responded like a drowning man. He pushed his body against Devlin’s, clutching Devlin’s hip with his good hand so Devlin couldn’t back away. Eldrich’s kiss wasn’t as foul as Devlin had feared, especially with the powerful peppermint candy in his mouth. The way Eldrich kissed more than made up for a little bile. He almost wished they could stay like this, two strangers with no mutual acquaintances. The ruse would be discovered the moment Eldrich realized who he was.
Devlin moaned as he slipped the object into the secret compartment in the lining of his belt. Sir Eldrich whimpered as Devlin broke the kiss.
“What was that?”
“A kiss, for luck,” Devlin said. “Good luck getting to the castle.”
“Yes,” Eldrich said, fear replacing desire in his eyes. “I must hurry, sir…”
“Devlin. Just Devlin.”
“Devlin,” Eldrich said with a smile devoid of recognition. “if I am successful, I will return with your reward.”
Devlin had a feeling Eldrich would return with a battalion of guards instead. He hoped the bauble was worth it.
Edie Montreux is a cis/demi/het ally for all aspects of the LGBTQ+ rainbow. She loves her husband, Queen, dogs, and video games. Edie works full-time to support her LGBTQ-fiction writing habit, but still finds time to walk the dogs and protect imaginary worlds from fantasy creatures.
Edie also has a Facebook Author page, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, and Amazon. Email Edie and let her know what you think of The King's Physician! If you also like M/M romance set in the early 1990's and you love Queen, read her first novel, Spread Your Wings.
You can find her online at https://ediemontreux.com. If you want to know more about Edie's upcoming projects, join her newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/t7b1x6.
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Rory ni Coileain has a new MM gay/demi/ace urban fantasy romance out, the last book in her Soul Shares series: "Back Door Into Purgatory." And there's a giveaway!
Sometimes Fae love stories aren’t what you expect.
The Marfach—devourer of magick, long-imprisoned mortal enemy of the Fae race—is free of its Antarctic prison.
The Demesne of Purgatory—Fae, humans, a Fade-hound puppy, a Gille Dubh, and a darag—is all that stands between the monster and the power it needs to destroy both the Fae Realm and the human world.
The only clue they have as to how to kill the unkillable is a cryptic note from the Loremasters:
“Osclór, Nartú; Tobar, Soladán; Nidantór, Breathea; Glanadorh, Coromór, Farthor; Scian-omprór, Nachangalte; Crangaol, Síofra; Gastiór, Laoc, Caomhnór; Fánadh, Ngarradh.”
Opener, Strength; Wellspring, Channel; Unmaker, Judge; Cleanser, Equalizer, Sentry; Blade-bearer, Unbound; Tree-kin, Changeling; Binder, Warrior, Guardian; Wanderer, Sundered.
As they rebuild Purgatory from the rubble the Marfach left behind, they have to stand together, using everything they know—everything they are to their partners, lovers, husbands. Everything SoulSharing has made them.
And not everyone who enters the final battle will leave it.
What if you could only be whole by finding and loving the human with the other half of your soul? The SoulShares are the sword of two worlds... and love is the shield of the SoulShares.
Follow this merry band of Fae, humans, a tree spirit, and a flatulent Fade-hound puppy that make up the Demesne of Purgatory as they seek magick and love. Celtic lore (with a twist), hot guys, terrible danger, and heart-wrenching love stories will drag you body and soul into SoulShares.
Rory is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:
What was beautiful, in Lucien’s opinion, was the light in his Fae husband’s eyes as he studied the huge tank built into one wall of what was going to be the new Purgatory dance floor. Other clubs had cages for dancers; one the three of them had found in New York had glass-walled shower stalls. Purgatory was going to have the biggest mauditefish tank anyone had ever seen.
Complete with naked mermen. One of whom—because le bon Dieu apparently had a perverse sense of humor—was going to be Lucien de Winter.
Arms went around Lucien from behind, and a chin rested on his shoulder; Lucien didn’t need to turn, or even to look down and see the “Semper Fi” tattooed on one forearm to recognize Mac. “Ready to take the plunge, Fuzzball?”
Lucien grunted. “I hope the filters in this thing are up to spec. You know how I shed.”
A flash of white reflected in the glass of the tank was Rhoann’s grin. “Perhaps we should put a tail on you.”
“If the tail didn’t have hair, no one would believe it was mine.” Lucien couldn’t stay grumpy, though, not when Rhoann teased him. “But I think the two of you, not to mention our boss, are out of your minds, if you think our guests are going to be turned on watching me doing underwater barrel rolls.”
Rhoann left off studying the tank fittings and took Lucien’s hands, running his thumbs lightly over knuckles dusted with short dark curly hair; his slight worried frown was one of the sweetest things Lucien had ever seen. “How could they not be, laród-ar-Fuzz?”
Lucien found himself having to swallow an unexpected lump in his throat before he could answer. “I love you, too.”
Mac leaned around and kissed the side of Lucien’s neck. “He beat me to it. And I’m not even going to tell you how many guys used to come up to the bar and ask me why the bouncer wasn’t part of the floor show.”
Lucien craned his neck, partly to plant a kiss of his own on Mac and partly to glance at the new bar, the one the workmen had just finished installing last week, to replace the one Mac had presided over ever since Tiernan bought the place. The curved expanse, now taking up the whole back wall of one level of the club instead of being shoehorned into a corner, looked pretty much the same as it always had, from where Lucien stood. But no one had been able to figure out how to replicate the show-stopping feature of the original, the hellish flames dancing under the glass bar top, that seemed to go down and down into an infinite depth. Conall thought he might be able to do it with magick, or maybe Rian could, but nobody wanted to fuck around with magick of any kind near the great nexus, not with the way it and its companion wellspring were acting right now. Good thing he and his husbands had decided to try out the famed nexus chamber when they had—a half-Royal Fae in the throes of erotic overload was the kind of thing guaranteed to short out the entire wellspring network right now.
The fact that their new-found underground garden of delights was now off limits seriously pissed Lucien off. It wasn’t forever, though. The three of them could get back to happy business just as soon as they figured out how to kill the monster who had left him for dead behind the bar back in August.
Can’t happen soon enough for me. Lucien was a peaceable sort—as peaceable as a nightclub bouncer built like a hairy fire hydrant and married to an only-sort-of-ex-Marine could be, anyway—but he was looking forward to getting his hands around whatever was left of Janek O’Halloran’s throat and getting creative.
“I recognize that look.” Mac nipped at the top of Lucien’s ear.
“What look?” Lucien blinked. “And I could have sworn you’re standing behind me.”
“You reflect in the tank.” Mac’s chuckle rumbled against Lucien’s back. “At least for now—once you’ve been for a swim after we open, the glass is going to have... uh, palm-prints... all over it.”
Lucien couldn’t help snorting. “I repeat, what look?”
Rhoann wrapped his arms around both humans. He could do that—Mac was a good head taller than Lucien, but their Fae had Mac beat by a good four or five inches, and he had arms to match his height. “The look you wore through most of the bás i’gcuine last night.”
The Faen words Rhoann had originally translated for them as “war council” turned out to have meant something closer to “fore-memory of death.” The intent of the Demesne of Purgatory had been, more or less, to create the memory of the Marfach’s death before it happened. And, like pretty much everything asking Fae to behave in an organized manner, it had gone south from the moment Rian tried calling the group to order. It hadn’t helped that Fae who learned English magickally thought the word “brainstorming” was almost as funny as horseradish. Which wasactually pretty damn funny, once Maelduin had explained it to him.
Rory Ni Coileain majored in creative writing, back when Respectable Colleges didn’t offer such a major, so she had to design it herself, at a university which boasted one professor willing to teach creative writing, he being a British surrealist who went nuts over students writing dancing bananas in the snow but did not take well to the sort of high fantasy she wanted to write.
She graduated Phi Beta Kappa at the age of nineteen, sent off her first short story to an anthology being assembled by an author she idolized, received one of those rejection letters that puts therapists’ kids through college (Ivy League), and found other things to do, such as going to law school, ballet dancing (at more or less the same time), nightclub singing, and volunteering as a lawyer with Gay Men’s Health Crisis, for the next thirty years or so, until her stories started whispering to her.
Now she’s a lawyer, a legal journalist (and thus a card-carrying Enemy of the State and darn proud of it), an Associate member of the Order of Julian of Norwich, a proud mother, studying for her certification as a spiritual advisor, and engaged to the love of her life, and is busily wedding her love of myth and legend to her passion for m/m romance.
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Matt Doyle has a new lesbian sci fi mystery out: "Shadows of the Past."
Shadows of the Past is the new novella collection set in The Cassie Tam Files universe! Enjoy two new stories that follow PI Cassie Tam and her girlfriend Lori Redwood as they deal with the fallout from LV48. This book is part of a series and needs to be read in sequence.
A Week in New Hopeland
When Lori Redwood agrees to help out her girlfriend, PI Cassie Tam, by going undercover at a local shipping firm, she gets more than she bargained for. Her ‘boss’ Mr. Graves is a misogynist and a bully, and has been targeting one girl in particular. Cassie is known to him, and he tends to be cautious around Tech Shifters. Which means that Lori may be the best person for the job.
Will Lori be able to help Cassie gather enough evidence for the police to act, or will she become the next target?
PI Cassie Tam is not the only person who lives with regrets, and like most people, she just wants to get on with her life. But in New Hopeland, the past never remains buried. When she’s hired to track a stalker that’s been using some interesting tech to mask their identity on the city’s security cameras, Cassie ends up face-to-face with her darkest memory.
Can Cassie find out who’s responsible before her past mistakes tear her – and her friends – apart?
Warnings: Contains: bullying, stalking, a deceased family member, guns, and workplace harassment
About the Series:
New Hopeland City was built to be the center of the technological age. It was supposed to be a shining example of humanity’s achievements. A beacon to guide us towards a better future. But some habits die hard. Within five years, it had become a hotbed of crime and corruption. And now, even the police are sometimes in too deep to help. That’s where I come in. My name is Cassie Tam. I’m a PI. When no one else will help, I’m the one people turn to …
I roll over in bed and let my arm flop into the empty space next to me. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell the early morning light is beginning to creep in through the window. My slightly bent leg finds a long warm spot, giving away that Cassie hasn’t been up long. I instinctively grip the bedsheet where her body would normally end and let out a content sigh.
“Mine,” I say to myself and roll onto my back again. I raise my hands to my face and rub the sleep out of my eyes, taking in the familiar sight of my bedroom as I clear the cobwebs a little. There are other things to wake me up too; new things that are becoming more familiar as time passes. Smells and sounds I don’t experience as often as I’d like. But I have to be careful, gentle even. Cassie is outwardly quite rough, but she’s softer on the inside. She’s like an emotional armadillo.
A partial conversation from last night flashes across my mind, and a smile reaches my lips. I sit up and stretch, forcing out a yawn as I glance at the back of the door. “Someone’s borrowing my robe again.”
I grab my spare from the wardrobe and tie it up, then walk down the hall, through the living room, and up to the kitchen. I rest against the doorframe, watching Cassie as she carries on oblivious to my presence. After a moment, I say, “Morning.”
Cassie jumps a little and smiles my way. She pulls gently at the sleeve of the robe and says, “Sorry, I didn’t bring mine. I wasn’t planning to stay over, but…”
“Ink can be quite persuasive, can’t she?” I nod to the frying pan on the hob and ask, “What’cha cooking?”
Cassie’s lips tighten and her nose wrinkles, making her look like a cute, frustrated, pouting bunny. She taps the bowl she’s been piling the food in. “It was supposed to be pancakes. I don’t know what went wrong, I’m normally really good with pancakes. These keep sticking, though. And burning. Maybe I didn’t use enough oil.”
“Nah, it’ll be the pan,” I reply, walking into the room and grabbing some plates from the cupboard. “And they look fine, just a little broken.”
“The pan, eh?”
“Yup. That one never was much good. Everything sticks to it, no matter what you do.”
“Huh. If it’s that bad, why keep it?”
“Sentimental reasons,” I reply and start splitting the pancakes out. “So, come on, detective, see if you can figure it out.”
“The first thing you bought for here?” she tries.
I hand her a plate and shake my head. “Nope. Try again.”
“A gift from a relative?”
“Swing and a miss,” I say and start pouring us a drink from the percolator she’s been keeping warm in preparation. “One more guess.”
She shrugs and grabs two forks from the drawer. She hands me one as she answers, “You got me.”
We walk to the living room and sit on the couch. “Well, a few years back, I was woken up by this noise in the kitchen. It must have been about three in the morning, I think. Anyway, I started panicking, right? There’s someone in the house. Who is it? What do they want? That sort of thing.
“Well, we’d been covering some home break-in stories at work, and I decided there and then I wasn’t going to be just another victim, sitting scared in my room while someone takes all my stuff. So, I got up, and creeped up to the kitchen as quietly as I could, and what did I find? Someone going through the fridge.”
“Who was it?”
“I couldn’t tell. Between tiredness, the darkness, and the fridge door being slightly closed, I couldn’t see anything at all really, other than a silhouette. So, I grabbed the first sturdy thing I could.”
“The frying pan.”
“Exactly. I grabbed it, waited for them to step back, and swung. Bam.”
“Then what happened?”
“The woman dropped her milk and starts yelling, ‘What the fuck, Lori?’ So, I turn the light on, and everything starts slotting into place. I’d been out at a club and taken this lady home. Karen, I think her name was. The problem was, I’d gotten a bit drunk and, between that and the stories we’d been covering, I’d completely forgotten she’d stayed over and had gotten a little paranoid.”
“Was she all right?” Cassie asks, staring at me in disbelief.
“She was angry more than anything. That was our one and only night together, though. But yeah, so the frying pan is sentimental for me because it reminds me that one, I shouldn’t bring people home if I met them while drunk, and two, I’m not as much of as a wuss as I thought.”
Cassie laughs. “I guess I should be happy you didn’t think I was an intruder, eh?”
I smile and kiss her forehead. “You never need to worry. If I wake up and you’re gone, I’ll just assume you’re off dealing with any intruder. And even if I did somehow forget you were staying over, I can always tell when you’re in the kitchen in the morning. You sing while you cook.”
Cassie stops mid-sip, and her eyes go wide, peering over the top of the mug. “Diu. You can hear that?”
“‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, wasn’t it? I mean, it’s clearly a product of its era, but it’s a good track.”
“Oh, no, no, no. You weren’t meant to hear that. It’s why I stop when I hear your bedroom door open.”
I tilt my head and frown. “Really? I like it. You sound happy.”
“I am happy, but…I don’t really sing…well. Or in front of people.”
“Oh,” I reply, a little worried now. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t really notice you stopped. I always get excited to see what you’re making, so it never really occurred to me.”
“It’s fine,” she says, but I can tell she’s still embarrassed. “Anyway, it can’t be that exciting. I only use what you have in.”
“I know, but I don’t always bother myself. Usually, it’s cereal or toast if it’s just me. Work, right?”
Cassie’s shoulders relax a little and she takes another mouthful of coffee. “Oh, I get that. I’m the same at the apartment, really. I don’t usually stay here when I have a case on, so there’s rarely any rush for me in the morning when I do. I do try to get up early, though, just in case you need to head out earlier. I can make sure I still get something made for you then.”
I take a leaf from Cassie’s playbook and fail to stop the blush rising to my cheeks. If she enjoys doing it, I may as well tell her. “Okay, confession time. Sometimes, I buy a few things I know I might not have the time to cook. You know, to see if you use them when you stop over. I kinda might have noticed you enjoy cooking more than you let on. And, you know, I quite like what you put in front of me.”
I take another big mouthful of pancake to prove the point, and Cassie giggles. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”
“Oh, speaking of surprises, it’s the Saturday after next, right? Your birthday?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, it is. Look, Lori, I really don’t want you to make a big deal out of it. Just something small, eh?”
I wave my hands frantically, spilling a little coffee on my knee. Good job it’s cooled down. “Absolutely. I promised I wouldn’t go overboard, so I won’t. We’ll do a stop at a café. And maybe a present or two.”
“No more than two,” she says, fixing me with a stern look.
“No more than two,” I reiterate.
“And a limit of one hundred dollars.”
“I know, I know. You never did explain why you don’t like doing too much.”
Cassie sighs and puts her empty mug down. “Okay, I guess I owe you that much at least. If you really have to know, my birthday falls exactly one week before…one week before the anniversary.”
Cassie’s dad was a cop back in Canada. He took a bullet for her during her last major case back there, and his death tore her and her mom apart. That was why she moved to New Hopeland. “I’m sorry. I knew it was coming up, but the connection didn’t click.”
She waves it away, and her walls come up a little. “It’s fine; I never told you the date. Honestly, if I didn’t want to do anything at all, I wouldn’t have told you my birthday either.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just don’t be a Nancy, okay?”
“My nan. She hated having a fuss made on her birthday, like at all. But she never told us because she didn’t want to disappoint anyone. It wasn’t until she was at death’s door that she finally came clean. Don’t be like her. If it’s too much, tell me so I can back off.”
Cassie’s face softens a little and she pulls me into a gentle kiss. “Thank you. It means a lot knowing you’d do that. It’s fine; just keep it low key. Anyway, I better get a wash and head back home. You never know when the next case will drop in your lap.”
She gets to her feet and starts walking to the door, but I can’t help myself. “An armadillo.”
She stops. “What?”
“Last night. You asked what sort of animal I thought you’d be if you were a Tech Shifter? Well, I’ve decided. An armadillo.”
“An armadillo,” she repeats. “Why?”
I gather the plates and mugs and give her a wink. “I’ll let you figure that one out.
Matt Doyle is a speculative fiction author from the UK and identifies as pansexual and genderfluid. Matt has spent a great deal of time chasing dreams, a habit which has led to success in a great number of fields. To date, this has included spending ten years as a professional wrestler, completing a range of cosplay projects, and publishing multiple works of fiction.
These days, Matt can be found working on multiple novels and stories, blogging about pop culture, and plotting and planning far too many projects.
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Pat Henshaw has a new MM holiday romance out: "Making the Holidays Happy Again."
Blacksmith Butch has secretly loved his best friend, science nerd Jimmy, since grade school. Now their shops in Old Town Seven Winds, California, are only doors from each other.
They’re about to turn thirty, and Butch refuses to wait another day to make a decision: propose to Jimmy and start the family he’s always wanted or forget his dream to avoid risking their friendship.
Why can’t the choice be as easy as creating decorative ironwork in his forge?
“Okay, what’s up?” I sat on the bench with my back against the bricks at the Old Time Pub. “You’ve been pissed since last week.”
My best friend and secret love of my life Jimmy glared but didn’t answer. We’d known each other for so long that I waited him out like usual. I crossed my pumped arms and sat back, smelling my sweat-soaked T-shirt in the AC blowing around us.
The past summer in Seven Winds, once a Gold Rush town in California’s northern Sierra Nevada mountains and now a tourist trap, had been brutal. A record number of days over one hundred degrees had turned a lot of the shop owners into snarling dogs.
As the resident blacksmith, I took the heat as business as usual. So I was hot and sweaty? I was always hot and sweaty. The day I ain’t I was either sick or dead.
I figured Jimmy’s problem was more than the heat though. He’d been acting funny lately. Like he had something caught in his craw but he couldn’t spit it out.
Jimmy wasn’t looking at me, but down at his hands. They was long and thin, completely different from mine. I had a collection of burns and scratches, scars from the forge and the tools and all.
His hands was pale white with a bunch of freckles that went with the freckles all over the rest of his body. When we was kids, the tiny red hairs on his arms stood out almost more than his carroty hair. The bright red had changed as he got older and was now more muted. Me? I’d stayed hairy brown all over.
I tapped his hand with my blunt fingers.
“Whatever it is, you know you can just spit it out.”
He stared at me, and I swear his green eyes got darker. He was making me uneasy. What the hell was wrong?
“You ever look at your life, Butch, and ask yourself, ‘Is this all there is?’” He sighed. What the fuck? What had gotten into him? “Don’t give me that look. You’ve got to know what I’m talking about.”
“Sure. But you know me. Something’s wrong, I make it right.” Takes me time but I figure it out eventually. “So, uh, what’s wrong with your life?” I wanted to make a joke and laugh, but he was too damned serious. And Jimmy’s never this serious.
“I mean, look at us. We work all day in our shops. We make good money. We got nothing to spend it on but ourselves. We go out drinking with the guys on the weekends. Or we go into the city to a game. Or we go fishing, camping, riding around.” He shook his head. “But in the end, what have we got?”
“Fun. Friendship. I don’t know. Life?” It wasn’t much of an answer. I knew where he was coming from. I figured it was because we was about to turn thirty after Christmas and it was time for us to grow up. I’d been thinking on it a lot lately.
“Don’t you want something else, Butch? Something more? Something better?” He sounded desperate, like he was drowning and I wasn’t saving him.
“Yeah, sure. I guess. I mean, I want a husband, a house, a dog, you know, stuff like we talked about when we was kids.” I’d had it mostly planned out. I’d been saving my money.
I was surprised Jimmy hadn’t already figured it out. He was usually two steps ahead of me in everything. “Okay, I gotta ask. What brought all of this on? What happened?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been sitting around thinking lately. And mom’s been on me to move out.”
His mother Hazel’s a character. She’s an old hippie with graying auburn hair and grass green eyes. Her face is a roadmap of lines cuz she spends so much time outdoors. And she worries. She thinks we need her to run our lives. We mostly let her think that even though it’s not true.
“She says she wants me to move out of the farmhouse.” Jimmy said it like it was a death sentence.
“So? Isn’t that what you always wanted to do?”
He shrugged, then nodded, reluctant like. “I guess.”
“Jimmy, you’ve always talked about living in your own place.”
Once I thought me and him would get together, and, you know, live happily ever after. But then he became a doctor of chemistry and natural medicine. I never finished high school.
“Yes, I know. You’re right. I’ve wanted to move out for a while now.” Jimmy sighed. “But this feels like her trying to push me out. I don’t like to be pushed.”
“I don’t get the problem. You know what you want already.”
He laughed. “I don’t like to be pushed by my mother.”
“So the Apple Festival is coming up, and I’m making some changes,” I said, moving on to another subject.
“Yeah? What’s up? Whare are you doing?”
“I wanna make the shop more family friendly.”
He looked at me weird.
“I don’t get it, Butch. This isn’t like you.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “You’re making me nervous. First my mother, now you. Why is everybody so hot to change suddenly?”
“It’s like you said.” I hunkered down, putting my elbows on the table and spreading out my hands. “I took a look at my life. I figure if I don’t do something to get settled, it ain’t gonna just fall in my lap. The Big Three Oh is the first step to the rest of my life. If I don’t get my shit together, nobody’s gonna hand my life to me. I may not know everything, but I know it’s up to me to do it myself.” I shot him a frown. “And you know it too.”
He nodded and looked like dog meat.
I may not have solved his problem of moving out or nothing like that, but maybe we was finally on the same page. Maybe.
I was making changes. He had to decide on his own life.
She wants you to remember: Every day is a good day for romance!
Author Website: http://www.pathenshaw.com
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Cole, heir to the wolf pack’s Alpha, found his fated mate but lost him soon after. Knowing they are meant to be together, Cole won’t rest until he finds Kai again.
Having finally escaped his uncle’s clutches, Kai ran as fast and as far as he could. Escape was supposed to mean freedom, but Kai found danger instead. With nowhere to go, he agrees to stay with Cole—for one month.
Cole knows he’ll have to work hard to earn Kai’s trust, but time is short and being denied the ability to claim his mate is driving him crazy. With the threat of Kai’s uncle, desperate to get him back, looming, Kai stands to lose much more than his freedom. But as he lets his guard down, he risks losing his heart to Cole.
About JR LovelessJ.R. Loveless began her adventure in writing romance at the young age of twelve. Her foray into creating her own worlds and telling her characters’ life stories was triggered by her own love of reading. She currently resides in South Florida with her two dogs and two cats, volunteers for an animal rescue in her spare time, and works as a manager for a financial lending institute. Someday she hopes to begin writing as a full-time career and bringing more of her ideas to life.
Her journey into gay romance began in 2005 when she began posting her original fiction on a forum for feedback and readers’ pleasure. In 2010, a good friend urged her to submit to a publishing company, and the day she received the acceptance and contract was the best day of her life. Since then, she has been noted to be one of the most purchased audio books after Fifty Shades of Grey on Audiobook.com, received best gay romantic fiction for Touch Me Gently in the 2011 TLA Gaybies, and even received an award for Chasing Seth in 2012.
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I received this book, which is really THREE books in one, from the publisher for a fair and honest review.
This is the first in the ongoing story of Luki Vasquez and Sonny James. These guys are very opposite men who want the same thing from life, someone who loves and accepts them for who they are. Luki and Sonny find that—and more—in each other.
Each of the books is a mystery/suspense/thriller. The books need to be read in order because there is a common thread that runs throughout the plot of all three stories.
I loved that we get the journey of Luki and Sonny alongside the mysteries they become entrenched in. I’d say these books are equal parts romance and mystery. All couples go through ups and downs, Luki and Sonny are no different. What’s great about them is they work out their personal relationship while still being able to piece together bits of clues to put a stop to some truly bad people. Like all couples they have a physical side to their relationship and it’s very well written and satisfying.
The mystery portion of the books isn’t always a big mystery and that’s what I loved the best. I’m one of those people who usually guess the culprit early on. My favorite type of story is the one where the reader is surrounded by the how and the why of the crime, not the who. It’s so much more fun to be able to experience the bad guy’s motivation along with the investigation and chase.
Things are not always easy for Luki and Sonny. They are forced to face some hard truths about life, the world in general and nothing is sugar coated in this book, which made it all that much better. Watching how they draw strength from each other through it all is beautiful.
A great read with love, sex, suspense and some truly snarky humor!
SA Collins has a new queer alt-earth sci fi book out, book one in the Cove Chronicles: "Beware Mohawks Bearing Gifts."
It’s 1847, New York. William Matthias Hallett is a fashionable dandy of the Manhattan social set. His life is laid out before him: a world of soirees, riches and luxury. Yet all he wants to do is find an adventure so deliciously wicked that it would satiate his soul for an eternity.
So, disguised in a lower-class manner, into the notorious Five Points he goes, seeking that spark of adventure. That is until it greets him in the form of his old schoolmates from Dartmouth College – a pair of Mohawk warriors who will up-end his world and all he knew it to be forever.
Set in an alternative Earth that deviates from our own known timeline, William Matthias Hallett, a Mohawk/British New York socialite and dandy, who wants very little to do with his upper-crust Manhattan set, sets out to the notorious Five Points, seeking an adventure so decidedly wicked to satiate him for a lifetime. He gets far more than he bargains for when he crosses paths with two Mohawk warriors from their days at Dartmouth college.
Thrust into an unseen war that the Mohawks and the rest of the Haudenosuanee Confederacy has been fighting for over 600 years, William must come to terms with his maternal heritage that is pressing ever forward as their newly created sovereign nation rapidly expands, isolating the burgeoning United States along the eastern seaboard and now reaching a boiling point with the new Americans.
Central to this sci-fi adventure is the creation story of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy where myth becomes reality in ways that William can scarcely imagine.
SA Collins is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:
He leaned against the doorway with a slight smile upon his face and placed the message from my sister onto the desk nearest the door.
“So, are you planning to sleep upon the floor, or will you nest down in the kitchen?”
“Just be glad the bed I have in your room is large enough for us both. You will just have a bed mate until we can rectify the situation downstairs.”
“I could always sleep on your sofa in the receiving room, Will.”
“Certainly not. If I am anything, I am a superb host. I will not have you attempting to recline on a sofa that isbarely sufficient to sit upon, let alone gain some much-needed rest.”
“Fancy little Indian, are you not?” He indicated the quality of my nightshirt and dressing robe.
“I walk in two worlds now; allow me my fashionable proclivities,” I replied as I began to change out of my clothing and into the nightshirt. For a few moments he stood there shaking his head and smirking at my nightly routine, though I did detect a blush moving across his face as I got down to my undergarments. As I pulled my shirt over my head, I noted he had slipped into the spare bedroom.
I carried the nightshirt and robe over to the spare room to join him as he began to slip off his leggings and mocs. After he shucked his shirt, I paused to appreciate the simple utility of the Haudenosaunee male wardrobe. Moments later, Joss changed from the comfort of his daily outfit into a simple loincloth suitable for sleeping, and here I struggled with overgarments, shirts, pants, undergarments, and various pieces that served only as ornamentation. I began to question for the first time the intelligence of my way of dress.
::But you wear your clothing so well. I do not judge your choice of them. This is simply what I know and have grown comfortable using. Why are you curious as to our way of dress?::
::Well, I suppose I should gain a better understanding of our people’s ways. I feel I know so little about my Mohawk life. I assume I can lean on you for that. Unless you find me a lost cause.::
::Will, have no doubt. You are Mohawk; your lineage is clear. You just have not had much in the way of guidance in our way of life. You can always turn to me for that.::
“Thank you. I cannot tell you how much that means to me. Since I came into this whole new world of the Guardians and Flintlings, I have felt little more than a leaf upon the raging river, with little hope of purchase with which to grant me some sense of security. You have provided the security I desperately need.”
“Wait here…” He gated out of the room, though to where, simply wearing his loincloth for protection against the elements, was beyond me. I did not have to wait long as he returned within a few moments with a beaded side bag in his hand. He threw it upon the bed and began to rummage through it. He extracted a beaded belt and a tightly rolled piece of blood-red cloth.
“Get out of that precious royal swaddling you have encased yourself in,” he chided me as he unrolled the cloth, revealing it to be about the length of the loincloth he was wearing. I realized he had retrieved his spare clothing, though from where I was uncertain.
Reading my musings, he replied, “I have spare clothing set aside in various places. I can retrieve them whenneeds arise. These shall be yours now.” He indicated the bag on the bed as much as the belt and loincloth he held.
“Oh, Joss…” I gasped, filled with awe at his offering, knowing that to refuse would deeply mar our new relationship. Not something I was willing to risk, given our being inextricably bound to each other.
Forgetting my near nakedness, I knelt upon the bed, running gentle fingers over them, and watched as he completed the folding around the back of the belt. A small smile broke over his face, bringing his eyes to light.Clearly, he was most happy in his offering. I only wished I had something to offer in exchange. As if hearing mythoughts, he had a reply. “Just your wearing it will be more than enough,” he murmured as he
handed me the garment. “Come, let us have you try it on.” “I am afraid you will have to help me out a bit.”
Shortly thereafter, I found myself wearing my first Mohawk loincloth. My slightly burnished alabaster skin, witha dusting of freckles along my muscular shoulders that mellow as they wend their way over my bare torso, standing in stark contrast to the rich colored fabric of the loincloth.
He placed two gentle hands on my shoulders as we regarded my reflection in the mirror. I felt him course along our link with such gratitude and care that I was undone by his gesture.
Joss beamed, watching me take root in my heritage, pleased he could do this for me. After sheathing myself in some of the finest material and clothing the world could offer, I was amazed at how much comfort, both in movement and luxury, this simple natural garment afforded me.
He pulled out the leggings, a pair of mocs, and a shirt. After another few moments, I was fully clothed in my maternal heritage clothing. A sense of pride seemed to swell within me that I had not anticipated. I nearly wept from thesensation. I know Joss did not miss my eyes misting up from the transformation at his hands.
“Joss, I never knew just how comfortable these really are.”
“You wear them well; as if you were born to them,” he added with a bright grin, no doubt pleased with himself.
I paused, turning this way and that, before bringing Joss into a tight embrace, so thankful for his offering. He moved his head from my shoulder to place my forehead against his, his hands on either side of my face, gently holding me there.
::Like this, Ohnehta’kowa. When it matters most, this is how we share that moment.::
I nodded, thankful for his teaching and his generosity. I knew, being so linked with him, our intimacy would be something I needed to embrace and let flow. It was a part of who we are. If I were truly honest, I longed for it to go on into the night; spending this singular touching moment with him and to share it thusly shattered what I knew about myself and the world around me. Joss sensed this and gradually broke contact between us. I felt bewildered and in aslight stupor for the loss of him. I needed to regroup.
“Yes, well, now to bed, eh?”
SA “Baz” Collins hails from the San Francisco Bay Area where he lives with his husband and Zorro, a character of a cat. A classically trained singer/actor (under a different name), Baz knows a good yarn when he sees it.
Based on years of his work as an actor, Baz specializes in character study pieces. It is more important for him that the reader comes away with a greater understanding of the characters and the reasons they make the decisions they do, rather than the situations they are in. It is this deep dive into their manners, their experiences and how they process the world around them that make up the body of Mr. Collins’ work.
You can find his works at sacollins.com, violetquillredux.com and as a co-host of the wrotepodcast.com series.
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