 Tyler leaned closer so his shoulder was pressed to Linden’s, sending a warm feeling spreading through him from their contact points. Every time Tyler moved, Linden felt how the firm muscle of his arm extended and flexed. “His sister died of an overdose. Dimas wouldn’t even drink beer.” “Okay, that’s a good start.” Linden put the mug down and took his phone in hand, typing a quick e-mail to Randy. “I still have a signal. What’s the ranger-station number?” “Won’t matter. The roads will be impassable right now. Once it stops snowing, off-road vehicles can get through. There is cross-country ski equipment in the garage,” Tyler said. Linden glanced at the phone, then set it on the table again. “That’ll leave us too exposed. When we do leave, I want to take that tracker from your truck. It’ll help prove you didn’t leave this area in the time frame you would’ve had to.” “What happens when we can leave?” “You and I are going back to the field office in Arizona. If the person here doesn’t come after us, there probably isn’t much we can do to find him… or her. The fact is, however, until this is all cleared up, you’re not safe here.” Linden stopped and twisted to look out the glass wall. “I’m not sure I’m all that safe either.” Tyler laid one hand on Linden’s knee. “I have the feeling if you hadn’t come here, something really bad would have happened to me by now.” He shifted around so he faced Linden. “We should probably… uh… eat our….” Linden looked into Tyler’s eyes, completely enamored by their colors. He wasn’t inclined to rash actions. He normally thought everything through. Linden’s cock had other ideas, however, and rarely thought at all. He sucked in a quick breath when his cock grew hard enough to press against his zipper, sending a tingling sensation through him. Tyler glanced down, smiled, and blushed. He put his hand over Linden’s and squeezed. The simple action caused Linden’s heart rate to ramp up. With his free hand, Linden reached up and stroked Tyler’s cheek, then ran his fingers through Tyler’s messy blond hair. Tyler’s skin was as pale as Linden’s was dark, and the contrast fascinated him. Without really giving it any more thought, Linden leaned forward, pulling Tyler toward him at the same time. He brushed his lips lightly over Tyler’s a few times, then ran his tongue across Tyler’s lower lip. When Tyler groaned and got one hand up and fisted in Linden’s shirt to tug him even closer, Linden slid his tongue between Tyler’s lips. Linden let go of Tyler’s hand and inched his arm around Tyler’s waist. Tyler stretched out and leaned back until he was more under Linden. He groaned and arched against Linden, grinding their hips together. Linden broke their kiss, moaned softly, and licked along Tyler’s jawline. He nudged Tyler’s head back farther and sucked lightly along his neck, pausing to swirl his tongue over Tyler’s Adam’s apple. Tyler’s hands roamed up and down Linden’s back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. They rocked together against each other, bodies heating, breath quickening, and in Linden’s case, heart hammering. Linden’s phone chimed.  Bait (and the entire series) is available in eBook, paperback
and through KoboPlus.  My snippet this week is from Shifting Chaos, book 4 of The Sleepless City (series cowritten with Anne Barwell).  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.  Read more fabulous snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Shifting Chaos is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited. 
Tim Rayborn has a new queer fantasy book out, Qwyrk tales book 4: Faytte. And there's a giveaway. As Halloween draws near, Qwyrk and company are abruptly reminded of just how screwed-up everything can get. Qwyrk and Holly are literally being driven apart by magical forces they don’t understand, and their friends are in disarray. Then Holly goes missing and Qwyrk loses something else that’s almost as important, while the behind-the-scenes scheming and shenanigans come to the fore at last. And who is the mysterious, ancient figure in red that seems to know all and see all, but annoyingly, won’t talk about it? Traitors abound, old friends return, sides will be picked, and the final battle between good and evil will rage. To stop the actual end of the world from happening, Qwyrk might have to make a decision that will change her life forever. Faytte is the final book 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 in a bakery, a mysterious key, every monster you can imagine, an abundance of sarcasm, and the answers to all the questions. Oh, and Qwyrk is going to definitively prove that she’s not a bloody elf; they’re just silly! About the Series Join the adventures of a group of misfits at the edge of reality in modern northern England, a world of shadows, Nighttime Nasties, sorcery, witchy magic, philosophical speculation, every monster under the moon, an abundance of sarcasm, and even elves… though they are a bit silly. Universal Buy LinkGiveaway Tim is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47300/ Excerpt
Jilly was skeptical. And grumpy. Skrumpy? In any case, having watched her friends abscond to various places without giving her any details was more than just annoying; it felt rather like a betrayal. “It’s like they don’t even trust me. Now that I’m learning all about witchery and can finally hold my own, they don’t even want me around anymore. Yeah, really nice, thanks everyone.” She brooded. “Oh, calm down, Jilly, it’s not like they haven’t done rubbish like this before, and there’s always been a good reason for it. And they’ve let you know when the time was right. It’s probably just that again.” But something about Blip’s behavior in particular bothered her, nagged at her. It had been going on for too long, and he was not one to be secretive. As she sat stewing over it, a thought came to her. “What if I could spy on him? Check out where he’s going without him realizing? I wonder.” She peered out the living room window across the street. Granny wasn’t home as usual, but Jilly had complete run of her house while she was away. She checked the time: 8:00 pm. “Mum and dad aren’t going to be home until at least ten, so that only gives me a couple of hours to go on over and poke around. Unless, what if…” She went back upstairs to her room and found a small book she’d been reading recently: Fludd’s Phenomenal Grimoire of Useful and Slightly Annoying Enchanted Distractions. Leafing through it, she found the page she’d recalled, in a section about how to divert attention from oneself. “Here it is, brilliant!” She noted a simple little apotropaism to buy her some more time away at Granny’s. Speaking the two-line spell, she waited just a short while, and sure enough, the sound of mild snoring began to drift through the bedroom. She smiled, satisfied. “With the light off, they’ll never even think to check in on me! Still, better pile up a few pillows under the duvet, just to be sure.” Once she’d created a convincing snoring dummy of cushions, she turned out the light and shut the door. Going back downstairs, she grabbed her coat, and hopped off to Granny’s for a good evening’s snooping. Author Bio
Tim Rayborn has written a rather ridiculous number of books over the past several years (about fifty!). 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 such diverse topics as music, the arts, history, the strange and bizarre, fantasy and sci-fi, and general knowledge. He’s already planning on writing more books, whether anyone wants him to or not. He’s also an internationally acclaimed musician. He plays dozens of unusual instruments that quite a few people of have never heard of and often can’t pronounce, including medieval instrument reconstructions and folk instruments from Northern Europe, the Balkans, and the Middle East. He has appeared on over forty recordings, and his musical wan- derings 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 Italian hill towns, and high school gymnasiums. He currently lives in Washington State, 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://www.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 (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/tim-rayborn/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Tim-Rayborn/author/B00DWY5J8E 
Queer Sci Fi has a new flash fiction anthology out: Rise. And there's a giveaway. RISE (Noun, Verb) Eight definitions to inspire writers around the world, and an unlimited number of possible stories to tell:
Rise features 300-word speculative flash fiction stories from across the rainbow spectrum, from the minds of the writers of Queer Sci Fi. About the Series Every year, Queer Sci Fi runs a one-word theme contest for 300 word flash fiction stories, and then we choose 120 of the best for our annual anthology. Publisher | Amazon | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop.org | Google Play | Kobo | Scribd | Smashwords | Thalia | Vivlio | Goodreads | Universal Buy LinkGiveaway Queer Sci Fi is giving away a $25 Bookshop.org gift card with this tour: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47301/ Excerpts
It's a simple recipe. Passed down in whispers and hands tracing hands through flour and faith. Never written down, paper being too precious for such a small spell, some might say. Like something must be loud to have worth. A common myth, one that serves her quiet magic well. She sits pretty in commonhalls and houses, empty eye-sockets and a cloak of harmless charm enough for most to dismiss her. Certainly, her weaving or kneading is all her pretty head can handle. She listens, and her hands move. Each stitch another secret, gossip kneaded into every loaf. —From Simple Recipes for Small Magics – Ziggy Schutz It wasn’t the principles that Matt Harden objected to. The principles were fine: Limited planetary resources. Circle of life. The wrongness of playing God. But, he thought as he spread the herbs on the basement floor in the prescribed way, the principles were bullshit when you were faced with reality. When the only man who’d ever held your heart was stolen from you by a moment’s distraction behind the wheel. When you never had the chance to even say goodbye. When your body in bed was as cold and alone as a corpse in a coffin. When the night mist was clammy on your neck and the grave-dirt heavy on your shovel. —From Principle and Reality – Kim Fielding “He’s here,” Matt said, slamming the door behind him. “You ready?” “Think so,” Rory said. He’d finished the salt circle, and quickly moved on to placing the candle in the center. “Will this work?” “It’s this or nothing.” Once Tiff told them she’d survived a run in with the killer known as The Hook, Rory knew they were as good as dead. Supposedly this bastard had been killed before, but he never seemed to stop. Much about The Hook seemed unreal, but Rory thought it was the only weapon they had - the unbelievable. Besides, they were gay; those characters always died first. From Best Served Cold – Andrea Speed “You do realize,” the nurse said gravely, “that without your parent permission form, this procedure can only be temporary.” “I do,” Sharon said nervously. Sharon. That was a good name, right? Sounded like Shawn, but wasn’t. Was a girl’s name. A woman’s name. She liked Sharon. “And that given your parent’s lack of support for this, there will be a counselor assigned to your home to ensure your safety?” The nurse continued, checking the talking points on her tablet with precision. “I won’t need it,” Sharon said nervously. “They think it’s a phase, but they’re not, you know, hostile.” From A New Day – Amy Lane Author Bio This year, 554 authors entered the Rise contest. 120 of them were chosen, and their stories are included in this anthology:
Queer Sci Fi Website: https://www.queerscifi.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/qsfdiscussions Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@queerscifi
 My snippet today is from Collared Souls, book 4 of Sentries. Nick lifted his legs so the bolas could be unwound. Todd climbed to his feet. He grabbed one of Nick’s hands for him to pull up against. Their packs were taken, and they were forced a few paces apart, hands pulled behind their backs and cuffs slapped into place. A horse was brought forward. “Time to mount up,” one of the soldiers said and shoved Todd at the animal. He slung the packs’ straps over the saddle pommel. Another soldier dropped a noose around Nick’s neck, gave a tug, and tied him to the horse’s saddle. Todd dug his heels in. “Where’s his horse?” “He’s roped to it. Now get on.” The soldier slammed his fist into Todd’s back, forcing him forward a few steps. “Either he rides with me or I walk with him,” Todd ground out. “Oh, for the love of…if the fool wants to walk, let him,” the captain said. She held out her hand, fingers waggling. “Give me another rope.” A second noose was handed over to her, which she promptly dropped around Todd’s neck, then gave a jerk, pulling it tight. When he groaned out a breath, she smirked and stepped closer to Todd. “My advice? Don’t piss me off again or I’ll forget my orders and put you both out of my misery.” “You’re working for the wrong man, lady,” Todd said. “It’s Captain Felicity Howard.” She turned away from Todd, but not before elbowing him in the solar plexus. Todd bent in half, blowing out a harsh breath. “Now shut it or your boy here pays the price.” Captain Howard tied the loose end of Todd’s rope to the same saddle Nick was fastened to. Todd clamped his mouth shut but didn’t refrain from lifting his head far enough to glare daggers at the woman. Nick sidestepped close enough that he could get his shoulder against Todd’s and help him stand straight again. The captain mounted the horse and nudged it into motion. Todd had a fleeting image of the horse tossing her onto her nice, round ass. With short hair so dark red it was almost black and pale gray eyes, she gave Todd the impression of an angry cat. A very angry cat. She was average height for a woman, with the type of build that came from rigorous physical activity. He was sure that, pitted against her in a fight, he’d have to work hard to keep her from kicking his ass. A rifle poke in Todd’s back stopped his thinking and got him walking.  My snippet this week is from For the Long Run, a BDSM romantic thriller.  Eric pulled his flashlight from his back pocket and flicked it on, crisscrossing his wrists so both his handgun and light were aimed in the same direction. Glancing back at Jay, he whispered, “Stay behind me.” Jay blew out a breath, rolled his eyes, and stepped around Eric. “I don’t need watching.” “I never said—” Eric clamped his mouth shut, deciding it was more prudent to keep up with Jay. “Hunting big game and something like this are two different things. We need to be extra careful.” Eric stepped up beside Jay. They stopped, taking a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the lower light inside the structure. “Besides, it’s you the thing is driving here, which means it’s probably you it’ll go after first.” Find more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group.  For the Long Run is available in eBook, Audio and paperback
and through KoboPlus The eBook is also in Spanish.  My teaser this week is from Edge Jump. Brett sighed and picked up another card, this time showing Rylan a photo of a boy and girl dressed for a competition. “These kids are wearing outfits almost exactly like yours.” “So what?” Rylan grumbled. “They live in France. For every card from someone famous there are three here from kids.” Brett gathered up a handful of cards, showing Rylan the photographs attached. “Little kids, medium sized kids, older kids. Rylan, you’re their hero. They want to skate like you.” He shrugged and held up the hockey team card. “Okay, these kids want to skate like me, but the point is they look up to you.” “Joke’s on them, isn’t it? Unless they want to be a has been.” “You’re not the first great athlete to be side lined by an injury, and you won’t be the last,” Brett snapped. “That doesn’t mean your life is over or that you don’t have plenty to give, or other career opportunities.” “Was a great athlete. Was a world class skater,” Rylan shot back. Saying the words filled the back of his throat with burning bile. “You’ll always be a great athlete, even a hundred years after you’re dead! No one and nothing can take your accomplishments away from you. There is no reason you can’t help others with their hopes and goals. You’re kind, patient and have a lot of skills to offer. I told you before, you’d be a great coach.” “Yeah, I can’t even do that now since I can’t demonstrate anything,” Rylan shouted. He turned away when tears stung his eyes. “You know what? Pity parties will get you nowhere. I’ve got half a mind to take you out to the hall, turn you over my knee and paddle your ass in front of everyone. I mean, for God’s sake you only skate on one foot half the time anyway. You’ve got one good leg, use it,” Brett argued. “You wouldn’t dare.” Rylan’s self-pity evaporated, replaced by defiance. “Well, no, you’ve got me there, I wouldn’t. You’d probably get off on it and this is an orthopedic ward, there’s little kids around. They seem to break a lot of bones.” Brett raised his eyebrows and smiled softly when Rylan flipped him off with a smirk. Edge Jump is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited. BOOK BLAST 
Book Title: The Road to Montepulciano Author: Garrick Jones Publisher: Moshpit Publications Cover Artist: Garrick Jones Release Date: September 19, 2023 Genre: Crime Thriller/Historical Fiction Themes: Sowing one’s oats; Finding Mr. Right; Acceptance in community Heat Rating: 5 flames Length: 140 500 words/ 393 pages (paperback version) It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Smashwords 
Blurb Two years after finishing his tour of duty in the Occupational Forces in Japan, Damson O’Reilly arrives in Siena, Italy. Sight-unseen at a local auction, he buys an abandoned Tuscan farmhouse in which he aims to write, paint, and start a new life. Excerpt I was lying in bed listening to Donati potter around in the kitchen for a few minutes, trying to make up my mind whether or not to get out of bed. I checked my watch: half past five. It was still dark outside—it wouldn’t start getting light for another three-quarters of an hour. He had to know, I thought, reflecting on the whole of last evening. He must have guessed that I was queer, otherwise what had happened wouldn’t have taken place. We’d have washed separately, each waiting in our rooms until the other had finished, then continued to drink, play cards and behave like kids, but with our clothes on … or at least our underwear. Some people just seemed to know it about me, although I wasn’t aware that I’d ever telegraphed where my preferences lay. A few times during the war I’d found myself on the receiving end of some very not-so-subtle advances quite out of the blue, far more forthright than the almost imperceptible, ever-so-slightly charged evening I’d enjoyed last night. And as for him? Well, I wasn’t sure just yet. There was something though that made me wonder: a frequent holding of eye contact, as if he was trying to discover what I was thinking, always breaking away abruptly with a soft smile on his face. I’d never been able to recognise who was one of the tribe like some of my bedfellows, although at the same time I’d never been shy to leap at an opportunity when it offered itself up. But I found it hard to initiate things. Usually I’d wait until the other person either made a move or gave me a sign that he was interested in more than passing the time of day. I’d heard Italian men were basically open to anything—whether that was true or not, I had no idea. Maybe Donati was just a regular man who liked a bit of variety every so often—I’d met a few of those—or maybe he was just like me: lonely and looking for a friend. Deciding to finally get up, I’d barely thrown back the sheet and sat up, my feet drawn up and knees splayed while I leaned over, searching for my cigarettes—which for some strange reason I’d thrown into my haversack last night—when Renzo walked into the room with a demitasse in each hand. The smell of the coffee made my stomach grumble. He was naked too. It seemed that clothing was to be an optional extra during my stay … I returned his smile. “Buongiorno, Damson,” he said, handing one of the cups to me, then sat in the middle of the bed, one of his legs at an angle, the knee resting on my foot. “Buongiorno, Renzo. You. Sleep. Good?” “Hai dormito bene?” he corrected my Italian, saying the words slowly, twirling his finger in the air to encourage me to repeat the correct version. “In English?” Renzo asked after I’d got it right. “Did you sleep well?” When he repeated the words, he made a pretty good fist of it, so I held out my hand. The shake happened directly over my crotch, mainly because having finished his coffee he’d stretched out over the bed. It was obvious that my genitals were right in front of his face, but his eyes hadn’t flicked away from my own, despite his Cheshire cat grin. This time I was the first to break eye contact, playfully nudging his shoulder with my foot, then reaching for my cigarettes once more. We chatted for a while, trying out words with each other while smoking, Renzo idly playing with the hair trail below his navel while we traded vocabulary for items in the room. Then, after we’d given each other a lesson on conjugating the present tense of the verb “to be” in our own languages, I checked my watch. “Is that the time?” I said in English. I jumped out of bed, pulling on my only pair of slacks and grabbing a white American T-shirt from my haversack. It was wrinkled, but there was nothing I could do about it. “No …?” he asked, making a plucking gesture at his waist with his thumb. Damn, I’d been so distracted that I’d forgotten. Pulling off my trousers, I rummaged in my backpack again and found a pair of Y-fronts—they were a French brand and fairly new on the market. I usually washed my smalls every night, but there’d been too much going on and it had slipped my mind Renzo whistled as I pulled them on, watching as I put my hand down inside the front of the waistband and adjusted myself in the pouch before pulling on my trousers once more. “You. Like?” I asked. He nodded, so I found another pair, still in its packet, and threw them to him. “Go ahead,” I said, while pulling on my socks, then lacing my canvas shoes. He undid the packet, swung his legs off the bed, put both feet in the underpants, then, as he stood up, pulled them up, turning to look at his arse in the mirror of the wardrobe. “Che bel culo,” he said, winking over his shoulder at me. I laughed. That phrase I did understand, and he did have a very nice arse. About the Author From the outback to the opera. After a thirty-year career as a professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQ University. Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic. 
Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram Pinterest | Newsletter Sign-up 
 “You don’t need the rope to get back down the gully, do you?” Mason shrugged. “Probably not. I also don’t want you stuck in here alone. I’d rather you were….” “Were what?” Riece looked up at the opening when they heard movement, but Mason didn’t see a thing. “Free,” Mason said in a soft voice. “So I can run away?” Riece asked. Mason nodded, and Riece shook his head. “I wouldn’t run.” Mason sighed. His argument was thin, and he knew it. Worse, so did Riece. It made more sense for Mason, who was much more capable in this territory, to go retrieve some rope. Getting up to where he’d tied the rope off and bringing it down wouldn’t take him long. That he was so hesitant to leave Riece for what would likely be no more than an hour made no sense. Heaving another sigh Mason asked, “You think you can boost me high enough?” “Sure.” Mason moved his hand to the back of Riece’s neck and squeezed, then pulled him in and gently kissed his forehead. Dirt fell down the edge of the pit, and at the same time, Mason heard a male voice say, “Well don’t you boys look like you’ve gotten yourselves into a real pickle.” Mason and Riece looked up. Almost immediately Riece’s gaze shifted to Mason, and he felt Riece tense. Glancing around the pit, Mason snorted and used the back of one hand to nudge Riece back a step while he took a step forward. “That’s one way to put it,” Mason said. “Have any rope?” The man stood there staring down at them, and for a few seconds, Mason worried he’d turn around and leave. Or worse, start firing the crossbow he held at them. Mason had the distinct impression he was being sized up the same way Mason was judging this man. Read many more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group.  Gone Away is available in eBook, paperback and through Kobo Plus.
This month the eBook is only $2.99. 
M.D. Grimm has a new MMF fantasy romance out, Sisters of Song book 1: Song of Flames. She tried to steal treasure from the dragons’ hoard… and stole their hearts instead. To save her sister from a lascivious lord, Venya must steal a piece of treasure from a legendary dragon’s hoard. Dragons haven’t been seen in several generations, so imagine her surprise when she wakes not one, but two dragons from their hibernation. While the battle-honed Onyx is intent on having her for lunch, the graceful Gold appears more curious than angered by the theft. Abyss and Ray have very different ideas about what to do with the thief when they catch her. Abyss wants to punish her while Ray is intrigued by her audacity. After Ray turns his mate’s anger to desire, the dragons set out on a rescue mission, intent on capturing the brazen thief and learning more about her. And to see if her Song matches theirs. Neglected and discarded by her parents, Venya has never bonded with anyone except her sister. Now she has two mighty dragons wanting to woo her and take her as their mate. While she finds delight in their company, she must reassess her own self-worth before she can trust them enough to love them. But the dragons have exposed themselves to the outside world, and many covet not only their hoard but Ray’s golden scales. And when Venya’s closely held secret is revealed, she becomes a prize worth killing for. Warnings: abusive parents, childhood trauma. About the Series: Venya and Alaiya are sisters born to greedy and selfish parents. One is neglected and the other exploited. Despite this--or because of it--they cling to each other, best friends as well as family. They find freedom in the mountain range beyond their city of birth... as well as unexpected chances at love with extraordinary beings. Forging a new future is never easy, but with their unbreakable bond, and lovers and allies at their side, the impossible just might be attainable. Amazon | Universal Buy Link | Liminal Fiction | QueeRomance Ink | GoodreadsExcerpt “Venya!” Alaiya could barely be heard over the cacophony. “Ven!” “I’m here.” Relief choked her. “I’m here, baby sister.” “Get me out! Is there a war?” “Can’t explain.” She yanked off much of the armor before rifling through her secret pockets to find her lock picks. Then she crouched and worked the lock. It was the fastest break-in of her career. The door ripped open as she stood and then Alaiya was in her arms. Sobbing, clinging. “I knew you’d come,” she whispered, her voice thick. “I knew you’d save me.” Venya squeezed her for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her hand. “We have to run. Now.” “What is going on?” “Dragons!” Alaiya gasped. She picked up her skirt with her other hand and didn’t ask any more questions. They raced down the corridor, following the other residents. As much as Venya wanted to escape, she knew she had to make amends. Despite knowing the futility of the act, she had to make it right. There were good people in this city, and they didn’t deserve to be dragon food. But stranger things had happened. Maybe they’d take the goblet and just leave. A fantasy most likely but there was always chance. Regardless, she had a debt to pay. And if that meant her life… well….. “Where are we going?” “Great hall.” “Why?” Venya didn’t explain. They shoved open the doors and entered the room. Lord Salazem was gone and so was the goblet. “Dammit to the nine hells.” Venya kicked his ostentatious chair. Alaiya panted beside her, still holding her hand, and clutching her chest with the other. “What happened to you? Why are there dragons? Why are you wearing armor?” “I found the treasure and the dragons. I stole from the dragons. And this is a disguise.” Alaiya stared. “We should run while we—” “The treasury,” Alaiya said. This time she dragged Venya along. “Whatever you took from the dragons should be there. You want to return it, don’t you?” Venya couldn’t help but grin. Alaiya was as intelligent as she was beautiful. And, truly, even out of breath, sweaty, and with circles under her eyes, Alaiya was stunning. Her dress of deep burgundy highlighted her skin and eyes, and the rich fabric, stylish flair, and low cut of the bosom told Venya that it had been a gift from the bastard lord. “He took me there as he gloated about his wealth. He thought he could win me over that way.” “Idiot.” No man would ever win Alaiya’s heart. But a woman? Most definitely. It felt like ages but was only a minute or two before they stood in front of the unguarded treasury. Venya once again picked the lock, and Alaiya shoved the door open. Compared to the wealth of the dragons, this was pitiful. At least she spotted the goblet easily, sitting on its own table—a trophy. It struck Venya that the dragons also had the goblet on a pedestal, and yet it hadn’t felt like a trophy. There’d been more reverence in the placement of it. She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d stolen something precious to them, not just another fancy piece of treasure. That deepened her guilt and hardened her resolve to return it. Venya took vindictive pleasure from snatching the goblet. As an afterthought, she grabbed a few coins and plopped them into the cup. “What are you—?” “Interest.” Alaiya snorted. “Only you, my sister.” They hurried out of the treasury, down the corridors, and then outside. Venya’s legs were wooden, and she wanted to collapse and sleep for a week. She was hungry, thirsty, but determined to finish what she started. She looked up. It was easy to spot the giant beasts flying and diving as citizens screamed and jostled and stampeded each other. Except for a few towers of the manor being slightly singed, there had been little damage done to the city. Venya didn’t have time to examine why they were restraining themselves. Their fury must be unrivaled. They must be searching for her. Terror trembled in her gut but she clenched her jaw and would face her fate with eyes wide open. She would not be a coward. “Run, Alaiya. Run to the forest. Hide. They won’t come after you.” Alaiya gaped. “What are you…? I’m not leaving you! Don’t be crazy. We run together.” “No. Dammit, Allie. I have to face them. They won’t stop hunting me, and I can’t have them destroy this place. Or other cities to pursue me. This must stop now.” “You risked your life to save mine.” Alaiya grabbed her hand. “You won’t be getting rid of me that easily. I’m with you until the end.” “This isn’t your fight!” “Yes, it is! You are my sister. I am no more a coward than you are.” Venya glared at her. Alaiya glared back. In desperation, Venya shoved Alaiya away before running toward the dragons. Alaiya screamed curses and ran after her. Venya was going to collapse at any moment. Her vision tunneled a bit as she stumbled. “Dragons!” Then she added a short tune infused with her siren voice. Directed right at them. Both of their heads whipped around. She held up the goblet, the gold and silver coins clinking inside. “Here is your property. Take it and leave this place. Take me if you must and consider my debt repaid.” “No!” Alaiya caught up with her and clutched her around the waist. “Nine hells, Allie!” “Nine hells yourself, Ven!” “They’re going to eat me!” “Then I guess they just have to make room for one more. I bet we cause them indigestion.” Venya struggled but Alaiya was stronger than she looked. The dragons dove at her words, and she barely had time to tear away from her sister before the Onyx scooped her up in his claws. Alaiya tried to grab her, screaming her name. For a split second, Venya felt relief and sadness so profound she grew dizzy. But then the Gold scooped up her sister, and she shrieked at them. “Leave her be! She has nothing to do with this! I’m the one you want. Don’t hurt her!” All the while, she kept the goblet and the few coins safely held against her chest. The Onyx angled his head down so that one silver eye gazed at her. The dragons banked to the south, heading back to their mountains. “Settle, little thief,” he said, his voice cavernous and little more than a growl. “We have much to discuss.” Author Bio
Author Bio: M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!). After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier. Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process. Author Website: https://www.mdgrimmwrites.com/ Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001710645622 Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4574220.M_D_Grimm Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/ Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/ Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.D.-Grimm/e/B00I0KZMY6/
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