 Nick didn’t realize how thirsty he was until the cool water slipped down his throat. It tasted good and made him feel a bit better. He emptied the cup and held it against his knee, hands shaking. “They reproduce somehow, right? What if the one we killed had a mate?” “Why do you think that?” Todd filled a second cup of water for himself, downed half, and left the rest in the cup, setting it off to the side. “It could, right?” “I suppose. You read the same information I did, Nick. They mate and reproduce when they’re in their natural form, not when they have a host.” “And they mate for life.” Nick drew in a few shaky breaths. “Nick,” Todd sighed, took Nick’s cup, and refilled it, pressing it back into Nick’s hands. “We have no proof there was a mate. And if there was, I have no idea how it’d—” “She. It would be a she.” Todd rubbed the skin under his eyes. “I have no idea how she’d track us.” “Todd, there’s…every time I sleep…it’s there…she’s there. Right along with him and how he was all over me. I can still feel that tongue and everything it did, every touch…” Scooting closer, Todd held Nick’s face in both hands. “Nick. Nicky…shush…stop. Nothing is here. We’ve seen no sign of anything following us. You and I check every day. You’ve been with me.” Sliding a hand down to Nick’s shoulder, Todd urged him to lean forward. He lifted Nick’s shirt and peeled away the bandage over his scapula. “Let me see.” Todd pulled in a breath and let out a long sigh. “It’s still not healing well.” Nick shivered when Todd’s fingers gently touched his skin. He turned his head as far as he could, trying to see over his shoulder. Todd chuckled soft and low, leaned in, and brushed a light kiss over the back of Nick’s neck between his slave collar and where his hair curled up. “What I dream is worse than what actually happened.” “You’re my mate, and I’m never leaving you alone and vulnerable like that again. Anything will have to go through me first. Even if she is following us, we’ll deal with her, just like we dealt with him.” Todd patted the bandage back into place. “In the morning, when there’s better light, I’ll clean that again, scrub it good, and re-bandage it. I think it might be getting infected again.” The festering wound from the kelbit bite explained why Nick hadn’t been feeling well for the last day and a half. Rolling his shoulder a few times, Nick stretched his arm up and around in a circle. “I wish the stupid thing would get better already.”     
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 Lucas held up one finger when his office phone buzzed. He turned and picked up the handset and was surprised to hear the desk sergeant tell him, “You and Detective Forge have a visitor. Says he’s from Washington.” Frowning, Lucas said, “Be right there.” He ended the call and turned back to Forge. “Someone is here to see us.” “Who?” Lucas shrugged. “Didn’t say, other than someone from Washington. But whoever it is, they’re waiting at the front desk for us.” “Gee, wonder what agency they could be from.” Forge stood up, held the door to Lucas’s lab open, and waved grandly. “After you, Dr. Coate.” 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. “A cop in a medium-sized Midwestern town is one thing, but the Secret Service?” “What do you look like when you change? I don’t mean to be rude, but—” Lucas stopped talking when Porter turned to him, eyes no longer very light gray with black pupils but solid, almost translucent, gray. “Whoa.” He was well accustomed to vampire eyes. Forge’s turned wholly deep dark blue, Declan’s a vibrant moss green, and Blair’s hazel, but Porter’s eyes were completely new and different. Porter laughed. “Dr. Coate, Lucas—may I call you Lucas?” Lucas nodded and Porter continued, “Your reputation is well deserved.” “My reputation?” “Gentleman, I appreciate your cooperation and your country appreciates your help. The upcoming presidential visit is actually a part of a very sensitive international matter. I wanted to come here, meet you both, and assure you that certain aspects of your”—Porter shrugged—“lives, will be protected and that the safety of your mates during this dinner is assured. We wouldn’t normally ask a police officer to include family in such a function, but for reasons I can’t discuss right now, we’ve made an exception and do feel it’s necessary.” Lucas bit his lip to keep his mouth shut. Porter might have checked out Forge and Lucas, but he obviously didn’t know as much about either of them, or Declan, as he might have thought. Anyone trying to harm someone Forge cared for was in for an extremely big and painful surprise. That aside, among all of them the truly dangerous man was Declan. He was subtle and had a quietness about him that was downright scary sometimes. Declan could rip an opponent’s throat out before they ever noticed he was there. Porter pulled a small earbud from his pocket and set it on the desk in front of Forge. “For starters, I’ll be providing you with a special earbud calibrated and designed for vampires. I want you to be able to communicate with my team, not have your eardrums blown out. I would ask to be made aware of any other vampires on your force who will be coordinating with us so they can be properly equipped as well.” Porter stood up. “I’ll be in touch via your department e-mail, or I’ll call.” He shook hands with Forge, then Lucas, before scooping the earbud up. “Have a good day, gentlemen. I can find my own way out.” Lucas noticed right away that Porter Samuels never asked for confirmation of Forge’s e-mail address or phone number. When he was gone, Lucas turned to Forge. “That was weird.” “What the hell?” Forge asked. “I wasn’t expecting that at all. Weird doesn’t begin to cover it.” “Is it time to put someone’s mad, crazy cyber-ninja skills to work?” Lucas asked. “And he never explained what he meant about my reputation.” Forge met Lucas’s gaze, his own intense, and for a second his eyes glazed over completely blue. “Oh yeah. Oh, hell yeah I’m asking Blair to look into him.” Lucas grinned. Blair would be all over this. He didn’t envy this Samuels guy if he was anything other than extraordinarily honest with them. Vampire and Secret Service or not, Forge would make his life utter hell, and Lucas would gladly do whatever it took to help. He wondered what other surprises were coming.  Code Name Jack Rabbit is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.  AUDIOBOOK TOUR 
Book Title: Little Harbour Author and Publisher: Sophia Soames Narrator: Jaxon Jensen Release Date: February 18, 2026 Tense/POV: third person/present tense Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, Single dad Tropes: Forbidden love, friends to lovers, small town romance, forced proximity Themes: Single Dad, Family, Children, Coming out, bisexual awakening, Male Midwife Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 14 hours and 6 minutes It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. Very clear content warnings for the very last bonus chapter, with an opt out clause if the reader/listener prefers to end the book there. Not reading the bonus chapter does not affect the overall enjoyment of the book or storyline. Buy Links Available in Kindle Unlimited, Hardback, and Paperback 
One messy single dad. One celebrity midwife. Four feral children. A lifetime of love. Blurb This is a story about life and death, because there was never anyone else for Jens. He had been with Sofie almost all his life, from the day they met at school when they were fifteen, until the day she took her final breath against his chest. She was always everything to him. As he was to her. He never doubted that. Not for a minute. ALSO AVAILABLE FROM SOPHIA SOAMES AND JAXON JENSEN Book Title: Second Winter Audio Release Date: March 10, 2025 Tense/POV: first person/ past tense Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, Sweden Tropes: Second Chance, ten years later, school reunion Themes: Grief, forgiveness, untangling past mistakes Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 7 hours and 10 minutes It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Also available in Kindle Unlimited, Hardback, and Paperback 
Ten years ago, Ned Anderson made the biggest mistake of his life. Blurb Ten years ago, Ned Anderson made the biggest mistake of his life. About the Author Sophia Soames should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to fangirl over TV shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-)glamourous real-life job. Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The dogs are too. She lives in a creaky old house in rural London, although her heart is still in her native Scandinavia. Discovering that the stories in her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis ever, and she hopes it may long continue. Social Media Links Link Tree | Newsletter Sign-up | TikTok | Facebook readers group Facebook | Instagram | Website | BlueSky 
About the Narrator Jaxon Jensen is an internationally recognized and awarded singer and actor, hailing from rural Western Canada. He is a classically trained opera singer, graduate of the University of British Columbia’s Undergraduate Opera Performance Program, Staatsoper Unter den Linden’s Advanced Apprenticeship Program, and has lived and worked around the globe. In 2023 he officially opened his own studio, Jaxon Jensen Studio, where he trains actors and vocalists from around the world, and has discovered a newfound joy in championing the success of his students. He currently lives in Mexico City, where he is surrounded by love, laughter, and the most supportive community he could ever ask for. A special thank you to Eric, without whom none of this could be possible, and to Sophia for creating a world where people like us do get a happy ending. Your words are a gift to us all. Jaxon 
 My snippet this week is from Whiskey and Moonshine!  Her next question surprised him. “How long have you been on the streets?” “Since I was fifteen.” “Why?” That threw Colt for a minute. No one ever asked why. Swallowing hard, he bit his lower lip a few times and tried not to tear up. “My dad kicked me out because I’m gay.” The woman blew out an angry breath and looked away for a few seconds, and her entire demeanor changed. She relaxed and let her hands drop to her sides. Her face softened, and she leaned against the desk. “Felony criminal record?” Colt shook his head no. It was the truth too. “Drugs? Drink? Are you healthy?” “I can’t afford to buy the stuff I like to drink.” Colt waved one hand in a circle. “Never did drugs, and there was a free clinic I was tested at every six months. So, yeah, healthy.” She held out her hand. “Audrey Hollan. I’m the director of operations. Basically everyone other than Mr. Kensington answers to me.” Find more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Whiskey and Moonshine is available in eBook, paperback, audio, through Kindle Unlimited and your library digital catalog.    The driver’s side door opened, then closed softly, and Clint heard Dylan walk around the back of the van. He could watch in the side mirror as Dylan approached. He opened Clint’s door and leaned inside, pulling a nylon jacket from behind the seat. Then he released the latch on the glove compartment, and it dropped open. Clint was given a good view of the handgun inside. Dylan extracted it and shoved it into his waistband behind his back, straightened, and adjusted his jacket so the gun was concealed. Dylan smiled. “Never can be too careful or prepared.” “No, you can’t,” Clint agreed and fought the urge to squirm. He was beginning to think more clearly, and the thought hit him that he’d likely been drugged. It almost felt as if his brain had been dipped in a fog that was just now lifting. “I’m sorry about the rules, but until I know you’ll follow them, I will enforce them. I’m sure that won’t last very long,” Dylan said and smiled. “Do we have to review them again?” Clint shook his head. “No. I won’t talk to anyone or do anything that would split us up.” “Good.” Dylan reached out and brushed one hand over Clint’s hair the same way Griff often did, but Griff’s touch had never made him want to shudder. A little voice nagged at Clint. How the hell did Dylan know Griff did that, and did it often? Or was it just coincidence? Something told him there was no coincidence about it and to tread carefully. Steeling himself, he forced his body to be still, to keep from jerking his head away from Dylan’s hand. Licking his lips slowly, Clint focused on his feet and said in a soft voice, “Griff does that. I always hated it. I was thinking a few minutes ago how nice it would be to never be touched like that again.” Dylan pulled his hand away very slowly and studied Clint briefly before speaking. “I know he did that, but I thought you liked it. One more thing that proves to me how bullied you were by him. Don’t worry, that’s all over with now.” Clint jangled the chains. “Take these off, please?” “I can’t. Not yet. It’s too soon.” “How can I do anything?” Clint pleaded. Dylan smiled. “Don’t you worry one bit. I’m here to take care of you and help you, and that’s what I intend to do.” Clint swallowed his moan. He was afraid if he showed Dylan any negative emotion or reaction, it would drive him to be more controlling and obsessive. The man was very unstable, armed, and determined to do what he thought would make Clint his. Clint wanted to vehemently point out to Dylan that Griff wasn’t the bully here and had never hurt Clint in any way. After ten years of a life together, Clint could honestly say they were still very much in love. If anything, Clint felt he loved Griff more with each passing year. Dylan would never understand that or accept it, so Clint wasn’t even going to try that line of reasoning. What Clint did do was hold desperately to the fact that Griff had the know-how and resources to find him. He didn’t doubt for a second there was a manhunt going on for him. Even if the US Marshals weren’t the hunters, Griff would have convinced the FBI or some other branch of law enforcement that Clint had indeed been kidnapped and was being held against his will. As Dylan fiddled with the chains, Clint mentally ran through all the facts and advice about kidnap situations he’d learned over the years. Don’t argue, keep them talking—it’s harder to hurt someone you’ve come to like. If you get the chance, run! Before letting Clint out of the van, Dylan readjusted the chains, though he’d have to shuffle instead of walk normally. There was about a foot of chain between his wrists, and if he was fast enough, he might be able to get it around Dylan’s neck. Clint had no intention of killing his captor, but he could sure make him hurt and attract a lot of attention doing it. That’s what he wanted: attention. Attention meant safety from Dylan and freedom. Clint’s hopes were dashed when Dylan used carabiner clips to run a length of chain from the one between his wrists to the one hobbling him. It was long enough he could stand without hunching forward too much, but would prevent him from lifting his arms high enough to get the chain around Dylan’s neck. “Okay, let’s get you out of there.” Dylan slid one arm around Clint as he scooted slowly to the edge of the seat. Clint was stiff, unsteady, and his lower pelvis was in so much pain from his bladder that moving was agony. He gasped and bit down on his lip. He hated needing to use Dylan for balance. The van had been positioned so Clint could move from it to the gas station men’s room without easily being seen by onlookers. Once he was on the ground, Dylan made him stand still and adjusted his clothes to conceal the chains as much as possible. The bathroom door stood open. Finally Dylan used a hand on Clint’s shoulder to guide him forward. Dylan used his free arm to keep the door from swinging shut until they were both inside. “Look, man, there’s barely enough room for one of us, I got it from here,” Clint said. He knew it was probably useless, but for his own sanity’s sake, he had to try. Dylan shook his head. “I promised to take care of you.” “And I appreciate that, but I’ve been doing this alone since I was three,” Clint pointed out. A light bulb went off in his head. “Besides”—he looked down and laughed nervously, hoping that made him appear embarrassed—“I don’t want you to see me like this.” Dylan sighed, and at first, Clint thought he was going to be left alone for the few minutes it would take to relieve himself. Instead Dylan walked behind him, one hand still on his shoulder, the foot or so to the urinal. It took some concentration and fumbling on Clint’s part, but he got his jeans undone. It was bad enough Dylan was going to stand there and watch him; Clint certainly didn’t want such an intimate touch from him as well. Clint tensed when Dylan’s hand moved from his shoulder and ran lightly down Clint’s side. He shivered away from Dylan’s hand out of sheer reflex. “Clint,” Dylan murmured in his ear.  Jewel Cave is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.     Any day Colt managed to avoid getting the crap kicked out of him was a good day. Today wasn’t that day. He curled into a ball, desperate to escape the blows striking his ribs. Wrapping his arms around his chest in an effort to protect himself, Colt rolled so he faced the pavement as much as possible. He coughed and gagged up pink saliva. “You think you’re too good to suck my dick?” sneered a rough voice belonging to a man Colt only knew as Sully. Colt pushed away from the ground and wiped one wrist over his mouth. “I got another job.” “Yeah, day worker picking up trash is such an impressive career move.” Another kick accompanied the words. “C’mon, this piece of shit ain’t worth our effort,” another voice said. Colt thought it was Theo, but he couldn’t be sure. “There’s much better ’cross town.” A backpack landed on Colt’s head, and one final, brutal kick connected with his ribs. “Find a different town to live in,” the rougher voice said. Colt shifted onto his side and watched two pairs of boots retreat down the alley. “Leaving isn’t a bad idea. Sick of this town, anyway.” The truth was that ever since Colt, fifteen and kicked out on his—how did his father put it? “Sick little gay, fucked ass”—nearly ten years ago, he’d had nowhere to go except onto the streets. He’d moved around and eventually landed in Toledo, where he’d spent the last four years. He sort of liked it here. However, he could learn to like it somewhere else. His health and longevity likely depended upon it. He sat up and moaned. Every bit of him ached, but he’d had worse beatings. He pulled his backpack onto his lap and rifled through it, yanked out shirts, a pair of jeans, and socks, and dumped them on the pavement beside him. His wallet was there, but the few dollars inside were gone. “Assholes,” Colt muttered and reached through to the bottom of the pack. He pried the layers apart and stuck two fingers inside. The feeling of the cash, smooth and held with a large clip, sent a wave of relief through him. He stuffed his few possessions back into the pack and zipped it up. Colt climbed to his feet and slung the backpack strap over his shoulder, then staggered to the main street. He kept his head down and didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he walked to the bus station. Walking through that part of Toledo at night could get a guy beat up. Good thing he’d already been beaten up. He looked bruised and battered enough that it was likely no one would come after him. Lightning didn’t strike the same place twice—he hoped. The sky was a murky black, no stars visible because of the shroud of clouds. Humidity covered the atmosphere in a thin film of haze. Colt stepped aside when a young couple left the bus station, then slid through the open door in their wake. It was after midnight, and he was tired and aching through to his bones. He made his way to the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, he ran the water and washed sweat and dirt from his face. He dabbed at a cut on his lip a few times with a paper towel before turning the water off and looking at his reflection in the mirror. He went into a stall, made sure it was securely locked, and hung his backpack on the hook on the door. After moving his clothes to the side, he pulled up the hidden compartment and took out his money, peeled off about half of it, and replaced the other half. Then he tucked his clothes back in place and stuffed the bills into his jeans pocket. After taking a piss, he left the stall and returned to the sink to wash up again before leaving the bathroom. There was no one waiting in line at the counter, which considering the hour wasn’t surprising. “I need a ticket,” Colt croaked. His throat was dry and sore, his head was throbbing, and his ribs ached. The man behind the glass looked him up and down. “Where?” Shoving his money into the little space under the glass, Colt said, “Wherever that will get me on the first bus I can get on.” “One way?” The man took the money with gnarled, pale fingers and then tapped on a keyboard. Colt nodded, and a minute or so later, a ticket came through the slot and into his waiting fingers. “Charlotte. It’s in North Carolina. Been there. It’s nice.” “Thanks.” The man reached out and rested his knobby fingers over Colt’s. “Good luck. Make it a fresh start.” Colt looked at the man, really looked at him. His washed-out blue eyes peered at Colt from behind drooping eyelids. They were kind eyes. Colt smiled weakly. “Thank you. I’ll try.” “The bus is boarding over there.” Nodding, Colt made his way to the indicated terminal. He used some of his change from the ticket to buy a bottle of juice from a vending machine before he took his place in line behind the four others already there. Once on the bus, he found a seat and sank gratefully into it. He could finally relax and close his eyes. No one was going to beat him up here or remember that a few short weeks ago, he was turning tricks for not very much money at all. The seat was comfortable, and he relaxed farther into the heavy cushions. The temperature inside the bus was pleasant, and the idling engine provided a gentle hum. By the time the bus pulled out of the station, Colt was barely awake enough to notice. When Colt stirred again, the interior of the bus was bright with natural light. Pushing himself straighter, Colt stifled a groan; all his muscles had stiffened up while he slept. He leaned one elbow on the window frame, rested his head against the cool glass, and rubbed his eyes. Yawning, he stretched again and looked out the window. “Holy…!” Colt gasped softly. He took the bottle of juice and twisted the top off, sipping as he watched the scene roll by. The bus was traveling over a bridge. Mountains filled the windows. Mist, looking like smoke, curled up from somewhere deep in the trees. The landscape was a swirl of grays, blues, and greens. Colt had heard of the Smoky Mountains, seen pictures and images on television, but those barely did the reality justice. He sat transfixed at the sight of tree-covered mountains that seemed to go on forever. Once across the bridge, the bus slowed and pulled into a parking lot. Shouldering his backpack, Colt waited his turn to leave the bus. It was a good thing he was able to simply stand there for a few minutes since his joints were stiff, his left foot had fallen asleep, and his knees creaked. He was toward the back, so it was several minutes before he reached the exit and steps leading outside. “Six-hour layover, folks,” the bus driver announced via the loudspeaker as passengers shuffled to the exit. “The Kensington Distillery and Still House is just down the road a piece. They have tours, and a shuttle runs every half hour from here. Any alcoholic beverages must be in sealed containers to be brought on board. If you purchase more than two bottles, they’ll have to go in the luggage compartment.” He handed small slips of paper to everyone to label any items they wanted stored on their return. The change from the air-conditioned bus to the warm, humid afternoon was shocking. Colt stepped to the side so others could leave the bus and dropped his head back, inhaling deeply and gazing up at the sky. The air was clean and a little damp, and the aroma of pine trees and soil filled the air. It was a pleasant change from the dingy alleyways, oil-stained pavement, and dumpsters full of rotting trash he’d left behind. Colt dipped his neck from side to side, then rolled his shoulders and turned around to get a good look at the area as he wandered to the nearby building. The rest stop had a diner, gift shop, bathrooms with showers, and, near the door, a stand filled with brochures advertising the sights to see in the area. He bought a bag of trail mix in the gift shop and ate as he walked around. His attention was drawn to a brochure for the Kensington Distillery and Still House. He wondered what the difference was as he thumbed through the leaflet. The photographer had taken great advantage of the picturesque landscape surrounding the distillery. “Smoke” from the mountains made up the backdrop, and a rising sun graced the sky. The buildings blended in with the scene perfectly. “What the hell. This looks appealing, and I’m not interested in hiking around in this heat,” Colt mumbled aloud as he stuffed the pamphlet into his backpack and jogged outside to a waiting shuttle. A half hour later, he was waiting in line yet again to exit a vehicle, this time the small bus to the distillery. The images in the brochure displayed only a tiny percentage of the beauty of the place. When Colt climbed down, he stood still and took everything in. While other people walked by, he remained transfixed. From the wide parking lot, a walkway led to the distillery. The collection of buildings was nestled among trees, with a manicured flower garden lining the front and walkway. It was breathtaking. It was perfect. If Colt was ever to believe in love at first sight, it would be because of this place. He wanted to spend more time here; he wanted to belong here. He had five and a half hours to figure out how. Those wishing to take one of the tours were directed to the visitor center in the middle building, so that’s where Colt went. There were free lockers for the guests since, according to the sign, bags and purses of any sort weren’t permitted in the distillery. Colt found a locker, took his wallet and the hidden money from the backpack, and shoved them into his pockets before securing the bag inside. Colt paid for his ticket and joined the tour. When their path took the group through the distillery itself, Colt gazed in awe at the machinery used to create what was referred to as Tennessee whiskey. Colt was a little hazy on the details that distinguished whiskey from bourbon from Tennessee whiskey, but he didn’t care. The entire process was fascinating, and in the little time he’d been there, he’d become obsessed with knowing more. A door marked Employees Only at the back of the distillery caught Colt’s eye. He sidled up and tried the handle. It was unlocked. He slipped through and took a look around at what he quickly realized was a break room. There were two refrigerators, a couple of oval tables with chairs dotted around the room, and a counter with a sink, coffeepot, electric kettle, and microwave. Two vending machines sat against one wall. Along the opposite wall was a door marked Bathrooms. When that door opened, Colt turned toward the wall, pretending to read a bulletin board. A man walked through with his head down. It was doubtful he even looked at Colt. He certainly didn’t seem concerned that Colt was in an area reserved for employees. On the board was a flyer with job openings. Pulling the paper from the cork, Colt studied the list. A few words leaped off the page at him. It was fate.  Whiskey and Moonshine is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.   RELEASE BLITZ 
Book Title: Dark Justice Author, Publisher, and Cover Artist: Janice Jarrell Release Date: March 17, 2026 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: Third Person Genres: Contemporary dark/suspenseful gay romance Tropes: Married Couple, Hurt/Comfort, Protector/Protected, Found Family, Trauma Recovery, Healing Journey Length: 84 791 words/ 283 pages Heat Rating: 3 flames: It is the first book of a new series, The Unbreakable Vow. It can be read as a standalone and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
The world may be burning–but here, in this moment, there is grace. Blurb Joshua believes love can bring Colin home. And even from across an ocean, Colin hears it calling. Colin Campbell–Abrams went to Ireland carrying a weight his pack could never hold. Grief he couldn't name. Guilt he couldn't shake. A marriage he loved too much to destroy with the pieces of himself that remained. Ireland didn't heal him; it offered him the grace that allowed him to heal himself. In green hills and strangers' kindness. In ancient stones that remembered centuries of pain. In thirty seconds of unexpected sunlight breaking through gray skies. In the slow, stubborn work of putting one foot in front of the other until the man he used to be began to walk by his side. The road taught him something Joshua had been trying to tell him from the very beginning: You don't have to be unbreakable to be worthy of love. Some journeys you walk alone—not to leave, but to learn how to come home. Note: This book contains depictions of violence, injury, and the on-page death of a character. 
Excerpt The taxi rumbled up the narrow gravel lane, tires crunching over stones still wet from morning rain. Colin sat in the backseat, his head resting against the cool glass of the window. Trees arched overhead—familiar, ancient. A canopy of green that whispered welcome in a language older than sorrow. The driver pulled to a stop in front of a large yellow house at the edge of town. Smoke curled from the chimney. A lace curtain fluttered in the front window. She was waiting for him. Aunt Aileen stood on the porch, wrapped in her thick wool shawl, hands folded in front of her like she'd been standing there for years—like she'd always be standing there. Colin stepped out of the cab. Shouldered his bag. Their eyes met. She didn't speak. Neither did he. She just came down the steps and wrapped him in her arms. He sank into the hug like a man who'd been treading water too long. Let his head drop to her shoulder. Let the tears come—silent, steady, unstoppable. "There now," she murmured, stroking his back. "There now, mo chroí. You've come home to us, so you have." Inside, the fire was already lit—the kettle already whistling. His room was made up just as he'd left it. Just as it had been all those years ago—when he'd come here broken and grieving after Kathy. Nothing had changed. Nothing except him. That night, he sat by the hearth while Aileen knitted in her chair across from him. No questions. No conversation. Just the soft crackle of the fire and the rhythm of needles clicking in her lap. He hadn't known how badly he needed the quiet until it wrapped around him like a balm. Tomorrow, he'd walk the park trails again. Visit Ross Castle. Breathe the green back into his lungs. But tonight? Tonight, he was simply home. Morning light slanted through the kitchen window, warming the scrubbed wood table. Aileen moved easily around the stove, the clink of porcelain and the hiss of steam familiar, comforting. She placed a pot of tea between them, then poured it into two mismatched mugs—just like she had when he was a boy. Colin sat, hands folded around the mug. He hadn't spoken much since arriving. She hadn't pressed him. That was her gift—presence without pressure. "Sleep all right?" she asked gently, settling across from him. He nodded. "Some." Aileen studied him over the rim of her cup. "You've lost weight." "I've lost a lot of things," he murmured. The silence between them stretched—not uncomfortable, but thick with memory. Colin looked out the window, eyes distant. "I keep thinking how much he loves it here," he said finally. "The light. The quiet. The way the wind sounds different in the trees." Aileen waited. "God, Ahn-tee, I want him with me," Colin whispered, his voice choked. "Not for me. For him. Because this place... it heals things. And he's hurting too." She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. "You carry him," she said. "He may not be sitting in that chair, but he's here, mo mhac. In your blood. In your bones. In your heart. In every step you take toward yourself." His throat tightened. "I don't know how to come back to him," he said. "I don't even know if I can." He looked into her eyes, his own welling with tears. "And that terrifies me." Aileen gave his hand a squeeze. "And sure, didn't you come back here all the same?" He nodded. "Then that's your start, mo mhac. This land knows you well—it hasn't forgotten. And it'll help you remember yourself, so it will." Colin looked down at the tea. It smelled of bergamot and comfort and just... home. The ache in his chest didn't fade—but it softened a little. He thought of Joshua's hands. His voice. The way he would murmur 'mo ghrá milis' when no one else could hear, and a warmth stirred beneath the sorrow, born from the memory of that gentle voice and the life waiting for him across an ocean. About the Author My name is Janice Jarrell. I’m a retired IT tech and grandmother living in Port Angeles, Washington, near the Olympic National Forest. I have two children, three grandsons, and I’ve been writing gay romance since I was twelve years old—only back then it wasn’t called “gay romance.” In the fifties, it was worth your life to admit to being gay, let alone confess to being a girl who constantly fantasized about relationships between men. I didn’t even know what a homosexual was. I just knew I loved the idea of boy-on-boy romance. I was that kid on a farm in a tiny Michigan village, watching Tom Corbett and his Space Cadets and all those guys on Combat and thinking: there’s something going on here. I wrote slash fanfiction for about 30 years and produced over 300 stories—some a hundred-word drabble, some sprawling novel-length series. The feedback I received from readers, and the community that formed around those stories, became the creative home I’d been searching for my entire life. I still bless the internet for leading me to that artistic oasis. Love’s Magic was my first step into creating my own original characters, and from it grew the interconnected worlds of my Revolutionary Heart and Fearless Heart series, featuring Colin, Joshua, David, Nate, Trent, Jeff, and the rest of the gang. Those books—along with collections like Trial Runs, Glory Days, Relevant Justice, Heart’s Treasure, and Rainbows Still Glow—follow these men through love stories that are messy, hard-won, and always, always worth it. I’ve also written stand-alone tales like Under the Midnight Sky and Beyond the Rainbow: Stories from Camp Pride, and I’m currently working on Dark Justice, the first book in my Unbreakable Vow series. Many of my novels and short-story collections are available as audiobooks on Audible and other retailers, bringing my characters to life in a whole new way for listeners who love to experience stories on the go. It’s been an amazing thing to watch the gay community’s growth over these past decades. In many ways my own journey has echoed theirs, and I’m deeply grateful to the activists who fought to win the rights and recognition the LGBTQ+ community has always deserved. I’m equally grateful to the gay romance community—readers, authors, publishers, and promoters—who are making my retirement years the most creative of my life. When I’m not writing, I’m traveling, walking, knitting, crocheting, and generally plotting more trouble for my characters. And for the record: no matter what I put them through, I am a firm believer in HEA. Social Media Links Facebook | Bluesky | Instagram | TikTok 
The Saltwater Trilogy SERIES TOUR with Book 3 NEW RELEASE 
RECENT RELEASE Book Title: Horizon (The Saltwater Trilogy, Book 3) Author: AG Meiers Publisher: Painted Hearts Publishing Release Date: February 12, 2026 Tense/POV: first person, past tense, single POV Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, Mystery/suspense Tropes: Enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, found family, hard fought HEA Themes: Dealing with troubled past, building a new life Length: 3 books, each around 80K Heat Rating: 3 - 4 flames The stories are best read in order. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited Series Tagline Bullets cut through the peaceful night sky. And so, it begins… Series Blurb The scandal didn’t just end my career. I lost my reputation. My family. My future. Working patrol in a small beach town in Maine keeps me hidden from the world and out of trouble. When a traumatized runaway crashes into my life, I reluctantly offer refuge. It throws me straight in the path of his dangerously attractive older brother. Tanner Weston is powerful. Arrogant. Controlling. We’re like fireworks—spectacular in the dark, but plain dangerous in the cold light of day. Now, I find myself fighting a dangerous shooter and my growing attraction to a man who plans to expose the secrets I’m trying to hide. The Saltwater Trilogy is a fast-paced, enemies-to-lovers, M/M romantic suspense featuring two men with nothing in common but an excess of emotional baggage. The final book, HORIZON, is now available on Kindle Unlimited. Book 1: RIPTIDE 
Caught in a riptide of secrets and mistakes… The scandal didn’t just end my career. I lost my reputation. My family. My future. Fate handed me a fresh start. Working patrol in a small beach town in Maine keeps me hidden from the world and out of trouble. ‘License and registration, please’ is about all the social life I’m looking for these days. When a traumatized runaway crashes into my life, I reluctantly offer refuge, but his dangerously attractive older brother threatens everything. Tanner Weston is powerful. Arrogant. Always in control. He doesn’t deal well with opposition, especially not from a scruffy small-town cop. We manage to negotiate an uneasy truce to support his brother’s recovery. Until bullets cut through the peaceful night sky. Now, I find myself fighting a dangerous shooter and my growing attraction to a man who plans to expose the secrets I’m trying to hide. Riptide, book 1 in the Saltwater Trilogy, is a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, M/M romantic suspense featuring two men with nothing in common but an excess of emotional baggage, so love just doesn’t fall easily into place in the first book. But if you love grit, heart, a good redemption arc, and a hard-won happily ever after, dive into the Saltwater Trilogy today. TW: Alcohol addiction, off-page SA (side character) Book 2: GRAVITY 
The past comes crashing down. It’s gravity… Unfinished business is my middle name. Hiding in my small town in Maine is no longer an option. I have to go back to Chicago and deal with the fallout of the scandal that cost me my family and my career. Avoiding Tanner Weston is a perk! We’re like fireworks—spectacular in the dark, but plain dangerous in the cold light of day. He tossed me aside so he could focus on reuniting his broken family. I understand. I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome back home, but I didn’t anticipate running straight into trouble. When I find myself up to my neck in danger—again—it’s Tanner who comes to my rescue. No explanation given. Gloriously arrogant as ever. Now, we’ll have to join forces and find a way to close the door on my past once and for all. I can only hope we’ll get it done before it drags Tanner and his innocent, younger brother into the darkness that once nearly destroyed me… Gravity, book 2 in the Saltwater Trilogy, is a fast-paced, hurt/comfort, M/M romantic suspense featuring two men with nothing in common but an excess of emotional baggage. If you love grit, heart, a good redemption arc, and a hard-won happily ever after, dive into the Saltwater Trilogy today. TW: alcohol addiction, mention of off-page SA (side character), aging parent with dementia Book 3: HORIZON 
Chasing the horizon is a risky endeavor… My life is finally settling down. Or so I thought. Until my best/only friend disappears without a trace. Now, I race against time to unravel her mystery. It gets worse when my boyfriend’s ex shows up uninvited, trying to convince him to leave our small backwater town—and me—in his rearview. But do I need to face the truth? Tanner Weston was born to charge into battle and rule the world. The place I call home won’t ever be enough for him. Tough decisions will have to wait, as my past and present collide and old enemies threaten my found family and everyone I love. Then, the killer snaps his trap… Horizon, the third and final book in the Saltwater Trilogy, is a fast-paced, hurt/comfort, M/M romantic suspense featuring two men with nothing in common but an excess of emotional baggage. If you love grit, heart, a good redemption arc, and a hard-won happily ever after, dive into the Saltwater Trilogy today. TW: alcohol addiction, mention of off-page SA (side character) Excerpt from Horizon “What do you want, Weston?” I asked, pinning him with a cold stare. “I want to take KC with me. And it seems like I’ll need your blessing to do so. I’m here to find out what it’s going to cost me.” It took a second for the words to sink in. Then liquid rage surged through me. “You think I’d take your money?” “I want you to pull your claws out of my baby brother. Name your price.” “What is this? Daytime TV?” I narrowed my eyes and took another step, crowding him against the bar. He didn’t give any ground. Instead, he leaned in. “Tell me how much, Kelley.” My mouth went dry. His flushed cheeks, raised chin, and that arrogant twist of a smirk-- His gaze snapped to my lips as I darted my tongue over them. The glow in his eyes told me how much he was enjoying the confrontation. While I was charging like a wounded, angry bull, Weston danced around the arena in tight designer pants in all his fucking glory waving around a red cape. About the Author Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her spouse and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends, family, and writing. Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer, she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict, and heartbreak before allowing them to find their happy-ever-after. Social Media Links Website | Facebook | Instagram 
My snippet this week is from Jewel Cave, book 3 of Circles.  The chains pulled against his ankles, tripping him up and sending him sprawling more than once. He heard footsteps and Dylan yelling at him in a screechy, insane voice. Clint ignored him and forged ahead. He could see the light from the tunnel entrance. There was the sound of a helicopter overhead and shouts of other people. Voices of people he knew. Clint tried to pick up speed and ended up pitching forward and falling on his face. His feet and hands tangled in the chains. A bullet chipped off a rock very close to his head, and the bang from gunfire was deafening. “Griff!” He choked on the word, sure no one could possibly hear him. There are more diverse snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group! Jewel Cave is available in eBook, paperback, Kindle Unlimited and through your local library's digital catalog.    John turned to face Jimmy, completely ignoring Nick, which only ratcheted Nick’s anger higher. “I’m not risking my son’s life on what-ifs and maybes,” John growled. “You know I love Todd, and I wouldn’t jeopardize him for anything.” Nick couldn’t take it anymore. Nick pushed past Jimmy, grabbed John’s arm, and turned the man, forcing John to face him. Hating how his voice cracked, he said, “He’s my mate, my whole world and all I have.” Jerking away, John glared, snarling out, “Get your hands off me. Todd is my son, my flesh and blood, my family. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the reason he’s in this mess. Now be a good little slave, go to the corner, sit on your knees, and shut the fuck up.” Nick was suddenly so close to John they were practically nose to nose. Arms down, fists clenched at his hips to keep from punching John, Nick spoke in a low, dangerous voice, enunciating every word so there was no misunderstanding. “I kneel only to my master. And you are not him.” “This is getting us—” Witze began, but his words were drowned out by John’s. Drawing his arm back to strike, John snarled, “You insolent little…” Nick braced for the blow, willing to take it and ready to strike back. He met John’s angry glare with one of his own, refusing to back down. Jimmy shoved between them, forcing them each to take a step back. “John, stop being an ass!” He pointed to Nick while facing John. “Your son loves this kid, more than anything, and if you force him to choose between you and Nick? You will lose. Nick is his family.” Jimmy gave John another shove, pushing the man back farther before he turned on Nick. “And you! I asked John here to help. We need help, and he’s the only one we can trust right now, so stow it, suck it up, and deal. For your mate.” Nick grumbled, “Yes, sir.” John snorted, “Fine.”   |
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