 He was dragged along the floor, feet stumbling to keep up and failing. Thrown to the ground, they left him there, shivering and shuddering against the cold. Despite how he struggled to stay awake and alert, light and sound drifted in and out of focus along with Kyle’s consciousness. Thoughts of Daniel and their sparring matches bloomed in his mind’s eye and faded away. Daniel had been teaching him to defend himself and Kyle had sparred with Pierre and a few others, but none of them had ever beaten him nearly senseless. He wondered how they kept their wits and functioned through something like this. No one was teaching him that form of defense. They came back some time later, he had no idea how much later, and questioned him again. He pleaded with them to stop, trying to point out he’d told them the same story over and over. Kyle had no idea what other information they wanted or why they thought he had it. He was lying on his side, unable to escape when his ribs were repeatedly kicked, knocking the air from him with harsh grunts. When the floor he was on shook and explosions ricocheted around somewhere outside the door, the brutal beating was stopped. Shouting and gunfire sounded close by. Struggling to lift his head, Kyle squinted through bruised and puffy eyelids at the door when it slammed open. It was the invasion in his apartment all over again, only this time Kyle saw the subtle differences in the riot gear. These people stampeding through the door were from the Freedom Militia. Kyle struggled to sit up and get off the floor, but it was impossible. Breathing was torture as he shifted his weight and inched around enough to get a better view of the new arrivals. “Get away from him,” one man snapped. Kyle immediately recognized that voice as Daniel’s. He’d know the man’s rambling gait anywhere. Daniel advanced on the three people still standing over Kyle. They scattered, but the others from the Militia fanned out, meeting them head-on. There was scuffling and fighting. Kyle cringed away, again trying to get up, to get away from his captors. “I said get away from him.” Daniel clasped his hands together and brought them up, driving them into the face-plate of the man beside Kyle. The man staggered away a few steps but didn’t go down. Drawing a handgun, he stood straddling Kyle’s ankles, gun pointed at his head. “You know I can’t let him live. He knows too much.” Daniel stopped short and squared his shoulders. “You?” “It was you?” Pierre sidestepped until he was closing in on the man from the other side. Kyle caught a glimpse of the other Militia people; he was able to count three more besides Daniel and Pierre now. They had his assailants face down in a row, heads pressed against the wall perpendicular to the door. “Get them out of here,” Pierre snapped, waving one arm. The sound of bodies being moved filled the room for a short time; then it was just the four of them. In motion, going so fast he was hard for Kyle to keep track of, Daniel covered the last few feet to the person holding a gun on Kyle. Before the agent could react, Daniel had his wrist in a grip Kyle knew from their sparring as an iron-like vise. He twisted with enough force, Kyle heard bone snap. The man screamed when Daniel yanked him closer, flipped him around, and held him against his chest. The gun clattered to the ground, kicked away by Pierre. Daniel used his free hand, reached to the man’s riot visor, and tugged it off his head. “You set them up!” he growled. “Set them up and killed them the same as if you’d pulled the trigger yourself.” Kyle saw the man’s face when the helmet was removed. He lifted his gaze to look into first Pierre’s and then Daniel’s face. “We all trusted you.” Pierre’s voice was harsh and raw. “Keller, an entire barracks trusted and followed you. This is how you repay all of us?”  $2.99 for the eBook!   $2.99 This Weekend Only    AUDIOBOOK TOUR 
Book Title: Tyler’s Alphas Author: Drew Hunt Publisher: JMS Books LLC Narrator: Chad White Release Date: September 24, 2024 Pairing: MMM Tense/POV: third person, past tense, single POV. Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Menage, Paranormal, Shifter Tropes: Shifter awakening, true/fated mates, humour Themes: Shifter awakening, fated mates Heat Rating: 5 out of 5 flames Length: 2 hours 5 minutes It is a standalone story and does the not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Audio and eBook Available 
When One Alpha Isn’t Enough Blurb A hillbilly and a former Marine walk into a bar sounds like the opening line of a joke. But it's no laughing matter for Tyler Warboys when werewolf alphas Rocky and Blaze Blackstone enter the Byte Bar, the computer repair store where he works. Tyler is instantly attracted to the huge, powerful, but allegedly dangerous creatures. And, miracle of miracles, they feel a connection to him, too. But how can that be? Tyler is human and Rocky and Blaze are not. However, the alphas can smell a faint something on Tyler that has them wondering if he isn't as human as he's always thought. But as Tyler has never shifted, how can he be a werewolf? So many questions, but between the three of them, they are bound to find some answers. Surely three isn't always a crowd, especially where love is concerned? About the Author Having read all the decent free fiction on the net Drew could find, he set out to try his hand at writing something himself. Fed up of reading about characters who were super-wealthy, impossibly handsome and incredibly well-endowed, Drew determined to make his characters a bit more real and believable. Drew lives a quiet life in the north of England and someday hopes to meet the kind of man he writes about. Check out his Blog/Website 
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Book Title: Textual Confusion Author and Publisher: Fifer Rose Release Date: October 24, 2024 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: limited third person (unreliable narrator), past tense Genres: Contemporary MM romance Tropes: accidental sugar baby, mistaken identity, billionaire Themes: drama, younger/older man, class difference, self-esteem issues, past abusive relationships Heat Rating: 4.5 flames Length: 124 000 words It is a standalone story with no cliffhanger. Happily-ever-after guaranteed. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Impersonating the sugar baby of the richest, meanest CEO in the city? Not Asher’s brightest ever idea. Falling in love with him? Frickin’ catastrophic. Blurb I need you tomorrow. Same time and place as last week. Who dis? Did I f*ck you stupid last time? You know. Between barely scraping by financially and dealing with a stalker ex-boyfriend, Asher’s life was already problematic enough before randomly receiving a string of texts from an unknown number in the middle night. He should have just done what a normal person would do and ignore them. But since when had Asher ever been normal? Besides, based on the not-quite-nudes the guy sent, he was clearly hot. Against his better judgment, Asher responds – which doesn’t take long to devolve into depraved sexting. He wasn’t expecting the man to Venmo him an eye-popping amount of cash for his trouble. (Not that he ever got the money. The guy didn’t know who he was – or that he was even another man, for that matter.) That should have been the end of it. Except they keep texting. And, like the utter moron he is, it doesn’t take long for Asher to catch feelings. Honestly, he ought to know better than to fall for rich assholes by now. (Otherwise known as how Asher Kodet, twenty-three-year-old baker extraordinaire, becomes the accidental sugar baby of Markus Kingston, richest, meanest – but actually the frickin’ sweetest – billionaire CEO in all of Seattle.) Excerpt “What am I going to do?” “I say we open an OnlyFans account and start selling pictures of your ass. I mean, the going price is apparently 500 bucks a snapshot. What the hell are we working here for?” “You plan to profit off my ass?” Asher asked incredulously. “I mean, it is pretty magnificent. A bona fide piece of art. And I would know, I majored in Art.” A pause. “Which is probably why I’m still working at this dump.” “It’s not that bad here.” “You only say that because Mr. Brittle has a perpetual hard-on for you. Again, probably because of that ass.” “Mr. Brittle’s old enough to be my grandpa. His… equipment probably doesn’t even work! He just likes me because I’m on time and respectful. I, for one, never told him that the saggy skin under his neck makes him resemble a mastiff.” “What? It was a compliment! I love dogs. Everyone loves dogs.” “That doesn’t mean they want to be told they look like one!” Asher pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, can we focus on the topic at hand, please? You read the messages. I’m supposed to be meeting this guy tonight.” She scoffed. “No, you’re not supposed to be meeting him. His hooker or sugar baby or whoever it is he apparently pays for orgasms is supposed to meet him. Those messages were intended for that person, not you.” Asher frowned. “Yeah, but I’m the one who received them. I’m the one who-” “-told him you wanted him to spank your hole. Yeah, I saw. But he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know who you are. Because you didn’t tell him.” About the Author Fifer Rose is a happily married mother of four human children and two very spoiled cats. When she is not wiping snotty noses or being bullied into feeding her cats (again?!), she can be found obsessing over M/M romance. She loves all the tropes, some of her favorite being enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy, and mistaken identity. She also has a penchant for A/B/O dynamics. While Fifer is a sucker for angst, a happily-ever-after is a MUST in all she reads and writes. Unrelated hobbies include baking, attempting to golf (for her husband’s sake), and daydreaming about traveling. (No actual traveling because did you see the part about four kids?) Author Links Facebook Group | Facebook Profile | Newsletter Sign-up 
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Book Title: Twin Firs Author: Paul Bright Publisher: Cascadian Western Press Cover Artist: Abby Simmons Release Date: September 1, 2024 Tense/POV: Third person, past tense, alternating POV Genres: Contemporary MM Rom-Com Tropes: Lonely train station agent who doesn’t think he’ll fall in love Themes: New romance after painful breakup Heat Rating: 3 flames Length: 91 200 words/366 pages It is the first book of the series. It does not end on a cliffhanger, but many stories will continue in the next book. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
A lonely train station agent waits for true love to arrive. Updated Blurb Train station agent Ethan Tremblay believed he'd never find the perfect man to love. Elementary school teacher Leo Grabowski believed no one would love him if they found out who he really was. When they met at the isolated Twin Firs train depot in an idyllic mountain resort in the Pacific Northwest everything conspired to keep them apart, especially their own insecurities, until they finally learned how to become themselves. Excerpt The afternoon lunch crowd at Amélie's diner kept her busy tending to her customers at the gay resort but she made time to talk to her son and his new 'friend.' “Here's your trout, Leo,” Amélie said as she replaced his uneaten salad. “And here's your lasagna. Do you ever comb your hair?” Ethan glared at his mother. “I don't want lasagna.” “Well that's what I brought you.” “You're not helping me lose weight.” “Absurde,” she demurred and turned to Leo. “There's nothing wrong with a little meat on the bones. What do you think, Leo?” “I prefer a guy I can grab a hold of,” he said and cast a devilish glance at Ethan's mother. “I do too. Ethan's father was very handsome but lean. Part Mohawk. Ohhh, my parents were not pleased when they met him. They were 'Good Catholics' and when they found out I was pregnant they were beside themselves. Calice! It was bad enough I was dating a patient I met during med school residency, la la. But an Indian - that's what they called him...” “You don't need to tell him your life story, Maman,” Ethan interjected. “Why not? Leo told me about his mother. Nothing wrong with friendly conversation.” “I don't want to pry.” Leo attempted to dispel Ethan's discomfort. “You're not,” Amélie assured him. “I simply want you to know I raised Ethan well despite being a single mother. I also taught him how to use a comb, though lately he seems to have forgotten.” Leo looked down at his plate, embarrassed for Ethan. “You also changed my diapers. Want to tell Leo about that?” Amélie feigned shock. “Let's not go too far.” “Too late...” slipped out of Leo's mouth before he could stop. Ethan burst out laughing. He slapped the table and spilled his iced tea. Leo laughed with him. Amélie chided them, “All right, all right, make fun of me.” Ethan sobered up and asked, “How're you doing, Maman?” “Oh, the same old. The young ones complain about the older ones moving too slow. The older ones complain about the young ones slipping away during shift to give blow jobs. I bet they wouldn't bitch if they were on the receiving end. I started rubbing lidocaine on my wrist. It helps. Nothing to complain about.” “Mama Amélie! Mama Amélie,” a customer shouted from the other side of the diner. “Oh, I'm needed.” She looked over the tables to see who was calling, then turned to Leo. “Take good care of him. He's the only son I've got." She kissed Ethan on both cheeks and limped across the room gleefully shouting, "I'm coming boys!” Ethan watched her leave, then focused on Leo. “You came looking for me?” “Yeah,” Leo hesitated, “I wanted to apologize for being so abrupt last night.” “No, I was totally saying the wrong things. My brain thinks things and they don't come out right.” “You were right,” Leo said. “I don't know when we'll see each other again.” “If you keep missing trains I don't know when I'll get rid of you.” Leo was taken aback. “Oh.” “I didn't mean it like that,” Ethan blurted out quickly. “I don't want to get rid of you.” Amélie returned with fresh iced tea for Ethan. “I'm back. They saw your trout and wanted to know why it's not on the menu.” “Why isn't it?” Leo asked. “This is a cannibal themed restaurant, la la. Alferd Packer. Donner Trail...'Have Family for Lunch'...” “That's in California,” Leo interrupted. Ethan quietly reminded Leo, “Everything at this resort is fake.” “Creative license, sa coche. Anyway, eating fish has a whole different connotation with gay men.” “Riiiight...” Leo slowly nodded. “And I've never told you,” she turned to Ethan, “but I've always wondered where you got the gay. Because your father definitely wasn't. He loved eating fish.” Leo spit lemonade across the table. “WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!” Ethan shrieked. Amélie continued dreamily, “He used to whisper to me in Iroquois when we were making love.” “DON'T TELL ME THIS!” “I often regret never teaching you his language.” “I don't want to know! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!” Ethan pushed his chair away from the table. “Don't tell me about your sex life!” “You told me about yours this morning.” “NO I DIDN'T. That was autocorrect!” “I'm simply comparing you to your father. You get the shyness from him.” “Please stop,” Ethan countered. “You're embarrassing me in front of someone I barely know.” “The fact that you barely know him isn't my fault,” she declared. “I'll leave you alone so you can remedy that.” Amélie trudged away and returned to work. About the Author Paul Bright wrote/produced/directed twelve feature films that are internationally distributed including Pocket Mouse Protector, Angora Ranch and Altitude Falling. When he was the Artistic Director of the Gaslight Theater in Austin TX, Paul produced 32 stage plays and directed many of them including Loot, The Master and Margarita, Rhinoceros, Death and the Maiden, and Lazarus Laughed. He lives in the Columbia River Gorge of the Pacific Northwest in a tiny house with two cats. He likes trains. Twin Firs is his first novel. Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up 
 “Let me get this straight,” Simon Hawthorne began as he set a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table in front of Lucas. He was the fourth vampire living in the large house known as Boggs’s Castle and Ben Leyton’s soulmate. Like Blair, he taught at Lakeview University, though in the history department. According to Forge, Simon was the history department even though he’d been turned in the early 1900s. “You were asked to help with security while the president of the United States is in town, and the Secret Service agent sent to contact you is a vampire?” Lucas dug into the potatoes, then held them out to Declan. “Trade?” Declan handed off a bowl of gravy and took the potatoes. “Thanks. And how was your day?” “Not nearly as exciting as yours, it seems,” Declan said. “Jonas, grab the rolls. They smell done.” “Yeah, yeah. I got it,” Forge said. Lucas snickered, Ben ducked his head and his shoulders bounced, and Declan laughed outright when swearing and the sound of a tray clunking down on the stove followed Forge’s words. “You should use one of those oven mitts,” Declan called. “And bring more butter.” Blair joined them, setting his tablet onto the table beside Lucas’s plate. “Mystery one solved. Some of the agents have beards, at least the men in these pictures do. Their regulations aren’t online, not that I could find with a quick search.” “He was Secret Service,” Forge said. He set a plate of rolls and the butter dish down, then sat between Blair and Declan. “They all wear a certain pin and he had one. Either he’s really an agent or he stole the pin. If he’s not an agent, he’s a damn good liar. His heartbeat didn’t fluctuate the entire time.” “Patented vampire lie-detector test. Listen to the heartbeat,” Lucas said and dug into his dinner. “It’s a pretty good test,” Blair added. “I have three special pins, and I don’t belong to any organization that issues them,” Declan pointed out. Simon covered his laugh with a napkin over his mouth. Forge did what Lucas did—ignored the remark. “Did you see that other pin he wore?” Lucas asked. “I did. It was interesting, but I don’t know what it was. Maybe a family crest or something?” Forge shrugged. “The whole thing was odd, starting with Sellers. He requested Lucas attend and both of us bring our significant others—” “Husband,” Blair cut in. “Apparently, we got married,” “And you didn’t invite us to the ceremony. I’m wounded to the core,” Ben said and slapped one hand over his heart. “Don’t think you’ll get any wedding gift from us,” Simon added. Forge drew in a deep breath. “As I was saying, Sellers seemed like he was asking, but he wasn’t really asking, if that makes sense. I felt as if our presence was required, and not just for good PR. I don’t usually bring a date to an official police assignment. Nor am I asked to.” “I think the whole thing sounds suspicious,” Simon said. “I’m glad I wasn’t invited.” He stopped eating and put his fork down, turning to Ben. “Or was I and you haven’t told me yet?” Ben shook his head. “This is the first I’ve heard about it.” “The government people will have their own representatives. I doubt Ben will be required in his capacity as press liaison unless our department needs you there. And I don’t see why they would. Local cops are sort of backup to the backup. At least we’ll get a free meal out of it,” Forge explained. “Fundraiser meal,” Declan reminded him and laughed. “So, eat first.” “I’m sure he’ll only be in this area for the day of the dinner, maybe two at the most. It’s taking place July second, and I highly doubt Boggslake, Ohio, is where the president plans to spend the Fourth,” Forge said. “Despite our lovely fireworks display?” Simon asked. He was clearly having a hard time saying it with a straight face. “As I recall, the picnic at the park is always fun,” Declan said. “I enjoy the wine shop that hosts the tastings every year.” “And the popcorn place, don’t forget that,” Simon added. Declan put a serious expression on his face and shook his head. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for the alien ships, haven’t you?” Lucas asked. Forge nodded and Lucas continued, “Damn, never a decent invasion when you need one.” “It’s part of my job to do things like this. I’m just sorry you, Blair, and Declan are getting dragged into it,” Forge said. “Eh, it’ll be fun,” Blair said. “Oh, hey, not to change the subject,” Lucas said, “but I’m changing the subject. I found out more from the Coast Guard about the body that washed up on our beach. They’d told me the boat capsized, but what they didn’t tell me until today was, it was damaged. It looked as if something rammed it from underneath.” “Don’t you mean it ran into something?” Ben asked.     NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Dragon’s Folly Author and Publisher: Joy Lynn Fielding Cover Artist: Miblart Release Date: October 9, 2024 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: Alternating first person pov. Genres: Paranormal romance (shifters) Tropes: Grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity, possessive MC, size difference Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 80 000 words It is a standalone story in a series. It contains mild spoilers for the first book in the Wings over Albion series. it does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Falling for him would be pure folly. I know that. Now all I have to do is convince my heart… Blurb Allowing a strange dragon into my home was not my idea. The Assembly assured me it was necessary, though. And that’s how I ended up with him. Ollie Shaw is clumsy. Unfairly hot. He stumbles through my life leaving a trail of chaos and sunny charm in his wake. And I hoard every moment with him like he’s my greatest treasure. But with an entire dragon territory to rule, bills to pay, and treachery brewing in my family, I can’t afford to be distracted by Ollie’s copper-gilded beauty and boundless enthusiasm. I especially can’t give in to my dragon’s primal urge to claim him. Because loving him could cost me everything I’ve fought so hard to protect. And that would eventually come back to bite us both—with dragon’s teeth… Dragon’s Folly, Book 3 in the Wings over Albion series, is a sweet and spicy, grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity paranormal m/m romance. Excerpt “How much longer do you think they’ll—oh my God.” I interrupted myself. “Who is that?” Mia stood on tiptoe and followed my awestruck gaze. “Who?” she asked. “The redheaded guy with the beard?” I revised my impression of her intelligence. “The tall one with the shoulders. Black shirt and black jeans.” Along with dark hair, and did I mention shoulders? He was moving decisively through the throng, bootheels striking the floor in a way that might indicate temper or might simply be supreme self-confidence. He knew other dragons would move out of his way. Lean-cheeked and dark-browed, his face was set in stern lines that made my knees weak. This was a dragon who knew what he wanted and took it. I hoped that would include me. He was heading in our direction, closing on us fast. I’d opened my mouth and started to say God knew what but something to make him notice me, when Mia spoke over the top of my incoherent babble. “Archer,” she said. “This is Ollie Shaw.” Oh great, her brother had arrived. What bloody awful timing. Wait a minute—the only person next to us was Mr Sex God himself. He smiled slightly at her, before glancing at me. I’d thought the first Mortimer grandson I’d seen would level Troy. This guy would have the Martians invading to fight over his square jaw and piercing grey eyes. “Hi,” I said, and hoped my voice hadn’t come out sounding as squeaky as I feared. He nodded at me, not unfriendly but not friendly. And that was the final nail in my coffin because dark, powerful and emotionally unavailable? It was as if he’d read my teenage diary and was role-playing every one of my fantasies. Almost every one—he hadn’t yet shoved me up against the wall and fucked me. I flicked my tongue over suddenly dry lips and wondered if he could see how ready I was to do anything he told me. “Good to meet you,” I said belatedly, ducking my head in an attempt at a respectful salute to the head of a family. It didn’t work too well because I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face. From the dark eyebrows that were drawing together as I continued staring at him. “I’m from Tunbridge Wells.” I scarcely knew what I was saying, just that I didn’t want him to leave. “Mia’s been keeping me company.” His eyes narrowed on me, and how the hell did that make him even sexier? “Has she?” His voice was deep, with a dangerous note that thrilled right to my cock. “Yes.” That was definitely a squeak, damn it. “She’s very nice.” Oh my God, would someone take me outside and shoot me? His expression remained stern. “I’m aware of that.” He glanced at her, seeming to forget my existence. “Let’s go, Mia.” She gave me a grin that let me know she was fully aware of her brother’s effect on me. “Catch you later, Ollie,” she said, and they left. 
About the Author Joy Lynn Fielding lives in a small English market town, where she indulges her passions for vintage aircraft, horse riding and gardening (though not all at the same time). She tends to talk a lot about the fascinating facts she discovers during her research for books. Thankfully, she has a very patient Labrador who has a gift for looking interested in what she’s saying while he waits for the food to arrive. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Newsletter Sign-up Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card 
They went in silence to the main desk, where one man was waiting on the other side of the glass window. Forge nudged Lucas’s elbow, glanced sideways at him, and stepped to the window. The man looked young, but Lucas was well aware that his true age was likely much different than his appearance led most people to believe. He was surprisingly slight in build and had pale eyes and skin, and silver hair. It was a harsh contrast to his black suit and tie. His chin was covered with a short, neat beard, and he had an equally neat mustache that almost blended in with his complexion. Blair had no doubt felt Forge’s reaction through their bond because it was strong enough that Lucas couldn’t help but notice it as well. Forge arched an eyebrow and stood a bit straighter. Creepy didn’t begin to describe their visitor or the intense vibe he and Forge both gave off as they appeared to size each other up with that flimsy piece of bulletproof glass between them. The man smiled at them and held out a badge and identification card. “I’m Porter Samuels. United States Secret Service. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Detective Forge.” He looked straight at Forge before nodding to Lucas. “Dr. Coate.” Agent Samuels smiled. “I’d be a pretty poor agent of the Secret Service if I didn’t already know your names and what you looked like.” When Forge didn’t move, Lucas glanced at him and used his toe to poke Forge’s foot. Forge was rarely rattled, and Lucas was probably the only person in the building who could tell Samuels surprised, no thoroughly unsettled, Forge. Lucas guessed it was the remark about knowing what Forge looked like. Lucas could have his picture taken. He was a werewolf. Vampires—Forge—were a different matter. Forge finally opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Agent Samuels into the working part of the police station. Holding out his hand, Forge said in an even voice, “Jonas Forge.” He shut the door after Samuels and said, “My office is this way. We can talk there.” Lucas trailed behind the two men as Forge led the way to his office. He did a fast comparison between his friend and this stranger. Forge was big, carried himself like a man who was self-assured and confident of his ability. He projected authority. As Declan had once told Lucas, Forge commanded. Anyone within a five-hundred-foot radius would feel safe, or threatened, depending on what Forge intended. This Porter Samuels fascinated Lucas immediately. Lucas was a pretty good judge of character, but this guy was a mystery. He was much more than he seemed, and of course he would know Lucas and Forge would recognize that the minute they laid eyes on him. If the agent was in the least bit surprised to find a werewolf working with, and obviously comfortable around, a vampire, he never let on. It wasn’t every day one came across that happenstance. In fact, it was a rarity. When they reached Forge’s office, Forge sat at his desk and waved Porter to one of the visitors’ chairs. Lucas shut the door and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. Samuels turned slightly, just enough to glance at Lucas, before sitting and facing Forge. “So, Porter Samuels, how exactly does it work?” Forge asked. “Being in the Secret Service and a vampire since I’m guessing most of your coworkers aren’t aware of what you are. Creating the paperwork must suck.” “How does it work being a police detective?” Porter countered.      Mason heard Riece’s garbled cry at almost the same time he heard an odd cracking noise reverberate through the air. Nets strung between at least a dozen trees in either direction flung up, creating a barrier. The bag dropped. Riece tried to catch it, but it knocked him backward on his ass. The tops of the nets were several feet above Mason’s head and were between Riece and him. They were cut off from each other. Riece scrambled to his feet and stood staring at the net. Then his gaze shifted to meet Mason’s. He shook his head ever so slightly. Mason clamped his fingers into tight fists for a moment to stop their shaking. Sweat trickled down his spine. Riece’s expression was closed off. He’d shut down. Mason had another reaction: he got pissed. Riece was no more than five feet from him. Alone and unprotected. Their base camp had been found. It made sense to Mason now why they’d only seen two or three of the hunters. The other bastards must’ve spent the day before getting the nets laid and covered with dirt and leaves. Another trap. This one spanned enough distance that running around would be problematic. Their positioning was planned to purposely separate them. Mason had to consider the fact they’d been stalked since leaving base camp. Mason backed up as far as possible and got a running start. He shouted, throwing himself at the net. The tricky thing about scaling nets was that they were strong enough not to snap under the weight of a man, but shifted and bent if you tried to climb them. The spacing between the nylon strands woven to create the net weren’t large enough to get a good foothold. It was more like climbing a rope. He jumped high enough to get a good start. The sounds of footsteps through the woods and hushed voices spurred him faster. They weren’t hiding the fact they were there, at least not from Mason. Riece probably wouldn’t tune into those noises until it was too late. “Riece, run!” Mason ordered. He kept his voice as low as possible, but it likely wouldn’t matter. Riece rolled to the side, grabbed the bag’s strap and at the same time, began to shove off the ground. A bolt whizzed through the air, hitting the ground inches from Riece. He stared at it wide-eyed for a few seconds before stumbling forward. Mason reached the top of the net. He grabbed the wire across the top and flung himself over. Not bothering to try to climb down, Mason hung from the top for a second before letting go and dropping to the ground. A bolt hit the tree right in front of Mason. Both shots were very near misses. Riece was a big target, Mason an even bigger target, yet neither shot hit them. He had a hard time believing these guys had such bad aim, which meant they were missing on purpose. The only reason he could come up with was that Riece and he were being driven in the direction the hunters wanted them to go.     AUDIOBOOK TOUR 
Book Title: Waylaid Author: J.M. Snyder Publisher: JMS Books LLC Narrator: Nick Johnson Release Date: August 16, 2024 Tense/POV: First person, present tense, single POV. Genres: MM Fantasy/Romance Tropes: Forced proximity, only one bed Themes: Falling in love Heat Rating: 5 flames Length: 5 hours and 20 minutes It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links 
It's only supposed to be one night. Until it isn't. Blurb When the Queen's guardsman enters my inn, the last thing I expect is to be propositioned. But this far north, it can get lonely at times, and my bed fits two easily enough. The guardsman is lithe and fae, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested. Besides, what's one night between grown men? I don't expect to see him again. But rumors of war bring him back to me, and what starts as a one-off soon blossoms into so much more ... About the Author J.M. Snyder is a multi-published author of gay erotic romance who started writing fanfic (specifically, boyband slash). She has worked with several different e-publishers, including Amber Allure Press and Torquere Press, and had short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books, Cleis Press, eXcessica, and Lethe Press. In 2010, she started JMS Books LLC to promote and publish her own work as well as that of other authors she enjoys. Author/Social Media Links Audible Profile | Blog/Website | Facebook 
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. He looked to be in his fifties or maybe early sixties, but in good shape, and even without the crossbow, Mason wouldn’t want to tangle with him. His hair was short and stylish, more salt than pepper. He carried himself like a man who was used to issuing orders and having them followed. The clothing he wore was expensive but well-worn. To Mason he appeared to be a man comfortable in the outdoors, probably a hunter. The man turned and set the crossbow down, then crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Mason and Riece as he spoke to someone out of Mason’s line of vision. “Jason, bring a line over, will you?” Mason wondered who Jason was and who this guy was and why they were here. It didn’t take long before a length of rope dropped over the side. Mason stepped forward and reached for it, muttering, “Interesting place to put a hole.” Mason grabbed the rope. “Not you. Him first,” the man ordered, gesturing at Riece. The rope began to slither back up. Mason stared up at the man. He felt pretty confident he would win a tug-of-war, but they’d still be trapped. The man lifted the crossbow but didn’t take aim. He simply held it. “I must insist. Your friend doesn’t look very comfortable down there.” Mason looked back at Riece. He stood in stony silence. His expression was impassive, and he was still. There was very little about his body language that anyone would see as anything other than a man who wanted to be left alone. Riece’s gaze met Mason’s, then moved to the rope, following it up to the opening and the man standing there staring down at them. Mason recognized Riece’s lack of reaction for what it really was. Riece was uncertain, maybe downright afraid. Possibly this man recognized the same thing? Slowly releasing the rope, Mason nodded. He couldn’t begin to process the extent to which he didn’t like this, but he had no choice. They had to get out, and Riece wouldn’t be able to climb out unassisted. He turned and held one hand out to Riece, saying softly, “C’mon, it’ll be fine.” Riece stood rooted to the spot until Mason leaned closer and took his arm. The man grumbled something, but Mason didn’t catch the words. He caught the tone, however, and wondered if the man had seen Mason hold and kiss Riece. “Riece,” Mason said quietly, then winced inwardly. He knew better than to announce their names. Riece walked with his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Once he was within reaching distance of the rope, Riece stopped. Mason wound the loose end around Riece’s waist and tied it. “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “Do what they say. No matter what it is.” He gave the rope a tug and looked up, saying, “All set.” The men pulled while Riece scrambled up the side of the pit. If it hadn’t been for the rope, he’d have slipped and fallen at least twice. When he reached the top, Mason watched as hands grabbed Riece’s belt. The number of hands didn’t match the two men Mason had seen or heard, and he wondered how many people were actually up there. A minute went by, then another, and the rope didn’t come back down. He heard some movement, but nothing he could identify. There were no shouts, nor even the sound of Riece’s voice. Mason stalked along the pit side, looking up. “Hey, still here,” he called, trying to sound casual. Mason paced a few feet one way, then returned to his starting point. He searched for more of the wooden planks and felt along the earthen wall for handholds. The nice little pep talk he’d given Riece replayed in his head. It wasn’t that far to the top. He could get out. He was thinking he’d have to make a decision and make it fast when the rope dropped down once more. “Sorry about that. You tie a killer knot,” the man from before called down, leaning over the edge. The tone of his voice, as well as his statement, made the hair along the back of Mason’s neck rise. Mason grabbed the rope. He didn’t bother tying it around himself as he had Riece. Being tethered was something he neither wanted nor needed. The knot he tied shouldn’t have given anyone any trouble. It was reasonable to think someone up there had a knife. Most people this deep in the wilderness carried at least a pocketknife. The rope could have been cut off of Riece if need be, with plenty left to help Mason. The man was lying.      |
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