 Kyle was still sitting where Daniel had put him, palms flat against the table, eyes downcast and focused on some spot between them, but now there was a woman beside him, cleaning the wound. She put a bandage over it and patted it, brushing her fingers over the bulge of Kyle’s shoulder and down his arm. Daniel wanted to slap her hand away and tell her to keep her hands off. That unexpected thought made him stop short and simply dump the food and water on the table. “Here, eat.” Daniel cracked open one of the bottles of water and shoved one of the wrapped sandwiches closer to Kyle. This stray was not getting under his skin; he wasn’t. “Okay, well, they’ll take good care of you.” He started to back away, but bumped into Pierre instead. Kyle looked up, dark eyes too bright. His face fell and he bit on his lower lip again. “You’re leaving?” The voice that came out sounded small. “I… look, they’ll take good care of you here, I promise, and I’ll see you soon.” It seemed impossible but the large, dark eyes got bigger; the face he looked at seemed even younger, more lost. Daniel nodded, sidestepped Pierre, and started to walk away. “Thank you,” Kyle’s soft voice had a slight wobble, “for not killing me and all.” Daniel stopped in his tracks, dropped his chin to his chest, and heaved a sigh. He did not do strays. Turning around he grabbed the unopened bottles of water and the two remaining sandwiches off the table and stuffed them into his pack. Holding out his hand at the woman medic, he waggled his fingers. “Give me some extra antiseptic and bandages for a few days.” “Huh?” She looked up at him, surprise all over her face. “Just… please?” When she laid the requested items in his hand, he stuffed those into his pack too. Moving around the table, he slipped his fingers under Kyle’s good shoulder and tugged. “C’mon.” “What?”      My snippet this week is from Quarry, book 2 of The Vampire Guard.  “It looks like whoever this vampire is, they don’t keep accomplices long.” Blair snorted. “So much for honor among thieves.” He glanced at Declan and felt a stab of regret. Declan was a very honorable man. “Excluding you, of course. You’re not like that.” Declan smiled and patted Blair’s hand. “No offense taken. We’ve got to get into that show and see people, look for our suspect. Is there a reception or some other event, like the ones in the videos, for the showing here?” he asked. Blair nodded. “It’s part of every exhibition. There is an event, the tickets are pretty pricey, and the lists of those attending range from critics to collectors to society types who want to mingle.” Read more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Quarry is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.
BOOK BLAST 
Book Title: The Truth of a Kaleidoscope Mind Author: Patrick Bryce Wright Publisher: Wicked Ink Publishing, Ltd. Release Date: October 29, 2024 Pairing: MMF Tense/POV: third person, past tense, single POV Genres: Paranormal horror, psychological horror Tropes: Haunted house, dark family secret, damaged guy finds love, childhood friends to lovers Themes: Healing from trauma, found family Heat Rating: 3 flames Length: 82 000 words/ 300 pages It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger. Universal Buy Link 
When cleaning his dead mother’s cellar, Fredrick discovers his family’s dark secrets, unleashing angry spirits in the house that threaten both him and his new love. Shorter blurb When Fredrick Anderson’s mother dies, he cleans her house and discovers his diary in the cellar. To his shock, it reveals what his mind hid from him: his parents abused him. The family secrets provoke the ghosts haunting the house. As the spirits threaten his life, Fredrick must uncover the truth of his family’s traumas and tragedies both to survive and find love. Longer Blurb In a 1950s Craftsman house steeped in the weight of the departed, Fredrick Michael Anderson faces a daunting task: preparing his late mother's home for auction. Battling memories of a turbulent childhood marred by gender conflicts, Fredrick delves into the cellar alongside his faithful friend. Amidst unearthed relics, Fredrick stumbles upon his locked diary, triggering a chilling revelation. Within its pages lie secrets of his father's sinister past, fracturing Fredrick's fragile psyche. Unleashed by the diary's opening are dormant spirits—some benevolent, others malevolent. As Fredrick grapples with Dissociative Identity Disorder, his mind splinters into distinct personalities. Amidst this psychological turmoil, a battle of good and evil ensues within the haunted confines of his home. Confronting his family's dark truths, Fredrick must navigate the volatile terrain of his own mind. Cryptic messages from a flapper ghost serve as a guide, unraveling his family's sinister history. To survive the malevolent forces unleashed by the diary, Fredrick must confront his inner demons, embracing painful truths and finding strength within. In this supernatural horror tale, the boundary between the paranormal and the psychological blurs, leaving Fredrick to confront the ghosts of his past—and possibly find love along the way. Excerpt The spirit of Fredrick’s mom appeared in front of the pantry doors. Like the day before, she wore jeans with a long-sleeved blue t-shirt. Orange conch earrings still dangled from her ears. She narrowed her eyes at them. “God!” Toni shot to his feet, and Largo jumped off the table and scrambled out of the room. Chalsey froze, her can halfway to the can opener. “I told you it’s none of your business!” Marilyn Smith Anderson snapped. Also like before, her short, permed hair was dyed brown in a perfect imitation of life. “Quit digging around in my life. All three of you have secrets you want to keep. So stay out of mine.” She pointed at the angel figurine collection. “And put my angels back where you found them! I didn’t give you permission to get rid of my possessions.” The entity vanished. Fredrick stared at the empty spot, too numb to panic. Sounds just like her. Can’t be her. But sounds just like her. Toni had pressed himself into the kitchen corner. Chalsey set down the can with a thump, as if her arm muscles gave out. The electricity popped back on, a dozen electronic devices beeping. “Well. That happened.” Fredrick turned toward Toni and discovered he was pale and sweating. I bet he’ll leave and never come back. “My life: the sudden horror novel. I write horror. I didn’t expect to live it.” You already have lived it, said a conversational voice in his mind. That’s why you write it. Fredrick cringed. Touché. “Okay. Why don’t you go outside into the sunlight?” Behold the power of shock. Now I’m as calm as Chalsey. Or fake calm, anyway. “Can you stand or sit on the grass and ground yourself?” “Mmm,” was the extent of Toni’s reply. He edged out of the corner, slipped around Fredrick, and shot out the back door. “That’s what you saw yesterday?” Chalsey’s tone was sharp. “Yep.” Chalsey shook her head. “That’s the most powerful evil entity I have ever seen. Or even heard of.” Her voice was strained. “That has to be the demon.” “My mom died and became a demon?” Fredrick was only half-joking, and he burst into laughter. “God, that’s amazing!” Even to his own ears, his laughter sounded hysterical. My mom, the demon! Abruptly, with no warning inside of himself, Fredrick grabbed an angel off the counter and hurled it at the floor with all his strength. It shattered, tiny white shards flying everywhere. “You bitch! You tortured me!” Chalsey jumped and knocked into the refrigerator. “God! Sorry. I’ll clean that up in a minute.” Fredrick raced out the door after Toni, needing fresh air and a large, open space. The blasting heat of the June sun hit Fredrick’s face, and he inhaled the thick, humid air. Get it together, man. You’ve got to get it together. Throwing things like an angry teenager isn’t gonna cut it. Fredrick closed his eyes and lifted his face, the sunlight halfway piercing his eyelids. Mother Mary, if you’re real, deliver me. About the Author I’m a quirky English professor with tattoos, piercings, and an addiction to supernatural thriller, horror, fantasy, and science fiction. I'm proudly neurodivergent, third gender, and a trauma survivor, all things often reflected in my novels. I have degrees in both English and psychology, both of which inform my writing. In my free time, I enjoy hiking, off-road biking, and pyrography. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter Instagram | Pinterest | Medium.com Newsletter Sign-up/Substack | TikTok | Blue Sky Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for a chance to win one of five ebook copies of Patrick's “sweet love” MM short story, Dancing at the Edge 
 Riece rolled to the side, grabbed the bag’s strap and at the same time, began to shove off the ground. A bolt whizzed through the air, hitting the ground inches from Riece. He stared at it wide-eyed for a few seconds before stumbling forward. Mason reached the top of the net. He grabbed the wire across the top and flung himself over. Not bothering to try to climb down, Mason hung from the top for a second before letting go and dropping to the ground. A bolt hit the tree right in front of Mason. Both shots were very near misses. Riece was a big target, Mason an even bigger target, yet neither shot hit them. He had a hard time believing these guys had such bad aim, which meant they were missing on purpose. The only reason he could come up with was that Riece and he were being driven in the direction the hunters wanted them to go. Right now Mason saw no other choice than to run in the single direction open to them. He’d think about why later. It took Mason a second after he landed to regain his balance and charge at Riece. Barely slowing down, he grabbed Riece’s arm with one hand, the bag with the other, and took his own advice and ran. Three more bolts hit the ground near their feet. The thunk of additional bolts hitting the trees reverberated in Mason’s ears. They sprinted away from the campsite, heading generally back the way they’d come. As soon as it was possible, Mason veered farther northwest. They could travel downhill first and gain ground. Eventually they’d need to go uphill, but hopefully they’d be farther away from their pursuers. At the bottom of the hill, the trees thinned out in one direction and remained constant in the other. When Mason tried running for the cover of the thicker trees, he heard a gunshot. Riece yelped and stumbled. A crossbow bolt careened by, coming far too close to Mason’s head for comfort. He slid to the ground, taking Riece with him. Mason rolled so he could see the trail behind them and took Riece by the shoulders. “Were you hit?” “I-I d-don’t know. I think so.” Riece held out one arm and turned it so they could both see. “I felt a nasty sting. Like the biggest bee ever.” A gash ran along the inside of Riece’s upper arm. It wasn’t deep or life threatening, but Mason figured it had to hurt like hell. Red oozed from the wound and trickled in a path along the muscle grooves of Riece’s arm. “C’mon.” Mason stood and yanked Riece after him. “We have to find somewhere and take care of this.” The position of Riece’s wound sent cold spikes through Mason’s chest. “I’m okay.” “You’re bleeding. The inside of your arm is wounded. That shot was meant for your torso. It was a missed shot meant to bring you down. Those people aren’t the only hunters in this area, and the four-legged kind have a far better sense of smell.” Mason led the way away from the trees. The land dipped, but not as steeply as it had at the gully. There were fewer trees for cover and more grass and shrubs. They ran along the base of the hill. Riece tugged on Mason’s arm, pointing to a darker spot along the hillside. “There,” he said. Mason nodded and followed Riece to the possible bit of shelter. It wasn’t really so much a cave as an indent in the hill. There was enough room for them to squeeze inside and out of sight. Mason pulled some grass closer to the opening, then turned and used both feet to shove dirt toward it in an effort to disguise the fact they’d gone inside. “Do you think they saw us?” “Don’t ever think otherwise until you can prove it.” Holding his finger to his lips, Mason pushed Riece farther back and at the same time inched toward the opening. He held his breath and listened for a bit before shaking his head. “I don’t hear anyone.” He turned back to Riece. “Let’s do something about that arm.” Riece was rifling through the bear bag. “Our canteen is here, filled with water. The first aid kit,” he said and pulled it out and dropped it on the ground beside his leg. “Our phones are gone.” Mason opened the first aid kit and took Riece’s arm. “It was a long shot that they’d leave our stuff alone.” He took alcohol wipes from the kit and tore them open. “They obviously found our camp and probably reasoned we’d go back there for supplies and communications.” Mason wiped the gash on Riece’s arm clean. Riece sucked in a harsh breath and hissed, then bit down on his lip. Mason ran one hand through his hair and said softly, “Sorry.” He smoothed a Telfa pad over the wound and used some gauze wrapped around Riece’s arm to make sure it stayed there. “That’ll do for now and keep you from attracting a curious bear.” When Riece chuckled Mason looked at him and frowned. “That wasn’t a joke.”       Lucas sipped his drink and shrugged. “I don’t know.” Forge leaned his elbow against the bar and swiveled so he faced Lucas. “What don’t you know about?” “I….” Lucas opened his mouth and didn’t know how to put his feelings into words, so he shut it again. “Luke, you are my friend. As your friend I need to remind you I am a bored detective stuck at a boring political event wearing a tie Declan tied as if he were trying to strangle me with it, and I’m armed. I’m begging you, save me.” That made Lucas laugh. Forge always cheered him up. “Sometimes, once in a while, I miss the old days. I love Declan, but this bonding thing sort of snuck up on me, you know? I guess even for me, change is…a challenge.” “What was it you told me when Blair came to Boggslake? You don’t give up all the people in your life when your soulmate comes along.” “I said that?” Lucas asked. “More or less,” Forge said. “Look, you can’t decide yes or no on a soulbond. We found out how well it went with Blair and me. Anyway, that ship’s sailed, my friend. You and Declan are bonded—” “That’s not the issue,” Lucas cut him off. “It’s just that sometimes there is too much togetherness. Sometimes I’d like time alone or with my friend. It’s something I found I really liked, and I miss it.” Forge nodded. “I get it. With a little….” He held up one finger and frowned. A quick look around the room and Forge’s gaze settled on a man and woman. Lucas leaned closer so he could hear what was being said through Forge’s earbud. “We can’t identify that couple. They weren’t here earlier, and they’re not on our list. Do you know them?” It was Samuels’s voice. Lucas met Forge’s gaze and shook his head. Forge turned so it looked like he was talking to Lucas and said, “No, neither Dr. Coate nor I recognize them.” Tapping Forge’s forearm, Lucas dipped his head at Declan and grinned. “We’ll get you some ID. Give me five minutes,” Forge said. He pressed the earbud and removed it, dumping it in his pocket. The wristband followed a second later. “It’s better they don’t know about this part.” He stood, straightened, and whispered, “Declan. See the woman in the red dress and the man with her at my three o’clock?” Across the room Lucas watched as Declan casually turned, gaze sweeping the area before he tugged on his sleeve once. “That’s a yes,” Forge told Lucas. Using two fingers he pretended to reach into Lucas’s pocket, then said quietly, “On both.” Reaching out, he put one arm around Lucas’s shoulders and guided him toward the door near where the couple stood. “You must have eaten a bad crab cake.” Lucas made a big show of slouching against Forge and making retching noises. A few people looked at them and moved out of their way. He got a glimpse of Declan leaning in to talk to Blair. Then they both looked at the spot between Forge and Lucas and the couple. Coughing and holding his stomach, Lucas stumbled away from Forge and into the woman. “Oh, I’m…sorry…I….” The woman turned and with lightning speed Forge reached out and bumped her elbow, causing her to upend her drink all over herself. Lucas’s gaze shifted to Declan and Blair. They were in one spot across the room, and in the next instant the exit doors on the other side of the room swung shut. “The ladies’ room is right through there.” Lucas pointed the way. He tried wiping her off with napkins he snatched from the bar, but she stormed off, her gentleman friend following her. Forge took his elbow and nodded to the exit. “Come on.” Lucas had to quickstep to keep pace with Forge. They left the ballroom for the hotel’s main corridor leading to the lobby. Forge looked one way and Lucas the other. Snagging Forge’s sleeve, Lucas said in a low voice, “Over there.” Code Name Jack Rabbit is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.    BLOG TOUR 
Book Title: How To Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter! Author: Luke Stoffel Publisher: Cinderly Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel Release Date: February 1, 2025 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: past tense/first person Genres: Contemporary, Humor, Fictionalized Memoir Tropes: Coming-of-Age, Flawed Hero, Small-Town Dreamer, Cultural Satire, Underdog Story Themes: Coming out, Resilience, Self-Discovery, 80s Nostalgia, Hope and Optimism Heat Rating: 2 flames Length: 72 000 words/ 263 pages It is standalone not a series, but it has a related book coming in 2026. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
How To Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter! Blurb How to Win a Million Dollars is a madcap, self-deprecating, laugh-out-loud coming-of-age story that reads like David Sedaris meets Heartstopper, told as Ready Player One. It takes readers on an adventure through the wildly inventive, sometimes-questionable, but always entertaining schemes of a boy who would do anything to make it big. Growing up as a gay Catholic schoolboy in a tiny Mississippi River town surrounded by cornfields, Luke’s imagination was constantly set on fire by million-dollar daydreams and DIY hustles. Whether it was hunting down the missing Cap’n Crunch or gaming McDonald’s Monopoly, no scheme was too ridiculous, no shortcut too far-fetched. With his trusty Hustler bike and a mountain of determination, Luke didn’t just dream—he plotted. Set in the 1980s, this is the story of a kid with a knack for scamming, hustling, and occasionally crashing and burning—all in the pursuit of that elusive big win. From navigating a Catholic school playground full of bullies to trying to “make it” out of a blue-collar family, Luke was always on the move, cooking up his next big adventure. Dragging his little sister—turned faithful sidekick—into trouble at every turn, her sweet voice was always in his ear, making us wonder: is he conning her, or is she saving him from himself? As Luke grew up, so did the schemes—transforming into a Broadway Cinderella story of sorts, ditching it all for the artist’s life in Paris, and even getting cursed by a vengeful Hawaiian god. With each crazy plan, the stakes got higher, the twists got weirder, and Luke had to ask himself the big questions: Can you beat the system, or will the system beat you? And what do you do when your dreams—and all your wildest schemes—start to crumble? Through hilarity, heartbreak, and the relentless pursuit of the American Dream, How to Win a Million Dollars explores the glittering highs and crushing lows of chasing success in a world shaped by Reaganomics, dyslexia, and the crumbling façade of opportunity. From paperboy scams to glitter-filled art shows, this story is proof that while everything can fall apart at any moment, the journey—chaotic, messy, and wildly imperfect—is the real prize. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still a million-dollar dream out there, waiting to be won. Excerpt Chapter 1: Cereal Entrepreneur The first time I tried to win a million dollars, it was the sweltering summer of 1985, and the Mississippi River was swollen and threatening to spill over its banks. The town was on edge, but thanks to the giant quarry wall my grandpa helped build back in the ‘50s, we were safe from the river’s fury. It was during that unforgettable summer when Cap’n Crunch went missing, and panic spread across the nation like wildfire. Supermarkets were packed with towering displays of Cap’n Crunch, a mountain of yellow and blue boxes stretching to the ceiling. But when you looked up, there was no Captain. His jovial face had vanished, leaving behind nothing but dotted lines and a big question mark. He had disappeared, zeroed out. Zoinks! What was I to do? The commercials made it sound so simple: find the Captain, restore him to his cereal kingdom, and win ONE MILLION DOLLARS. For a kid like me, the stakes couldn’t have been higher. A million dollars wasn’t just a number—it was a golden ticket, a way out of this tiny Mississippi River town. Every Saturday morning, I’d sit in my parents’ living room—a shrine to America’s Bicentennial celebration. The royal blue carpet stretched wall to wall, its plush fibers worn thin in front of the TV. A deep red couch commanded the room like a throne, while gold curtains depicting Revolutionary War scenes framed the windows. It was like 1776 had crashed into 1980s suburbia, and somehow, we were still stuck suspended in between. As my brothers and sisters tormented each other in the background, I was glued to the TV. The old box hummed as commercials blared, demanding kids like me solve the mystery, save the Captain, and claim the prize. The urgency of it all buzzed in my chest, electrifying the air around me. To a seven-year-old like me, a million dollars wasn’t just thrilling—it was everything. It meant a chance to escape this town, this life, and find something more. In the afternoons, when the noise at home became too much, I’d head for the bluffs. The familiar path wound through tall grass that swayed gently in the breeze, the green hills rolling endlessly toward the horizon. I’d climb to my favorite perch and sit there for hours, the town spread out below me like a miniature toy train set. The limestone clock tower stood proudly at the center, surrounded by the river, the factories, and the steeples of the churches. Everything looked so small from up here, but somehow, it felt even smaller at eye level. You see, up close, the town was just a second-rate version of Main Street USA, stripped of all the charm and magic of Disneyland. Most of the families here were like mine—working-class and stuck. I lived on the North End, what people would call the wrong side of the tracks, where factory workers like my dad scraped by. I was a short, scrawny kid with wavy dishwater blond hair, wearing tattered dungaree shorts that were practically a second skin during the summer, their faded denim streaked with dirt and grass stains. My skin was golden tan from hours in the sun, but my legs were a patchwork of scars from chigger bites I couldn’t stop picking. Sitting cross-legged on the warm earth, absently scratching at the bites, my mind churned, methodically piecing together a plan. The Captain was missing. My ticket to freedom was hidden somewhere out there, and all I had to do was find it. Yet from this vantage point, the possibility of something greater still felt wildly out of reach. A million dollars meant escape, and as I sat on that bluff, staring out at the endless rows of cornfields, I swore to myself I was going to find it. Each week, I’d beg my mom to let me tag along to the grocery store. Econofoods smelled like a strange mix of fresh produce and fake lemon cleaning products that clung to the air. The linoleum floors were scuffed and worn down from years of shopping carts rattling over them and the steady shuffle of feet. Jess, my five-year-old sister, was always a whirlwind of energy, darting between aisles like a tiny tornado. She had our dad’s button nose and her favorite white, frilly cotton top tucked into neatly pressed khaki shorts. Her tiny diamond stud earrings, pierced at Claire’s in the mall when she was a baby, sparkled as she twirled through the store. Her short brown pixie cut bobbed with every step, her energy infectiously lighthearted even as I plotted my next move. About the Author 
Luke Stoffel (b. 1978) Growing up a gay Catholic schoolboy on the banks of the Mississippi came with its own cross to bear. Confined by the cornfields of small-town Iowa, Luke’s understanding of God and his yearning for a world beyond began to take shape—often while nursing a bloody nose on the playground. The first thing Jesus taught him was how to hate himself; but the first thing the world taught him was how vast his possibilities were. Luke is an accomplished artist and author, with several books available on Amazon, including The Easy Bake Unicorn Cookbook, The Art of Tarot: A History and Guidebook, and his debut novel How to Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter! His second, follow-up novel, In Over Your Head, is set to release in 2026. Additionally, his art and photography are featured in his ongoing book series The Noble Path. Stepping off the plane in Thailand was like landing on Mars. Surrounded by towering golden stupas, and realizing there was something beyond the confines of Christ, became an explosive creative catalyst. Having visited over 40 countries, Stoffel channels the diverse cultures he’s encountered into his art. His work explores spirituality in a vibrant, pop fantasy style, offering American audiences a glimpse into the world’s rich religious and cultural tapestries. Recognized as one of NYC’s top LGBTQ+ artists by GLAAD he has been showcased by prestigious organizations like the American Foundation for AIDS Research, and the Matthew Shepard foundation. His art and photography have appeared on Bravo’s Million Dollar Listing, in the New York Times, Huffington Post, AM New York, Hawaiian Airlines Magazines, and on the cover of Next Magazine. His artistic contributions have earned him the Starving Artist Award, along with a commission for Ralph Lauren’s daughter. His art has graced iconic New York venues like the Puck Building, The Art Directors Club, The Prince George Gallery, GalleryBar, and New World Stages. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a Collector's Edition or one of 5 ebooks 
My snippet this week is from Strays, my scifi romance. Then Pierre said the words Daniel never expected. “The first suspect was Kyle. Keller said it was out of his hands. He turned Kyle over to the government.” “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.”  Strays is available is eBook and through Kindle Unlimited. There are many more snippets to be read in
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