 Taren sat back and studied Ian for a few seconds, biting back the urge to laugh outright. “Good sex. I’ve always gotten off on watching, being watched. You know that. Multiple partners are a non-creepy way to do that. And it’s fun.” “Really? That’s all?” When Taren nodded, Ian continued. “You spent all those years since we met being denied that?” “Ian, I had plenty before we met. I love you. I want to do things that make you happy. If I’d wanted threesomes more often so badly, I’d have said so. When was the last time I didn’t tell you what I wanted?” He leaned forward and took Ian’s hands in his own. “I will admit, I was more excited seeing Kevin touch you than I thought I’d be, that was a very pleasant surprise.” “Do you want to change our rule on fucking?” “Do you?” Taren countered. “I asked you first,” Ian said and smirked. “No. I don’t like bottoming, and I’ve got no desire to screw Kevin. I absolutely don’t want to see him take you. It drives me crazy, in the good way, watching him lick you or suck you and seeing how you respond. It’s how your body reacts that is what I want--love--to see. But if you feel differently? You’re the one in control of this situation.” “I don’t,” Ian said in a hurry. “I want to be sure you get what you want, too.” Taren gripped Ian’s hands more firmly and stood up, stepping as close as possible to Ian. “Do you know what I want, boy?” Ian dropped his gaze to Taren’s feet and smiled in that soft, almost shy way he knew stoked Taren’s fire. “Show me,” he whispered. Taren pulled Ian to his feet and let go of his hands. “Strip.” He nodded to the middle of the room. “Stand over there. We’ve kept our guest waiting long enough.” Ian was never slow to respond. He shed his clothes and stood in the middle of the room, wearing only a silver chain around his neck and his codpiece. Ian could easily get an erection with the codpiece on, but it prevented any sort of stimulation, keeping him nicely on edge with or without the addition of a plug. Tonight, Taren had chosen to leave him without the plug. The first thing on Taren’s list was nipple adornments. Holding the simple, erotic, and effective jewelry in one hand, Taren turned to Ian. “I’ll allow you to choose if I should apply your equipment before Kevin arrives, or would you like him to put them on you, or watch me?” Ian swallowed and licked his lips. He was clearly considering which scenario he’d prefer. Ian always thought everything through thoroughly. “I think I’d like you to watch whatever you’d like.” “Well then.” Taren paced around Ian and gave his rear a few quick swats. “I can get behind that.” Ian rocked onto his toes for a split second and laughed. Taren continued, “I have a few things to add.” He pulled a leather collar, ankle and wrist restraints, a Y-shaped chain from the bag, and Ian’s favorite cock and ball torture device, laying them on the bed. His final item was a leather bag. He bounced it a few times in his palm, and Ian smiled. He’d obviously recognized the sound as anal beads. “I brought both sets.” Ian raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” “You enjoyed them so much. I thought I’d give it a try.” He set the bag on the dresser, pulled a bottle of lube from their bag, and set it beside the leather bag. Methodically, he took the other items from their bag, lining everything up on the dresser. The final item was a portable restraint kit. “Give me a hand?” Taren lifted the mattress up, and Ian adjusted the restraints under one side. They repeated the task on the other side of the bed, so there were restraints on all four corners. He was in the mood for complete submission from Ian, now with Kevin, and later when they were alone. Ian picked up Taren’s phone and held it out to him. “Thank you, boy.” Taren sent his text to Kevin, telling him the room number and that they were ready. Once Kevin responded, the phone was tucked away in their bag. He motioned to the spot in the room Ian had recently vacated. “Stand there, boy.” Nodding, Ian followed Taren’s instruction. He stood, facing the door, hands clasped behind his back. Taren took their few final minutes alone, appreciating how Ian’s chest expanded and contracted and how his belly quivered. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.      
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 “What the hell were you thinking? And what in the holy hell are you wearing?” Forge stood, yanking his catch up after him, shouting. “If you can’t swim, what in the hell were you doing running down steps covered with algae, you know, that green slimy shit, at a lake. How did you plan to get out? This isn’t just any lake. It’s a Great Lake. And it’s deep! Ships sink in it!” The kid climbed to his feet and held his palms up in a placating gesture. “I—” “Not to mention you’re mucking up a murder investigation.” Forge kept right on shouting. He waved his hands up and down more for distraction than anything, hoping the kid wouldn’t notice his hard-on. Wet trousers did little to hide anything, and this guy wouldn’t necessarily know being in close proximity to his soulmate was the reason behind Forge’s reaction. “Look, I—I promise not to hurt you. Don’t be scared,” the kid said and took a step back as he spoke. Forge stopped his ranting, put his hands on his hips, and stared. “You won’t—” This had to be a joke. He didn’t know who to blame but at the same time commended their joke planning skills. From what he could see of the kid’s face and judging by the clues given off by his body chemistry, the goof in the goggles was serious. He couldn’t stop the laughter that rumbled up from his belly and totally consumed him, doubling him over. “You won’t hurt me?” He had to wipe the tears streaming down his face away so he could see clearly. Taking a few deep breaths only caused him to laugh more and make a very unmanly giggling-snorting-snickering sort of sound. Forge finally got himself under control and walked across the beach to scoop his coat off the sandy ground. A few more chuckles escaped, he shook his head while he pulled his jacket on and extracted his badge from the inside pocket. He held it up and said, “Now, let’s try this again. What are you doing here? You’ve got five minutes to convince me you didn’t murder someone and then stand around watching when the cops showed up to examine the body.” A virtual light bulb went off in Forge’s brain. He didn’t have to worry about what other vampires would do to him for killing his soulmate, he could just pin this murder on goggle boy. Either way, Declan was never, ever finding out about this. “And take those ridiculous goggles off before I shoot you for bad fashion.” Forge knew very well a bullet to this kid’s torso wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell. The kid deserved to hurt that much for wearing his stupid getup. “I—I can’t, I’ll….” The kid backed up farther. Forge took a step toward him, cocking his head to one side. He knew that voice, but from where? Names and faces started whirring through his mind. He was good at this, it was his job, but for the life of him, he couldn’t put a face with that voice. “Off,” he growled. If he had to ask this silly boy to take off the goggles again, he was going to get the full effect of Forge in complete vamp mode. “I’ll be blinded, and worse, I’ll ignite! I can’t. You have to accept that. Please, it’s too dangerous. I don’t know what will happen to you.” The voice clicked in Forge’s memory, and he put a name to it in disbelief. “Blair?” “I’m Alucard!” Forge stood straighter and lifted his chin, resisting the urge to burst into laughter again. “You’re a vampire?” If he lived another two hundred years, Forge would have never seen that one coming. “When did you get those cartoon books Ben sent you?” “Huh? Graphic novels, and how did—” Forge shoved his police ID under Blair’s nose and ground out, “When?” Blair took the ID in both hands and held it close to his face, sounding out, “Jonas For—” He dropped his hands and lifted his head, looking up at Forge. His heart rate sped up. The sudden change in his body chemistry sent Forge’s senses reeling. Blair was feeling the physical attraction just as strongly as Forge. “I really don’t want to hurt you. And it’s Alucard…. Alucard! Code name, remember?” The badge fluttered from Blair’s hand to the sand. He garbled out some odd noise, spun, and ran. Forge sighed, bent, picked up his ID, and straightened. Blair tried to run in the sand with his big clunky boots and too many layers of clothes. Shaking his head, Forge mumbled, “Running? Really? It’s too early for running.” There was no need to hide anything now, so Forge turned on the speed, and in a few seconds, was in Blair’s path. “It’s too early for this crap, and I’ve only had one cup of coffee.” He stuffed his ID into his back pocket and sneezed. “And not nearly enough antihistamines.” Blair stopped so fast he kicked up a spray of sand and stumbled back. “How did… stay away!” When Blair stood on his toes, spread his cape wide, and hissed, Forge nearly gave himself a hernia he laughed so hard. He realized he had to get this doofus off the beach and out of public view. Blair was obviously either very confused or seriously disturbed. Forge was really hoping for confused. This kid, dressed like a character out of a bad movie and acting as if he was performing in an even worse flick, was Forge’s soulmate. Like it or not, that meant Forge was responsible for him. Great. Just friggin’ great.  Electric Candle, book 2 of The Sleepless City is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited. Series cowritten with Anne Barwell.     NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Falling for the Professor (Falling for You #1) Author and Publisher: Colette Davison Cover Artist: Colette Davison Release Date: October 24, 2025 Tense/POV: First person, present tense/alternating POV Genres: Contemporary MM Romance Tropes: Age-gap (8 years), professor/university student, secret relationship Themes: Self-discovery, learning to love again Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 50 000 words It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
I wanted to distract the professor; I didn’t expect to fall for him. Blurb Richard’s wife cheated on him, and his marriage has fallen apart. He’s in desperate need of a distraction, and I volunteer. The problem? He lectures at the university where I study. Fooling around with students is frowned upon. But with my graduation right around the corner, it’s a risk we’re willing to take. Besides, it’s only one night. Isn’t it? As one night of passion turns into several, will we be able to keep our relationship secret until after graduation? Falling for the Professor is a high-heat, 50,000-word contemporary M/M romance, with an eight-year age-gap, lots of sneaking around, encounters in semi-public places, and a lecturer who discovers he loves being called ‘Professor’. Excerpt “Still alone?” I ask casually. Richard glances at me and then nods. “I could be wrong, but isn’t whisky best drunk cold? I’m not much of a whisky drinker myself.” “You prefer beer?” I smile. “Yeah, although I’m on non-alcoholic stuff tonight.” I tap my pocket so my keys jangle. “I was intending on getting so drunk I wouldn’t be able to drive.” “How’s that going?” He picks up his glass, sloshes the warm whisky, and sets it down. “Terribly.” He glances over his shoulder. “Where are your friends?” “They left.” “And you didn’t go with them?” “I can still catch up with them. I wanted to make sure you were okay, first.” He frowns. “Why?” Because he’s gorgeous and I hate seeing him sad? “Want to talk about it?” He stares at me, lips quivering as though he’s having an internal debate about whether to confide in me or not. “I won’t tell anyone.” “Gossip has a habit of spreading on campus.” “It won’t come from me.” I cross my fingers over my heart. He holds up his left hand and wiggles his bare ring finger. “I caught my wife cheating on me.” I suck in a breath. “Shit. That’s rough. Sorry.” He drops his hand. “Which is why I had every intention of getting shit-faced.” “But—?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I got here, ordered the drink and…” “Didn’t feel like getting drunk after all?” “Exactly.” “What do you want to do?” He drags his stare away from his drink and pins it on me. He has the most beautiful honey brown eyes. Breathless, I’m helpless to do anything but stare back. “I don’t want to be alone,” he whispers. I grin. “Then you’re in luck.” He raises his eyebrows. “I am?” “Yeah. It just so happens I’m great company.” He chuckles softly and raises his lips into the faintest hint of a smile. “Are you now?” “Want me to stick around so you can find out if I’m telling the truth or not?” He’s silent for a moment, searching my eyes for something. “I’d like that.” About the Author Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing. Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook Page | Facebook Group: Colette’s Cosy Corner BookBub | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram: @colettedavison Mailing List | Newsletter Sign-Up 
 My snippet this week is from Edge Jump, a BDSM MM Romance.  Rylan tossed and turned. The plug up his ass kept him half hard, the cock cage kept him from any relief and his dick felt like a hot poker between his legs. He’d doze, roll over, the plug would move and he’d get little electric shocks that went straight to his cock. Finally, when sunlight peeked through the window, Rylan got up and went to the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror and turned to look at his ass, running one hand over the pink skin, and shivered. The black leather of the belt made his reddened skin stand out. Read more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Edge Jump is published through JMS Books and is available in eBook, paperback, Kindle Unlimited, Kobo Plus and through your library digital catalog.
Timoteo Tong has a new fantasy/sci-fi book out, The Magicals Alliance book 3: The Spellbinding Magic of You and Me. Magic, monsters, and a boy who never asked to be chosen. Sixteen-year-old Santangelo Lo Geffo is drowning in grief. After his mother’s sudden death and his father’s emotional disappearance, he’s convinced the world has forgotten him—until his childhood best friend, Joshua “Neeky” Tang, shows up out of nowhere, charming, bold, and full of secrets. Their reunion reignites buried feelings and a bond stronger than fate. But something darker stirs in the magical underworld known as the Gloom. A cursed sword has chosen Santangelo, and with it, the wrath of the ancient queen Máu Rabetica, who will stop at nothing to reclaim her power. With monsters closing in and war looming, Santangelo must train under the brutal God of War, survive attacks from rival covens, and navigate a tangled web of family secrets. Worse, his heart’s a mess. He’s caught between his feelings for Neeky—the boy who’s always been there—and Daccio Scala, a flirtatious magical fighter who makes his pulse race. As the walls close in, a glam-pop sorceress with a hidden agenda sets her sights on Santangelo and the blade, forcing him to choose between destiny and desire… or risk losing both. Warnings: Grief, violence, monsters, emotional trauma, light romantic tension Universal Buy Link | AmazonAbout the Series: What if your wealthy, glamorous family was secretly saving the world? Welcome to the world of The Magicals Alliance, a spellbinding YA fantasy series that follows the powerful—and complicated—Delomary family. By day, they’re media moguls, philanthropists, and the faces of a global empire. But behind closed doors, they’re something much more dangerous: the last line of defense against monsters, magic, and total annihilation. In a hidden war where Vampires, Werewolves, and dark forces threaten to tip the balance between worlds, the Delomarys stand at the center of it all—armed with secrets, ancient power, and a whole lot of emotional baggage. Dive into a world of romance, rebellion, queer joy, and jaw-dropping magic as each book follows teens on the front lines of a battle that could destroy everything.
Universal Links For All Three Books: Magic, Monsters & Me | Resurrecting My Magic | The Spellbinding Magic of You and Me Excerpt
“Dammit, Bello!” Pops shouted from the front of the house. I blinked awake. The drapes hung limp. The air in my room was warm and stale. My door stood open a crack. Che was gone. “You have a visitor! Come downstairs—I’m making breakfast.” I sat up, rubbed sleep from my eyes. The clock blinked 9:15. Pops was an early riser; I took after Mom and liked to sleep in. “Coming!” I yelled back in Italian. I hated being woken before eleven. I threw on a T-shirt and shorts, padded down the hall, and swung around the banister. At the bottom of the stairs, I froze. A shadow stood framed in the screen door to the verandah. A tall boy with long black hair and glasses shifted from foot to foot, holding a cake like it might explode. He looked anxious and impossibly familiar. “Open the door!” Pops barked. “Senlàpso!” I opened the screen and stopped breathing. Joshua Tang—Josh—only not the kid I remembered. Taller now. Stronger. His smile hit me like a hammer. “Santangelo!” he said. “Guess what? I just moved back to Burbank.” We weren’t really friends anymore. So why was he acting like we were? “Bello! Don’t be rude.” Pops’ voice snapped me awake. “Oh. Hi, Josh.” “Josh?” He tilted his head, eyes bright through his glasses. “That’s not my name.” “Neeky,” he said. The name clanged through me. I looked up—he towered over me now. “Gosh,” he said, grinning, “you’re short. No growth spurt yet?” “Yeah, well, you’re a giant.” “Ah, yes,” Neeky said, blazing like midday sun, “that I am.” “Come in. Let me take that cake.” “Mom made it. It’s one of three things she can cook—scrambled eggs, soufflé, and carrot cake. Your favorite, Santy.” He handed it to Pops. I stared. Three years gone, and suddenly he was here, filling our kitchen with noise and light. “We moved back to the City of Angels,” Neeky said, sliding onto a stool while Pops poured juice. “Mom got a job at JPL.” Pops’ eyebrows lifted. “Is that so? I didn’t know Susannah was a scientist.” “She went back for her degree after… well, anyway. Now she’s a scientist.” Neeky bit into an apple like he’d never left. He always made himself at home—shoes off, elbows out, comfortable like the world was his. “That’s great, Josh,” I said automatically. “Neeky, Mister Lo Geffo.” They shook hands like executives. “Pops.” Neeky turned to me. “Aren’t you going to sit?” I climbed onto a stool across from him. Not too close. Not yet. “I missed this place,” he said. “Always so homey. Our new house isn’t. Mom hates rugs and knick-knacks. Says they collect dust. She’s clueless.” He talked like he’d been gone a day, not years. I wasn’t ready to pick up where we’d left off. Too much gnawed at me—things I couldn’t explain. Maybe he’d forgotten. That was like him. Pops and Neeky were both Leos: loud, sunny, terrible memories. I remembered everything—a curse. “I’m taking Che for a run,” I muttered. “We have a guest!” Pops shot me a glare sharp enough to petrify. Neeky stood. “It’s fine, Pops. I have to help Mom decorate. She can’t do that alone.” He grinned, glowing like he carried his own weather. “Let’s hang out. I’m right across the street—the other old house on the block.” He bounded down the porch steps, taking the golden light and jasmine air with him. Pops tucked the cake in the fridge. I called for Che. “Time for a walk, Growlvara!” Paws on wood, then Che trotted up, leash in his mouth. I knelt to rub his fur, grounding myself in his steady warmth. Outside, a breeze stirred. “Why did Josh move back?” I asked the air. The wind ruffled my hair. “Neeky is his name.” I frowned. “How do you know that?” “I know everything.” “You should be friends with him again,” it whispered. “I don’t need friends. I have my cousins. And you. And Che.” “Best friends are important,” the wind said. “Human friends.” “I don’t want a best friend. It’s dangerous.” “Why?” “When you love someone, they leave.” “Your mom didn’t leave you—not intentionally.” “Shut up.” “You held Neeky’s hand in kindergarten when he was scared. You were a good friend.” And suddenly I was there again: first day of school. A small boy clung to his mother, sobbing. She left him, and he collapsed into the seat beside me, eyes red. I reached for his hand. “You’ll be okay,” I’d said. “You do?” he’d sniffled when I told him I liked building blocks too. “Sure. I’ll hold your hand until you feel better.” He had smiled through tears. “Best friends?” “Sure,” I said. Years later, under the olive trees, he kissed my cheek. I’d liked him back, though I had no words for it. Maybe that was why I ended things. Fear. Now he was across the street again, and I felt a small, stupid happiness I didn’t want to admit. Stop it, I told myself. I’m a loner. I don’t need friends. I have Che and Pops, even if Pops felt half-ghost most days. Neeky paused on the sidewalk, looking back. Our eyes met, and the air stretched thin between us. “Later?” he called. My throat betrayed me. “Later.” The wind laughed softly, and the house held its breath. Author Bio Timoteo Tong grew up in Burbank, CA, imagining epic battles against vampires and witches inside creaky old mansions—and hasn’t stopped dreaming since. He wrote his first book at age eight (a chaotic romance between a stuffed cocker spaniel and a duck) and never looked back. Inspired by the magic of L. Frank Baum, C.S. Lewis, and J.R.R. Tolkien, Timoteo now lives in San Francisco with his husband, where he writes stories full of queer magic, found family, and monsters that don’t play fair. When he’s not reading, writing, or daydreaming about flying, you can find him surrounded by houseplants, doing pushups between chapters, and always down for donuts. Author Website: https://www.magicalsalliance.com Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/timoteo.tong Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/timoteoktong/ Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/34837913.Timoteo_Tong Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Timoteo-Tong/author/B0C7JVD1H7 
NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Of Dungarees, Wellies, and Wedding Dresses Author: Alexa Milne Publisher: Fictionwide Cover Artist: Garrett Leigh Release Date: 21st October Tense/POV: first person/past tense/alternating POV Genres: Contemporary FF Romance Tropes: Break-up, new life, plus-size rep, working women, independent women Themes: Bi-sexual awakening, strong women, family life Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 63 906 words/228 pages It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. HEA Buy Links 
Blurb My name is Chrissy Wychling. I’m a divorced clothes designer and tailor in my mid-thirties. I've recently made a momentous decision and moved from Kent to the Yorkshire Dales to start a new business selling wedding dresses for larger brides. I didn't come to this new place looking for love, or even a relationship, but then I met Beth, and a whole new world of possibilities beckoned. My name is Beth Nethering. My family has farmed this land for hundreds of years. As a child, I dreamed of getting away, and I did. I went to university, found a great job, got married, and had a child. I had my life mapped out then, ten years ago, everything changed. I made some tough decisions. I moved back to the family farm with my daughter then I set about rescuing the place. Now, we milk sheep not cows, we have glamping pods for tourists, and I've just rented the barn to Chrissy who sells wedding dresses. Me, I'm more used to wearing dungarees and wellies. I’m surprised but strangely flattered when Chrissy flirts with me. It's only a bit of fun, isn't it? Excerpt “So,” Beth began. “As you can see the barn is substantial, and there’s plenty of room for parking. You’ll have your own separate entrance, so your customers won’t have to come onto the farm. We didn’t want to turn it into another house so close to ours, so this seemed the perfect use. The place has undergone significant changes in the last ten years.” “I suppose farmers have to diversify to make ends meet these days.” “We do. If we depended on farming, we wouldn’t manage. It’s as simple as that.” I noted Beth didn’t explain further. Well, she doesn’t know me from Adam yet, so fair enough. “Right. Shall we go in?” I followed Beth up the ramped entrance, noting the low threshold doors that opened wide enough to let more than one person enter. The space we stepped into was huge. “As you can see we’ve left the insides for you to configure, though there is a small kitchen and toilet facilities at the other end. We’ve made it so people can plan for themselves. I’m not sure what you’ll need, but Stan, our builder will sort everything for you. We’ve added a good security system too, which I’ll explain later.” I stepped to the middle of the space and turned slowly, imagining where everything I needed could go. “What do you think?” Beth’s question interrupted my thoughts. “I need a space for changing rooms, storage of the dresses, and a space for the customers to show off to their friends and family. Prospective brides hardly ever shop alone, and some bring a large entourage. I want this place to be a destination for women in the north. Each visit will be especially for them. Each person will have an appointment though I won’t stop people just dropping in. Each will get fitted by me. Each will get advice. Each will be able to feel confident they will get the dress which makes them look as incredible as they all deserve.” I stopped. Beth stared at me, eyes wide, with a blush on her cheeks. “Sorry. I can go on. My sister-in-law had a terrible experience from haughty women staring down their noses at her until I found a designer who catered for someone her size. I saw the joy on her face the day she first put on the dress, and the same joy the day she wore it to marry my brother.” I didn’t explain how my ex-wife thought specialising in large sizes was financial suicide. “I understand,” Beth said. “And I think it’s a lovely idea. I lost weight to fit into my dress.” “I didn’t realise you were married,” I blurted out before my brain kicked into gear. “I’m not. Not anymore. Divorced ten years ago. We still keep in touch, and he does all the farm accounts, but he lives in London with his second wife. Our daughter spends time with him during the holidays.” “How old is she—your daughter?” “Amy is seventeen going on thirty-five like most teenage girls. Unlike a lot though, she has a sensible head on her shoulders.” Beth glanced out of a window. “And she loves this place.” “Just like you do?” Beth sighed. I have no doubt there was a whole history in that sigh. “Me?” She shrugged. “I grew up hating it. Couldn’t wait to get away. But you don’t always get what you want from life, do you? About the Author Originally from South Wales, Alexa has lived for over forty years in the North West of England. Now retired, after a long career in teaching, she devotes her time to her obsessions. Alexa began writing when her favourite character was killed in her favourite show. After producing a lot of fanfiction she ventured into original writing. She is currently owned by a mad cat and spends her time writing about the men in her head, watching her favourite television programmes and usually crying over her favourite football team. Social Media Links Blog | Facebook | Bluesky | Twitter/X 
Nick’s lips were starting to turn blue, and the twitching of his limbs slowed while his eyes bulged even more. Todd experienced the odd sensation of feeling his own heartbeat become more and more sluggish. His vision was starting to gray out, and the weird choking sounds he was making sounded far away. Todd was dying. Worse yet, he knew Nick was as well. They were separated by only a few feet, yet Todd wouldn’t even be able to hold his young mate’s hand as they died. Nick would be alone. Some other voice cut through the ringing in Todd’s ears. It was higher, feminine, and it was joined by Benning’s shouts turning to screams of agony. The voice was saying words Todd didn’t understand. He slid farther down the wall. Now his toes touched the floor. Benning’s voice transformed to something deep, guttural, and loud. Todd realized the other voice wasn’t speaking English, which was why he couldn’t make out the words. There was a loud thud, and Todd’s entire body jarred. Pain blossomed from his ribs, arm, and shoulder. Todd gasped and hissed in agony. Then he realized he could breathe, and the thud he’d heard was him hitting the floor. Rolling up and on to his rear, Todd backed up and used the wall for support to sit straight. He turned to Nick just in time to see his mate drop to the floor, landing on all fours, gulping in big, deep breaths. Benning was screaming; Todd looked at the demon and immediately wished he hadn’t. Benning’s eyes glowed red. Their intensity brightened until they exploded into flames lapping from Benning’s skull. Benning bent over, pounding on his face with his fists. The woman’s voice kept going. Todd finally thought to look for the source of the voice. “Mrs. Larue? Heidi?” Todd rasped out. He looked over at Nick, who was staring at her, mouth open, eyes wide. Heidi barely paid attention to Todd. Instead, she focused on Nick and snapped in English, “Do you have any more of that oil?” Nick nodded but otherwise didn’t move. “Finish the circle!” Heidi ordered before she went back to reciting words in what Todd thought was Latin. Nick leaned back, hands slapping at his pockets until he pulled out the sacrosanct oil. He stretched forward and sprinkled more of the oil, completing the trap he’d started. With shaking hands, Nick got another match lit and threw it into the freshly laid oil. Benning crumpled to the floor, the rest of his decaying body igniting in flames. “Nicky.” Todd held out his good arm, fingers wiggling. Nick scrambled along the floor until he was close enough Todd could grasp his arm. A thick black cloud formed over what had been Benning. Nick turned his head and shielded his face with his free arm. Todd coughed from the stench of burning, rotten flesh. Another minute and there was nothing left of Benning’s body except a pile of incinerated bones. The black cloud expanded, seemed to swarm and moved from one part of the circle to another. It banged off an invisible barrier. The thing created its own wind, blowing outward and blasting their faces with hot, putrid air. “Is that what you saw leave that little girl when you were a child?” Todd whispered. Nick nodded and cringed closer to the wall. Todd let go of his mate and pressed his arm across Nick, pushing the young man back so Nick had one shoulder wedged between Todd and the wall. He fisted his hand in Nick’s jacket. A high-pitched whine escalated to an ear-shattering pitch. The cloud vibrated and shimmied for a few more seconds before exploding into a grey dust that fell to blanket the bones. The whole mess suddenly ignited into black flames and burst apart. “Look out,” Heidi shouted.  Tethered Pair is available in eBook, paperback, through Kobo Plus and your local library digital catalog.       NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Jenny Kidd Author: Laury A. Egan Publisher: Spectrum Books Cover Artist: Thomas Stewart, design by Laury A. Egan and Andrew May Release Date: October 18, 2025 Pairing: FF and FFM Tense/POV: third person/past tense, single POV Genres: Mystery/Suspense Tropes: Dangerous infatuation Themes: Sexual awakening, dark romance, artistic achievement Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 66 682 words/182 pages It is a standalone story and does the book end on a cliffhanger Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK 
Plunge into a steamy, exotic Venetian tale with glittering façades that cloak murder, art forgery, and sexual perversion. Blurb While spending autumn in Venice, a young American artist, Jenny Kidd, hopes to create a portfolio of paintings to launch her career and establish her independence from her tyrannical father. At the Guggenheim Collec-tion, she encounters Randi, a colorful British woman, who invites her to a masked ball at the Palazzo Barbon. There, she meets the seductive Caterina Barbon and her brother, Sebastiano, who entice Jenny into a world of glittering façades that cloak sexual perversion, art forgery, and murder. As Jenny struggles between her attraction to Caterina and her growing awareness that she is in danger, Jenny discovers an inner strength and spirit worthy of her infamous pirate ancestor. Excerpt Jenny Kidd stood at arm’s length from the Wassily Kandinsky painting, White Cross. She had an overwhelming urge to rotate it, so the upside-down “3s” were righted, just to satisfy her visual curiosity. Sometimes she felt the same way about her life. If only she could examine it, turn its orientation, and set off in another direction. That wish, and the opportunity to paint, had prompted her trip to Venice, a destination her grandmother had said was an enchanted place for artists. The city was lovely in late September—still monstrously crowded and expensive—but Jenny was staying in a flat off Campo Santo Stefano, furnished and hers for ten weeks, an apartment swap arranged with a Venetian friend studying in New York. Even with the free rent, the cost of living and airfare had depleted Jenny’s savings and was skyrocketing her credit card debt. It would be such a relief to have a wealthy and supportive patron, someone like Peggy Guggenheim, whose famous art collection she was now admiring. As she mused on this, she began to leave the museum’s drawing room, then hesitated, sensing strange vibrations coming from someone nearby. She studied the visitors but didn’t see anyone staring at her or who looked odd. A few minutes later, when the museum was closing, Jenny reluctantly left. Strolling home, she attributed the odd feeling to a desire to be with people. Living in this romantic city by herself was surprisingly sad, as if Venice’s beauty couldn’t be assimilated into her being unless she shared the experience. Despite her shyness, she had attempted to make friends. First by chatting with tourists, but she soon learned this was pointless. They were like fruit flies: quickly gone. So, too, were most young Venetians, who scurried off at day’s end for Mestre and the mainland because they couldn’t afford to live in their own city. And even if she did meet someone, would it be a man or a woman? Her ambivalence frustrated her, a confusion that had become more pronounced in recent months and had precipitated the end of her relationship with Greg, which occurred two weeks before she left for Italy. Now, in this foreign place, would she be liberated from her personal history and the overshadowing influence of her parents? Although she had always been too timid to act on her romantic feelings toward women, Jenny hoped Venice might open new doors. About the Author Laury A. Egan is the author of fifteen novels: Fair Haven; Jack & I; The Black Leopard’s Kiss & The Writer Remembers; The Psychologist’s Shadow; The Firefly; Once, Upon an Island; Wave in D Minor; Doublecrossed; Turnabout; The Swimmer; The Ungodly Hour; A Bittersweet Tale; Fabulous! An Opera Buffa; The Outcast Oracle; and Jenny Kidd; two collections, Fog and Other Stories and Contrary: Stories and a Play, and four volumes of poetry: Snow, Shadows, a Stranger; Beneath the Lion’s Paw; The Sea & Beyond; and Presence & Absence. She lives on the northern coast of New Jersey. Author Links Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter Instagram | LinkedIn | Bluesky 
 They crashed through the underbrush of the gully. Mason’s hand was a vise around Riece’s wrist, keeping him steady when he tripped. Riece’s lungs were burning and his thighs aching when they came to a spot that wasn’t as steep. Mason stopped. He was breathing hard, but not as hard as Riece was. Riece envied Mason’s athleticism and the easy and confident way he moved, though he’d never admit it out loud. While athletic ability was something Riece had dreamed of having, he knew it for a fantasy. But it was Mason’s grace that appealed to him the most. Riece often thought how nice it must be to have the ability to navigate any terrain and not constantly trip. “You can get up here,” Mason said between deep breaths. “I think—” “Riece. I wasn’t asking. We’ve got to get out of this damn gully. We’re sitting ducks.” “But we got away,” Riece said. He leaned on his knees, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. “Get real,” Mason said. “They let us go. There is no reason one of them couldn’t have shot us. They have all those guns and crossbows. I have to believe one of them can use those weapons and has decent aim. Those people want a hunt. You don’t get a hunt if your prey is right under your nose.” Riece shook his head. “I don’t… what’s going on?” “They’re hunters, and I think we’re the game.” Riece opened his mouth and shut it again. He shook his head once and stared at Mason. Mason took hold of Riece’s shoulders. “Listen to me. Those men didn’t know who I was until the other two showed up. That means they weren’t specifically targeting us but probably have a few traps scattered around this area. It’s reasonable to think they don’t know we have supplies a few miles from here. We have to get there. Our cell phones are there. We have food and water. Here’s the plan: we get somewhere to get a signal, call for help, set off your locator, and hole up where we can stay safe and hidden until that help arrives.” “They took my locator beacon before pulling you out of the hole,” Riece said. His voice shook, then cracked. “We’ll deal, don’t worry. We still have phones, and I know this territory very well.” Mason grabbed Riece’s wrist again and spun him so he faced the side of the gully. “Up. Now, Riece,” he ordered and shoved Riece into motion. Riece lost his footing after only a few feet and slipped downward. Trying to grab at the trees succeeded in doing nothing but scraping up his palms. He came to an abrupt stop against Mason. Gripping one of the trees Riece had tried to hang on to with one hand, Mason steadied them both. He put his other hand between Riece’s shoulder blades and pushed hard. “Go.”   BLOG TOUR 
Book Title: Leaving Winter for a Desert Sky Author and Publisher: Skylar Lyralen Kaye Cover Artist: 100 Covers Release Date: January 2, 2025 Third person/Past tense/Single POV Genres: Literary Queer Fiction Tropes: Recovery, family dysfunction, queer friendships Themes: Mother/daughter, homecoming, recovery Length: 68 000 words/234 pages Heat Rating: 3 flames It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links 
A reluctant prodigal queer daughter returns to her dysfunctional alcoholic family and struggles to climb out of her familiar role of savior. Blurb Erin has spent the last six years abroad, teaching English in Spain, France, Japan. Now, she’s back home in Maine for Christmas, for the first time in years. Her abusive father, Thomas, made it clear that Erin, a lesbian, was not welcome in the house, but her mother, Janet, recently ended the marriage, then invited Erin to come home for the holiday. “Just us three girls,” says Janet, including Erin’s younger sister, sixth grader Beth—though Thomas tends to show up at night drunk and sit in his car in front of the house. Erin bickers with Janet even as she helps her mother get on her feet—setting her up a bank account, making her a resume to apply for jobs—but when it becomes clear her father is trying to reconcile, Erin—who isn’t ready to forgive—leaves for Mexico. She takes a bus to Arizona, where her drinking and her guilt over abandoning Beth get the better of her. She stops in Tucson to attend some Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. With the help of her no-nonsense sponsor, Maggie, Erin attempts to make sense of her life up to this point, beginning with the tumult of her parents’ marriage. As Janet plans to come down to Tucson to visit her, Erin must consider the possibility that she didn’t have one abusive parent, but two. Kaye captures Erin’s complex emotional journey with elegant, salt-of-the-earth economy. “They have a saying about people who keep running away,” Janet tells Erin at one point. “Things catch up with you sooner or later.” While many aspects of Erin’s situation and her reactions to it—substance abuse, sabotaged love, solo travel, motorcycles—may strike the reader as slightly predictable, Kaye fashions her in such a way that she feels like an individual rather than a cliche. It’s a breezy read despite the dark subject matter, and the reader quickly gets swept up in Erin’s redemptive saga. KIRKUS REVIEWS MELIZA BANALES, Lambda Award Finalist Skylar Lyralen Kaye’s “Leaving Winter for a Desert Sky” is a striking and rebellious coming of age story. With every pit stop, AA meeting, and second chance Kaye’s raw portrayal of Erin—a complex survivor turned adventurer— offers a snapshot of a young Queer finding her way through trauma and leaving room for hope, even in the most unexpected places. TINA D’ELIA, Award-winning poet and Solo Performer Excerpt Erin stood in the school hallway, shaken out of the six years of her life in Spain, France, and Japan by her mother’s voice. She could feel the moment like a snapshot, a stilled image before everything shifted away from her toward an end she couldn’t see. Until now, Erin had told herself it was easy to endure her mother’s hostility on her yearly visits, easy to stay with friends and sneak to see her sister, and easy, always, to leap again onto the wide sweep of road she’d taken to get away from home. In the beginning of December, the secretary at the language institute in Madrid where Erin taught English had come into an empty classroom and handed her a message. She stood dumbfounded at first, blonde eyelashes shading her pale blue eyes, almost too shocked to recognize her mother’s name. She had looked at the secretary’s dark skin, into her darker eyes, before turning to the classroom window. Fumes from the cars blew up from the street; the gray Madrid sky shifted so a brief glimpse of light slipped through as if by mistake. She opened the note. It said to call whenever she could. Now. The secretary waited. Erin extended her lower lip and exhaled, blowing up the bangs that hung over her forehead. She spoke in her native American. “Shit,” she said. “What does she want?” She stuffed the note in the pocket of her Oxford shirt and spun so fast her long red gold braid flew over her shoulder with a soft thud.Halfway out the door she stopped and turned around. The white blue of her attention washed over the secretary, bathed her and held her up as Erin smiled an apology, her face changing from bone-hard to a gentle mirth, as if she and the shared a secret, as if they were the only people in the world. The secretary had smiled back. People usually did. Erin walked around with the message in the pockets of different shirts for almost a week. She’d didn’t want to zoom on her iPad; her mother didn’t know she had one. She’d dumped her last burner—too many women calling after one-night stands—so she could truthfully email her mother and say she didn’t have a phone and didn’t plan to get one. After all, she didn’t plan. She usually just procrastinated for a week or two between burners. She’d avoided her mother’s calls as she did those of the stalker women. The sound of her mother’s voice sent stitches of cold threading through her stomach. She didn’t want to call back. 
About the Author Skylar Lyralen Kaye, fae/they is a queer social justice and award-winning writer as well as a lifelong activist. They have a BA in English from the University of Arizona and an MFA in Theater from Sarah Lawrence College. They were nominated for a Pushcart Prize in Fiction in 1997 and were a finalist for the 2005 Massachusetts Cultural Council of the Arts Awards in Playwriting. They have published in literary journals such as Calyx, Persona, Phoebe, Girlfriends, Happy Magazine and the anthology Out of the Ordinary, Children of LGT Parents as well as winning the Boston Amazon Poetry slam finals and performing on the slam team. Their foray into filmmaking brought awards that include the 2021 NE Film Star Award as well as 12 film festival awards for the web series Assigned Female at Birth. In theater, they won 2018 Best in Fringe at the San Francisco Fringe for the one person show My Preferred Pronoun Is We, in 2017 the Moth Story Slam and 2018 the Boston Story Slam. Some other awards include: the 2015 Meryl Streep Writers Lab for Screenwriters and the 2002 Stanley and Eleanor Lipkin Prize in Playwriting. Kaye’s memoir, Bachelorx, will be released in 2026 For a complete list of awards and credits please visit https://lyralenkaye.com/ Author Links Facebook | Bluesky | Instagram | Substack 
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