 Find a great book or three to read this weekend!  The smile slid off Val’s face. His arm dropped to his side. It took Wyatt a few seconds to recover and react. Closing the distance between them fast enough that Kevin wouldn’t have time to back away, Wyatt grabbed Kevin by one arm and pulled them together. He used a hard enough grip and jerked down with enough pressure Kevin gasped. “You never even came to Jack’s funeral, and I’ll wager you don’t even know where his grave is,” Wyatt said in a low voice. “Don’t talk to me like I’m the one who did anything wrong. I’m the person who took care of him right to the end.” “Hey, hey, don’t.” Val had one arm between them, pushing back against Wyatt’s chest. “It’s not worth it.” Wyatt ignored Val. When Kevin tried yanking free, Wyatt tightened his hold. “Don’t you ever talk to him”—he dipped his head at Val—“like that again. Better not forget I know a helluva lot about you that Lily doesn’t, and I’m sure you never want her finding those facts out.” He let go of Kevin, giving him a shove, and stepped back at the same time. “You can’t threaten me,” Kevin snarled. “Funny, I think I just did,” Wyatt snapped back. “And that’s not a threat; it’s a promise.”  A Barlow Lens is available in eBook, paperback and through Kobo Plus. Check my Translations page for French and Spanish translations. Click on the banner to see each collection of books.      “Are you sure there’s no way to get some time off and come with me to California? Help me hunt down more intel on Marcus Paulle?” Wyatt asked. Val sat on the bed in the spare room Wyatt often used and watched him pack a small suitcase. He shook his head. “I wish I could, but I can’t get the time off. Rules, you know. I’ll miss you.” Wyatt stopped arranging things in the case and looked at Val. He reached out, took Val’s chin in one hand, and tipped his head up slightly. After brushing his lips over Val’s in a soft, gentle kiss he said, “I’ll miss you, too.” Wyatt sighed and pulled a card from his back pocket. “I’d feel a lot better about this if you weren’t here alone.” “My house can’t be seen from the road, so someone would have to know it was here, and there is always someone around the farm,” Val said. “I found my way back here,” Wyatt pointed out. He held the card out to Val. “If there are any problems, anything suspicious or out of place or just odd, call this person. Her private cell is on the back. Tell her I told you to call. Leave your phone on and make sure the GPS is active, and help will get to you in a few minutes. If you see someone suspicious or so much as feel uncomfortable, stay somewhere public if you can.” “You’re overreacting. I’ll be fine. No one has asked about me or followed me, or any of the things you were concerned might happen,” Val said. He didn’t feel fine. Ever since they came to the conclusion that the wrong person might know Val had been following Janelle’s car and was at the crash site, he had been looking over his shoulder. It was nerve wracking, thinking that there was a killer about who might come after him. Having Wyatt around instilled a sense of calm and security in Val, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit that when Wyatt was about to leave town. The fact Wyatt was so worried clued Val into the fact he was probably picking up on Val’s feelings. It felt good to have someone care that much for him. “I sure hope I’m overreacting. If you are being watched, it’s not something I want to find out about the hard way. Janelle has some security, and that makes me feel better,” Wyatt said and closed the suitcase, snapping the latches shut. “That doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you.” “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Val trailed Wyatt to the door. “Keep the doors and windows locked and—” Val arched an eyebrow and snickered. “Yes, Mom. I’ll make sure to wear clean underwear, eat my vegetables, and shower daily.” Wyatt opened his mouth and shut it again, making Val laugh. He lifted up his shirt and smacked his abs. “What Mom really told me was drop and give her twenty.” Wyatt skimmed the knuckles of his free hand over Val’s middle. “Remind me to thank her.” Holding the suitcase, he moved his free hand to Val’s hair, grabbed a fistful, and pulled him in for a kiss.  Run for the Roses is available in eBook, paperback and through Kobo Plus. This month the eBook is FREE in the Prolific Works Catch His Eye MM Romance Giveaway. See my Translations page for French and Spanish translations.
 My snippet this week is from Quarry, book 2 of The Vampire Guard.  Lucas was opposite Jonas, bracing the punching bag. He was obviously straining against Jonas’s rapid-fire hits and had morphed to his werewolf form enough to bulk up, giving him added strength while preserving his ability to speak. “Come on, that all you got?” Lucas taunted. Jonas, already sweating and red from exertion, hit the bag harder. Declan raised his eyebrows when Lucas’s feet slid on the floor as he was pushed back. Lucas threw his weight forward, forcing Jonas backward, but only by a few inches. Lucas continued his jibes. “My grandmother hits harder than you.” “I’ve met your—” Jonas stopped and slammed into the bag with hits only Declan’s eyesight could follow. “—grandmother. She’d kick both our asses even missing one arm.” “So, yeah, she hits harder than you. Come on! I can barely feel these.” Lucas held a breath and strained to keep from being shoved backward again. “Wuss.” “Antagonizing him is always a good idea,” Declan grumbled. He decided this sort of behavior must be a cop thing. He’d never understood it in Jonas and even less so when Lucas joined in. They relieved stress by challenging each other to all sorts of physical activities and conflict. Neither let up until one of them bested the other in some fashion and by rules Declan decided they alone understood. Blair’s normal reaction to this sort of display was to shake his head and walk away. Jonas’s anger must have reached its boiling point. He backed up a half pace, then leapt off the ground in a spinning kick toward the bag. His foot connected with the punching bag and the heavy tow chain Mr. Pennington, one of their property caretakers, had assured them it would pull a tank—snapped apart with a loud bang. The bag, with Lucas now riding it, went careening across the room. They both came to a stop against the wall of Lucas’s safe room. If it hadn’t been a heavily reinforced wall, Declan was sure Lucas, and the bag, would have gone right through. Read more snippets in the Rainbow Snippet Facebook group.  Quarry is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.
Right now the eBook is on sale for $2.99!  A knock on the door signaled the arrival of their luggage. They spent a little time putting their clothing and other personal items away. “I’ll text Kevin.” Taren grabbed his phone and held it in his hand until Ian nodded. While Taren sent the message, Ian watched, chewing at his lower lip. “If you’re not sure about this I can text back and tell him no.” “No. I mean not necessary. Don’t tell him no. I’ve never done anything—” Taren set his phone down and crossed the room to Ian, resting both hands on his husband’s shoulders and rubbing lightly. “I know that, Ian. I don’t want you to feel you have to do this to please me. I want you to enjoy this, not feel pressured.” “I’m not. Well, I am, but I’m curious and I want to and pleasing you is a bonus.” Ian pulled in a breath and sighed it back out again. “Fantasizing about something and confronting it are two different things.” “This is nothing but a meet and greet.” Taren caressed the platinum Cuban link chain around Ian’s neck. “You want him gone, he’s gone. You want to do a little more, that can happen, too.” Ian rocked up on his toes and kissed Taren’s cheek. “Deal, but don’t do anything that will require us to hide a body.” Taren laughed and pulled Ian close. His phone signaled an incoming text. Letting go of Ian he picked up the phone again. “Forty minutes. Do you want to freshen up?” “You know I do.” Ian gave him another quick peck on the cheek and headed for the bathroom. While waiting, Taren examined the collection of toys hanging on the pegboard wall. He took a few down and looked them over, replacing them but doing a little rearranging so they were grouped together. Ian might prefer others, of course, but Taren felt confident he could at least make a reasonable guess as to which ones would interest Ian the most. If all else failed, they had their standbys and some of their own favorite equipment with them. Ian was fond of the floggers with many leather tresses that would fan out when twirled and swung a certain way. Taren was pleased to see several of that variety with different lengths and widths of tresses.       My teaser this week is from Electric Candle, book 2 of The Sleepless City (series cowritten with Anne Barwell). Lucas led the way to his office. It was at the far end of the building, near the morgue. Forge hung back. Something was wrong. He could feel it coming off Blair, and it had nothing to do with a soulbond or Declan. “Want the tour?” Lucas looked excited. Blair’s expression was suspicious. He glanced around the office and through the door to Lucas’s lab. “Are there dead bodies?” Lucas grinned. “Kid, it’s a morgue, and I’m a medical examiner. Of course, there are dead bodies.” “No, thanks, I’ll pass.” Forge laughed, and he felt Blair relax. “Blair, what’s wrong?” “Maybe it should wait until we’re back at the castle,” Blair said. “We can talk here, and Stewie knows about things like vampires and werewolves,” Forge said. He took a step closer to Blair and laid one hand on his forearm for a few seconds. A tingle ran through his hand and the length of his arm to spread across his chest and down his belly to settle in his groin. Blair arched an eyebrow and glanced down at Forge’s hand, convincing Forge he’d shared the experience. Forge didn’t move away, however. “I was tailed. Some guy, except I don’t think he was human. It was more like he stalked me.” Blair pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “I’d think it sounds crazy except….” “You’re a vampire having a discussion with another vampire in the office of a M.E. who is a werewolf?” Lucas asked. “Yeah.” Blair looked down at the floor, then up at Forge when he squeezed Blair’s arm. “This guy followed me, watching me in all the stores I went into. When I came here he was behind me right up to the front door.” “Security cameras.” Lucas was moving across the room to a computer. “Here’s the feed.” Lucas pointed at the monitor. “Who?” Blair and Forge shadowed Lucas and looked over his shoulder. There was a clear image of people walking along the sidewalk, some going up to the front of the building, others passing by. The outside door appeared to open and close on its own. Lucas nodded at it and said, “That must be Blair. Where’s the guy?” he asked, turning to look at Blair and Forge. “He’s not there. I swear to you, a man followed me. While I was waiting for you, I could see him out on the sidewalk,” Blair blurted. “He got close enough to me I could do what you told me to do, I listened to his body. I could hear something moving inside him, but he wasn’t giving off any heat or smell. He was a little taller than me, lighter red hair, glasses. He was trying to look geeky, but it was fake.” “How’d you know?” Lucas asked. “He asked me about smartphones in the store.” “Could have been a ploy to talk directly to you,” Lucas said. Forge nodded, leaned against the desk and stared at the monitor. “Apparently, we have something that can hide from a camera or doesn’t show up on one, but isn’t a vampire.” “You believe me?” That surprised Forge. “Of course, I believe you.” “Why do I have the ‘we’re screwed’ feeling?” Lucas asked.  Electric Candle is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited. NEW RELEASE BLOG TOUR 
Book Title: Sting in the Tail: Carnival of Mysteries Author: TA Moore Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press Cover Artist: Diane Theis Release Date: October 4, 2023 Genre: MM Paranormal Romance Tropes: Unfinished Business, First Times, Ticking Clock Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 87 000 words/ 130 pages It is a standalone book and part of a linked series by 19 other authors. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
The Carnival of Mysteries just arrived in Sutton County. They say if you cross the fortune teller’s palm with silver she can read your future like a map. Right now all Ledger Conroy wants to know is if he has a future. Blurb The Carnival of Mysteries just arrived in Sutton County. They say if you cross the fortune teller’s palm with silver she can read your future like a map. Right now all Ledger Conroy wants to know is if he has a future. Back in Sutton after over a decade, Ledger’s plan had been to bury his father--recently deceased convicted serial killer and less-well known warlock, Bell Conroy--clear the property, and then finally wash his hands of being a Conroy. Instead there’s a cured human heart in the larder, a pissed off pretty boy who is definitely not human at the door, and a debt to the devil that Ledger’s just inherited. Devil. Monster. Something like that. He’d not asked for its pedigree Whatever it was, it's given Ledger a week to fulfill the terms of his father’s contract. Or else he’s never going to leave Sutton again. With pretty-boy Wren at his heels, more to make sure Ledger doesn’t skip town than to provide assistance, Ledger tries to track his father’s sins across Sutton. The problem is there’s so many of them. Ledger is faced with old grudges, a Sheriff that thinks Ledger knows more about his father’s crimes than he’s ever said (and isn’t wrong), and a dead man with a book shop. Not to mention the on-going distraction of Wren, who can't decide whether to be a hindrance, a help, or just hot. Luckily Ledger has a nose for this sort of work. Excerpt BELL CONROY HAD died alone and unmourned. There was no one to write an obituary, but he was Sutton County, Ohio’s most famous son. His passing couldn’t go unmentioned, even if it was a “just the facts” death notice in the Sutton Herald. He’d been fifty-six. He’d been released from prison on compassionate grounds when he was diagnosed with cancer. Cause of death: suicide. The families of his eighteen victims would probably never get the bodies back. Sorry. Not famous. Infamous. Ledger took the second turn after the red barn. The road was technically paved, but one of the downsides of being a well-known serial killer was that the county didn’t spend a lot of money on the upkeep of your properties. The rental car—the only one available on short notice—creaked and rattled as it jounced along the rutted, potholed road. A half-hearted scarecrow had been strung up on the property line. It hung from a scrubby tree and stared at the road with Sharpie-cross eyes. A shock of red yarn hair had been stitched onto the burlap sack head. That was from the twenty-year-old mug shot. Between age, prison, and cancer, the hair had left this mortal plane years before Conroy had. Ledger hit the brakes as he reached the gates and let the car roll over the cattle grid. He pulled onto the patchy grass outside the house, turned off the engine, and got out of the car. There was a white van parked in front of the house. Ledger rolled his sleeves down over his forearms and buttoned the cuffs as he stared at the vehicle. He’d booked the flight the moment he heard the news about Conroy and driven straight here from the airport. It looked like that hadn’t been quick enough. The vultures had beaten him to it. Ledger snorted to himself. One vulture, anyhow. He started toward the house. The driver’s side door opened as he passed the van, and Benjy Hark scrambled out. The lanky gray-haired man fell into step next to him. “You’re too late,” Hark said. “I’ve already spoken to the son and made an offer on it as a job lot.” “A fair offer?” Ledger asked. Hark took a beat. “Fair enough,” he said, pulling his glasses out of his top pocket. “As far as the son knows, anyhow. It’s not like this lot is worth anything to him. I’m doing him a favor, really.” “Well, him and your wallet.” Hark snorted. He lifted his glasses and breathed on them to mist the glass, then polished the lenses with the end of his tie. “And what?” he said. “You’re going to walk in there and offer him the black market value on his inheritance? Don’t try and kid a kidder, Ledger. You’re not any fucking better than the rest of us.” Ledger smirked briefly in response. He couldn’t argue with that. In their line of work—sourcing dark Americana for the sort of people that weren’t really people—it was hard to pretend otherwise. They were in this for the dirty money. Their only excuse was that the heirs had no way to capitalize on their dead relative’s collection. As a moral justification, it was thin. To say the least. Not that there was moral justification for much in their business. The Catholic Church had a monopoly on the bones of saints and the effects of the blessed. On the other hand, the trade in sinners and their leavings was an open market… and a profitable one. Who wanted to pray—and pay—for a miracle when they could wring a demon’s price from the junk that had soaked in a monster’s misdeeds for years. And for the low, low price of cold, hard cash, Ledger would find it for them. “I never said I was,” Ledger said. They reached the porch and climbed the three sagging steps to the door. Something had been scrawled on the wood in red paint, but it had been mostly scoured away. Killer? Murderer? It could have been either, Ledger supposed. Both were true. “But I know that Conroy’s heir isn’t going to take your offer.” Hark slid his glasses on and squinted at Ledger through the lenses. Despite his best efforts, there was still a fingerprint on the glass. There always was. It was surprisingly easy to pick up minor curses in their line of work. “You’ve already spoken to him?” Ledger reached into his pocket. “You could say that,” he said as he pulled out the keys the lawyer had left for him. “I amhim.” He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him in Hark’s face. Look at that. It was like having your abusive, cultist dad drop dead was just all brightside and no downside at all. About the Author TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided. 
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My snippet this week is from Scintilla, book one of El Corazon. Yeah, Raul didn’t have time for this shit. He fucking ached from head to toe and that just pissed him off. Raul shifted to complete werewolf and charged the man. The guy never had the chance to get his knife, or any other weapon, out. Raul pounced, gripped the man by his neck and slammed him face first into the iron door. Not taking the time to see what damage that did, Raul decided to save the good, hardworking taxpayers of Texas some money. No charges, no trial, simply an execution. In one swift, clean movement, Raul snapped the man’s neck and simultaneously ripped through his throat, opening arteries and shredding muscle. He’d kill, but not torture.  Read more diverse snippets in the Rainbow Snippets group on Facebook. Scintilla is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited. Get the Spanish translation HERE.
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