Book Title: Bad at Being Good
Author: A.L. Morrow
Publisher: SourGirl Books
Cover Artist: Morningstar Ashley Designs
Release Date: November 28, 2023
Genre: Contemporary M/M romance, new adult
Tropes: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, first love, bad boy
Themes: coping with grief, forgiveness, hurt/comfort, found family
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 73 000 words
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Available on Amazon, Kobo, Apple Books, B&N, and Smashwords
No one is good all of the time. Especially me.
Six years ago, I promised my friend Kellan that I’d never mess around with his little brother. I accepted it. I didn’t regret it, and I didn’t think twice about it. Milo Sterling—the good student, perfect son, and promising dancer—was off limits.
But that was before.
Before we went away to college. Before Kellan died. Before I flunked out of school.
Now, I’m back home, and Milo’s different. He’s quieter and colder, no longer a boy but a man. And that hurt in his eyes? I put it there the night I failed to save Kellan. I have a lot to make up for. Falling for Milo, no matter how much I want him, would be one more thing to add to my list.
But promises are meant to be broken, and if there’s one thing I’m bad at, it’s being good.
Bad at Being Good is a best friend’s brother/brother’s best friend (dual POV) M/M romance featuring hurt/comfort, found family, coping with grief, and—of course—a happily ever after. Readers are advised to check the Author’s Note for content sensitivities.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
I ignore the next person who tries to talk to me, exactly like I did the last. Dad’s eyes bore into me. When there’s a break in the people approaching, he steps closer and leans over my shoulder.
“Milo, stand up,” he scolds. “These people are here to support us. Snubbing them is rude.”
Mom comes between us immediately. She places her hand on Dad’s arm, but her gaze is warm when it turns toward me. “David, leave him alone. He’s going through enough right now. He shouldn’t have to worry about other people, too.”
At least Mom gets it.
Dad frowns but stands straight again. Sighing, he looks out across the church.
Then, he scowls.
“I can’t believe that piece of shit showed up.”
I glance over my shoulder in the direction of his stare, and I see him.
“Benji?” I whisper.
Our eyes lock, and I can barely breathe.
He came. I texted him the other night to make sure he knew about the arrangements, but he never replied. Still, he’s here, standing way in the back where people light votive candles. His hands are shoved in his pockets. He’s dressed in black. And although he’ll always be my idea of gorgeous, right now he looks like hell. Gauze is stuffed up his nostrils, and a bandage covers his nose. His bottom lip is split, and he’s got stitches by his hairline and bruises on his cheeks. My dad really did a number on him.
“How did he even find out about the service?” Dad grumbles.
Because I told him. I knew you wouldn’t, so I did.
“David, let it go. He was Kellan’s best friend. He has every right to be here.” Mom hooks her arm through Dad’s and takes his hand, holding him back before we have a repeat performance of their fight in the ER.
But she doesn’t stop me.
I’m on my feet, making my way to the back of the church before the next note on the organ plays. Unfortunately, Benji moves just as quickly. He beelines toward the door, knowing he’s been spotted.
“Benji, wait!” I call.
Dad’s voice echoes behind me. “Milo, get back here. They’re about to start. Milo!”
Fuck that. Kellan would want Benji to feel welcome. He’d want him to know he doesn’t blame him for what happened. He’d want him to be all right.
And you know what? I want that, too.
I move faster, jogging down the aisle, taking off after him, but he has too much of a head start. The door to the church swings open. He almost knocks over one of Kellan’s former coaches, but he doesn’t excuse himself or stop.
I know he can hear me. I know he saw me. If only he would hold still for a second and give me a chance to explain, to apologize for my dad …
I follow him through the front door and make it down the front steps of the church in time to watch his Range Rover pull out of the parking lot.
No, he can’t go. He can’t leave me here. I have too much to say.
He needs to know it’s not his fault.
He needs to know I love him—that I’m in love with him.
But he’s gone.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author A.L. Morrow enjoys dreaming up steamy scenes and spectacular settings—often along with a touch of magic or myth. She believes that love is love and likes reading and writing various genres of romance.
In her downtime (what’s that?), A finds delight in scouring for secondhand designer fashions. She briefly lived in a haunted mansion, once took a flight to visit Scotland for a day, and is prone to meeting minor celebrities in random hotel elevators. She resides in the eastern US.
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Nick carried two mugs in one hand and a carafe in the other. The aroma wafting around Nick gave away that the coffee in the mugs was dark, rich and hot. It smelled wonderful. He set one mug on the table and slid it over for Todd to grasp. “Thanks.” Todd took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “Decent.”
“Decent?” Nick inhaled over his mug, set the carafe on the table, and sat in the other chair. “It’s...it’s…I have no words. I got a cup while you were cleaning up and changing. There is a girl who comes around with a pushcart. Then I hunted her down and ordered the whole pot.” He took a sip and smiled broadly. “I think I scared her.”
“Great. Let the help think you’re some sort of crazy coffee stalker.”
Nick shrugged. “It’ll fit with my ‘you neglect me’ cover story.”
“Did you see anything unusual while you were out boosting coffee and frightening the waitstaff?” Todd took another drink. “Damn, this is good.”
“Right? It’s about time we got a job somewhere that can make a decent cup of coffee.” Nick took another sip and adopted an expression that was downright obscene. “As for unusual, do you mean other than owners who allow their devoted and easily bruised slaves to be mauled by old women? No.”
Todd ignored the taunt. “I think our first step will be to go for a walk around this boat, check things out and see what we… well, you can see,” he said and picked a brochure off the table, tapping it lightly against its surface. “According to this there is a cleaning service on the main deck. I want to drop my suit off for cleaning and a press.”
“You’ve only worn it for a few hours.”
Todd smiled and reached out with the folded paper, whapping Nick on the tip of his nose. “You got it wrinkled and mussed up.”
“We also need to find out where that coffee girl holes up.” Nick finished off his coffee and stood up. He moved to the door and took his tether from the coatrack next to the door. Coiling it tightly, he shoved it into his back pocket. “My collar and tether don’t need cleaning.”
Todd snorted and gathered up the black suit, leaving the portfolio and papers on the table. He put the hat on, tapping the top of his head as he did so. “Let’s go exploring. I can’t wait to get a good look at the rest of this boat.”
“I bet Jack James knew the layout of every riverboat he gambled on,” Nick grumbled and trailed a few steps behind Todd as they left their room.
Instead of taking the main central staircase, Todd veered to the right and headed toward the back steps, whistling as he went. There were two sets of stairs at the end of the corridor. According to the signs attached to the wall in wooden frames, one went up to the next level and one down to the main deck.
Todd pointed to either side and looked at Nick, raising his eyebrows. “You pick.”
Four members of The Vampire Guard—Forge, Blair, Declan, and Lucas—face a dangerous and elusive enemy.
And this time, it’s personal.
When massive tech outages impact everything from Wi-Fi to traffic control, Blair, Forge, Declan, and Lucas think it’s a simple matter of catching troublesome hackers.
But they quickly realize far more is at stake. Millions of dollars in art are the target of a thief who’s not afraid to kill---and he’s no stranger. Not only has he escaped capture, twice, a decade ago, but he’s had a hand in life-altering tragedies throughout their lifetimes.
Once it becomes clear that art theft is just a fraction of his plan for mass destruction, they realize time is running out. The clock’s ticking. Catastrophe is imminent. Can they find and disarm all the bombs in time or will countless lives be lost?
Available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.
Book Title: Ugly Beautiful People
Author: CJ Bedell
Publisher: Next Chapter Publishing
Cover Artist: Lordan June Pinote
Release Date: August 31, 2023
Genres: Adult LGBTQ Thriller (3 out of 5 point of view characters are bisexual)
Themes: Coming out, Self-acceptance, finding yourself, death, grief, loss
Heat Rating: 3 flames
Length: 59 000 words/249 pages
The book stands alone, but it is intended to be the first book in a trilogy.
It ends on a small cliffhanger. Most of the plot points that happen in Book 1 are wrapped up, though.
Welcome to Crescent Hills where beauty only runs so deep. Scandal lurks just below the surface behind the McMansions, designer clothes, and fancy cars. And a death will bring the lies, secrets, and betrayals to a boil.
Welcome to Crescent Hills, where beauty only runs so deep. Scandal lurks below the surface behind the McMansions, designer clothes, and fancy cars. When the town is shaken by the disappearance of journalist Ivy Fields, whispers of betrayal and intrigue begin to unravel the threads binding its elite residents.
Birds screeched when Audrey opened her eyes. She yawned, then stretched. Her back hairs stuck up. Audrey might’ve been lying on the seating of the pontoon boat, but black no longer veiled the sky. Instead, sunlight beamed from the cloudless sky.
Audrey scanned the boat. Ivy was gone.
Dread filled Audrey’s insides—she couldn’t think of one logical explanation as to why Ivy would no longer be on the boat. Audrey did the only thing she could and leaned up against the edge of the boat and peered into the water. No sign of Ivy.
Something vibrated from her jean’s right pocket and she whipped out her iPhone. Sawyer was calling her. “Hello?” Audrey asked.
“I wanted to see how you were doing this morning.” Sawyer chuckled. “And don’t worry. I’m not mad you decided to have a fun night with Ivy. Just glad Ivy texted me about you staying over at her place. Most people wouldn’t be so courteous.”
“I’m still on the boat,” Audrey blurted. “And Ivy is nowhere to be found.”
A folded piece of paper on the driver’s seat of the boat caught Audrey’s attention, and she rushed over to it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go,” she said. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Audrey pressed END before shoving her iPhone back into her pocket. Then, she unfolded the note and read it.
with my life for a long time, and I’ve decided to end my life.
I know my suicide will probably come as a shock to you. However,
please always think of me fondly.
Audrey crumbled the note and it fell onto the floor of the boat. After that, she screamed. Tragedies were supposed to be something that she watched on the news, not witnessed first- hand. But no explanation was necessary about how cruel life was and the universe often had a twisted sense of humor.
Tears welled in Audrey’s eyes. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this moment, because she wanted to cry. And cry. And cry. Ivy couldn’t be dead; she was only thirty-seven. So, she still had a little more than half her life left.
Ivy was in trouble and Audrey hadn’t seen the signs. So,
Audrey’d never forgive herself for Ivy’s suicide. Audrey had failed Ivy, and she couldn’t fathom how she’d continue with life.
Audrey’s throat tightened. Perhaps Ivy’s death was only meant to resemble a suicide and was really murder. There was a reason people always touted the saying about life being stranger than fiction. Audrey shook her head. Yeah, that had to have been it. Ivy couldn’t have been desperate enough to commit suicide.
The only thing Audrey was certain of was that Ivy was nowhere to be found. And that was why she’d get to the bottom of Ivy’s death. Whether someone murdered Ivy or Ivy actually committed suicide, there had to be more to the story.
About the Author
Chris Bedell is the author of over a dozen novels. He also graduated with a BA in Creative Writing from Fairleigh Dickinson University in 2016.
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one of two ebook copies of Pieces of My Life.
Blair gave him a sour look. “Marriage—” He shook his head and wiped one hand over his forehead, “—is a big step. That’s serious.”
“Oh, cut the crap. I can feel how funny you think this is. Giving me that look does no good. Would you prefer ‘boyfriend’ for the rest of our lives? It was an executive decision.”
Blair burst out laughing. “I thought it was panic. Which means you were dangling like a fish on a hook and I missed it,” he said and smirked. “It’ll be pretty cool to meet the president.”
“I don’t know if we’ll get to meet him. Probably more like gaze at him from across a room. Sellers also requested Lucas and—”
“And that means Declan in the same room with a world leader and whoever comes along with him,” Blair finished.
“He avoids trying to hurt people. Not that he won’t if he’s pushed. I’m more concerned with all their jewelry, watches, and wallets,” Forge said.
Blair winced, then chuckled. “He wouldn’t. Would he?”
Forge shrugged. “He’ll explode if he can’t at least pick one pocket. I guess I can live with it as long as he doesn’t get caught and gives his findings back.”
“He does that for sport?”
“Oh, hell, yeah. He throws back as much as he steals. I think he likes picking pockets because he can,” Forge said.
“You guys are weird,” Blair said and shrugged.
“True. It’s part of the appeal.” Forge grinned. “Unraveling the mystery that is Declan and me.”
“Uh-huh, sure. When is this dinner?” Blair asked.
“I dunno. I’ll probably get more details in the next few days when the Secret Service contacts us. Sellers wasn’t specific on when that would happen. Tsekani is going to have his work cut out for him with this,” Forge said.
Blair laughed. “Thanks for the snack, but I have class in a few minutes. You knew that didn’t you?”
Forge arched an eyebrow and smiled. “You don’t have to keep this job. Find another one or teach only for Sans Institute, Tsekani and Ueda won’t care.” Ueda was Tsekani’s wife and Blair’s department head.
“It’s good cover. Some days are better than others, though,” Blair said and shrugged.
“You had a first printing of Captain America? And read it?” Blair sputtered. “You, who has repeatedly dissed my graphic novels?”
Lucas blew out a breath and turned to Blair. “That’s what your takeaway was?”
Blair scowled, rolled his eyes, and shrugged.
“I should’ve known that would come back to bite me in the ass someday.” Jonas held up one finger. “One! I read one.”
Declan laughed. “And I was here to witness your ass being bitten.”
Find more snippets in The Rainbow Snippets Facebook group.
Endosymbiont is available in eBook and through Kindle Unlimited.
Some of the biggest names on the MM hockey romance genre have a new holiday sports anthology out for a limited time: Pucking Around. And it's free from December 1st - 16th.
'Tis the season to hit the ice and get your jingle on with 9 of your favorite and new to you MM romance authors for holiday hookups, hockey games, and hot queer hockey players.
Let’s light up the tree and light the lamp!
This is a free anthology (limited time only) that will only be available to download on BookFunnel and will not be on any eretailer sites. Dates of availability: Fri. Dec 1st - Sat. Dec. 16th.
The nine authors in this anthology include:
Book Title: An Odyssey of Shadows
Author: Dion Marc
Cover Artist: Illustrated by Author
Release Date: March 25, 2024
Genres: Period Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Drama, Thriller
Tropes: Ancient Secrets, Family Drama, Coming of Age, Epic Storylines with Lots of Characters, Hero’s Journey, Greek Tragedy.
Themes: Ancient Greece meets 1945, Queer Main MCs, M/M, F/F Side Characters. Not a traditional style romance. Fantasy First, Strong Word Building, WW2, many different folklores involved.
Heat Rating: 3.5 flames
Length: 90 000 words
It is the first book in a new series - The Odyssey of Theodore Miller.
Pre-Order Buy Links
A Hero's Journey Is a Tale of Tragedy.
In the wake of his brother's death, Theodore's world is irrevocably shattered. Now he stands alone against the shadows that dance at the whims of Gods. Clad in armour touched by magic and driven by a sharp mind, he faces a world of chaos and trials of unimaginable darkness all to save his brothers life. Each heartbeat of fear, each spark of hope, fuels his fight through a world where his bookish smarts may be his key to survival. Yet, Gods have never been known to play fair - especially the war god - Arēs
‘An Odyssey of Shadows' is the first instalment of a new fantasy series set in the year 1945, penned by Amazon bestselling author and artist Dion Marc. This saga weaves queer protagonists and intricate plot lines into an unputdownable read.
The air was dense, choking me with its acrid stench. I found myself in an unending void, where even my own body seemed to disappear into the oppressive blackness. But the silence was the worst of all—a soundless void that made my eardrums ache with its sheer weight.
Then, a light—faint at first—began to pulse in the distance. A scarlet bloom beckoning me closer. As I drew near, the light revealed itself to be a door, slightly ajar, emanating an even deeper blackness than the void around it. From within, whispers floated out, layered over each other until they became a cacophony of desperate cries and muffled screams.
"Join us. Save us. Take us."
Unable to resist its pull, I pushed the door wider. Inside was an endless expanse of contorted, writhing figures, locked in a dance of agony. Their skin seared, peeling away to reveal muscle and bone, yet they moved as if in rhythm to some ghastly melody.
And there, in the midst of the tormented crowd, was Thomas. His once bright brown eyes were now hollow, devoid of hope or recognition. Chains wrapped around his body, pulling him deeper into the throng. I tried to scream, to shout his name, to reach out, but my voice was stolen by the void, and my limbs were weighed down by invisible forces.
My own cries seemed to echo back to me from the abyss until a blinding surge of scarlet light consumed everything
About the Author
Bestselling Scottish Australian author Dion Marc lives and breathes queer art. Whether he is painting, writing, sewing or dancing naked in the moonlight he does it with pride. He is a practising Hellenistic polytheist who believes in healing the world one hug at a time and that drinking tea without a biscuit is a horrendous crime. Dion has worked on Harry Potter, Moulin Rouge, Hamilton and so many more creative and flamboyant shows. You can follow Dion on Instagram @author.dionmarc
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Aaron Frale has a new queer LitRPG fantasy out (gay, gender fluid): My Three-Year-Old is a Barbarian and Other Parenting Problems. And there's a giveaway.
Necromantic rituals, murderous ogres, battle-scarred rangers: not a typical Saturday detention for unsuspecting teaching assistant, Petra, and her delinquent teen charges.
The Beaverton High School Breakfast Club show up for what they thought would be cleaning the locker room with a toothbrush when the morning goes horribly wrong, and they fall victim to a deadly, dark spell.
Some jerkwad moon mage shoves the consciousness of Petra’s three-year-old into the body of a musclebound barbarian, and she is transformed into a halfling. The kids get stuck as a cleric, fire mage, and other stalwarts of your typical fantasy gaming party.
Now they must quest through a land of pissed-off warriors, angry giants, a pompous vampire, and a necromancer out to kill Petra and her child.
Despite being in a world where everything threatens to shuffle off her mortal coil, the hardest part is convincing a hulked-out man that the battle axe is not a toy, the undead are not cuddly, and he should use the potty.
Aaron is giving away a $20 Amazon Gift Card with this tour:
Things to Do in Detention When You're Dead
Beaverton High School, Mid-October
The final victim in the day that Instagram died was none other than 'Baking' Aiden himself, Petra’s favorite customer. The guy was a living stereotype. If the long hair and perpetually-worn Metallica T-shirt weren't enough, the guy actually drove a VW minibus. The smell of pot wafted all the way to the front door of the school when he jumped out of his vehicle.
If the police needed to fill their minor-in-possession quota for the day, all they needed to do was follow him around. She briefly contemplated asking what Aiden had done to join the ranks of the Saturday-damned but realized any conversation would invite Urkel to join in. She dialed up her perpetual scowl and went for the front door to the school. However, it was locked, and TAs weren’t important enough for a key.
Before she could figure out what that meant for the students assembling, another car pulled up. It was her dad, Barry. The prick was in his convertible with the top down, and his girlfriend, who Petra could have sworn was going to the same community college as her, was in the front seat. Petra's three-year-old was strapped in the back. She slung her backpack off and shoved it into Urkel's hands.
"Okay, I'll watch it for—" The kid's voice trailed off as she stomped over to her father.
"What the hell are you doing, Dad?!"
"Your mother didn't tell you?" Barry asked. "Bets and I are going to rent a cabin for the weekend."
"No, I'm talking about Jonathan!" She screamed and pointed to the kid in the back seat. "You don't drive with your top down with a kid in the back!"
Her father laughed. "What? He likes it!"
Petra scrambled to remove her son from the car seat. Even though she felt way too young to be the mother of a toddler, she sometimes felt more responsible than her own father. Her dad was an idiot with an idiot girlfriend who always tried to act like the cool mother despite being the same age as his daughter.
"He's a three-year-old boy. Little boys need to laugh," Beatty 'Stupidsalot' (Schneider) said, but Petra ignored her.
As soon as Jonathan was safely in her arms and the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, her dad revved the engine.
"You make sure you feed that boy properly and get him his nap. Got to go. Check-in's at 3," he said, before speeding off.
"I guess you're not picking us up afterwards." She added under her breath. "Whatever, dick."
"Dick!" Jonathan said and giggled like he had uttered the funniest thing ever.
"Don't you say that," Petra scolded her child.
"Dick! Dick! Dick!" Jonathan said over and over, laughing with glee.
"That's going to make Great-grandma Petra very sad. You don't want to make her sad, do you?" Petra said, as she brought her kid towards the door. If it weren't for her namesake grandma, Petra didn't know what she would have done when she had gotten pregnant. She was lucky that nothing seemed to stop the woman. She was a babysitting machine even at 85 and had practically raised Jonathan from birth.
The worst part about being a mother with no financial stability because the school system paid TAs like serfs toiling the land was that Petra's actual parents were useless at parenting. Her mom always had her laptop on and wouldn't notice if the climbing-obsessed toddler had scaled to the top of the fridge (which he had on more than one occasion). Her dad wasn't reliable either because he was more concerned with the things a college student should be concerned about, like partying and driving fast cars. That left Grandma Petra, who was happy to watch the kid when Petra went out with her friends. (Which didn't even involve any drugs or alcohol, even though she had masterminded the scheme that facilitated the buying and selling of it. Her outings were more to feel normal for an hour or two).
The bottom line was that even though Petra would sell a bag of weed here and there and give her middle finger to the authorities whenever she could, at the end of the day, she knew it wouldn't be forever. Her grandmother would be dead, and the only person in the world at that point who would give a crap about Jonathan would be herself. That was the thought that kept her up at night.
By the time she got up to the group assembled at the school's front door, they were already talking about going home for the day. Jack grabbed the door handle and attempted to muscle it open. When it wouldn't budge, he turned to the others and said, "Oh, well, fifteen-minute rule. Right?"
"I don't think that's a thing," Urkel ventured.
Sissy said, in her high-pitched nasally voice, "Come on, Jack. Let's go. We're missing the game."
Petra rolled her eyes and said, "Everyone, just chill out. You obviously don't know how this works. You cut Saturday detention, and that's two more Saturdays for you and maybe another for speaking out of turn. Just enjoy the fact that we get to spend it outside on the grass, because the clock is already ticking."
"That's right," Mr. Jackson said from the threshold of the school, startling all of them. He must have come from inside while they weren't paying attention. While the guy was a good-looking twenty-something with longish brown hair and thick hipster glasses, there was something off about him. He looked as if One Direction had to kick one of the members out of the band for being a serial killer.
Usually, Petra would be Hot for Teacher, but there was something a little too intense about his personality. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to be staring into the distance or how he'd sometimes seem to talk to someone who wasn't there when he was alone in his room. Regardless, he was disconcerting, at least to Petra. The dumb girls had a crush on him. She was so glad to be outta this place, well kinda. But at least she could quit the job when something better came along.
That didn't stop her from attempting to get out of her obligation.
"Mr. Jackson," she said, while he ushered them into the building, "as you can see, I could not secure daycare. Do you really need a TA for today?"
Mr. Jackson ignored her. He slammed the door behind them, and Sissy jumped. He strode forward, not even bothering to turn on the lights to the school and led them down a dark hallway. Nothing but emergency lighting illuminated the way.
"Maybe this is a good opportunity to teach your son about responsibility, Miss Zaslavsky," Mr. Jackson said over his shoulder.
Petra gave him the middle finger, and Jonathan did the same while shouting with excitement. The others laughed while she tried to get her son to perform some other hand gesture. Mr. Jackson didn't seem to notice or care. He brought them further into the building until he stopped at the basement stairs.
"Can't we just clean a classroom or something?" Sissy squealed. "There are spiders down there!"
"The custodial staff keeps this place quite clean and pest-free," Mr. Jackson said. "Now, I need you to help me with a little project. It will take an hour of your time, tops. Then you'll be free to go."
"But Principal Sokol said it would be six hours!" Urkel said, and Jack kicked him. Petra was pissed too. An hour of pay wasn’t even worth the gas. Not that she paid for her own gas or had driven her own car. However, something wasn’t right, and she’d be happy to leave as soon as possible.
"I know what the principal said, but it's my prerogative to administer punishment as I see fit," Mr. Jackson said.
"What does this project involve?" Petra asked warily.
"Nothing," Mr. Jackson replied. "You'll just need to sit there."
"Dude!" 'Baking' Aiden exclaimed. "Sign me up!"
The others nodded in agreement. Petra didn't like it, but she didn't really have a choice. It was either go in a basement with a psycho teacher or spend the following Saturday with Coach 'Justice' (Justin). His detentions always involved toothbrushes and locker room floors and the TAs always got stuck with bucket duty. At least there was safety in numbers. If Mr. 'Jack-off' pulled out a butcher knife, she could throw Urkel in the way and get to safety.
Mr. Jackson smiled in that weird staring-into-the-void way and said, "Don't worry. I'll be with you the whole time."
That was precisely why she was worried.
Good times and hope for a better future. Maybe some fun time travel adventures or interdimensional travelers. A toddler stuck in a barbarian and his mom in a halfling. "Comedy and" is my jam. When not writing, I can be found teaching, podcasting Aaron’s Horror Show, and screaming while playing guitar for the band Spiral. Life has brought my wife, myself, and my son to Montana, where we reside at the moment.
Author Website: https://www.aaronfrale.com
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/draconias
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/aaronfrale
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aaronfrale
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/255628.Aaron_Frale
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Aaron-Frale/author/B00J329YGW
My snippet this week is from For the Long Run. My snippet is PG-13
“Since this started it’s sure felt like it was coming after me,” Jay grumbled.
Eric’s gaze popped up. He squinted, focusing on Jay. “It was going after you. What changed between yesterday and today? Whoever this creature is masquerading as was at that party last night, I’m positive. So, what, my Jay, changed between the party and this morning?”
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For the Long Run is available in eBook, Audio, paperback and through Kobo Plus. The eBook is on sale for $2.99 through the end of November.
Welcome to My World