 Hello Snippetteers! This week my snippet is from Edge Jump!  Waving back, Brett didn’t make the slightest effort to take his eyes off Rylan. He’d watched him skate with Celia, but rarely live, it was almost always on video or television. Seeing Rylan skate in person made Brett’s heart beat a bit faster and his groin warm, which surprised him enough to intensify his feelings. “Hi. It’s been a while.” Rylan glided to a stop in front of Brett and held out his hand. “I should’ve come to the airport and met you, but I—” “Then I wouldn’t have been able to watch you practice.” Brett held onto Rylan’s hand a bit longer than necessary. Rylan didn’t seem to mind. Rylan turned and looked around the rink watching the other skaters for a few seconds then turned back to Brett. “I didn’t know what else to do or where to go so I came here. It helps me.” Find many more diverse snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Edge Jump is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and Kobo Plus and other online booksellers.  NEW RELEASE and SERIES TOUR Pitch & Sickle - The Diabolus Chronicles by D K Girl An MM Gaslamp Fantasy Series 
NEW RELEASE - BOOK 6 Book Title: The Herlequin – Pitch & Sickle Book Six Author: D K Girl Length: 129 000 words Release Date: April 27, 2023 Genre: MM Historical Fantasy It is not a standalone story and ends on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
The journey to Blood Lake has begun... Blurb CHECK OUT THE OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES BOOK 1 Book Title: The Bandalore - Pitch & Sickle Book One Cover Artist: Deranged Doctor Designs Release Date: February 25, 2021 Heat Rating: 2 flames Length: 285 pages Genre: Historical Fantasy MM Tropes: Slow, slow burn, opposites attract Themes: Loneliness and friendship It is not a standalone book. This is the first book in the Gaslamp Fantasy series, The Diabolus Chronicles. It has an unresolved storyline rather than an outright cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Silas Mercer died once. He’d rather not do it again. Blurb 1885 London, England Silas Mercer died once. He’d rather not do it again. On his return to the world of the living, Silas finds himself in the hands of the mysterious Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. The Order has London society clamouring for their services, with tarot readings, seances and exorcisms among their arcane specialities. Now they seem intent on making Silas their newest recruit. But they want far more from him than cheap parlour tricks. When the Order partners him with the scandalous rake, Tobias Astaroth, Silas's new life is turned on its head in more ways than one. Tobias is quick-tempered, dangerously charming, and far more than the man he seems. For Silas, surviving what the Order has planned for him will be a challenge. But finding a way to survive Tobias Astaroth could prove impossible. A slow-burn MM Gaslamp Fantasy series. Contains: Sexual content, violence and rather a lot of cursing. This is the first book in the thrilling Gaslamp Fantasy series, The Diabolus Chronicles BOOK 2 Book Title: The Verderer - Pitch & Sickle Book Two Length: 309 pages Release Date: June 30, 2021 Genres: MM Fantasy, Gaslamp Fantasy, Historical Fantasy Tropes: Opposites attract, Stuck together, Emotional scars It is not a standalone story. The overarching storyline continues but issues are resolved for the immediate storyline. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Life as a servant of death has its challenges. But the biggest one of all is Silas’s daemonic guardian, Pitch. Blurb Silas Mercer is a dead man walking. And the mysterious Order of the Golden Dawn have big plans for their newest ankou and his deathly bandalore. Life as a servant of death has its challenges. But the biggest one of all is Silas’s daemonic guardian, Pitch. He may look like heaven, but he’s making Silas's life all kinds of hell. The daemon is arrogant, egotistical and his appetite for violence and tea cakes is fast outgrowing the small village where they have been recuperating since their run-in with Black Annis. Now, the increasingly unstable Blight is causing new havoc, and fresh monstrosities are emerging. Pitch and Sickle are back in the saddle, and on their way to the haunted Forest of Dean. But can Silas rely on his guardian’s protection? Or will Pitch prove to be the most dangerous encounter of all? BOOK 3 Book Title: The Skriker - Pitch & Sickle Book Three Length: 369 pages Release Date: October 20, 2021 Genres: MM Fantasy, Gaslamp Fantasy, Historical Fantasy Tropes: Opposites attract, Stuck together, Emotional scars It is not a standalone story. The overarching storyline continues but issues are resolved for the immediate storyline. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Silas Mercer has faced wily boggarts, mad faerie queens and enraged forest spirits. But can he withstand a daemon who is losing his mind? Blurb Silas Mercer has faced wily boggarts, mad faerie queens and enraged forest spirits. But can he withstand a daemon who is losing his mind? Pitch and Sickle are left bruised, battered and reeling after their confrontation with the Verderer. They have learned a startling truth behind the arrowhead that wounded Silas, a truth that must be taken to the Lady Satine and the Order without delay. But his encounters in the Forest of Dean have effected Pitch in alarming ways. The daemon’s body may have healed but his erratic behaviour and wildly unpredictable temper grow ever more concerning. Silas owes his life to Pitch. Their experience in the forest has brought them a closeness he could not have imagined possible. But what can he do for a daemon who is losing his way? And how long will Silas survive, if he must ride alone? BOOK 4 Book Title: The Greensward - Pitch & Sickle Book Four Length: 412 pages Release Date: April 13, 2022 Genres: MM Fantasy, Gaslamp Fantasy, Historical Fantasy Tropes: Opposites attract, Stuck together, Emotional scars It is not a standalone story. The overarching storyline continues but issues are resolved for the immediate storyline. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
The Lady’s Horsemen are riding out once more. Carrying death’s scythe to where tormented souls linger. But what awaits them in a world where divine magick has returned? Blurb The Lady’s Horsemen are riding out once more. Carrying death’s scythe to where tormented souls linger. But what awaits them in a world where divine magick has returned? Pitch is recovered from the injuries he received in the Forest of Dean, and Silas won’t soon forget the part he played in setting his guardian back on his feet. The ankou and the daemon have been reunited in a most unexpected and intimate way, but barely have they caught their breath when a new threat arises. A tortured spirit is frightening both the living and the dead along the roads of Devon. But is this soul a monster that must be stopped, or another pawn in the necromancer’s mysterious game? With Azazel’s magick re-emerging after hundreds of years, maleficium plagues the world once more. But who is wielding the forbidden arcane magick of the angels? Do they work alone? And why are they so intent on harassing the Lady’s Horsemen? Silas has never felt stronger, or more determined to live up to the Order’s high expectations. He’s faced the walking dead, outwitted the enchanted Hall, and gained an ally in the skriker. But he’s not sure he’s equipped to handle his growing attraction to a troubled daemon. And Silas fears that getting any closer to Pitch and his tragic secrets may prove as dangerous as the monsters they are riding to face. BOOK 5 Book Title: The Fulbourn – Pitch & Sickle Book Five Author: D K Girl Publisher: Lucas Publishing Length: 133Kwords/ 458 pages Release Date: October 20, 2022 It is not a standalone story. While it does not end on a cliffhanger, there are some unresolved issues. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
When the King of Daemonkind comes to call, be ready for hell to follow. Blurb After Lucifer’s disturbing visit, the quest to destroy the Blight takes on a desperate urgency. Finding Lieutenant Edward Charters is paramount. But what role does a mortal man play in Seraphiel’s dangerous game? The angel has sent Pitch a talisman from beyond the grave, a seemingly innocuous watch that may be the key to ending the Watcher King’s dark legacy. But to learn its secret Pitch and Silas must find the man intended to carry it. As the search for the lieutenant begins, the Horsemen find themselves gifted with something more precious than any angelic token. An evening of unexpected freedom. But what price will they pay for choosing breathless pleasure over rigid duty? The Morrigan have not forgiven the destruction at the greensward. They are prepared to do whatever it takes to rid themselves of the Horsemen and heed the Watcher King's ghostly call. The Fulbourn is Pitch and Silas's greatest threat yet. They are closer than ever before but will that fragile new bond be enough to save them? Excerpt from ‘The Bandalore-Pitch & Sickle Book One’ A rather pretty gentleman, sharp featured, pale and fine, stepped into the room with a flourish of raised hands. His tousled light brown hair was wild about his shoulders, and his eyes so green it was as though emeralds had been pressed into the sockets. ‘Let the amusements begin…or should I say…continue.’ His velvet coat, a red almost as bold as the woman’s lips, was unbuttoned, revealing a black shirt with a silver brocade of Chinese dragons upon it. An elaborate ruffling of silk tumbled from the collar and covered a good portion of his chest. His choice of trousers was equally curious, a rather outdated fall-front style in black silk. The baron groaned, but his smile was ever-present. ‘Good god, man, we thought you two would never be done.’ ‘Perfection takes time, does it not?’ ‘Take your seat, you rascal, and stop your showmanship, at least just for a moment.’ Silas scratched his right palm absently, attempting to stymie the prickle. Like many things about himself he wasn’t certain of his age, his late twenties was likely, much the same as the man who had just swept into the room. Mr Astaroth tilted his head, pursing lips that held a near-perfect Cupid’s bow. ‘Am I to stand aside so another showman can perform?’ ‘Exactly,’ the baron declared. As Mr Astaroth made his way to his seat with his companion, he had a notable effect on those in attendance. The ladies all at once seemed incapable of deciding how they should adjust their gowns upon their seats, and the men were equally as fidgety. All of them were fixated on Mr Astaroth’s procession across the room. The man had not spared Silas a glance yet, even when he was deriding him, and Silas had no issue with that at all. He was not sure he’d enjoy the pierce of those green eyes upon him. But he could not deny there was indeed something mesmerising about the lad, the sway of his hips, the coiled tension in his body that gave the impression he might suddenly leap unannounced in any direction. Mr Astaroth stopped to take a glass of champagne from the tray offered by a somewhat flustered young footman. The liquid wobbled in its crystal confines, and the boy’s eyes darted so quickly between the floor and the man before him, it was as though he’d lost control of his eyeballs. ‘Thank you, kind sir. What a wonderful job you do.’ Mr Astaroth’s smile was discomfortingly suggestive, his whispered appreciation of the boy’s offering far too intimate, and the serving boy nearly stumbled over his own feet to move away. Mr Astaroth was slender, not remarkable in height, and the angles of his face were delicate to the point of being feminine, but he held a presence that quite overwhelmed the room. Silas’s gaze moved down the length of the man’s body to his feet. He wore heeled boots, which meant he was shorter than first impressions allowed. The glean of polished leather distracted Silas from what became startlingly obvious a moment later. He tensed and closed his eyes a second, as though that might change things. But alas it was not to be. The ground at Tobias Astaroth’s feet held no shadow. Whoever this man was, he was not, for all intents and purposes, human. Silas took hold of the arms of the chair, filled with the sudden desire to depart. No one had thought to instruct him on an encounter such as this. ‘Stop frightening the help and get your arse on a chair,’ declared the bespectacled man at Silas’s left. ‘We know how you hate to have attention diverted from you, so do try and behave, Pitch old boy.’ Evidently the group knew the man well enough to have endowed him with a nickname. Silas could only imagine its origins. ‘Oh Brenton,’ Victoria, Mr Astaroth’s companion, said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, Tobias has been on his best behaviour all evening.’ She had taken her seat and leaned her elbows upon the table, utterly at ease. ‘Thank you, my dear,’ Mr Astaroth said. ‘You are as sensible as you are extremely talented in the art of, what were we calling it? Tarot reading.’ He tilted his glass towards her before turning to Silas. The air quite vanished from Silas’s lungs beneath the daggers of his emerald stare. ‘How very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr Mercer. I do hope we are in for a wonderful show.’ About the Author Danielle K Girl is an Aussie who lives in stunning Tasmania with her three furkids, cats Luffy, Sweetie and Ren. Her idea of heaven is a farm full of rescue animals, with a vegie garden that sprouts peanut M&M’s and chocolate wheaten biscuits. When she’s not keyboard-deep in mysterious, beguiling worlds, she is binge watching K-Dramas, listening to K-Pop or hiking through the beautiful Tasmanian wilderness. 
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Book Title: Matebond Dance (D’Vaire, Book 36) Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations Release Date: April 27, 2023 Genres: MM Fantasy/Paranormal Romance Tropes: Fated mates Themes: Enemies to lovers Heat Rating: 3 flames Length: 95 600 words It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
The only thing these two mates have left in common is dance and scorn. Blurb Shane is a talented dancer, adores his family, and cannot imagine the world without his best friend. Fate made him a shifter, and at seventeen, Shane discovers the boy he has been crushing on for years is his mate. Sadly, Shane’s best friend is not interested in a romantic relationship—especially not with a man. Gryphon cannot handle learning that Shane is his mate. For most of their childhood, they dreamed of sharing a stage and confided their innocent secrets. But Gryphon never thought of Shane as a potential love interest. Shane is a man, and Gryphon is not gay. Confused and terrified, Gryphon asks Shane to end their matebond forever. Destroyed by Gryphon’s rejection and refusing to defy the goddess who put them together, Shane leaves everything behind and starts fresh thousands of miles away. Nine years later, both men are accomplished dancers and have barely spoken in years, despite the connection they hide from nearly everyone. Shane is called home to help his father, and he must confront his past—and the other half of his soul. With time and space, Gryphon has cast aside the lies he once told himself, and he no longer pretends he is not attracted to Shane. However, Shane has zero interest in reconciliation, and there may be no salvaging their matebond. The choreography of two devoted lovers sets sparks flying, but these two mates have little left between them but spite. Excerpt Shane was used to having to catch on to routines swiftly, and it was expected of a dancer to learn without needing to be told repeatedly. But Shane wanted to invite no comment on his abilities or performance, so he concentrated harder than ever as they wound through the first hour of rehearsal. When Shane figured out that he’d be within inches of Gryphon for the entire thing, he wished he’d asked more questions. The last thing he wanted was the rich scent of pine trees distracting him or the curiosity of his pony about their mate. His first shift had been weeks before Shane left Nevada, so his beast wasn’t that familiar with Gryphon or his griffin. Or the way Gryphon stirred up every one of Shane’s senses just by existing. It was annoying, and he was already feeling worn out by midday. Ian called out for a five-minute break, and Shane wanted to run from the room without ever returning. “You picked up the steps quickly,” Gryphon said as Shane sat on the floor and stretched. “Don’t sound so surprised, and stop towering over me. The room is big enough for you to pick another spot to stretch.” Normally Shane took no issue with anyone’s height, but it was annoying that Gryphon topped him by about six or seven inches. “I guess you aren’t going to try to be friendly.” Shane didn’t bother glancing up at Gryphon. “No, I’m not. Now go away.” “You’re going to have to talk to me at some point.” Bracing his elbows on the floor since his legs were in a full split, he glared at Gryphon. “Why would I have to do that?” “Seriously? You’re going to pretend—” “Do not start this shit at work,” Shane snapped. “In this room, you act professional. Whatever else exists between us has nothing to do with this show or what is expected of us as dancers, so you leave that crap at the door. Do you understand?” Without a word, Gryphon pivoted on his heel and stalked off. If Shane didn’t immediately look away and enjoyed the taut muscles of Gryphon’s ass as he angrily crossed the room, then it was his business. Once Gryphon was occupied elsewhere, Shane focused on himself and ensuring his brain had held on to the choreography by playing it through his head. His personal life was not allowed to follow him into a rehearsal or show, and he’d be damned if he’d discuss his matebond at work. Shane had no desire to debate it afterward either, and his plan was to leave Nevada exactly how he’d done so nine years ago. Gryphon had made his choice. They were not going to honor Fate, but Shane’s stance hadn’t changed. But maybe it should. Lightning hadn’t charged from the sky to smite Shane, and he’d been denying his mate for nearly a decade. His beast would never be happy if he and Gryphon continued this way, and the last thing Shane wanted was an angry or melancholy pony adding to his woes. Thankfully there were plenty of public spaces in Vegas to shift in because Shane foresaw many miles being run as he prepared for the show. He shook his head. Severing Fate’s decision would never sit right with him, but he’d give it some more thought. The strange thing was that Shane could not picture a second matebond replacing his current one. Maybe it was because his feelings about the situation were too strong, and the sting of Gryphon’s rejection gutted him constantly. Or perhaps Shane had accepted that genuine happiness like his parents shared—and what he hoped his siblings had found with their other halves—was too far-fetched for him. Shane didn’t think himself undeserving of love despite his selfishness and misery. It took keeping himself isolated to navigate a world that rarely made sense to him, and yes, it still dearly hurt that Gryphon was so eager to be rid of him. The first day of rehearsals, and Gryphon was in his face demanding they discuss the demonic severing he so desperately desired. The petty part of Shane that wanted to prevent Gryphon from fully enjoying his future with Mallory flatly refused to consider even formal separation papers. It was difficult to admit that he was a shitty person, but he’d accepted that about himself years ago. Without Shane, Gryphon wouldn’t have a family or be performing as part of the Ó Dubhghailes’ dance company. Shane had offered that boy his heart, and everything else he had to give. In return, Gryphon had spent only minutes deciding that their matebond didn’t suit him. Shane closed his eyes, and both man and beast relived that moment of absolute agony. His pony groaned, and Shane echoed the sound as he stood and took a moment to tug on his unkempt hair. He had to get his brain focused on the present. There was no way he’d survive the upcoming months if he kept delving into the events of nine years ago. It was imperative that he stay far from those memories and keep up a façade of pure professionalism. Shane wasn’t in Nevada for a family reunion or to rekindle his lost friendship with Gryphon. That little boy who’d loved Gryphon was long dead, and Shane was a man in no mood to resurrect him. About the Author Jessamyn Kingley has published over thirty titles and refuses to pick a favorite among them. With an extraordinary passion for her characters, she enthusiastically adds tales to her D’Vaire series and avidly re-reads them whenever her schedule allows. After decades living in the Washington, DC area, she now resides in Nevada with her husband and their three spoiled cats. When she is not writing or adding new ideas to her beloved notebooks, she is gaming with family and friends. Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's Facebook Profile | Twitter | Pinterest 
Colin Alexander has a new post-apocalyptic sci-fi book out, Leif the Lucky book 3: The Lucky Starman. Is Leif really lucky? Stranded in orbit, viewing a destroyed civilization on Earth through the screens of a starship almost out of fuel and food, he doesn’t feel that way. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. As the starship Dauntless returns from a successful mission to the planet called Heaven, Earth holds no attractions for Exoplanetary Scout Leif Grettison. He wants only to complete the mission and leave for another star, along with ace pilot Yang Yong. In fact, he would be happy spending the rest of his life flying the starways with her. But they and the rest of the ship’s skeleton crew awaken from hibernation to find Earth’s solar system dark and silent—no signals, no responses to their transmissions. When they make orbit, the magnitude of the disaster becomes clear: An apocalyptic war has killed billions and destroyed every last source of power and tech that 22nd-Century humans relied on to survive. Getting down to Earth is only the beginning of Leif’s problems. Those few who survived the apocalypse are still divided, fighting over what’s left. The disastrous re-entry to Earth leaves him with no resources or allies. He lands in the middle of a makeshift family that needs him more than he’s comfortable with and hears stories—even nursery rhymes—that speak of a lucky starman. For once, he’s the only person with tech—but if he’s caught using it, they might kill him. Can a man back from the stars end the warfare on Earth, or will he make it worse? Can he save a family that might become his? Is he everyone’s lucky starman? Warnings: Combat situations (one-on-one and armies), named characters die About the Series: These are the adventures of Leif, who some have called the Lucky. They begin in the year 2069, when humanity’s last chance for peace is the first ever interstellar mission. However, when you believe you have thought of everything, the universe has a way of showing that you haven’t. What do you do when it goes wrong, when you can’t call for help, and when adventure leads to deaths? If you survive one journey, what do you do next? Get It On Amazon | GoodreadsExcerpt
“Leif, we have a problem.” I heard Charley’s voice as if from a great distance. The post-hib blur was a dense fog in my mind. I recognized the words but could not grasp their meaning. In my defense, I hadn’t even sat up in the hibernation unit yet; its bath was still draining. I wrenched off the mask and cannula and removed the port from my arm. Then I sat up with a profound groan. Nearly four and a half years’ hibernating did more than blur the brain. Every muscle was stiff. I was surprised my joints didn’t squeak. Multiyear hib did not get better with repetition. I blinked and tried to bring Charley’s face into focus. Dr. Charles Osborne, I told myself. Our ship’s physician. He was supposed to be with me when I came out of hib. He had dark brown skin on a kindly round face, short black hair, and a closely cropped beard. “Leif, we have a problem,” he repeated. “Yang needs you on the bridge.” Why did there always have to be a problem? Why couldn’t someone say, Leif, life is great, and the world is beautiful. Why don’t you come share it? But, no, that’s not the way my life goes. I groaned again and managed to say, “What?” Charley shook his head. “I don’t know. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t get your equipment off first. I’m, I don’t know, worried. Here’s your OJ. Yang asked you to skip the gym. She really wants you on the bridge as soon as you can get there.” That bit penetrated the blur. Yong had woken me early on the flight to High Noon, the very first starshot, when the ship’s computer tried to abort the mission after a hib failure. What was it this time? I downed the orange juice with sugar in one fast chug. Having come out of four previous multiyear hib stretches on starflights, I had learned that the best way to return to the status of a functional human was to follow a carefully escalating workout routine in the gym. It felt awful while I was doing it, but it worked. There would be a good reason if Yang Yong wanted me to skip it. And the good reason would be something bad. Count on it. I blinked again. “Can I at least get dressed and grab a couple of protein bars from the caf?” I did manage to get the croak out of my voice. “I’m sure,” Charley said. “Just grab ’em and go to the bridge.” “I’m on it,” I said. “Where’s the famous laxative pack?” Charley had that in his other hand. The constipation from hib on an interstellar flight would not, in fact, kill you, but there were times I wished it would. Once Charley left, I pulled myself out of the unit and stood up, shivering. My muscles shook trying to hold me upright. At least I’d done this often enough to know what would hurt most and how to manage it. The biggest problem was the knee that had been surgically rebuilt after I was wounded on Mindanao back in 2062. That was why I had left the Rangers and the service, and with each long hib, it got harder and harder to return it to normal. No help for that. I settled for cursing long and loud while I toweled off. Then I pulled on the ship’s polo shirt with its NASA emblem over the left breast and my name, Grettison, embroidered below it. The starshot emblem of a gloved hand clutching a star above STARSHOT xv was stitched over the right breast. Ship pants, ankle socks, and ship boots completed the outfit. We were obviously decelerating at one gee because my weight felt normal, so I didn’t need the SureGrip soles for the StickStrips on the deck. I pulled open the privacy screen around my unit and stepped out onto the hib deck. All the other units I could see were off. My adrenals squeezed immediately and I felt a sense of panic. Then my mind pulled its memories through the post-hib blur. Of course nearly all the units were empty and off. We had put the colonists down on the planet called Heaven, meaning only seven of us were on the Dauntless for the return to Earth. I did a set of breathing exercises and got my heart rate and blood pressure under control. It wouldn’t do for me to have a stroke before I heard Yong’s problem. Maybe afterward, if it was bad enough. With my legs wobbling under me, I took the lift to the deck where the caf was and grabbed energy bars. I took the time to eat one of them and chug another sugared orange juice. I needed to get to the bridge, but I also needed to not fall on my face when I got there. When I entered the bridge, two energy bars swallowed and two more in my pocket, one of the chairs swiveled around. Yang Yong, pilot-in-command of the Dauntless, stood to greet me. She was a petite and slender woman with high cheekbones and brown hair cropped as short as mine. Small, yes, but there was nothing soft or delicate about her. She’d been a crack attack plane pilot for China’s People’s Liberation Army Air Force during the Troubles, which meant we had been on opposite sides of the fighting. Opposite sides, hell. She had damn near killed me on Mindanao when she bombed my platoon’s position the day the world almost ended. Fortunately, our relationship had evolved from there. We were now two sides of the same coin and had decided to spend our lives flying through the universe together. It’s not that either one of us ever used the L‑word, but we knew what we meant to each other. She did not smile at me. She did not even give me her tight little grin. I knew her well enough to tell that she was tense, though no one else would see any difference in the way she held herself. If Yang Yong was tense, something was very, very wrong. “What’s the problem?” I asked. “I don’t know. We are not receiving anything.” “Nothing?” I tried to wrap my mind around that and let my hand drop from the pocket with the energy bars. They could wait. “Nothing,” she repeated. “We are inside the orbit of Pluto, and there is no signal from the International Space Commission. I have sent transmissions to Earthbase, NASA, and CNSA. We have received no response, and enough time has elapsed for a reply to reach us. Before you ask, I have checked over our equipment. It is fine. The solar system is silent.” Author Bio
Colin Alexander is a writer of science fiction and fantasy. Actually, Colin Alexander is the pseudonym for Alton Kremer, maybe his alter ego, or who he would have been if he hadn't been a physician and biochemist and had a career as a medical researcher. His most recent book, The Lucky Starman, is his ninth and the third of the Leif the Lucky novels. Colin is an active member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association, Mystery Writers of America, and the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. Away from writing fiction, his idea of relaxation is martial arts (taekwondo and minna jiu jitsu). He lives in Maine with his wife. Author Website: https://www.afictionado.com Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/ColinAlexanderAuthor Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/colinalexander Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/colinalexander 
 As soon as they came to a bridge that ran over a small embankment and creek, the SUV sped up and pulled alongside them. Clearly the driver was going to attempt to force them off the road. “Hang on.” Forge hit the gas and the car zoomed forward. Seconds before they reached the bridge, Forge yanked up on the emergency brake and spun the steering wheel. His car skidded sideways to a stop, and the SUV went right on by. He released the brake, pressing down on the gas pedal at the same time. The tires squealed, the smell of burned rubber permeated the air, and they fled back the way they’d come. “That was so cool!” Blair punched the air and jerked around to look behind them. “You have to teach me to do that.” “Shush.” Forge growled and spun the car around a corner when a pickup loomed in front of them, barreling down the middle of the road. “So not playing chicken with you.” The car bounced over some train tracks, Forge took another hard right, cutting too close to the sidewalk and plowing through a line of garbage cans. “Thank God we didn’t take the Mustang.” Forge saw another street on the left he knew would take him back to where he wanted to be. Gunning the engine made the car fishtail, but they made the turn. “Crap!” Blair shouted. “Motherfu—” Forge slammed his foot on the brake. The car stopped just inches shy of bashing head-on into a cement construction barrier. He backed up and spun the wheel as he stomped on the gas. In the next instant, he slammed on the brakes again. The SUV, followed by the pickup, blocked the road ahead. There were buildings on each side, too close to the street for them to get through. Each vehicle’s driver was already on the ground and coming at them. Forge shut the car down and shoved open the door. “Stay here!” he shouted to Blair and wasn’t in the least surprised when he heard Blair following him. The first thing that hit him was the scent of werewolf. The second was the realization he knew these two, a man and woman, but couldn’t place them. The woman had him pinned to the car and bent backward over the hood in seconds. Forge used both arms to slam into her head. She screamed and backed up enough so he could get his feet between them and kicked with ample force to knock her away. Blair caught her around the neck and dragged her back. Forge was on his feet in time to meet the man head-on. They exchanged punches, neither one gaining ground or going down. Forge could hold his own and had a chance as long as these two werewolves stuck to the rule about no shifting to wolf form in public. Except they really weren’t in public. Apparently, this particular werewolf could read minds. Forge had no sooner formed the thought than the guy morphed into a full werewolf. He barred his teeth and howled, coming after Forge with claws extended. Forge twisted to the side and caught a glimpse of Blair being picked up by the woman, who was now more werewolf than human. She held him over her head for a few beats, then flung him into a dumpster. Blair’s impact caused the dumpster to slide a few feet and tip over. Forge winced and was relieved when he heard Blair move almost immediately.  Shifting Chaos is available in eBook, paperback and through
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Book Title: Reason 111 Why I’m Gay Author and Publisher: Jai Scott Cover Artist: Jai Scott Release Date: March 8, 2023 Genres: Contemporary F/F Romance Themes: Coming out Heat Rating: 5 flames Length: 6 464 words/127 pages It is a standalone book. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited Amazon US | Amazon UK | Author 
Reason 111 Why I’m Gay Blurb This book is based on true events and I am sure it will help others who may be contemplating being gay, bi-sexual or any other feeling that you are out of place and don't seem to fit your sexual description by the definition of others. This is a compilation of my feelings over the years of thinking I was straight and then questioning it. It gives a real and humorous understanding of my feelings as I went through life wondering, am I gay? You too may identify with questions that people often ask about how you know you're gay or if you are sure about it. This book answers many questions to ourselves and helps us answer questions to others who ask the same thing over and over about not only being gay but your sexuality in general, and makes light of it with a comedic art for each of the 111 questions. Keeping on the lighter side of life, and to make us feel better about the ups and downs and hardships of being gay, we’ve had a running joke where one of us will say, randomly, “reason 111 why we’re gay ...” then describe some random experience or thought we had recently that confirms that we are, in fact, gay. It could be something like, “I just saw the prettiest lady with the most amazing boobs,” and then it gets added to the list. It is serious and funny at the same time. If you know my personality at all, you'll get it. Excerpt Why was I gay, and how could I change this inconvenient truth that made my life so much more difficult. Unfortunately, it took dating men, and several toxic closeted lesbian relationships to realize that it’s easier to just be me, to be gay. Although my sexuality doesn’t define who I am, it silently influences situations and feeds misconceptions and ignorant ideations. Even now, currently of outward acceptance, #ME2 movement, Black-Lives-Matter, and Gay Pride celebrations being celebrated around the world, being gay is still not fully embraced and, in some scenarios, is still discriminated against. This book creates a light-hearted coming out story in an almost graphic novel style with a back story and readable reasons as to why today I know for sure that I am gay. All 111 Reasons why I am gay are illustrated in a funny and very comedic, light hearted and sometimes even graphic adult style that will make you laugh and maybe even cry a little from the laugh. This is a real book, about a real-life situation using words and 111 illustrations to connect with the reader. 
About the Author Jai Scott was born in July 25, 1979, yes, she is a Leo, in Los Angeles, CA. She has a degree in Graphic Design as well as completed the Art Instruction School program where she received lots of artistic growth and a certificate of completion in the Art Program which boosted her confidence to continue drawing even when others had negative feedback and negative feedback about me and my artistic style. This was a young and tender age and it helped me to grow thick skin and keep on pursuing my dreams, so thank you to all of my haters and people who didn’t want me to succeed. She has won numerous awards for her pencil, mixed media and cartoon art in her younger age which led her to begin tattooing at the very young age of 18 years old. She fell in love with the art and immediately started getting tattooed from day 1 of getting tattooed and then apprenticing to then start tattooing for herself. She continued to tattoo while attending college and working her way up the, so to speak, company ladder. Jai Scott is now the Managing Director (COO) of a Mechanical Engineering company in Silicon Valley for the last 15 years. She is also a wife and mother of two amazing kids. Jai specializes in creativity in all forms and is always looking out for new ventures to join and or lead. She understands that being creative is not only about art, but about how people relate to others and create long-term networks, friendships and relationships. She believes channeling energy is an art and hopes to master it. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a paperback copy of the book 
My snippet this week is from Scintilla, book one of El Corazon!  “Brandon, you are always safe with me. No matter what happens between us in the future, I vow to you that no one will ever have that control over you unless you want them to, not while I’m around. I will always, always, protect you.” Brandon leaned closer and ran his fingers over Raul’s cheek. “Why do you think I was able to let go like that? I knew that already.” He tilted his head, slipping closer for a kiss. Then nearly jumped out of his skin. Howling, not very far away, broke the mood fast. Raul laughed. “Coyotes.” He nudged Brandon’s elbow, stood and stripped. “Watch this. There’s howling and then there’s howling.” He shifted into his full werewolf form and it was spectacular. Gleaming long white fangs, thick, dark hair, glowing copper eyes and a powerful body that was reminiscent of a human but still obviously wolf. He could move on two legs or run on all four if needed. Raul moved a few feet away and sat on his haunches. His chest expanded, muscles bulged and if Brandon wasn’t still exhausted and recharging he’d be hard as a rock. Raul thrust his long, elegant snout in the air and howled. The sound was haunting and deafening. It was one long, smooth wail followed by a few shorter bursts more like a bark then another loud, deep howl. The desert became still and so quiet it was eerie. Brandon looked all around. Nothing moved, there was not even a breeze. Raul shook himself and reverted to his human form and pulled his sweats back on. He settled beside Brandon again and rolled his shoulders. “There, nice and quiet to get a few more hours sleep. Being at the top of the food chain does have a few advantages,” Raul said. He yawned and stretched before flopping back on the mattress. He held one arm out to Brandon. “Gonna share that blanket?”  Read more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Scintilla (English edition) is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited. The Spanish edition is available in eBook through Amazon, Kobo, Barnes &Noble and more! 
Tim Rayborn has a new queer urban fantasy out (bi, lesbian), Qwyrk Tales book 3: Chantz. Qwyrk can’t get a break. Spring is springing, but she’s stuck breaking up drunken faery fights as Beltane approaches. She really wants to take things to the next level with her possibly-probably-girlfriend Holly, but she keeps coming down with a chronic case of chickening out. And now, her best human friend, Jilly Pleeth, has had a rather odd encounter. While attending a concert by her favorite band, the Mystic Wedding Weasels, Jilly was amazed by their enigmatic singer, Chantz. There’s something downright magical about her voice, something so magical that an evil force from outside this world wants her for nefarious reasons. But will Chantz succumb to its lure? Chantz is the third in a series of four novels about the comic misadventures of a group of misfits at the edge of normal reality in modern northern England, a world of shadows, Nighttime Nasties, eldritch screaming horrors, appalling neo-Shakespearean sonnets, undead corvids, an abundance of verbal sparring, and… Qwyrk is not an elf, all right? They’re just silly! Universal Buy LinkGiveaway Tim is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47279/? Excerpt
After a few minutes of meandering on campus, she found a rather expansive and tree-filled enclosure marked by a sign reading “Welcome to St. George’s Field.” Seeing as she could lose herself in its trees, this place would suffice. Wandering in, she found herself strolling through a historic cemetery, which appealed to her gothy aesthetic sensibilities. She sat herself down on a stone bench not far from some centuries-old headstones and tried to focus, to think, to something. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the feeling of the power flowing through her. “What are you?” she whispered. For a time, she felt nothing. Sighing in frustration, she opened her eyes. The field was mercifully unpopulated today, so she decided to risk singing a little tune, an old Irish folk song. She couldn’t remember where she’d learned it. She couldn’t remember much of anything before the last couple of years, to be honest. But there it was, stuck in her head, so she called on it. It was a simple melody with a short verse and a chorus. She didn’t even know all the words, but that didn’t matter. She just sang the bit she knew over and over. It was soothing, comforting, and connected her to something, as if stirring a memory. She closed her eyes again, allowing it to wash over her. For the first time in a while, she formed a genuine smile. Not a big smile, mind you, she did have her reputation to think of, after all. As she neared the third repeat, something happened. She heard a voice in her head, one that contrasted with her own. It was more like a momentary flash of sound, in a language she didn’t recognize. It didn’t make her stop singing; in fact, she wanted to continue. After she sang another verse or two, and she heard it again, like a call across some great gap. But was it far away in the distance? Or maybe in time? How does that even make any sense? Intrigued, she kept singing, but lowered her voice so as not to attract any onlookers. It would be just like someone to come up in the middle of it and ruin the whole experience, with their chattiness and insipid curiosity. As it turned out, she was indeed interrupted, but not by any passersby who should have been minding their own business. In her mind’s eye, she saw a face. The face of an old woman. She had long, disheveled grey-streaked hair, and her complexion was wan and weathered, with dark shadows under her eyes. There was almost something cool about her. The face was obscured, as if peering through a fog, and Moirin couldn’t gauge its intent. She wasn’t imagining it; her imagination was good, but not this good. The woman opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words emerged, and if she were the one speaking those foreign words, Moirin wouldn’t have understood her, anyway. The old woman smiled, but it was an odd smile, and not really a happy one, more like sinister grin. She seemed to want something from Moirin. The smile grew bigger and stretched to unnatural proportions. Her eyes began to lighten, not just the pupils, but the whole of her eyes, greying at first and then fading into a milky white. Moirin’s heart raced. She stopped singing and gasped. Whatever this thing was, she wanted nothing to do with it. She tried to open her eyes, but they were heavy, almost as if she’d been drugged. Her ears seemed to close up, and the world around her disappeared. She shook her head and tried to stand up, but just like her eyes, her legs no longer worked. She started to panic and opened her mouth again, not to sing but to scream, shout for help, something. But no sound escaped. The face sneered at her, perhaps enjoying her helplessness. It became ever more twisted and grotesque and opened its mouth again, almost in mockery of Moirin’s inability to do so. A low-pitched wailing sounded from the old woman, a mournful call that seemed to portend something awful. It rose in pitch and volume to a full-on cry, a tuneless and wordless plaint that sounded like something out of an older time. It shook Moirin to the core, but the more she heard it, the more it seemed to invite her, to draw her in, even to tempt her. Whatever the ill intent of this creature invading her mind, and however frightening its call, Moirin felt oddly at home. She began to surrender to its lure, to its awful and seductive pull. Author Bio
Tim Rayborn has written an astonishing number of books over the past several years. He lived in England for quite some time and has a PhD from the University of Leeds, which he likes to pretend means that he knows what he’s talking about. His generous output of written material covers topics such as music, the arts, history, the strange and bizarre, fantasy and sci-fi, and general knowledge. He’s also an acclaimed musician. He plays dozens of unusual instruments that quite a few people of have never heard of and often can’t pronounce. He has appeared on over forty recordings, and his musical wanderings and tours have taken him across the US, all over Europe, to Canada and Australia, and to such romantic locations as Marrakech, Istanbul, Renaissance chateaux, medieval churches, and high school gymnasiums. He currently lives in Washington state (where it rains a lot), surrounded by many books and instruments, as well as with a sometimes-demanding cat. He is rather enthusiastic about good wines, and cooking excellent food. Author Website: https://timrayborn.com/ Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/timrayborn Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/TimRaybornMusicandWriting Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.social/@timrayborn Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rayborn.esoterica/ Author Liminal Fiction: https://www.limfic.com/?s=tim+rayborn&search_type=book_search Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Tim-Rayborn/author/B00DWY5J8E
  “Whatcha find?” a deep voice asked from behind him. Turning, Daniel shrugged at the man, Pierre Lefevre. He was not quite as tall as Daniel, but broader—maybe rounder was a better term—with salt and pepper black hair and a thick beard. “Some kid who got loose from a government goon squad.” He rifled through some baskets on a lower shelf. “Don’t we have any ketchup that isn’t forty years old?” “Saving him and condiments? Wow, must be special. Looks like you found a keeper.” Daniel turned and glared at Pierre when the other man poked at his arm with a thick, stubby finger. “Fuck you. He’s just a lost, hurt kid.” Pierre threw his head back and laughed. “Been there, done that, and you never once brought me condiments.” Snatching up a few packets, Daniel grumbled, “It’s just ketchup.” He turned on his heels, blocking out Pierre’s obnoxious remarks and laughter, and headed back to Kyle. He didn’t do strays. Really, he didn’t. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact and remembering what happened to a little lost puppy, then later a smart-mouthed, cocky kid who’d joined the Freedom Militia not so long after Daniel had. 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.”  💘💘💘💘💘eBook Sale! $7.99 for 5 books!💘💘💘💘💘 💘 Available from Amazon, Kobo and Barnes & Noble!💘 🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇Now in Kobo Plus!!🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇 Every life is a circle, and sometimes those circles connect and overlap in unexpected ways, even if the patterns they form aren’t obvious at first glance. Past and present, from the wilderness to small towns and cities, the greedy and evil seek to exploit the vulnerable. The brave men of law enforcement fight to protect the innocent and punish the guilty—but they’re not alone. Men from all walks of life are called to stand beside them and solve these mysteries. Along the way, lives intertwine as couples are reminded that one thing makes the struggle worthwhile: love.    RELEASE BLITZ 
Book Title: Fauxmance in the Falls Author: J.E. Birk Publisher: Maple Mountains Press Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood Release Date: April 20, 2023 Genres: Contemporary M/M Romance, small town romance Tropes: Fake relationship, small town, age gap, alpha doctor, grumpy/sunshine Themes: Redemption, coming out, found families Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: Approx. 92 000 words and 331 pages It’s the first book in the series and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK 
Never date your dream doctor Blurb I'm here to destroy this town. How did I end up in a fake relationship with its hero? I've spent my life proving to my grandpa and dad that I'm more than just the Lewis family mistake. So when Grandpa sends me to Devon Falls, VT to take some ridiculous leaf festival to court, I head straight there and get to work. But Dr. Jack Lancer keeps getting in my way. He's everywhere. Helping me out with my migraines, making me dinner, insisting people be nice to me even though I’m the enemy. Who is this guy? The next thing I know I'm pretending to be Jack's boyfriend to get him out of a bind. I swear he's putting kindness pills in my food or something. Jack thinks he can fix me the same way he fixes everyone else. But I'm not broken. This podunk town will be when I'm done with it, though. And Jack? Well, he's about to learn the meaning of the term "collateral damage." Because I'll do anything to win this case and end this festival. Even if it means losing something that feels an awful lot like love. Fauxmance in the Falls is an age-gap romance featuring a small town full of quirks, a grumpy lawyer and a charming physician, a fake relationship gone wild, some inappropriate use of a doctor’s office, and a healthy mix of humor and angst. It stars Benson Lewis, who first appeared in the book Counterpoint. Excerpt Benson stands before us, looking as wrecked as I could ever imagine seeing him. He’s barely standing upright, and there are dark circles surrounding his sagging eyes. He’s wearing a wrinkled pair of jogging pants and a shirt that looks like he’s sweated through it, and his facial expression screams of absolute misery. I simultaneously feel extremely guilty for knocking on his door and extremely glad that I did. “Benson,” I say softly. “Migraine?” He nods, immediately wincing at the head motion. And that tiny little movement is all the cue I need to start taking charge. “Elijah, I need you to run to the drug store,” I tell him quietly. I list off a series of items that Benson likely needs. “Be right back,” Elijah whispers, though I never warned him about being quiet. He’s far more astute than his grandparents give him credit for. He runs off down the hall and I step into Benson’s space, examining him with my eyes. “How long?” I ask. “Since the Thai restaurant.” Shit. Almost twenty-four hours, then. “Have you taken anything?” “Just aspirin.” He winces at the ray of light peeking around the door from the hallway. “Don’t have anything else,” he mumbles. I’m going to make sure we correct that the second he’s well enough for conversation. But right now, all I want to do is make him feel better. “Okay,” I tell him gently. “We’ll fix it, Benson. I’ve got you. You’re not on your own anymore.” He stares at me, squinting, and I notice his eyes are wet. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says hoarsely. I startle slightly. I know Benson well enough by now to know those probably aren’t words he says often. I guide him gently into the apartment, which is a small studio with a double bed in one corner and a combination kitchen/living room taking up most of the space. The curtains are closed tightly. They’re mostly light-blocking, at least. I surprise him, I think, when I guide him over to the sofa and help him lay down there. “I’m going to get you some water and change your sheets,” I whisper. “Have you been able to keep food down?” He shakes his head slightly. “Well, I sent Elijah for applesauce and electrolytes. We’ll see if we can fix that.” I can feel his eyes track me as I make use of what his small space has to offer. I find a glass of water and help him sit up long enough to take a few sips. When he shakes his head at me, I don’t push for him to drink more. I find clean sheets and quickly make his bed, then grab some sweatpants and a Burlington U Law shirt from his dresser. “C’mon,” I urge him. “Let’s get you into some more comfortable clothes.” He holds onto my shoulders as I help him step out of his pants. I look away to give him as much privacy as possible, but Benson draws my attention back to him when he says, “this isn’t really how I envisioned you getting in my pants for the first time.” The corners of his lips are turned up in a hint of a wry grin, and my heart speeds up. Has he really had those thoughts too? Now is not the time for that conversation, unfortunately. “Me either,” I tell him, keeping things light as I help him into the fresh pants and shirt. I change the sheets on the bed and get him settled into it before I dampen a washcloth with cool water. Some migraine patients are sensitive to any kind of touch when they have episodes like this, but Benson sighs with happiness when I lay the cloth across his forehead. I sit down gently on the side of his bed. “When Elijah gets back we’ll try food and more water,” I tell him. “Get excited for that applesauce.” Benson grimaces. “I’ll try it,” he promises. “I already feel better than I did. Thank you, Jack.” I gently take one of his hands, and when he doesn’t object, I hold it while I rub my thumb against his palm. “Thank you for what?” I ask. I’m not sure what I’m being thanked for. Changing someone’s sheets and getting them some water when they’re ill are about the most basic things you can do for another human. “No one’s ever really done this before. You know. For me,” he mutters. “Not lately, anyway.” “Do you get migraines often?” I ask him. He sighs. “I used to get them a lot more when I was younger. I thought they were going away. But lately they’ve been getting worse.” “Who used to take care of you when you got them?” I ask. He shrugs into the sheets around him. “I think my nannies did. Well, some of them anyway. Until they… couldn’t anymore.” Benson grimaces again, and I decide this isn’t the best time to have this conversation. “You’re going to be okay,” I tell him. It’s a universal line I’ve used a million times in my career. Some patients believe it. Some don’t. From Benson’s expression, I can’t tell where he stands. “It was worse last night,” he replies. “In the middle of the night. It was so bad. They’ve gotten worse lately, like I said. I was here, in this bed, and the pain was so awful I started to wonder if I was going to live through it. And I kept thinking… kept thinking that I didn’t want to die by myself in a studio apartment. Alone. All by myself.” He closes his eyes against pain I can’t see, and suddenly I need to be holding more than just his hand. “You’re not alone,” I tell him. I lean over farther and graze his cheek with the fingers of my other hand. It’s a test to see if my touch hurts, but all he does is lean farther into it. And just like that, I know I’m doing the right thing. “You’re not alone right now,” I repeat. “And you never have to be alone again. Not if you don’t want to be. You have me now. Me and Elijah.” Benson has settled his cheek deep into my hand at this point. He’s almost nuzzling it. “Not forever,” he mumbles. “Just for now. Just for pretend.” About the Author 
J.E. Birk was raised in Vermont and is now adulting in Colorado with intermittent success. She is a long-time lover of stories, and she writes and reads in worlds where imperfect characters find their happily ever after. Snag free bonus content and stay up-to-date on J.E. Birk's news and releases by signing up for her newsletter. Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | TikTok Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card 
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