I'm having a little sale this week! On October 15 and 16 Whiskey and Moonshine and Scintilla will be on sale for $2.99!
All my JMS Books LLC titles are 50% off the next two days! That includes the series Sentries and Pain and Pleasure. Paperbacks and ebooks are on sale.
I love autumn, it's probably my favorite time of year. I have a few books taking place during this season. This week I'm featuring one of my favorites...okay, who am I kidding? They're all my favorites...lol
This is a little bit from Gone Away. It's romantic suspense and a little bit creepy too! Mason is a Park Ranger, which is a Federal officer in the US. Riece is a photographer. They're out in the Black Hills and there's about to be a lot of trouble!
Curious, Riece started to move closer to Mason. When his foot landed on something that felt more like wood than dirt, he stopped. He bounced on it a few times before turning back to Mason and said, “Hey, come look at this. Something is buried here.”
“Buried?” Mason stood up and strode closer.
Riece thumped his heel down again. He felt whatever was underfoot begin to flex farther. There was a crack and the sound of something splintering.
Mason paled and sprinted toward Riece, shouting, “No. Riece, don’t. Stop!”
Riece stared down at his feet and watched in horror as a hole opened up. Mason tackled him and tried to throw him clear, but it was too late.
The earth opened up, and they went tumbling into the gaping maw below.
More great snippets can be found on the Facebook group Rainbow Snippets!
Eric Alan Westfall has a new queer fairy tale out: Prince Ivan, "A. Wolfe & A Firebird." And there's a giveaway!
What do you get when you combine a greedy Great Tsar, his two cheating, bullying older sons, his youngest esser (shh! no saying that aloud) son, stolen gold apples, a Firebird quest, A. Wolfe who has the power t’assume a pleasing shape, a magickal sandstorm, as well as two bands and a full Symphony of Gipsumies?
A rollicking, roisterous Russian Fairy Tale, with vigorous esser activities in tents, halls, bedrooms and alcoves, with and without the assistance of PSTs. Plus princely parades, a duel over Gus, new lyrics to an old drinking song, and the possibility of bits of blood, gobs of gore or moments of mayhem. As required by CORA (the Code of RFT Authors), should these occur, your author will give you timely warning.
Ah. Still not ready to part with your kopek-equivalent? Consider the fun you’ll have reading chapters like:
If you buy it and try it, you’ll like it, or so says your most talen...er...humble author.
p.s. If Karrie Jax and I have covered you and blurbed you to buy, look for “Dear Reader, Along The Way, Did You Happen To See The Allusion To Olivier?” in the TOC. It’s a spot-the-allusions chance at gift cards of $25, $15, or $10.
166,000 words of story fun and frolic, plus a 2160-word teaser from another MM fairytale: The Tinderbox.
Eric is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via rafflecopter:
“A wolf who talks,” Ivan said, his voice all full of surprise.
“I am not a wolf, Prince Ivan, I am A. Wolfe.”
Ivan lifted an eyebrow, in his long-perfected “inquiring princes want to know what you mean” mode, while wondering what effect it might have on such an enormous beast. Well, not a beast, exactly, since it could talk.
No reaction, except the bright gold eyes—so like one of his father’s apples, well-polished after plucking, or the gold circles in the Firebird’s tail—stared back, unblinking.
Since his eyebrow inquiry failed to a verbal response, it was Ivan’s turn to talk. Politeness had worked with the Firebird, when used in place of “I am royal, hear me roar” arrogance, and might be best for Ivan’s well-being in the current situation, conversing with a wolf, the top of whose head was above Gus’ shoulder.
“‘A wolf who talks,’” yes. My exact words, Sir Wolf.”
The wolf opened his mouth. Wide. No mere flash this time. Ivan was fully fanged. As they had only just met, he could not tell whether he was being fang-grinned for a reason he could not fathom, or fierce-fanged to frighten him. If it was the latter, there was a glimmer of starting-to-work happening.
But the wolf’s voice was neither fierce nor fun-filled when he hid most of his fangs and talked again. His tone was a goblet of great size, filled not just to the brim but overflowing—with more coming from somewhere so the over kept on flowing—with...patience. The kind of patience you use for, with, and on, those who are not very bright. Indeed, those who are so dim that if their brains were used to provide light for reading at night they’d be as effective as an inch-tall stub of a quarter-inch wide candle, set in a candlestick in the bowels of a cavern on the far side of a mountain range five-and-a-half eighths of a continent away.
“When you bathe, do you clean your ears, Prince Ivan?” [See above for how he said it.]
A sigh was heard.
Ivan wished he’d brought along a sigh that big, but then, since it was a large wolf letting it loose, accompanied by, Ivan was almost sure, a hint of a scent of pasta, pesto, garlic and butter, Ivan might not have been able to use it with the same effect. The sigh might almost have been designed to complement the show-patience-to-the-afflicted voice.
“Do. You. Clean—”
“I heard you the first time, Sir Wolf. I just don’t understa—”
It was the wolf’s turn to interrupt. “It’s clear you don’t understand, young prince. I was trying to ascertain whether your inability to understand plain Russian was based on a physical defect—stuffed ears, whether unclean or for another reason, bad hearing, something of that sort—and if not, on some mental lack which in theory requires me to be considerate and gentle.”
There was a tiny pause, so infinitesimal Ivan would have had no chance to get a syllable of a word in edgewise, sidewise, upwise, or downwise, even had he tried. “You do understand kindness and gentleness are not traits associated with a wolf, and especially not A. Wolfe?”
At the end of this series of insults, the Great Tsar would have raged, calling on his ever-present Imperial Guards to “Rid me of this wolf!”
Anatol would have ranted about the presumptuousness of peasants who did not know or stay in their proper place, probably forgetting who had just offended his sense of propriety.
Vlad would have grabbed his sword, and whether from horseback, or following a grandiose leap to the ground which displayed his awesome athleticism for the admiration of any viewers lurking in the vicinity—it was his policy to always act as if he was being viewed with admiration—would have started hewing and hacking away.
In part because Ivan suspected the outcome would have been the same with all three of those scenes—dead soldiers, dead royal family, likely including bystander youngest prince—Ivan chose the fourth door...and laughed.
He couldn’t say why he saw—thought he saw—a twinkle of humor in the great golden eyes. But he must have been right, because the wolf didn’t leap up, all howling, growling and slavering, and drag him off Gus before doing the devouring which would logically follow offending laughter.
Ivan forced a halt to his own humor. With gasps interrupting his initial words, he said, “My apologies, Sir Wolf. I was not laughing at you. It was an image in my head of my family’s reactions to your words, and yours to theirs. However, with all the respect to which you are entitled, which seems to be at least a reasonable amount”—Ivan was willing to be reasonable, but not obsequious—“I have no mental or physical defect which interferes with my hearing or my understanding. Perhaps the, ah, flaw lies in your explanation of what you mean? Or, you might consider, the lack of one?”
Ivan gave the wolf a princely grin of satisfaction with his response.
Wolfe gave the prince back a wolfeish huff. “I’ll entertain the possibility you might be right, if you’ll entertain the possibility you are not listening as well as you should.”
“Very well. Repeat after me, ‘A wolf is not the same as A. Wolfe.’”
“A wolf is not the same as a wolf.”
Wolfe sighed again. He apparently had an inexhaustible supply, in a wide range of sizes.
“A wolf is an animal, Prince Ivan. It resembles me, but is far smaller, roams the forest, howls from time to time for various reasons, and at times for no reason at all. Perhaps because it doesn’t reason. I am a wolfe—with an ‘e’ at the end. Which means I have magickal skills. My name is: A...full stop...Wolfe.”
Ivan grinned again. “Your first name is Afullstop? What an unusual name. Not Russian, is it?”
“No. Not an ‘uh’ sound, but a long a-sound, which rhym... You’re teasing.”
Ivan learned another lesson in wolfe-prince relations. A wolf-with-an-e-at-the-end could grin, without his fangs looking all fearsome.
Ivan widened his own grin. “I am. So what does long-A stand for?”
“A handsome name for a handsome wolf-with-an-e.”
Ivan paused. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he decided he would, anyway. “Sir Wolfe, now that I know your name is A. Wolfe, and since we are being so precise with our pronunciations, are you really quite certain I shouldn’t call you ‘A. Wolfie?’ To be sure the final ‘e’ gets its just and proper due?”
Ah. So that’s what a Wolfeish glare looked like with a fillip of fang.
Eric is an American Midwesterner, and as Lady Glenhaven might say, “He’s old enough to have sailed with Noah.” In the real world he writes for a living, with those who would claim what he writes is fiction. His partner of thirty years—who died unexpectedly in 1995—enthusiastically encouraged him to try to get his writing published (mostly poetry back then, plus some short stories), but he didn’t have the guts to do so until 2013. At this point he’s not sure which was officially first, The Song, or Like a Mountain, Waiting.
Starting then, he’s published 13 novels and novellas, 1 poetry collection, 2 short story collections, and 3 short stories. God willin’ and the crick don’t rise, 2020 will also see The Tinderbox out and about. But since real life is, as we all know, a pain in the (anatomical site of your choice)...no guarantees.
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Eric-Alan-Westfall-1045476662268838/
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/eawestfall43
Boot and sweater weather is upon us! Please take all precautions to stay safe and healthy.
October is a very important month in The Sleepless City. October 10 is release day for Shifting Chaos. On that day it will become available in Kindle Unlimited. I decided on that date because it's the date Jonas Forge became a vampire way back in 1774 and October 10 is also Lucas Coate's birthday!
In celebration this week's snippet is a little bit from Forge and Lucas. To set the scene, they're stealing a liver from a cadaver...
“Gotcha.” Lucas grinned. “I can see fine with this light. Pass me the Metzenbaum scissors.” Forge blinked at Lucas and didn’t move. “The curved ones with the gold handles.”
“Okay,” Forge said and nodded. He shifted his weight and glanced back at the door at the same time he retrieved the requested instrument. “Put a move on. Blair has gone down the adjacent hall twice.” He used his toe to push the cooler under the table and closer to Lucas.
Holding the scissors and another pair of forceps in one hand, Lucas alternated how he angled and used them.
“This is a whole lot easier and faster when I don’t have to tie off vessels and worry about the patient bleeding out.” He dipped his head at his bag of supplies. “There is a rag and plastic bag in there. Mop up the spillage, will ya?”
Forge tipped his head and pulled a face.
“Get over it. You’re a vampire. Don’t try to pretend a little blood bothers you. You slurp the stuff through a straw.”
“It’s the mopping part I’m not happy about,” Forge grumbled. “And I’ve never used a straw in my life.” He did as Lucas asked, then stuffed the rag into the bag and set it to the side. When Lucas lifted the liver up, Forge used another rag to make sure nothing dripped to the table or the floor.
Thank you for reading!
Please take a minute to hop on over to the Rainbow Snippets and check out more delightful tidbits.
Shifting Chaos will be $3.99 on Amazon until release day, then it'll revert to it's regular price of $4.99. Early access and other formats are available through Payhip until October 8, 2020. Don't forget to add Shifting Chaos to your GoodReads TBR list!
Mary Dumas and Bettina Kurkoski have a new MM/gay graphic novel out: Romeo X Julien. And there's a giveaway!
Romeo Montague has always been a little awkward. His cousin, Benny, doesn’t help, often tossing him into situations unprepared; like dragging him to a Renaissance Faire in the middle of Wine Country.
Julien Capulet, a respected festival promoter, has his own quirks. While dealing with his crazy parents and goofy gay uncles, he holds out hope of meeting the one who’ll see past all the frills.
Romeo X Julien is a sexy homage to Will Shakespeare, with more comedy than tragedy. Entertaining and tender, it shows how the course of true love may never be smooth, and that the LGBTQ community has come a long way in a short time.
Mary is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:
Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47146/?
Co-creators, Mary Dumas and Bettina Kurkoski, have been fixtures on the Comic Con circuit since 2003. Mary was on staff for a number of convention groups, while Bettina was the artist in residence for those organizations.
In 2015 this friendship became a partnership in creating the comic series, RomeoXJulien. Following this comic creation lead them to Artists Alley in many Fan Conventions for the next five years. In 2019, with the finish of the story they decided to give the comics a bright new life in full color as a graphic novel.
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/mary.dumas50
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008094378358
Welcome to My World