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Book Title: Dragon’s Folly Author and Publisher: Joy Lynn Fielding Cover Artist: Miblart Release Date: October 9, 2024 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: Alternating first person pov. Genres: Paranormal romance (shifters) Tropes: Grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity, possessive MC, size difference Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 80 000 words It is a standalone story in a series. It contains mild spoilers for the first book in the Wings over Albion series. it does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Falling for him would be pure folly. I know that. Now all I have to do is convince my heart… Blurb Allowing a strange dragon into my home was not my idea. The Assembly assured me it was necessary, though. And that’s how I ended up with him. Ollie Shaw is clumsy. Unfairly hot. He stumbles through my life leaving a trail of chaos and sunny charm in his wake. And I hoard every moment with him like he’s my greatest treasure. But with an entire dragon territory to rule, bills to pay, and treachery brewing in my family, I can’t afford to be distracted by Ollie’s copper-gilded beauty and boundless enthusiasm. I especially can’t give in to my dragon’s primal urge to claim him. Because loving him could cost me everything I’ve fought so hard to protect. And that would eventually come back to bite us both—with dragon’s teeth… Dragon’s Folly, Book 3 in the Wings over Albion series, is a sweet and spicy, grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity paranormal m/m romance. Excerpt “How much longer do you think they’ll—oh my God.” I interrupted myself. “Who is that?” Mia stood on tiptoe and followed my awestruck gaze. “Who?” she asked. “The redheaded guy with the beard?” I revised my impression of her intelligence. “The tall one with the shoulders. Black shirt and black jeans.” Along with dark hair, and did I mention shoulders? He was moving decisively through the throng, bootheels striking the floor in a way that might indicate temper or might simply be supreme self-confidence. He knew other dragons would move out of his way. Lean-cheeked and dark-browed, his face was set in stern lines that made my knees weak. This was a dragon who knew what he wanted and took it. I hoped that would include me. He was heading in our direction, closing on us fast. I’d opened my mouth and started to say God knew what but something to make him notice me, when Mia spoke over the top of my incoherent babble. “Archer,” she said. “This is Ollie Shaw.” Oh great, her brother had arrived. What bloody awful timing. Wait a minute—the only person next to us was Mr Sex God himself. He smiled slightly at her, before glancing at me. I’d thought the first Mortimer grandson I’d seen would level Troy. This guy would have the Martians invading to fight over his square jaw and piercing grey eyes. “Hi,” I said, and hoped my voice hadn’t come out sounding as squeaky as I feared. He nodded at me, not unfriendly but not friendly. And that was the final nail in my coffin because dark, powerful and emotionally unavailable? It was as if he’d read my teenage diary and was role-playing every one of my fantasies. Almost every one—he hadn’t yet shoved me up against the wall and fucked me. I flicked my tongue over suddenly dry lips and wondered if he could see how ready I was to do anything he told me. “Good to meet you,” I said belatedly, ducking my head in an attempt at a respectful salute to the head of a family. It didn’t work too well because I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face. From the dark eyebrows that were drawing together as I continued staring at him. “I’m from Tunbridge Wells.” I scarcely knew what I was saying, just that I didn’t want him to leave. “Mia’s been keeping me company.” His eyes narrowed on me, and how the hell did that make him even sexier? “Has she?” His voice was deep, with a dangerous note that thrilled right to my cock. “Yes.” That was definitely a squeak, damn it. “She’s very nice.” Oh my God, would someone take me outside and shoot me? His expression remained stern. “I’m aware of that.” He glanced at her, seeming to forget my existence. “Let’s go, Mia.” She gave me a grin that let me know she was fully aware of her brother’s effect on me. “Catch you later, Ollie,” she said, and they left. 
About the Author Joy Lynn Fielding lives in a small English market town, where she indulges her passions for vintage aircraft, horse riding and gardening (though not all at the same time). She tends to talk a lot about the fascinating facts she discovers during her research for books. Thankfully, she has a very patient Labrador who has a gift for looking interested in what she’s saying while he waits for the food to arrive. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Newsletter Sign-up Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card 
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 They went in silence to the main desk, where one man was waiting on the other side of the glass window. Forge nudged Lucas’s elbow, glanced sideways at him, and stepped to the window. The man looked young, but Lucas was well aware that his true age was likely much different than his appearance led most people to believe. He was surprisingly slight in build and had pale eyes and skin, and silver hair. It was a harsh contrast to his black suit and tie. His chin was covered with a short, neat beard, and he had an equally neat mustache that almost blended in with his complexion. Blair had no doubt felt Forge’s reaction through their bond because it was strong enough that Lucas couldn’t help but notice it as well. Forge arched an eyebrow and stood a bit straighter. Creepy didn’t begin to describe their visitor or the intense vibe he and Forge both gave off as they appeared to size each other up with that flimsy piece of bulletproof glass between them. The man smiled at them and held out a badge and identification card. “I’m Porter Samuels. United States Secret Service. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Detective Forge.” He looked straight at Forge before nodding to Lucas. “Dr. Coate.” Agent Samuels smiled. “I’d be a pretty poor agent of the Secret Service if I didn’t already know your names and what you looked like.” When Forge didn’t move, Lucas glanced at him and used his toe to poke Forge’s foot. Forge was rarely rattled, and Lucas was probably the only person in the building who could tell Samuels surprised, no thoroughly unsettled, Forge. Lucas guessed it was the remark about knowing what Forge looked like. Lucas could have his picture taken. He was a werewolf. Vampires—Forge—were a different matter. Forge finally opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Agent Samuels into the working part of the police station. Holding out his hand, Forge said in an even voice, “Jonas Forge.” He shut the door after Samuels and said, “My office is this way. We can talk there.” Lucas trailed behind the two men as Forge led the way to his office. He did a fast comparison between his friend and this stranger. Forge was big, carried himself like a man who was self-assured and confident of his ability. He projected authority. As Declan had once told Lucas, Forge commanded. Anyone within a five-hundred-foot radius would feel safe, or threatened, depending on what Forge intended. This Porter Samuels fascinated Lucas immediately. Lucas was a pretty good judge of character, but this guy was a mystery. He was much more than he seemed, and of course he would know Lucas and Forge would recognize that the minute they laid eyes on him. If the agent was in the least bit surprised to find a werewolf working with, and obviously comfortable around, a vampire, he never let on. It wasn’t every day one came across that happenstance. In fact, it was a rarity. When they reached Forge’s office, Forge sat at his desk and waved Porter to one of the visitors’ chairs. Lucas shut the door and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. Samuels turned slightly, just enough to glance at Lucas, before sitting and facing Forge. “So, Porter Samuels, how exactly does it work?” Forge asked. “Being in the Secret Service and a vampire since I’m guessing most of your coworkers aren’t aware of what you are. Creating the paperwork must suck.” “How does it work being a police detective?” Porter countered.       Mason heard Riece’s garbled cry at almost the same time he heard an odd cracking noise reverberate through the air. Nets strung between at least a dozen trees in either direction flung up, creating a barrier. The bag dropped. Riece tried to catch it, but it knocked him backward on his ass. The tops of the nets were several feet above Mason’s head and were between Riece and him. They were cut off from each other. Riece scrambled to his feet and stood staring at the net. Then his gaze shifted to meet Mason’s. He shook his head ever so slightly. Mason clamped his fingers into tight fists for a moment to stop their shaking. Sweat trickled down his spine. Riece’s expression was closed off. He’d shut down. Mason had another reaction: he got pissed. Riece was no more than five feet from him. Alone and unprotected. Their base camp had been found. It made sense to Mason now why they’d only seen two or three of the hunters. The other bastards must’ve spent the day before getting the nets laid and covered with dirt and leaves. Another trap. This one spanned enough distance that running around would be problematic. Their positioning was planned to purposely separate them. Mason had to consider the fact they’d been stalked since leaving base camp. Mason backed up as far as possible and got a running start. He shouted, throwing himself at the net. The tricky thing about scaling nets was that they were strong enough not to snap under the weight of a man, but shifted and bent if you tried to climb them. The spacing between the nylon strands woven to create the net weren’t large enough to get a good foothold. It was more like climbing a rope. He jumped high enough to get a good start. The sounds of footsteps through the woods and hushed voices spurred him faster. They weren’t hiding the fact they were there, at least not from Mason. Riece probably wouldn’t tune into those noises until it was too late. “Riece, run!” Mason ordered. He kept his voice as low as possible, but it likely wouldn’t matter. Riece rolled to the side, grabbed the bag’s strap and at the same time, began to shove off the ground. A bolt whizzed through the air, hitting the ground inches from Riece. He stared at it wide-eyed for a few seconds before stumbling forward. Mason reached the top of the net. He grabbed the wire across the top and flung himself over. Not bothering to try to climb down, Mason hung from the top for a second before letting go and dropping to the ground. A bolt hit the tree right in front of Mason. Both shots were very near misses. Riece was a big target, Mason an even bigger target, yet neither shot hit them. He had a hard time believing these guys had such bad aim, which meant they were missing on purpose. The only reason he could come up with was that Riece and he were being driven in the direction the hunters wanted them to go.     AUDIOBOOK TOUR 
Book Title: Waylaid Author: J.M. Snyder Publisher: JMS Books LLC Narrator: Nick Johnson Release Date: August 16, 2024 Tense/POV: First person, present tense, single POV. Genres: MM Fantasy/Romance Tropes: Forced proximity, only one bed Themes: Falling in love Heat Rating: 5 flames Length: 5 hours and 20 minutes It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links 
It's only supposed to be one night. Until it isn't. Blurb When the Queen's guardsman enters my inn, the last thing I expect is to be propositioned. But this far north, it can get lonely at times, and my bed fits two easily enough. The guardsman is lithe and fae, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested. Besides, what's one night between grown men? I don't expect to see him again. But rumors of war bring him back to me, and what starts as a one-off soon blossoms into so much more ... About the Author J.M. Snyder is a multi-published author of gay erotic romance who started writing fanfic (specifically, boyband slash). She has worked with several different e-publishers, including Amber Allure Press and Torquere Press, and had short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books, Cleis Press, eXcessica, and Lethe Press. In 2010, she started JMS Books LLC to promote and publish her own work as well as that of other authors she enjoys. Author/Social Media Links Audible Profile | Blog/Website | Facebook 
Mason moved his hand to the back of Riece’s neck and squeezed, then pulled him in and gently kissed his forehead. Dirt fell down the edge of the pit, and at the same time, Mason heard a male voice say, “Well don’t you boys look like you’ve gotten yourselves into a real pickle.” Mason and Riece looked up. Almost immediately Riece’s gaze shifted to Mason, and he felt Riece tense. Glancing around the pit, Mason snorted and used the back of one hand to nudge Riece back a step while he took a step forward. “That’s one way to put it,” Mason said. “Have any rope?” The man stood there staring down at them, and for a few seconds, Mason worried he’d turn around and leave. Or worse, start firing the crossbow he held at them. Mason had the distinct impression he was being sized up the same way Mason was judging this man. He looked to be in his fifties or maybe early sixties, but in good shape, and even without the crossbow, Mason wouldn’t want to tangle with him. His hair was short and stylish, more salt than pepper. He carried himself like a man who was used to issuing orders and having them followed. The clothing he wore was expensive but well-worn. To Mason he appeared to be a man comfortable in the outdoors, probably a hunter. The man turned and set the crossbow down, then crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Mason and Riece as he spoke to someone out of Mason’s line of vision. “Jason, bring a line over, will you?” Mason wondered who Jason was and who this guy was and why they were here. It didn’t take long before a length of rope dropped over the side. Mason stepped forward and reached for it, muttering, “Interesting place to put a hole.” Mason grabbed the rope. “Not you. Him first,” the man ordered, gesturing at Riece. The rope began to slither back up. Mason stared up at the man. He felt pretty confident he would win a tug-of-war, but they’d still be trapped. The man lifted the crossbow but didn’t take aim. He simply held it. “I must insist. Your friend doesn’t look very comfortable down there.” Mason looked back at Riece. He stood in stony silence. His expression was impassive, and he was still. There was very little about his body language that anyone would see as anything other than a man who wanted to be left alone. Riece’s gaze met Mason’s, then moved to the rope, following it up to the opening and the man standing there staring down at them. Mason recognized Riece’s lack of reaction for what it really was. Riece was uncertain, maybe downright afraid. Possibly this man recognized the same thing? Slowly releasing the rope, Mason nodded. He couldn’t begin to process the extent to which he didn’t like this, but he had no choice. They had to get out, and Riece wouldn’t be able to climb out unassisted. He turned and held one hand out to Riece, saying softly, “C’mon, it’ll be fine.” Riece stood rooted to the spot until Mason leaned closer and took his arm. The man grumbled something, but Mason didn’t catch the words. He caught the tone, however, and wondered if the man had seen Mason hold and kiss Riece. “Riece,” Mason said quietly, then winced inwardly. He knew better than to announce their names. Riece walked with his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Once he was within reaching distance of the rope, Riece stopped. Mason wound the loose end around Riece’s waist and tied it. “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “Do what they say. No matter what it is.” He gave the rope a tug and looked up, saying, “All set.” The men pulled while Riece scrambled up the side of the pit. If it hadn’t been for the rope, he’d have slipped and fallen at least twice. When he reached the top, Mason watched as hands grabbed Riece’s belt. The number of hands didn’t match the two men Mason had seen or heard, and he wondered how many people were actually up there. A minute went by, then another, and the rope didn’t come back down. He heard some movement, but nothing he could identify. There were no shouts, nor even the sound of Riece’s voice. Mason stalked along the pit side, looking up. “Hey, still here,” he called, trying to sound casual. Mason paced a few feet one way, then returned to his starting point. He searched for more of the wooden planks and felt along the earthen wall for handholds. The nice little pep talk he’d given Riece replayed in his head. It wasn’t that far to the top. He could get out. He was thinking he’d have to make a decision and make it fast when the rope dropped down once more. “Sorry about that. You tie a killer knot,” the man from before called down, leaning over the edge. The tone of his voice, as well as his statement, made the hair along the back of Mason’s neck rise. Mason grabbed the rope. He didn’t bother tying it around himself as he had Riece. Being tethered was something he neither wanted nor needed. The knot he tied shouldn’t have given anyone any trouble. It was reasonable to think someone up there had a knife. Most people this deep in the wilderness carried at least a pocketknife. The rope could have been cut off of Riece if need be, with plenty left to help Mason. The man was lying.      
E.M. Hamill has a new queer women-led space western out (pan, lesbian, aro/ace), Team Huntress book one: Whiskey and Warfare. And there's a giveaway! Running on caffeine and spite with nothing left to prove. GOLDEN GIRLS meets FIREFLY in this rollicking space opera adventure. Maryn Alessi retired from mercenary service after her last assignment went horribly sideways and settled down on a quiet planet with the love of her life. Unexpectedly widowed, Maryn must fulfill a promise to return her mate’s ashes to zer home planet for funeral rites, but a brutal civil war has destabilized space travel. Former Artemis Corps sisters-in-arms and their sassy ship, the Golden Girl, are up to the task, counting on luck and their rather sketchy cargo business to get Maryn passage through the contested star lanes. But when the crew of the Girl rescues survivors of a ruthless war crime, Maryn and her ride-or-die friends must take up their old profession to save the lives of innocents from a genocidal dictator. Warnings: violence, genocide, aging, chronic illness, grief (death of spouse), PTSD Praise for the Book: “This is the story we all need now — filled with so much love and respect and genuinely fun adventure.” --KD Edwards, author of The Last Sun “Every element of it just SANG. The story was *chef’s kiss*. This book is truly special.” --Sarah Chorn, author of The Necessity of Rain "A fantastic read, a thoroughly delightful romp through space with an all-female main cast that blends crazy action scenes with deep reflection on what it means to grow older. This isn’t your parents’ Golden Girls." --J. Scott Coatsworth, QueerSciFi.com Universal Buy Link | GoodreadsGiveaway E.M. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47318/ Excerpt
Jac regarded Col with an arched eyebrow. “What happens to your species as you age? I don’t see you looking any different than the last time we got together.” “You can't tell?” Col stroked her furry cheeks. “I have more hair on my face.” “Don’t we all?” Maryn gave a shaky laugh. “I look like I just hit puberty. I think my moustache is glorious.” “I have also developed lower breasts,” the Boshi said, revealing her catlike teeth in a silent snarl of disgust. “Mine are heading south too.” Jac cupped her tits, staring at them in contemplation. “No. Lower breasts.” Col motioned to mid-abdomen beneath her tunic when it became clear they did not follow. “My second set.” All three humans stared at her with varying degrees of curiosity. “What are they for?” Scylla asked. “In my society I would be expected to help nurse the litters of my children. If I had any.” Col’s furry ears flapped as she shuddered. “Mewling, damp little things. Why anyone would want them is a mystery.” “Ours turned out okay, and I didn’t have to get cozy with anything but a syringe,” Jac said with a laugh. “But I’m pretty sure Maya doesn’t expect me to breastfeed our grandkids.” “Don’t look at me. I got rid of the plumbing a long time ago.” Scylla slapped her flat chest with both hands. “How old is Maya now?” Maryn was chagrined to realize she hadn’t asked after her honorary niece. “Twenty-one. She finished her first degree and she’s in medical residency on Telluride Station.” Jac beamed with pride. “Her gene dads still practice in New Denver, so she’s living with them. They’ve been trying to convince us to settle down there, where it’s safe and boring, but we’re not ready for that.” Something Maryn couldn’t name flitted through her expression before Jac’s face softened. “She sends her love, by the way.” “Sweet kid. I owe her a graduation gift. What a lousy aunt I am.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue. “You’re not.” “I haven’t even seen her since she was six, when you came to visit.” “She gets it, Mar.” Jac’s voice was gentle but firm, trying to head off Maryn’s slide into self-recrimination, but it was too much. “I hate this. All of it.” She balled up the soggy paper in her fist. “I have six days left to take Andelek to Xyri before the scheduled rites and I have got to pull my shit together. I could check interplanetary express freight pricing, I guess. They’ve probably raised the rates because of the war, but I can afford it.” Her eyes grew hot again. “But it just seems so wrong. Ze isn’t a box of supplies to be shuffled off world by a robotic pilot like so much cargo. But I don’t know what else to do.” Maryn made a frustrated noise as her voice snagged on the words. Tears came again whether she wanted them or not, and she swept the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’m running out of time.” “About that.” Jac exchanged a long glance with Scylla before she continued, “We were talking. We want to take you to Xyri.” The warm burst of astonished gratitude faded against an electric-jolt corkscrew of anxiety drilling into her chest. Shame came next, as always, and self-disgust filled her mouth with a sour, acetic burn. “Are you sure?” she stammered. “It’s such a dangerous flight plan right now. It won’t complicate your business?” “Nah. We’re still freelance.” Scylla shrugged. “Mostly private transactions. We’re our own bosses.” Her husky voice softened. “And you know the Girl would love to see you.” “I miss her too.” Golden Girl was the well-loved privateer cruiser they’d pooled their end of tour bonuses to purchase when they left the Corps. The ship had been their home, their means of independence, and she had a definite personality. Its AI learning interface had picked up more human nuance with every mission until they treated it like a fifth crew member. “The Girl’s small enough she doesn’t attract much attention on sensor sweeps. We need to go through Konecthedot system anyway on … business.” Jac traded another secretive nod with Scylla, and Maryn wondered what they weren’t saying. “That is next to the front.” Col wasn’t fooled by the innocence act, her peridot eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t mean it won’t be risky, but we can get you there in plenty of time for the remembrance rites.” Scylla cocked her head and her deep brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, glinted with hope and mischief. “Whatcha think, Mar? We can make it a girls’ trip if Col wants to tag along.” “Yes!” the Boshi exclaimed in her sweet, breathy voice. “I have been bored out of my skull. I can work anywhere since CosBank gave me remote branch equipment.” What her friends offered was too generous to turn down. She took a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t know what to say, except—” she gestured helplessly. “Thank you.” Scylla gulped the rest of her wine, her enthusiasm building. “Konecthedot sector might be close to the front, but we haven’t had any issues yet. It’s less dangerous than anything we did when we were mercs. We’ve got two stops to make on the way, but after that, we head straight for the wormhole and Xyri. We can transport you faster without picking up passengers at every station like the star liners do.” “Globney said the Qetish fleet is blocking the Pashni.” Maryn twisted her fingers together to keep them from shaking. “They don’t bother flights that originate anywhere other than Khepra, from what we heard,” the pilot assured her, and amended with a skyward glance, “Leastways, not much.” “I haven’t been off world since …” she faltered. Terror. Black, endless space. Isolation. The memory threatened to overwhelm her already fragile composure. “We know.” Jac stroked her forearm. Of course they did. They’d saved her life. Author Bio
E.M. (Elisabeth) Hamill writes adult science fiction and fantasy somewhere in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas. A nurse by day, wordsmith by night, she has sworn never to grow up and get boring. Frequently under the influence of caffeinated beverages, she also writes as Elisabeth Hamill for young adult readers in fantasy with the award-winning Songmaker series. She lives with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse. Author Website: https://emhamill.wordpress.com Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/EMHamill 
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Book Title: Beautiful Dark Temptation Author: Roxas Winters Publisher: Evernight Publishing Cover Artist: Jay Aheer Release Date: September 27, 2024 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: First person/ Past tense/Alternating POV Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, dark, mafia, college, Tropes: Mafia romance, enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, morally grey MCs, possessive MC Themes: Bisexual awakening, in the closet, trauma Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 226 pages/ 76 000 words It is a standalone story with a HFN ending. This is book 1 of the Arcadia U series. Book two is in edits. Buy Links 
I’m not ready to lose it all for a beautiful dark temptation Blurb Tomás I’ve lost everything. Forced into a prison masking as a school, I find myself in the crosshairs of more than one killer. My savior? The arrogant prick who wants to control me. Kieran is a nightmare wrapped in a seductive package and when he sets his sights on me I don’t know whether to fight him or kiss him. Kieran I am the eldest bastard of one of the four founders of Arcadia University, and I will do anything to see my family fall. The secrets I’ve kept hidden behind my heart now threaten to bury me alive with the arrival of Tomás. He consumes my space, my thoughts, my nightmares. I hate him for how he makes me feel. This toxic attraction between us forces me to question what matters most—vengeance, power, love. But Tomas doesn’t fit into my world of lies and violence and I’m not ready to lose it all for a beautiful dark temptation. Excerpt Kieran The front door opened and closed as I put my dish away. Getting under Tomás’s skin made me feel alive. I couldn’t kill him yet, but I could fuck with him. He straightened when he caught sight of me. A hint of pain crossed his features, but he quickly schooled it before he grabbed a glass of water. Without paying me any attention, he downed the water. I couldn’t help but take in his profile. The soft line of his jaw, the smooth suntanned skin, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. I had the urge to cup his throat, feel his pulse. He lowered the cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Why my dick chose that moment to twitch made no sense. I wasn’t attracted to him. No way. My erection in the field had to do with the adrenaline rush, not him. He rinsed the cup and put it away. “What?” he finally said. “You want to finish what we started?” The image of him stretched out on top of me was what came to mind. My dick against his thigh. And the fucker had grinded against me. I’d felt his erection too before he jumped off me as if his ass were on fire. Then he ran. If I expected Fox to let go of Dasher, then I had to stop reacting to this prick like I wanted to shove him out a window. I still didn’t know Tomás’s true bloodline. Murdering him would cause attention and right now, that would be more dangerous than letting him live. “I think we got off to a rocky start,” I said. He snorted. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Cocky fucker almost made me smile. “You’re a part of the four whether we like it or not. Means that we might be family.” Bile rose in the back of my throat. I already knew we weren’t blood related, but he had to belong to one of the four. That made him snap his mouth shut. I could see the want of his comeback. He vibrated with it. It took several seconds of silence for him to finally speak. “I’m not your family,” he said in a tone that seemed absolute. As if he knew without a doubt that he had no blood ties to any of us. “My family is dead.” My brain buzzed with all the questions I wanted to ask him. Why was he here? Who sent him here? What was his background? Who are you? He lifted his hand to wipe his face and winced. Dropping his hand to his side he scowled at me. “You’re fucking psycho. It was just a game.” He made a hasty retreat to his room, holding on to his ribs. A game? The asshole needed to learn the rules of this place. I heard his door close but not the chair. I breathed in a moment, just letting myself calm down. Not happening. Reaching his door, I pushed it open without knocking. It almost slammed against the wall. Everything I’d meant to say drained away at the picture of Tomás bare chested in front of me. His pants were unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. Every bit of him exposed awakened something feral inside of me. A desire so deep, I feared releasing it. I suddenly forgot how to breathe, to talk, to make sense of shit. “What the fuck?” The angry sound of his voice snapped me out of my stupidity, and I remembered why I entered in the first place. “You think this is a game? Where the hell do you think you are? Who the hell do you think goes to school here? Because they aren’t friends, they aren’t life-long partners. They’re sons and daughters of assassins, drug dealers, mafia, cartel, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I should’ve shut up. But I couldn’t. For some reason, I needed him to understand. “Nothing in this place is a game. It’s a test to measure your strength, and out there,” I pointed at the window, “beyond the campus, they’ll rip you apart. So if I were you, I’d really start thinking about alliances. Consider who has your back before someone drives a knife right through it.” His eyes widened, his mouth opened and closed, and I felt that stirring inside of me that burned all my nerve endings. Then he had to make it worse. “Why do you hate me so much?” About the Author Roxas writes dark, forbidden MM Romance with morally gray characters you will love to hate. Beautiful Dark Temptation is her first novel in a planned series. Author/Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up 
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 My snippet this week is from Electric Candle, book 2 of The Sleepless City (series cowritten with Anne Barwell).  When he reached the door to the waiting area, Forge opened it and hung out, wagging two fingers at Blair. “Hey.” Blair’s face lit up, and he was on his feet at once. “I brought Lucas’s Jeep to him.” He looked around, nervously, Forge thought. Forge felt a wave of relief from Blair, relief and the sensation of being safe. Wrapping his fingers around Blair’s biceps, he was surprised when there was no resistance, but he sensed a deep desire from Blair to comply. “C’mon.” As they maneuvered around desks and went toward Stewie’s office, Forge had a sudden thought. “Are you wanted for anything?” There are more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group! Electric Candle is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited.  Two romances. Two stories. Two timelines. Two mysteries solved. Digging into history can turn deadly. Wyatt Harig and his partner Vladimir ‘Val’ Mihalic are busy planning their wedding when Wyatt’s old friend asks him to investigate the mysterious death of her uncle, Tom Manning, in a fire back in 1927. Back then men were silent, tough, and expected to marry nice girls. Working with Val, Wyatt digs up clues uncovering the truth behind the tragedy. When Tom met Philip in a speakeasy outside Cleveland, Ohio the spark between them was instantaneous. They fell hard and fast for each other. However, with Philip working as a beat cop and Tom as a schoolteacher, their relationship being discovered meant the end of everything. As the story of Tom and Philip slowly reveals itself, and Wyatt and Val realize nothing is as simple as they originally believed. While their trail heats up, an old enemy of Wyatt’s decides he’s waited long enough for revenge. Wyatt’s life before meeting Val catches up with him and the results could prove fatal. Find Something Great to Read  
J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci-fantasy book out, The Tharassas Cycle book four: The Death Bringer. AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME... AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik's former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion? As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she's determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention. Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves? It's the end of the world ... or could it be the start of something new? About the Series: The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world. Universal Buy LinkExcerpt
Chapter One Regroup He floated, weightless and naked, surrounded by a reddish light and suspended in fluid. Something connected to his mouth and wrapped around his head, like a lover’s embrace. He used to have a name. He searched his mind for some clue to his identity. I exist, so I must be someone. Or something. That made sense, but got him no closer to an answer. He blinked. Who am I? There was no immediate reply. He lifted his hand. It was encased in metal. The gauntlet. That much he remembered, though it meant nothing to him. Except… it seemed different, somehow. Thinner. He moved his arms in the liquid, and it sparkled around him where his shifting disturbed it. The metal extended down his wrist and along his forearm, like before, but now it went farther, around his elbow and up his bicep. He touched it with his free hand. I can feel it. It was as if the metal had become a part of him, his nerves growing through it. He held out his metallic hand and flexed his fingers. What is it? We call it uurcaa. It’s a sacred metal—it will protect you, and if your host dies, it will collect and save your soul.He could feel the emotions she held back from him. It is the last of its kind from our homeworld. Like us. He blinked. Then what am I? You are my son, Iihil. The progenitor, the one who has come before and the first of many more like you. The voice was deep and comforting. Mother. Warmth infused him at her voice, and an eagerness to please her. Still, something wasn’t right. He was more than that. He searched his mind, running up against that stubborn blankness. Somewhere beyond it were the answers he needed. He’d been someone else. Before. Who was I? Memories of a face—dark hair, intense eyes that nevertheless twinkled at him. Raven. It came flooding back to him. His mother. His life in Gullton. Training to be a guard and meeting Raven for the first time. My name is Aik. He reached for the mask that covered his face. It was suffocating. Something was stuck in his throat, and he coughed hard, trying to force it out, whipping around and causing the liquid around him to flash red in alarm. Calm yourself. The voice was as thick and heavy as an ix hide, and just as soft and warm. Aik pushed back. What are you doing to me? I don’t want this! Let me out! He thrashed about, trying to force his way through the suffocating liquid. The metal crept up his shoulder. If it covered all of him, he would be lost. Calm yourself! It was more insistent this time. Aik stiffened as an enforced lethargy settled over him. He lost control of his limbs, falling still in his floating prison. The voice pressed against his mind. You’re safe. Be calm, my little one. He closed his eyes and thought of Raven, trying to stay fixed on that face. I can’t let myself forget again. Then the world around him dissolved, and he was swept up in a torrent of memories that weren’t his own. Author Bio
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was 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 all the people like him were. He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends. A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years. Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworth/ Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworthauthor Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@jscottcoatsworth Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jscottcoatsworth/ Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/ Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/ Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ
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