Jeanne Marcella has a new MM/MMF dark fantasy out: "Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs." And there's a giveaway!

Her past is postage due and centaurs are ready to collect.

Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs is a dark fantasy most daring and eccentric. A tale not for the faint of heart. Pony is a bipedal half-breed centaur with no desire to waste tears on a past she can't remember. She's busy enough with her mail routes and package deliveries, and of course, floundering through hot-cold love affairs with the high class courtesans Mardyth and Lullaby.

The mundane drudgery of her life shatters when Konstantine Bywater takes over as Lightfoot Delivery's new boss. He asks questions she can't possibly answer, and stirs up a tragic past better left dead and buried.

But running away is no longer an option. Not when Kon and his minions accuse Mardyth of an unspeakable crime. With her lover's life at stake, Pony won't stop until she uncovers not only the truth of Mardyth's innocence, but the truth of the past as well.

Giveaway

Jeanne is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

Chapter 1

Saddle-sweating, horse-humping, gods-cursed bastards! The rumors were true. Shit! Bad luck must be in love with me or something. Maybe it could give Mardyth lessons.

Arms pumping high and heart hammering in her parched throat, Pony pushed to reach her top speed. The rumble of centaur hooves behind her vibrated both earth and air. She absorbed those rumbling shock waves into her svelte, bipedal runner’s body. And knew her two human legs—versus their four equine ones—would not be enough.

Still, she would try.

The sweltering heat weighed heavy. Her ratty brown and tan courier’s tunic clung like a starving tick. Rocks and pebbles further split the threadbare soles of her worn-out boots as she pounded down the rutted road. She grimaced at the sweaty slap of calloused arches sliding around in rotted footwear that could fall apart any day now.

Pony squinted at the onslaught of bright blue sky. Her brain cooked in its own juices as the summer sun withered the forest corridor. Her brown hair slipped from its limp topknot; stray strands plastered her sunburned cheeks. It was almost too hot to breathe. Too dry to live. And the damn fools giving chase wanted to die of heatstroke right alongside her.

As it always did in situations like these, Callum’s unfavorable input surfaced to harass her. Stupid, gods-damned centaurs—worthless scraps of horsemeat to toss to the dogs. Her former guardian’s mantra, though crude and offensive, might hold slivers of truth. It was most certainly stupid to be running full-out in this blistering heat. At any other time, she might’ve been curious about this, her first ever centaur encounter.

Just to say she’d finally met one.

Give a lecture about overexertion in extreme weather.

Maybe engage in some harmless flirting.

To finally decide, once and for all, that Callum was right about them.

Or wrong.

But not when this chase proved that they were hunting for courier blood.

Any courier’s blood.

Keep running. Don’t look back.

She looked back.

Six tall shapes, the merging of man and equine. Hooves kicking up clouds of rising dust. The whip of long, flashing manes. The distance between them shrank with each passing second.

Her mail satchel, empty except for the meager bait of Escape Plan Number Two, bounced against her spine. Slung across her chest and anchored into the strap of her mailbag, a dozen small throwing blades awaited use. The large knife hanging at her hip, anchored at her thigh, allowed slight consolation.

Escape Plan Number One took the form of the few coins she couldn’t spare; the bits of metal jingled in her trouser pocket, muffled by a scrap of cloth.

Your job is to run, but hold strength in reserve. Callum’s voice echoed in the back of her mind. If cornered, kill without hesitation or remorse.

Okay. Good advice. She was good at running. That was all she ever did.

Pony crushed dry cracked lips between her teeth. Escape Plan Number One never failed. But would this tactic work on centaurs?

Wait. She had to revise that. Would Escape Plan Number One work on murderous, marauding centaurs who’d probably noticed she was a half-breed suffering through the last few days of her estrus?

If Callum were alive, he would’ve wagered against her.

Might as well give the plan a go, Horsemeat.

She sensed the distance closing between them. Imagined their hot breath blowing down the back of her neck. Their tall, bizarre forms hovering over her. Their hands tearing at her tunic to confirm the hidden tail braided and wrapped around her waist like a belt…

Pony shook off the terror. No time to panic.

Dipping into her trouser pocket, she pulled out several bronze skull coins and flung them over her shoulder. It was back to rummaging through garbage cans when she got home. The currency thudded along the highway and pinged off rocks. On her old southern routes, tossing money always worked with the undesirables skulking around looking for a mark.

The thundering sound of hooves sped up and deepened. Pony ground her teeth. All right, so they weren’t after money. Not typical highwaymen then. Why couldn’t they be greedy bastards like everyone else?

Escape Plan Number Two.

Reaching into the mailbag, Pony pulled out the four carrots she’d pilfered from the company stables. She glanced at the vegetables, shrugged, and took a bite out of one. Then she proceeded to fling the orange darlings over her shoulder in two-second intervals.

High-pitched squeals of disgust and indignation answered.

Oh well. It’d been worth the try. Maybe they weren’t all animal after all. Or maybe centaurs were fussy eaters. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a salt brick instead. Then she could’ve brained them with it.

Escape Plan Number Three then.

The road continued to bend, the thick forest jutting into her direct line of sight. She darted for the ferns and scrub brush. Towering pines blotted out some of the sun’s glare—for a few seconds she was running blind.

Two centaurs armed with longbows jumped out in front of her. The younger one took aim at her heart.

Horseshit! She was speedy, but not quick enough to outrun a flying projectile. Gulping, she dropped into a slide, feet first. Gravel tore open her calloused palms and ripped holes into the back of her trousers.

Great. Bleeding in several places, and now she had clothes to repair. “Arggh!” She slammed slick fists to the ground. “What’s wrong with you swag-bellied tail-waggers? You’d shoot one of your own?”

Author Bio

Jeanne Marcella writes dramatic, and often character driven fantasy fiction not for the faint of heart. Quests, adventure, danger, and the grit of living are foremost, but relationships and mild romance might also share the pages.

Granted unlimited access to books at a very early age via the library, she quickly acquired a fondness for creating her own stories through word and drawing. She was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Author Website: https://www.aforgeofphoenix.com

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Edale Lane has a new FF historical romance out, book 3 in the Night Flyer Trilogy: "Chaos in Milan." And there's a giveaway!

When chaos strikes at the heart of Milan, it is up to Florentina’s alter-ego the Night Flyer to stop it. As Florentina and Madelena’s love deepens, so does the well of danger surrounding them. The race is on to discover the mysterious Shadow Guild and uncover who is behind the deadly rampage, but Florentina’s mission is threatened by a gang of assassins. Can the Night Flyer prevail, or will Maddie’s love be ripped from her arms?

Chaos in Milan is the third book in Edale Lane’s Night Flyer Trilogy, a tale of power, passion, and payback in Renaissance Italy. If you like action and suspense, rich historical background, three-dimensional characters, and a sweet romance, then you’ll want to complete the Night Flyer saga. Order your copy of Chaos in Milan today!

Giveaway

Edale is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

Madelena found herself winded by the time they departed an old dirt road to traipse through knee high grass to the dilapidated wood-plank structure with an obvious hole in its roof. She was indeed thankful for the sensible shoes. Once inside, she set down the bag containing their lunch and wineskins, and settled herself onto a wooden barrel to catch her breath. The scent of rotting hay permeated the space which offered an abundance of natural light through the open double doors, cracks between siding planks, and the gap overhead. Cobwebs draped the corners, and dry balls of petrified horse manure littered the earthen floor.

Her initial excitement was rekindled as she beheld Fiore change into the black silk tunic and tight leather trousers that never failed to kindle her passion. She brimmed with anticipation while Florentina laced the soft-soled footwear over the bottoms of her leggings. With no need of a mask and cowl, Maddie enjoyed a full view of her face and long brunette braid.

Eyes glowing, Maddie purred, “Seeing you in that attire takes my breath away and inspires me to… well,” she added blushing. “I promised to let you work.”

Florentina flashed her a grin. “Happy to please you, my dear.” Then she proceeded to race toward a reinforced portion of the rear wall and up it, running one, two, three vertical steps up the planks followed by a backflip, landing on her feet in the powdery dust. Maddie’s eyes flew wide as she had not imagined such a feat was even possible.

She witnessed Fiore scale ropes up the sides of walls, swing from one to another, hang upside-down with her ankle wrapped in a cord, and run, hop, leap, and climb over every inch of her lair. Observing the tall, lean frame of her children’s tutor pass from one athletic exploit to the next with the dexterity and strength of an Olympian set her heart racing with desire, but also terrified her. Maddie knew that she would do these same exercises at great heights and risk to her person. A fall here may hurt a little, but a fall from a three-story building… don’t think about it!

After a bit, a sweaty Florentina, breathing heavy from her exertion, walked over for a sip to drink. “Mi Tesoro!” Maddie exclaimed. “I knew you could do things, but you are truly magnificent. How did you ever-”

“Practice,” Fiore answered as she wiped her face with a cloth. “Much practice and determination.”

Next, Florentina withdrew her multi-fire crossbow from her shoulder bag. “You invented that,” Maddie said as a half statement, half question.

Fiore nodded. “It was Master Leonardo’s idea, in a way,” she replied with a shrug. Florentina then fired off eight shots in rapid succession at eight separate targets situated around the barn. Some were painted circles, others sets of clothing stuffed with straw, and a few burlap sacks filled with sand that hung from cords. Fiore retrieved her bolts and reloaded the weapon.

“You hit every one!” Maddie gushed in amazement.

“Yes, but I’ve practiced with these marks for months,” the skilled vigilante replied as though unimpressed with herself. “Moving targets or hitting them while I’m running is more difficult.” Florentina pushed the burlap sacks so that they each started to sway in different directions and at varying speeds, then raced across the barn, pivoted, and began to fire. She first shot at the moving targets, then fired at the dummies as she ran traversed the dirt floor. “See,” she said, motioning as she skidded to a halt in front of Madelena. “I hit that one in the knee—I was aiming for its shoulder. And that bag?” she motioned. “I was supposed to strike the green circle, not just anywhere on it.”

“But still,” Maddie replied in amazement. “You hit every target, even if not in the spot you intended. That is quite astonishing.”

Florentina smiled, bent down, and placed her lips to Maddie’s. “Grazie,” she said. “Now, I want to show you something new,” she announced, a twinkle in her bright, tawny eyes. Madelena stood and followed Fiore over to where she had set her bag; the barrel was getting uncomfortable, anyway.

Fiore withdrew a polished wooden case, set it on a rickety work table, one of the few excuses for furniture in the barn, and opened it with care. “I found these when I went into the Oriental shop to acquire more opium.”

Maddie frowned. “I didn’t know you use that drug.”

“Oh, I don’t,” Fiore assured her. “Only for medicinal purposes and to subdue city watchmen without causing them any actual harm.”

“I’ve been in that shop,” Madelena commented. “They have some unusual merchandise and a few very popular items. I purchased one of those painted silk fans that are in fashion.”

Florentina nodded. “They have nice things.” Then, from the plush black velvet interior of the box, she retrieved a silver five-pointed star about three inches long. The edges appeared sharp and Fiore held it judiciously in her gloved hand.

“What is it?” Maddie asked.

“The shop owner didn’t know,” Florentina answered with a sly grin. “But I had read about these in an obscure book on Oriental weapons. It’s a Chinese throwing star. There are five in the set.”

“A throwing star,” Maddie echoed as she moved in for a closer look.

“The Spaniard threw a knife at me in the Pantheon,” Fiore recalled. “Throwing-knives are deadlier, can do more damage than these, but it is a skill that is difficult to master. With the star, I have five small blades rather than one longer one with which to hit my target. They are good to distract or throw a foe off balance. Strikes to the eye or weapon hand are debilitating and may take an enemy out of the fight. Because the tines are short and cannot penetrate deep into flesh, only a strike to the big artery in the neck or severing the windpipe in the throat can kill. I think these will prove quite useful, but I’ve only been practicing with them for a few weeks.”

With admiration and anticipation oozing through her voice, Maddie sang, “Show me.”

Florentina removed all five stars from the box and positioned herself in the middle of the barn. “Stand behind me,” she instructed as she lifted one from her left hand. “I’ve had no teacher to instruct me, so I had to guess as to how to throw them. I have developed three techniques, hoping to perfect at least one.”

Maddie withdrew, studying her partner’s every move. Florentina gripped the object horizontally in a curled hand with her thumb on top and her forefinger beneath it. Rotating her upper body from the waist, she drew her right arm back then spun, releasing the small weapon with the motion a child may use to toss a pie pan. The star whirled through the air at an astonishing speed until it lodged into the shoulder of one of the dummies. Florentina frowned. “A nuisance hit.”

“But you hit it!” Madelena exclaimed. Florentina continued to practice the move, thrusting at different targets and from varying angles, collecting the projectiles once all five had been expended.

“Semi-successful,” Fiore admitted. “Another way I have tried is a basic overhand throw.” She demonstrated by taking a star in her right hand, holding it vertically, and throwing it as one might a ball, rock, or piece of fruit. Her first attempt landed low on the target, so she adjusted the second by releasing it sooner, gaining better results. After dozens of pitches, Fiore returned to Maddie’s side. “The third method I’ve been trying is trickier, but has far greater potential. I’ll be at this a while if you want to curl up and take a nap.”

“What? And miss witnessing an act no Milanese woman has ever seen?” Maddie exclaimed. “But if you will point them in that direction,” she indicated, “I’ll sit back down over here for a while.” On impulse, she leaned in and kissed Fiore’s lips before retreating to her stool.

She has so much focus and intensity, Maddie contemplated. She is like a force of nature.

Author Bio

Edale Lane is the author of an award winning 2019 debut novel, Heart of Sherwood. She is the alter-ego of author Melodie Romeo, (Tribute in Blood, Terror in Time, and others) who founded Past and Prologue Press. Both identities are qualified to write historical fiction by virtue of an MA in History and 24 years spent as a teacher, along with skill and dedication in regard to research. She is a successful author who also currently drives a tractor-trailer across the United States. A native of Vicksburg, MS, Edale (or Melodie as the case may be) is also a musician who loves animals, gardening, and nature.

Author Website: https://pastandprologuepress.lpages.co/

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Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07GRFPDRZ

Mary Rundle has a new MM paranormal romance book out in audio, Blackwood Pack Book 3: "Peace Maker." And there's a giveaway.

The Blackwood Pack saga continues…

This is part of an on-going series by Amazon Bestselling Author, Mary Rundle, and catching up on previous titles is advised. Readers of the past books will enjoy meeting old friends once more as the pack does what it does best ̶ caring for one another and helping shifters everywhere.

Enforcer Dylon Royd worked for the notorious Silver Point Pack until they accused him of disloyalty. Imprisoned and beaten to within an inch of his life, he's dumped at the side of a road and left for dead. Waking up in the Blackwood Pack's hospital, he's shocked to discover his Fated Mate is one of the pack's members he'd been ordered to kill.

Cody is a seer and has grappled with visions all his life, but after most of his family is massacred they have intensified so fiercely he begins to make plans to escape his pain and suffering. Thinking no one wants a freak for a Fated Mate, he tries to reject Dylon until he realizes his salvation depends on accepting him.

A life or death situation for Cody, a rare gift to both from the Fates, a dangerous mission, and an unexpected surprise are some of the challenges they face. Together they begin a journey to save Cody's life while forging a partnership that requires absolute trust for both to survive.

Giveaway

Mary is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card AND a Blackwood Brothers mug with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47166/?

Excerpt

Dylon felt the buzzing and saw the flash of green light in his mind and, at first, worried his tormentors were back to beat him again—that was, until he could feel his bones snap into place and heal. It was amazing as he could see in his mind what was happening to him. He’d never felt anything like this before and wanted it to last for a long time. Finally, his pain was gone and his face felt normal. Then his wolf howled—a mating howl. Dylon was confused. He wasn’t mated so why was his wolf so happy?

He sniffed and what he smelled made his cock rise—moss, lichen, tundra soil, and blueberries. Sadness washed over him as he realized he was probably dead—killed by those bastards he used to work with, all because he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit. Now, he would never be able to clear his name—that and his concern for his parents had kept him from giving up long after lesser men would have. Suddenly, he realized his wolf was prancing, interspersed with mating howls. While trying to make sense of this, he heard a voice so deep and rich it curled around his spine and caressed all his nerve endings at the same time. My mate! I have a mate! But where am I?

Cody watched his mate’s face return to normal and gasped at how gorgeous he was—rich brown hair with golden highlights, strong forehead, straight nose, high cheekbones, square chin covered in a very short scruff—but his eyes quickly zeroed in to Dylon’s mouth. There, by gods, was a mouth made just for him, wide with a full, plump bottom lip, just begging for his cock. A low groan slipped from Cody’s mouth and his cock grew in length and hardness.

Keeping his eyes focused on his mate as Dylon returned to his former self, Cody could see why his mate became an enforcer—tall, broad shoulders and well-defined muscles all over his body. If the Fates wanted to send him someone who would be able to protect him, they couldn’t have made a better choice. But will he want me once he finds out what I am? Cody knew instantly he’d be heartbroken if his mate rejected him.

As he stood by the bedside, he realized his ability to complete his mission required Dylon by his side or else he would fail. And if that happened, he would not be able to live with himself—not that he was doing so well right now by staying alive. He was hanging on by a thread which was getting thinner by the day. It was taking everything out of him just to appear normal to his brothers. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could sustain the illusion.

Dylon kept his eyes closed as he became aware of his surroundings. His wolf scented six wolves and a human, no, not a human but not a shifter either. He mentally took stock of his wolf and found him lying down, tongue lolling while panting and shit, smiling? Smiling at a room full of unknown wolves, two, no make that three, who were humongous. What the fuck? He trusted his wolf implicitly—except the last time he was called into Rudy’s office. No, that time he ignored his agitated wolf and walked into a nice, neat trap. Yeah, well that’s what I get for ignoring my wolf. Should I trust him now?

“Dylon, can you hear me? I’m Cody.”

Cody…he’s my mate. Oh wow, Mum and Dad are going to be so happy. I found my mate. Holy fuck! A mate! His voice!

“Let me,” Ian said to Cody when Dylon’s eyes remained closed. “Dylon, I’m Dr. Wallace. Can you open your eyes?”

Trust my wolf…trust my mate. Dylon opened his eyes and found himself staring into Cody’s beautiful brown eyes with rings of gold threaded through the irises. Long, lush, brown lashes framed those eyes, filled so completely with sadness that his wolf growled at their mate being unhappy. I’m right there with you my friend. Why is our mate so sad? Dylon’s eyes searched his mate’s face looking for the source of his melancholy, but found only a beautiful man with short, dark brown hair, well-defined cheekbones, and a clean-shaven face. A clear view of his mouth brought up fantasies of what he wanted to do with his mate’s luscious lips.

Someone moved, causing the air currents to swirl, bringing his mate’s scent to him fresh and strong. His wolf moaned, he moaned; together they sensed their other half. Dylon opened his mouth to speak, but his mate laid a finger on it, shushing him. He couldn’t resist and his tongue darted out to sneak a quick taste of the man who was making his cock so hard it was almost painful. As his tongue connected with his mate’s finger, he could wait no longer—a long, loud mating howl erupted from his wolf. Dylon wanted his mate now.

“Cody,” Jackson said, “Ian has to examine him to make sure everything has healed properly.”

Cody glanced at his brother and nodded, knowing what Jackson wanted him to do. “Dylon, honey, I’m Cody. You’ve been badly injured and the doc needs to make sure you’re completely healed. Will your wolf allow him to do that? I’ll be right here with you.”

Dylon gave a short nod as his hand sought to touch his mate’s.

Cody grasped it and smiled. “I promise, I’ll be right here.”

Ian quickly checked Dylon’s vitals and then laying his hands on his face, checked the healing of the bones. It was as if Dylon’s face never received the brutal beating. After finishing his examination, he said, “He’s as good as new and won’t suffer any long-term consequences from the beating.”

Author Bio

The first book I ever wrote was Dire Warning in 2017 and, much to my delight, it became an Amazon Best-Seller. Readers loved it and I was on my way to chronicling the Blackwood Pack, seven brothers who are gay wolf shifters in search of their fated mates—stories about love at first sight with twists and turns, angst and humor, romance and adventure and, of course, happy endings.

As my books began to be translated into other languages, I also became an Amazon International Best-Selling author and then achieved the honor of becoming an Amazon All Star writer due to their popularity. My ninth book, Mystic Guardian, has just been published and audible versions of the entire series are in progress.

I love the M/M paranormal genre because it gives my imagination a lot of territory in which to roam. My mind can really run wild and come up with some amazing stuff when it doesn’t have to stay inside the box.

My readers tell me they feel like they’re members of the pack as the stories unfold…as if they’re right there in the middle of the action. Others tell me it’s like watching a fast-paced movie. My writing style pulls no punches…readers love it and are always clamoring for the next book.

Stories come to me as if channeled by my characters, all of whom I love (except for a few villains). They are eager to recount their lives, loves and adventures and are not inhibited when it comes to revealing steamy, sexy details.

I currently live in the Northeast and love the beautiful change of seasons, my husband, and our quirky calico cat, though not necessarily in that order. I’m always happy to hear from my readers and can be reached through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, MeWe, email, or my website.

Author Website: http://www.maryrundle.com

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