  After lunch, they returned to the rink. Brett donned his new skates and did some figure eights at one end while rehearsal continued. His presence gave Rylan an unexpected sense of security and boosted his confidence. His concentration was back, so he wasn’t in danger of breaking bones from a fall. Even though Brett was skating away from the group, Rylan knew Brett watched every move he made. Rylan extended his arms and when he bent backward he didn’t miss how Brett’s gaze raked over his torso. The next movement, a Biellmann spin, required Rylan to lean forward, skate on one foot and lift the other up, reach back with both hands and grab his ankle, while gliding over the ice. He let go and with both feet on the ice again he skated backward, gaining speed before he mimicked lifting Celia then rolling her over his back. The routine was choreographed so he’d switch between solo moves and those as a couple. That mimicked one of their more popular routines, they’d mirror each other, executing spins and jumps more common to their figure skating days. He couldn’t do those moves for an extended period anymore, but sprinkled throughout a routine was manageable. Rylan picked up speed again to transition into a leap and spun around three times before landing on the ice again. Next, he held his arms wide, pretending Celia was in front of him, her hands in his. During the dance portion of their routine they’d twist and turn ending with Rylan swinging her up, so her feet pointed to the ceiling. After lowering her and they’d separated again, Rylan bent one knee, so he was low on the ice. Extending his other leg, he began to rotate, straightening, and raising his body until he was a spinning arrow. Digging one toe into the ice he came to an abrupt stop, sending bits of ice fountaining up. Rylan stood, one arm raised, and body arched slightly backward, breathing hard, silently counting to five before he relaxed, that part of the routine over. It wasn’t until then he realized everyone had moved to the side, all eyes, including Brett’s were on him. Brett leaned back against the wall, smiled warmly, and held up both thumbs. That silent approval meant more to Rylan than any medal ever had. He was suddenly a bit embarrassed when the other performers began to clap and cheer. Rubbing the back of his head with one hand he looked down at the ice and skated to the side, stopping near Brett. The choreographer hurried up to him, grabbed his face, and gave him a little shake. “That is the skater I know you are! Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” Rylan felt his cheeks burn hot, she rarely doled out such compliments. “Thank you,” he whispered. Letting go of Rylan her gaze slid to Brett and she pointed at him. “You’re good for his concentration. Come for rehearsal tomorrow.” Brett bowed slightly and said, “Yes, ma’am! I’d be delighted. Thank you.” It wasn’t long before the others cleared off the ice to prepare for that night’s performance and Rylan was alone with Brett. Skating close to Rylan, Brett said softly, “You really were amazing, and you make that all look so easy.” He took Rylan’s hands and pulled him farther out onto the ice. “See, I can skate backward, too.” Rylan laughed. Holding tightly to Brett’s hands he glided away from Brett until he stopped Brett’s progress then spun them slowly around. Brett almost lost his balance and tried to quick step a few times, except hockey skates had wider blades, but no toe picks for such maneuvers. Before Brett faceplanted on the ice, Rylan darted forward and wrapped both arms around Brett’s waist, bracing him. “Hmm, you fell for my pretending to almost fall.” Brett pulled Rylan even closer. “You would’ve landed on your face if I hadn’t saved you,” Rylan countered as they skated slowly, Rylan going backward this time. “Says you.” Brett’s hands moved slowly from Rylan’s shoulder blades and brushed down his back. Rylan arched against Brett’s wide chest. Dipping his head, Brett nuzzled Rylan’s cheek, sprinkling soft kisses over his skin. His hands moved over Rylan’s round ass cheeks and he squeezed, murmuring, “You’re like a drug, addictive.” Rylan shuddered when Brett’s fingers dug into the tender skin of his rear and he ground his pelvis against Brett’s. They did a slow spin and Rylan let his head drop back, exposing his throat to Brett’s mouth. Brett gave a gentle push off the ice with one foot, moved one arm up, and held Rylan about the waist in a powerful grip. “I loved watching you stretch and spin. That’s fucking sexy,” Brett said right before he scraped his teeth down Rylan’s throat. Rylan arched his back farther, letting Brett support his weight. Brett’s other hand gripped Rylan’s hair, tipping his head back even more while he moved his lips up and down Rylan’s neck, then sucking ever so lightly on Rylan’s Adam’s apple. Rylan straightened and hooked one arm around Brett’s neck, kissing him. Slight pressure from Brett’s tongue and Rylan opened his lips far enough their tongues slipped and slid over each other. They’d stopped moving and were in the center of the rink. Brett’s fingers combed through Rylan’s hair a few times before he deepened their kiss and slipped the fingers of his other hand down and between Rylan’s ass cheeks, pressing against the thong strap of his belt. The sensation made him tremble. The sound of machinery made them both jump and separate. Brett chuckled and took Rylan’s hand, leading him off the ice as one of the crew drove the Zamboni out. “I think they want to clean the ice and prep for the show. Ready to head back to the hotel?”     
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 Declan sprinted into traffic and across the street, dodging cars effortlessly as he ran. Blair bolted after him. Cars sped through the street, horns blaring when they were cut off by other vehicles traveling in from intersecting thoroughfares. Squealing tires followed almost immediately in the wake of all the various tones from the horns. The noise was ear-shattering, and the commotion caused by out-of-control traffic lights was almost impossible to comprehend. Blair was running after Declan at such a high rate of speed that headlights and streetlights were nothing but streaks crossing his path. It was dizzying. One car swerved wildly, and Declan was cut off, nearly running right into its bumper. The cacophony of horns and tires increased trifold. Blair was willing to bet most of the drivers never saw Declan weaving through the pandemonium since he moved so quickly. “Bastard,” Blair grumbled. Blair was a vampire, the same as Declan, and could see Declan’s actions though human or werewolf eyes weren’t able to. Too bad Blair couldn’t mimic Declan’s smooth moves. A car careened around a corner and right into Declan’s path. He jumped up, slid across the hood on his ass, and hit the pavement running without missing a beat. Blair hated him. Blair’s actions were less than smooth, and trying to keep up, even though he was the faster runner between them, made him feel horribly inept. His attempt at Declan’s move over and around the cars resulted in Blair’s face narrowly escaping an intimate meeting with the pavement. Growling, he shoved off the ground and raced after Declan. They were chasing a human; it shouldn’t be this hard to catch the guy. The man was smart; he was using the flow of traffic, or, more precisely, manipulating the traffic to stay ahead of Declan and Blair. Whether he knew he was being chased by vampires, or even believed they existed, Blair had no idea. Now wasn’t the time to figure it out either. Where the hell was Forge? Shouldn’t Blair’s soulmate be dropping from a rooftop or charging from some alleyway to tackle this asshole about now? It was Forge’s usual MO, and Blair suspected Forge liked doing things that way. Trouble was, he wasn’t doing it now. They were separated by enough distance it wasn’t possible for Blair to hear Forge. The transmitter in his wristband wasn’t working. They were both vampires and soulmates, they shared a very powerful emotional bond, each experiencing the other’s emotions. Their bond wasn’t going to help with details on their exact position, however. Blair suspected the traffic-light hack wasn’t the only hack going on right now. Their wristbands relied on radio frequency, as well as Bluetooth, and something was being used to jam their transmissions. Blair would have to figure that little detail out later. He was preoccupied with keeping up with Declan and their suspect right now. Maybe he and the fourth member of their team, Lucas Coate, a werewolf bonded to Declan, were more reliant on the technology they used daily than their mates, but Jonas Forge and Declan had been born long before the use of electricity, let alone wearable wireless communications. They’d worked together as intelligence operatives without such tools and without the Internet. Blair really wished they’d get on with showing off those skills about now. Declan rounded a corner, and Blair raced after him. There was less traffic on this street. Surely they’d catch up to the man they chased. The guy hit the fencing around a construction site at a full run, leaping halfway to the top then scrambling over before he jumped to the ground. Barely breaking stride, Declan bent his knees and cleared the fence in one bound, landing neatly—and on both feet—on the other side. Blair heard him mutter something in French that sounded very unkind. The fact that they couldn’t catch a human who was slower and weaker, with worse eyesight in the dark, was clearly pissing Declan off. Those details were certainly pissing Blair off. “Any time now, Forge,” he mumbled. The frustration he felt from his mate told Blair that Forge and Lucas weren’t close by and were struggling to get a fix on their location. Didn’t that just make their situation even better? Blair tried to hurdle the fence Declan-style, but his leap fell short, and he slammed into the top rail, doubling over it with a grunt. He grabbed it and swung over but didn’t land nicely on his feet. Instead, he dropped into a disorganized heap in the dirt. Blowing out a growl, he got to his feet and sprinted after Declan again. Declan stopped at one end of the site. It looked like some sort of upscale apartment complex and appeared to be one of those places with stores, wine bar, restaurants, and loft apartments—all with a convenient parking garage underneath. A lifestyle center. Blair wasn’t impressed and thought they were a bit ridiculous. “Where’d he go?” Blair was a bit breathless. Declan held one hand up and cocked his head, saying, “Shh…I think…” He pointed. “Over there. Hear him?” Blair nodded and ran with Declan through the partially built complex. Thuds and pings echoed around the area and bounced off varied textured surfaces. It was difficult filtering the exact location of the sounds, but Declan seemed to be following a determined path. Blair followed Declan. Blair was the guy who did the research and ran the tech end of their team. He was stay-in-the-surveillance-van guy, not go-out-into-the-field guy. Those roles belonged to Declan and Forge. Blair liked the van. It was comfortable and had all the tools of his trade. He wanted his job back. Being in the van was going to have to wait, for now he had this job. Everything had gotten mixed up and out of whack with this assignment, which had left Declan and Blair chasing an annoyingly slippery human through a construction site. The trail Declan followed took them up an escalator or, more to the point, where an escalator was in the process of being installed. When they reached the top, Declan waved Blair to the right, and took a left. Blair didn’t question Declan’s instincts and concentrated on the sounds around him. Footsteps, his, Declan’s, and two other sets, not one. “What the crap?” Blair muttered. The footsteps went in two different directions, which was why Declan had them split up. Blair stopped and glanced around. Darkness surrounded him, but vampire sight didn’t require much light. Up one level and farther to the right, something moved. Blair sprinted in that direction. He gave up on Declan’s fancy leaping and bounding moves and took the stairs. Halfway up he stopped and turned around. Holding his breath, he stood and listened. Forge was always telling him to utilize the strongest sense a vampire had—his hearing. Right now what he was hearing didn’t make sense. Blair might never be the warrior Forge was or the spy James Bond wished he was, like Declan, or a man such as Lucas who adapted to and was comfortable in every social situation. However, he wasn’t without his own skill set. Warning bells rang in his head. It took him a few seconds to narrow down the cause. A series of clicks and a barely audible whine. Blair checked his wristband again. Still no signal. He turned in a slow circle, hearing no footsteps other than Declan’s, and he had slowed to a walk. No one was speaking, but Blair did hear breathing. Three distinct patterns. One he recognized as Declan. The other two were in close proximity to each other, and one of them was the man they’d chased in here. The layout of the building and the materials used made it difficult, since sounds were bouncing off partially constructed walls. He looked down at the main level. Declan had come back into view and was gazing up at Blair. He shrugged and spread his hands wide. Another series of clicks and a buzz. Blair tried his wristband a second time. Neither that, nor the earbud he wore, was working. He had no signal, but someone did, and it was a private system—that much Blair had already figured out. Noise from the transmission came to Blair in bits, but nothing he could make sense of. Yet he felt he should recognize the noise. After moving down the stairs a few steps, Blair stopped and listened again, then shook his head very slightly. A different noise, a snapping sort of sound, made both him and Declan look to the left. Declan held up his hand and stalked silently in the direction of the sound. Blair knew the sound but couldn’t place it. “Shit,” he said, only loudly enough that Declan was the single person who would hear him. Blair started running down the steps. The hair along the back of his neck rose, and a shiver worked down Blair’s spine. Whatever that noise was, it meant danger. He was sure of it. Another click. Blair shouted, “Declan!” He dove off the side of the steps and launched himself at Declan. Declan turned in time to catch Blair. At the same time, a low rumble started beneath their feet. The floor vibrated, and the low rumble erupted into a deafening roar. “What the—?” Declan hissed as Blair wrapped both arms around his shoulders and used his momentum to shove them both backward. The flooring several yards from them split apart and opened up. Brick, metal, and glass dropped through to the parking level below, creating a deafening roar. Dust and dirt billowed up from somewhere beneath them. Declan pushed off the floor and spun them around and away from the blast. A brilliant flash of light struck, and then dust and debris turned everything hazy and dark. The stores and wine bar disappeared as Declan and Blair were plunged down, along with chunks of cement, into the cavernous depths of the parking garage.  Quarry is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.     My snippet this week is from Shifting Chaos, book 4 of The Sleepless City (series cowritten with Anne Barwell).  Forge yawned and watched while Declan pointed out angles and places to photograph. He took a few steps away from them, looking up into the trees, then twisted around to look at their house. Declan’s gaze was glued to the ground. Every few feet he’d stop and have Ben take more pictures. He crouched down, using his fingers to move some leaves on the ground, sighed, and stood up. “What are you looking for?” Ben asked. He stood behind Declan. Declan gazed up at the treetops as well. “I’ll let you know when I find it.” He pointed up. “Can you photograph that and zoom in?” “Sure.” Ben swung the camera lens where Declan indicated. Forge closed the few yards between them and him rapidly. “Do you see that?” He pointed to the spot Declan had indicated, then traced a line in the air to the next few trees in the direction of their house. “Yeah, I do,” Declan said. Ben pushed his way in between them. “Could someone tell me?” “Do you see those branches broken enough to be bent, but not fall out of the trees?” Declan pointed them out. Ben nodded, and Declan continued. “Follow the path. Those are traveling to the castle. See the direction they’re bent?” Find more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group.  Shifting Chaos is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.    “Holy crap!” Raul sucked in a quick breath and smiled broadly. He took Brandon’s hand in his own, kissing it before moving Brandon’s hand to the seat. “Probably shouldn’t do that when I’m driving, Sparky.” The shudder that ran through Raul satisfied Brandon on a few levels. “I’m going to need to learn more about this ability—later. Did…uh… did the same thing happen with the doctor?” Brandon chuckled. “No. We can control how we affect each other. A non-scintilla human, even a magical human, would probably get burned. But, after our week last year, I did a little research and found out even more of the potentials between a werewolf and scintilla.” “You did research? About us?” “Uh huh. I was sort of hoping to get back down here. Or that you’d come to Boston for a visit. Getting kidnapped added a bit more adventure to us getting together again than I’d planned on.” Brandon picked at the seat between them and confessed, “I wasn’t sure I could ask that either.” “Sparky, did you ever stop to think I kept up our e-mails because I was interested in you?” Raul asked. “Yeah, I did. I was working on getting my nerve up to ask. You made it pretty clear you were amendable to meeting again.” Brandon paused for a minute before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.” Raul glanced at him and grinned. “Yeah?” “You call me Sparky. I like that. It makes me feel good.” Brandon looked down when he felt his cheeks warm. Raul reached over and patted Brandon’s chest. “I’m glad. That was my goal.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the drive to the police station in Green Valley. The closer to their destination, the more jittery Brandon felt. Raul seemed to sense his mood change and reached over, taking Brandon’s hand for a few minutes, squeezing gently. The heat produced from clasping Raul’s hand spread through Brandon. It was comforting and erotic all at the same time. Touching in this way wasn’t something Brandon experienced very much during his life. Some people were afraid he’d electrocute them with even the smallest of touches. Even handshakes or friendly hugs were often withheld after a person discovered Brandon was a scintilla. Raul wasn’t afraid. He welcomed contact—in many forms—with Brandon. As they pulled into a parking spot, Raul said, “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I’ll be there with you the whole time.” Brandon nodded as they went into the police station. There was a short wait at a reception desk until a policewoman arrived. “This is my friend Janey Lamb. She was on the rescue team,” Raul said. The woman, Janey Lamb, nodded once. “Hello. You’re looking much better.” “Thank you for all your help, and everything,” Brandon said. “I feel as if I can’t thank people enough.” “I’m glad we were able to find you.” Janey led them through a door and into a section with desks and offices. They went down a long hallway and into a room with a row of comfortable looking chairs. There was a desk in one corner, empty except for a landline phone. Janey pointed to a window taking up most of one wall. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed it’s a two-way mirror. You can see in, they can’t see or hear out and it doesn’t matter if they’re magical, supernatural or not. Many humans in law enforcement are magical and a percentage are supernaturals, so we’re prepared.” “Okay,” Brandon said softly. He really didn’t know what else to say. “Don’t worry, everyone is nervous. I’ll walk you through everything.” Janey crossed to the desk and picked up the phone. “Go ahead and send them in.” She hung up and turned back to Brandon. “If it’s more comfortable for you, feel free to sit.” Brandon felt as if his feet had taken root. His brain issued orders, but his body didn’t seem to be getting the memos. Sit before you make a fool of yourself and fall down. He started when he felt a hand on his arm. Glancing to the side he saw Raul beside him. Dipping his head to the chairs, Raul said in a low, soft voice, “It’ll be easier to concentrate if you sit.” Brandon moved to the chair Raul gently guided him toward. He sat down, but stayed perched on the edge, bouncing his knee up and down and both hands gripped together. His chest tightened, and his mouth dried up, the taste of acid burned up his throat and into his nose. “Brandon, Sparky, concentrate on my voice and take a few deep breaths.” Raul was reassuring. He radiated calm and his very slight accent was pleasant to listen to. All Brandon could do in the way of a response was to bite his lip and nod while focusing on Raul’s voice. Movement from the opposite side of the observation window grabbed Brandon’s attention. Six men, each with a number card, filed in and stood facing the window. “They can’t see you, or any of us,” Janey reminded him. “Do you recognize any of them?” “Numbers two and five, they were two of the men that kept me hostage,” Brandon said, voice barely above a whisper. “Two is Bill, five is Tom.” “Take your time,” Janey said. “I was with them for days. I don’t need to take my time,” Brandon snapped. Janey folded her hands in front of herself and offered Brandon a sympathetic smile. “I’ll have a short statement prepared for you to sign verifying you identified those men as the kidnappers.” “Sure. Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean….” “No harm done. Believe it or not, people have said a lot worse to me,” Janey said. “Raul did inform us there were two other men involved who are still at large. Lieutenant Ortega has asked the captain to authorize protection for you. That should be made official a little later today.” “I’ve offered him a room at my family hacienda,” Raul explained. Janey smiled and snickered. “I can’t imagine a safer safe house than one filled with werewolves… including your grandmother.” She turned to Brandon. “Don’t let the fact she’s about four foot eight and looks like the stereotypical granny fool you.” “Will do, thanks.” Brandon focused on the floor. “Can we… do I need to still be in here?”  Scintilla is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.   Wyatt nodded. “But Charlie realized partway through he needed a different plan. So, he turns violent. Not a lot, just enough to make sure Janelle’s six-foot-three computer geek of a best friend is sticking close to watch out for her. You already had known past relationships with men who abused you, so you’d be especially watchful. Charlie and whoever he’s working with would know that, having checked out people associated with the targeted jockeys. He grabs Janelle, takes off with her and her car, and then along the route, with you following, he turns off into a field in the direction of some woods. My guess is there were a few accomplices waiting to snatch you or hurt you or do something to force Janelle to throw races in payment for you. However, his plan had a flaw.” “A horse carcass?” Val asked. He glanced at the door and felt a sudden chill. “Someone was watching me all that time?” “Probably. It also probably means one crime had nothing to do with the others. I called those detectives yesterday before I left. They’ll let us know what the necropsy report shows on the filly. If there is a connection, that’s likely the only place to find it,” Wyatt said. “With a broken leg, both Janelle and you were worthless.” “Except I was there and saw Charlie. I didn’t see anyone else.” Val thought for a minute, then added, “But if Charlie and Marcus Paulle are the bad guys, and the Nottings are involved somehow, and they’re all dead, who killed them? The mother?” “She’s got Alzheimer’s and has been in a home for about two years. Carol and Marcus were in the process of selling everything. It was mostly her possessions at the estate sale.” “Okay, so back to my question. If the bad guys are dead, who is running around killing people?” Val asked. “Yeah, that’s the flaw in my theory,” Wyatt said. “How do you even know this stuff? I work in the racing industry and I don’t know how to do these things.” Wyatt chuckled. “To catch them you have to think like them. Insurance scams, major art theft, forgery, and smuggling often involve complicated and long-term schemes. These people are hard to catch for a reason. Oh, did you look at those pictures I e-mailed?” “Yes. I printed them out.” Val went to his bedroom, retrieved the pictures and returned to the kitchen, and added them to the collection on the table. “This is Allen Stein, but years ago. He’s older now. The guy with him I feel I should know, but I can’t put a name to the face. And this is Charlie, but he looks like a kid.” “They’re from when Charlie lived in California, so ten or so years ago,” Wyatt said. “Now to figure out if Stein is involved.” “What do we do?” Val asked quietly. “We pack all this up, and after I drop you at work in the morning I’m meeting with the detectives and turning everything over to them. You should be safe at the track?” Val nodded. “There’s good security—they’d have to storm the place to get into where I work. But whoever it is already knows I live here.” “Maybe not. Things were disrupted, but it would have been just as easy to break in. Marcus Paulle, the Nottings, and Charlie Mills weren’t killed by a pro. They were hit with a blunt object to the head. It’s effective but messy—and makes many people ask many questions. I’m going to say this was done by someone who knew them, and to the killer it was very emotional, it was personal. It might have been a way to flush you out or let you know you can’t hide.” Val shivered. “At least when the threat was from a guy I was dating, I knew where it came from. No looking over my shoulder and wondering.” “Hey,” Wyatt said softly. He stood and moved closer to Val, took his hand, and pulled him out of the chair. “If they wanted in, they would have gotten in, but they didn’t. I’ve been dealing with this sort of crap, in one job or another, since I left college. You’ll be safe, I promise.” “How can you be so sure?” Wyatt took Val’s face in his hands and kissed him before saying “Because I intend to keep you that way.” He kissed Val again, with more urgency and intensity this time. “Now, I know you were looking at some items online, and I had some time to kill—no pun intended.”  Run for the Roses is available in eBook, paperback, Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.  My snippet this week is from Marked Yours, book 1 of Sentries. Todd’s only warning was John’s eyes dropping. Grabbed from behind, Todd was thrown off guard. He kicked out, hitting nothing but air. There was one of him and eight of them. “Nick! Run!” “Todd, stop it!” John snarled at him. “You’re making it worse.” Nick suddenly appeared, looking bewildered. His eyes widened for a few seconds. He didn’t run. In fact, he stood his ground and clenched his hands to fists. “What are you—” “Nicky, run! I mean it. Run now!” Todd glared at his father and then at the other men. “There’re better ways.” He bucked and kicked wildly, trying for freedom. “Hurt him and I’ll—” “Shut up.” One of the other men, someone Todd had known since childhood, shouted and hit him hard enough in the side of the head to make his vision explode in a starburst of color for a few seconds. Find more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group.  Marked Yours is available in eBook, paperback, KoboPlus and through your local library digital catalog.  
Meg Macy has a new MM romance book out, Love is Love book one: All You Need is Love. Longtime friends Jack Riley and Juliette (aka Jules) Baxter are now partners in a new breakfast café, but they are surprised to be confronted by a wave of homophobia in a town known for its inclusive and diverse LGBTQA+ community. Their romantic lives are just as uncertain. Jack, a gay former actor and fashion model, has failed at committed relationships due to his unsavory past – until he meets Reese Baxter, his partner’s handsome, closeted cousin. Jules juggles several polyamorous relationships due to major trust issues, until she’s drawn to an intriguing artist. However his jealousy of her bestie Jack is getting out of hand. Is the vandalism against their café from conservative hate groups, or is it a focused personal attack? Warnings: past trauma; past SA; homophobia; vandalism In the Love Is Love series, three LGBTQA+ contemporary romantic suspense novels explore past hurts, healing, and the vulnerability of gay love and acceptance. Friendship, trust, courage, and resilience unite to combat fear and homophobia in reshaping lives and communities. Universal Buy Link | QueeRomance Ink | GoodreadsExcerpt
Jack glances at the clock. Forty-five minutes to go before closing. His anxiety deflates like a balloon after a needle prick. At Jules’s squeal of delight, Jack turns to see a tall, handsome man enter the café. He’s in a bespoke three-piece navy suit with dark hair and deep blue eyes. The guy avoids his curious gaze and smiles when Jules runs over to greet him with a hug. “Hey, Reese. I hoped you’d come in!” Hmm, the guy looks familiar. Jack figures he’s another Baxter when Jules calls him “cousin.” After cashing out more customers and answering questions, Jack empties the donation bucket again. He better count all this and announce the amount they raised after closing time. Jack checks his watch, the first responder Casio G-Shock that Drew always wore—fifteen minutes left. Most customers have departed. Ed has the kitchen under control, so he heads to the office. He sorts through the bills, ones, fives, and tens. Someone threw in a fifty, whoa. But he’s disappointed at the total amount. Jack hoped for more, but it’s early days for an idea that some people like Paul Baxter think is foolish. Jules peeks her head through the door. “Hey, Anna locked the door. My cousin is curious how much money we raised for veterans.” “Meh. Enough to start the program, at least,” Jack says. “Come on, let’s tell everyone!” She drags him back out front, where a few soiled dishes are left at tables or booths. While Anna checks out the register, Keisha and Jack bus the tables. He breathes a sigh of relief, since that lack of sleep is taking its toll. Reese Baxter lingers near the front counter. He looks in his late twenties, sporting a five o’clock shadow in mid-afternoon. Not baby-faced like him. Jack hates that at twenty-four, he can’t grow a mustache or much of a beard even after a few months. He's only got a few scattered hairs on his chest, too. Damn. Reese observes everything happening around him, quiet and still, from a stool at the far end. Cool and collected, but damned hot with that strong chin and those gorgeous blue eyes. His suit looks crisp, his white sleeves cuffed with gold links. Reese wears an expensive Cartier watch, too. And Italian loafers. Jack knows that brand since he has a similar pair in his closet upstairs. He pushes his reading glasses on top of his head, stretches his back and arms, and exhales a deep breath. Jules looks ready to burst. She grabs a few more bills out of the bucket. “Don’t forget to add these to the count.” Anna and Keisha both use their fists to hammer out a drumroll on the counter. “So what’s the total from the donation bucket?” Jules asks. “Stop stalling. Tell us!” “Two-hundred and forty, plus that extra three bucks.” Jack slides an arm around her and Keisha to form an impromptu line dance. “Not great, but we got time yet to collect more. Come on, kick a little.” “Yeah, let’s do A Chorus Line,” she says with a giggle. Keisha doubles over with laughter, her knot braids swinging. “Ain't no way I’ma try that. Beyoncé’s moves, though, I can do.” “I bet Jack could be a dancer in one of her videos, and he’s just as pretty,” Jules teases. “I’ve got a picture to prove he looks great in makeup and fishnet stockings.” Jack sticks out his tongue. “Thought you trashed that photo.” “Hey, Juli? Come here,” Reese says, beckoning. “You dressed in drag for a party, Jack?” Keisha asks him. Anna crowds closer as well. “Come on, let’s see.” “Jules took that photo and never sent—” They all stop at her loud shriek. “Hey, everyone! My cousin Reese more than doubled the money donated today for veterans’ free breakfasts,” she says, waving a check and jumping up and down. “Now the fund has over five-hundred dollars. Fabulous!” Jack stares at her cousin in shock. “Whoa. I oughta kiss you for that.” Reese raises an eyebrow. “Never kissed a guy before.” His deadpan tone is a tempting challenge. On impulse, Jack grabs him by his tie and tugs him down, one hand behind his head, then kisses his soft mouth. Startled by the guy’s woodsy scent, the intense shiver down his spine, and his quickening heartbeat, the feeling that everything surrounding them disappears, Jack backs away. Clears his throat nervously, given the sparking tension between them. Uh-oh. He’s been punched in the nose before after an unexpected kiss. Jack grins, hoping Reese doesn’t lash out. “Can’t say that no more, huh?” The guy flushes scarlet, matching his own flaming cheeks. Odd that Jules’s cousin doesn’t speak in turn. Jack scrubs damp palms on his jeans. Damn, that kiss was fantastic. Too brief as well, but he isn’t about to push his luck. Author Bio National bestselling author Meg Macy is a reader first and foremost. She’s always found comfort, adventure, and connection in books—which might explain why she now writes stories that offer all three. Best known for her Shamelessly Adorable Teddy Bear Mystery series (Kensington), several Christmas romance novellas with rescue pets, and as one-half of D.E. Ireland, the Agatha Award-nominated duo behind the Eliza Doolittle and Professor Higgins mysteries, Meg has long embraced the cozy end of fiction. Now, she’s rewriting the rules with a new direction: LGBTQA+ romantic suspense —queer characters in a cozy setting, with spice, intrigue, and plenty of emotional payoff. M/M or polyamory, traditional or trailblazing, her stories are comfort reads with a twist.
Unique? Yep. Meg loves breaking the rules. She lives with her writing companion, Mr. Whiskers the cat, and prefers pages to parties any day. Author Website: https://www.megmacy.com Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/authormegmacy/ Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/MegMacyAuthor Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/meg.macy.author/ Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15751255.Meg_Macy Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/meg-macy/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Meg-Macy/author/B01N3KTK1N 
Kyle sucked in a breath and jerked on his bindings again when a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over him. Shivering, he wished he could wrap his arms around himself for even a small amount of warmth. He tried to keep his teeth from chattering, but it was a useless effort. Tied to a chair with lights shining in his eyes, Kyle never saw the faces of any of those who’d taken him from the Militia barracks; they wore the government riot gear he disliked so much. He didn’t understand the charges being leveled against him, that he was a spy and had given the government agents information, dates, times, places where the Militia planned to take action. Despite his protests which rapidly turned to pleas, he was taken to a government office and placed under arrest. He’d done nothing but work hard for the Militia, given them every bit of information he’d had; he’d done nothing wrong. The worst part was he’d been handed over to those very government agents from some unknown agency that wanted him dead months ago. He’d never seen faces, yet he recognized at least one voice, but he couldn’t put a name to the sound and that frustrated him. Two vicious punches landed against his face, snapping his head back. The world spun in sickening waves, blood dripping down the back of his throat, making him gag. Despite the water thrown at him, he was parched, his lips dry and cracking. Rough hands grabbed him under the shoulders, jerking him forward as he was untied from the chair and his arms rebound behind him. Another crack to his face preceded that annoyingly familiar voice. “Give up the rest of what you know. Your boyfriend can’t protect you now, fag.” The idea of who it could be danced around the periphery of Kyle’s mind. He knew that voice, he did, why couldn’t he put a name to it? He was dragged along the floor, feet stumbling to keep up and failing. Thrown to the ground, they left him there, shivering and shuddering against the cold. Despite how he struggled to stay awake and alert, light and sound drifted in and out of focus along with Kyle’s consciousness. Thoughts of Daniel and their sparring matches bloomed in his mind’s eye and faded away. Daniel had been teaching him to defend himself and Kyle had sparred with Pierre and a few others, but none of them had ever beaten him nearly senseless. He wondered how they kept their wits and functioned through something like this. No one was teaching him that form of defense. They came back some time later, he had no idea how much later, and questioned him again. He pleaded with them to stop, trying to point out he’d told them the same story over and over. Kyle had no idea what other information they wanted or why they thought he had it. He was lying on his side, unable to escape when his ribs were repeatedly kicked, knocking the air from him with harsh grunts. When the floor he was on shook and explosions ricocheted around somewhere outside the door, the brutal beating was stopped. Shouting and gunfire sounded close by. Struggling to lift his head, Kyle squinted through bruised and puffy eyelids at the door when it slammed open. It was the invasion in his apartment all over again, only this time Kyle saw the subtle differences in the riot gear. These people stampeding through the door were from the Freedom Militia. Kyle struggled to sit up and get off the floor, but it was impossible. Breathing was torture as he shifted his weight and inched around enough to get a better view of the new arrivals. “Get away from him,” one man snapped. Kyle immediately recognized that voice as Daniel’s. He’d know the man’s rambling gait anywhere. Daniel advanced on the three people still standing over Kyle. They scattered, but the others from the Militia fanned out, meeting them head-on. There was scuffling and fighting. Kyle cringed away, again trying to get up, to get away from his captors. “I said get away from him.” Daniel clasped his hands together and brought them up, driving them into the face-plate of the man beside Kyle.  Strays is available in eBook, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library's digital catalog.  They walked the short distance to the desired area. Brandon was acutely aware of how people looked at them, moving aside, giving Raul and by extension, Brandon, a wide berth. “Let’s start at the motel and work our way out from there,” Raul said. “Shouldn’t we search the motel?” “Not yet, at least I don’t think so. That motel is where she, the sila, collects victims, but I don’t think that’s where they’re working from. If it was, I don’t think they’d have their set up in Green Valley,” Raul pointed out. “They’d house them from the motel and work from there as well, which is risky at best.” “Makes sense.” Brandon pointed to an intersection. “There’s the motel we saw.” They walked by the motel, crossed the street and moved farther down so they could check out all the businesses. Once they reached the first cross street they turned and kept walking in a widening path with the motel at the general center of a circle. There were three churches, one free clinic, a half dozen food stores, a diner, two liquor stores, a homeless shelter, a soup kitchen and tattoo parlor. Raul’s fingers tightened on Brandon’s arm at the same time he whispered, “Across the street. That little grocery store.” Brandon ducked his head and scratched his nose, looking in the direction Raul indicated. “I see her. That’s her.” “Let’s do this.” Brandon glanced at Raul, took a deep breath and nodded once. “I’m ready.”  Scintilla is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library's digital catalog.   My snippet this week is from Strays, a MM scifi romance. “He—” Daniel’s lungs deflated and his head spun. “Why?” “Hell if I know. Something is wrong. There is no reason to suspect him. Hell, he doesn’t even know complete plans until we’re in route half the time.” The side door of the van opened and Sally climbed out, carrying a semi-automatic. She crossed to them and handed Daniel the weapon. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face pale. When she spoke her voice was barely above a whisper. “No one else dies.” Check out all the other amazing snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group.  Strays is available in eBook, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog. |
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