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. Right now Mason saw no other choice than to run in the single direction open to them. He’d think about why later. It took Mason a second after he landed to regain his balance and charge at Riece. Barely slowing down, he grabbed Riece’s arm with one hand, the bag with the other, and took his own advice and ran. Three more bolts hit the ground near their feet. The thunk of additional bolts hitting the trees reverberated in Mason’s ears. They sprinted away from the campsite, heading generally back the way they’d come. As soon as it was possible, Mason veered farther northwest. They could travel downhill first and gain ground. Eventually they’d need to go uphill, but hopefully they’d be farther away from their pursuers. At the bottom of the hill, the trees thinned out in one direction and remained constant in the other. When Mason tried running for the cover of the thicker trees, he heard a gunshot. Riece yelped and stumbled. A crossbow bolt careened by, coming far too close to Mason’s head for comfort. He slid to the ground, taking Riece with him. Mason rolled so he could see the trail behind them and took Riece by the shoulders. “Were you hit?” “I-I d-don’t know. I think so.” Riece held out one arm and turned it so they could both see. “I felt a nasty sting. Like the biggest bee ever.” A gash ran along the inside of Riece’s upper arm. It wasn’t deep or life threatening, but Mason figured it had to hurt like hell. Red oozed from the wound and trickled in a path along the muscle grooves of Riece’s arm. “C’mon.” Mason stood and yanked Riece after him. “We have to find somewhere and take care of this.” The position of Riece’s wound sent cold spikes through Mason’s chest. “I’m okay.” “You’re bleeding. The inside of your arm is wounded. That shot was meant for your torso. It was a missed shot meant to bring you down. Those people aren’t the only hunters in this area, and the four-legged kind have a far better sense of smell.” Mason led the way away from the trees. The land dipped, but not as steeply as it had at the gully. There were fewer trees for cover and more grass and shrubs. They ran along the base of the hill. Riece tugged on Mason’s arm, pointing to a darker spot along the hillside. “There,” he said. Mason nodded and followed Riece to the possible bit of shelter. It wasn’t really so much a cave as an indent in the hill. There was enough room for them to squeeze inside and out of sight. Mason pulled some grass closer to the opening, then turned and used both feet to shove dirt toward it in an effort to disguise the fact they’d gone inside. “Do you think they saw us?” “Don’t ever think otherwise until you can prove it.” Holding his finger to his lips, Mason pushed Riece farther back and at the same time inched toward the opening. He held his breath and listened for a bit before shaking his head. “I don’t hear anyone.” He turned back to Riece. “Let’s do something about that arm.” Riece was rifling through the bear bag. “Our canteen is here, filled with water. The first aid kit,” he said and pulled it out and dropped it on the ground beside his leg. “Our phones are gone.” Mason opened the first aid kit and took Riece’s arm. “It was a long shot that they’d leave our stuff alone.” He took alcohol wipes from the kit and tore them open. “They obviously found our camp and probably reasoned we’d go back there for supplies and communications.” Mason wiped the gash on Riece’s arm clean. Riece sucked in a harsh breath and hissed, then bit down on his lip. Mason ran one hand through his hair and said softly, “Sorry.” He smoothed a Telfa pad over the wound and used some gauze wrapped around Riece’s arm to make sure it stayed there. “That’ll do for now and keep you from attracting a curious bear.” When Riece chuckled Mason looked at him and frowned. “That wasn’t a joke.”
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Lucas sipped his drink and shrugged. “I don’t know.” Forge leaned his elbow against the bar and swiveled so he faced Lucas. “What don’t you know about?” “I….” Lucas opened his mouth and didn’t know how to put his feelings into words, so he shut it again. “Luke, you are my friend. As your friend I need to remind you I am a bored detective stuck at a boring political event wearing a tie Declan tied as if he were trying to strangle me with it, and I’m armed. I’m begging you, save me.” That made Lucas laugh. Forge always cheered him up. “Sometimes, once in a while, I miss the old days. I love Declan, but this bonding thing sort of snuck up on me, you know? I guess even for me, change is…a challenge.” “What was it you told me when Blair came to Boggslake? You don’t give up all the people in your life when your soulmate comes along.” “I said that?” Lucas asked. “More or less,” Forge said. “Look, you can’t decide yes or no on a soulbond. We found out how well it went with Blair and me. Anyway, that ship’s sailed, my friend. You and Declan are bonded—” “That’s not the issue,” Lucas cut him off. “It’s just that sometimes there is too much togetherness. Sometimes I’d like time alone or with my friend. It’s something I found I really liked, and I miss it.” Forge nodded. “I get it. With a little….” He held up one finger and frowned. A quick look around the room and Forge’s gaze settled on a man and woman. Lucas leaned closer so he could hear what was being said through Forge’s earbud. “We can’t identify that couple. They weren’t here earlier, and they’re not on our list. Do you know them?” It was Samuels’s voice. Lucas met Forge’s gaze and shook his head. Forge turned so it looked like he was talking to Lucas and said, “No, neither Dr. Coate nor I recognize them.” Tapping Forge’s forearm, Lucas dipped his head at Declan and grinned. “We’ll get you some ID. Give me five minutes,” Forge said. He pressed the earbud and removed it, dumping it in his pocket. The wristband followed a second later. “It’s better they don’t know about this part.” He stood, straightened, and whispered, “Declan. See the woman in the red dress and the man with her at my three o’clock?” Across the room Lucas watched as Declan casually turned, gaze sweeping the area before he tugged on his sleeve once. “That’s a yes,” Forge told Lucas. Using two fingers he pretended to reach into Lucas’s pocket, then said quietly, “On both.” Reaching out, he put one arm around Lucas’s shoulders and guided him toward the door near where the couple stood. “You must have eaten a bad crab cake.” Lucas made a big show of slouching against Forge and making retching noises. A few people looked at them and moved out of their way. He got a glimpse of Declan leaning in to talk to Blair. Then they both looked at the spot between Forge and Lucas and the couple. Coughing and holding his stomach, Lucas stumbled away from Forge and into the woman. “Oh, I’m…sorry…I….” The woman turned and with lightning speed Forge reached out and bumped her elbow, causing her to upend her drink all over herself. Lucas’s gaze shifted to Declan and Blair. They were in one spot across the room, and in the next instant the exit doors on the other side of the room swung shut. “The ladies’ room is right through there.” Lucas pointed the way. He tried wiping her off with napkins he snatched from the bar, but she stormed off, her gentleman friend following her. Forge took his elbow and nodded to the exit. “Come on.” Lucas had to quickstep to keep pace with Forge. They left the ballroom for the hotel’s main corridor leading to the lobby. Forge looked one way and Lucas the other. Snagging Forge’s sleeve, Lucas said in a low voice, “Over there.” Code Name Jack Rabbit is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited. BLOG TOUR ![]() Book Title: How To Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter! Author: Luke Stoffel Publisher: Cinderly Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel Release Date: February 1, 2025 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: past tense/first person Genres: Contemporary, Humor, Fictionalized Memoir Tropes: Coming-of-Age, Flawed Hero, Small-Town Dreamer, Cultural Satire, Underdog Story Themes: Coming out, Resilience, Self-Discovery, 80s Nostalgia, Hope and Optimism Heat Rating: 2 flames Length: 72 000 words/ 263 pages It is standalone not a series, but it has a related book coming in 2026. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited ![]() How To Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter! Blurb How to Win a Million Dollars is a madcap, self-deprecating, laugh-out-loud coming-of-age story that reads like David Sedaris meets Heartstopper, told as Ready Player One. It takes readers on an adventure through the wildly inventive, sometimes-questionable, but always entertaining schemes of a boy who would do anything to make it big. Growing up as a gay Catholic schoolboy in a tiny Mississippi River town surrounded by cornfields, Luke’s imagination was constantly set on fire by million-dollar daydreams and DIY hustles. Whether it was hunting down the missing Cap’n Crunch or gaming McDonald’s Monopoly, no scheme was too ridiculous, no shortcut too far-fetched. With his trusty Hustler bike and a mountain of determination, Luke didn’t just dream—he plotted. Set in the 1980s, this is the story of a kid with a knack for scamming, hustling, and occasionally crashing and burning—all in the pursuit of that elusive big win. From navigating a Catholic school playground full of bullies to trying to “make it” out of a blue-collar family, Luke was always on the move, cooking up his next big adventure. Dragging his little sister—turned faithful sidekick—into trouble at every turn, her sweet voice was always in his ear, making us wonder: is he conning her, or is she saving him from himself? As Luke grew up, so did the schemes—transforming into a Broadway Cinderella story of sorts, ditching it all for the artist’s life in Paris, and even getting cursed by a vengeful Hawaiian god. With each crazy plan, the stakes got higher, the twists got weirder, and Luke had to ask himself the big questions: Can you beat the system, or will the system beat you? And what do you do when your dreams—and all your wildest schemes—start to crumble? Through hilarity, heartbreak, and the relentless pursuit of the American Dream, How to Win a Million Dollars explores the glittering highs and crushing lows of chasing success in a world shaped by Reaganomics, dyslexia, and the crumbling façade of opportunity. From paperboy scams to glitter-filled art shows, this story is proof that while everything can fall apart at any moment, the journey—chaotic, messy, and wildly imperfect—is the real prize. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still a million-dollar dream out there, waiting to be won. Excerpt Chapter 1: Cereal Entrepreneur The first time I tried to win a million dollars, it was the sweltering summer of 1985, and the Mississippi River was swollen and threatening to spill over its banks. The town was on edge, but thanks to the giant quarry wall my grandpa helped build back in the ‘50s, we were safe from the river’s fury. It was during that unforgettable summer when Cap’n Crunch went missing, and panic spread across the nation like wildfire. Supermarkets were packed with towering displays of Cap’n Crunch, a mountain of yellow and blue boxes stretching to the ceiling. But when you looked up, there was no Captain. His jovial face had vanished, leaving behind nothing but dotted lines and a big question mark. He had disappeared, zeroed out. Zoinks! What was I to do? The commercials made it sound so simple: find the Captain, restore him to his cereal kingdom, and win ONE MILLION DOLLARS. For a kid like me, the stakes couldn’t have been higher. A million dollars wasn’t just a number—it was a golden ticket, a way out of this tiny Mississippi River town. Every Saturday morning, I’d sit in my parents’ living room—a shrine to America’s Bicentennial celebration. The royal blue carpet stretched wall to wall, its plush fibers worn thin in front of the TV. A deep red couch commanded the room like a throne, while gold curtains depicting Revolutionary War scenes framed the windows. It was like 1776 had crashed into 1980s suburbia, and somehow, we were still stuck suspended in between. As my brothers and sisters tormented each other in the background, I was glued to the TV. The old box hummed as commercials blared, demanding kids like me solve the mystery, save the Captain, and claim the prize. The urgency of it all buzzed in my chest, electrifying the air around me. To a seven-year-old like me, a million dollars wasn’t just thrilling—it was everything. It meant a chance to escape this town, this life, and find something more. In the afternoons, when the noise at home became too much, I’d head for the bluffs. The familiar path wound through tall grass that swayed gently in the breeze, the green hills rolling endlessly toward the horizon. I’d climb to my favorite perch and sit there for hours, the town spread out below me like a miniature toy train set. The limestone clock tower stood proudly at the center, surrounded by the river, the factories, and the steeples of the churches. Everything looked so small from up here, but somehow, it felt even smaller at eye level. You see, up close, the town was just a second-rate version of Main Street USA, stripped of all the charm and magic of Disneyland. Most of the families here were like mine—working-class and stuck. I lived on the North End, what people would call the wrong side of the tracks, where factory workers like my dad scraped by. I was a short, scrawny kid with wavy dishwater blond hair, wearing tattered dungaree shorts that were practically a second skin during the summer, their faded denim streaked with dirt and grass stains. My skin was golden tan from hours in the sun, but my legs were a patchwork of scars from chigger bites I couldn’t stop picking. Sitting cross-legged on the warm earth, absently scratching at the bites, my mind churned, methodically piecing together a plan. The Captain was missing. My ticket to freedom was hidden somewhere out there, and all I had to do was find it. Yet from this vantage point, the possibility of something greater still felt wildly out of reach. A million dollars meant escape, and as I sat on that bluff, staring out at the endless rows of cornfields, I swore to myself I was going to find it. Each week, I’d beg my mom to let me tag along to the grocery store. Econofoods smelled like a strange mix of fresh produce and fake lemon cleaning products that clung to the air. The linoleum floors were scuffed and worn down from years of shopping carts rattling over them and the steady shuffle of feet. Jess, my five-year-old sister, was always a whirlwind of energy, darting between aisles like a tiny tornado. She had our dad’s button nose and her favorite white, frilly cotton top tucked into neatly pressed khaki shorts. Her tiny diamond stud earrings, pierced at Claire’s in the mall when she was a baby, sparkled as she twirled through the store. Her short brown pixie cut bobbed with every step, her energy infectiously lighthearted even as I plotted my next move. About the Author ![]() Luke Stoffel (b. 1978) Growing up a gay Catholic schoolboy on the banks of the Mississippi came with its own cross to bear. Confined by the cornfields of small-town Iowa, Luke’s understanding of God and his yearning for a world beyond began to take shape—often while nursing a bloody nose on the playground. The first thing Jesus taught him was how to hate himself; but the first thing the world taught him was how vast his possibilities were. Luke is an accomplished artist and author, with several books available on Amazon, including The Easy Bake Unicorn Cookbook, The Art of Tarot: A History and Guidebook, and his debut novel How to Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter! His second, follow-up novel, In Over Your Head, is set to release in 2026. Additionally, his art and photography are featured in his ongoing book series The Noble Path. Stepping off the plane in Thailand was like landing on Mars. Surrounded by towering golden stupas, and realizing there was something beyond the confines of Christ, became an explosive creative catalyst. Having visited over 40 countries, Stoffel channels the diverse cultures he’s encountered into his art. His work explores spirituality in a vibrant, pop fantasy style, offering American audiences a glimpse into the world’s rich religious and cultural tapestries. Recognized as one of NYC’s top LGBTQ+ artists by GLAAD he has been showcased by prestigious organizations like the American Foundation for AIDS Research, and the Matthew Shepard foundation. His art and photography have appeared on Bravo’s Million Dollar Listing, in the New York Times, Huffington Post, AM New York, Hawaiian Airlines Magazines, and on the cover of Next Magazine. His artistic contributions have earned him the Starving Artist Award, along with a commission for Ralph Lauren’s daughter. His art has graced iconic New York venues like the Puck Building, The Art Directors Club, The Prince George Gallery, GalleryBar, and New World Stages. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a Collector's Edition or one of 5 ebooks ![]() My snippet this week is from Strays, my scifi romance. Then Pierre said the words Daniel never expected. “The first suspect was Kyle. Keller said it was out of his hands. He turned Kyle over to the government.” “He—” Daniel’s lungs deflated and his head spun. “Why?” “Hell if I know. Something is wrong. There is no reason to suspect him. Hell, he doesn’t even know complete plans until we’re in route half the time.” The side door of the van opened and Sally climbed out, carrying a semi-automatic. She crossed to them and handed Daniel the weapon. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face pale. When she spoke her voice was barely above a whisper. “No one else dies.” Strays is available is eBook and through Kindle Unlimited. There are many more snippets to be read in
the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. There was no doubt in Todd’s mind Witze’s orders had been if the Rugers were found they were to be taken alive at all costs. More soldiers ran in, getting between Nick and the train car. When they raised their rifles, he threw both hands in the air, sliding over the gravel for a few feet before he started backpedaling. “Down!” It was the captain shouting at them. Nick did what Todd knew was a fake drop, not going completely down. As a second set of soldiers were closing in, he bounced back to his feet, kicking out, leg going in a wide arc. Nick relieved one of the soldiers of his rifle when the blow sent the weapon wheeling through the air before it crashed into the train car, cracking into pieces. Todd stopped so quickly two of the soldiers chasing him ran right past. He did another turn and sprinted away from the train car. The second the soldiers caught up to him, he stopped again, spun on his heels, and landed a punch to the closest man’s face. Caught off guard, the soldier stumbled, dropped his rifle, and landed on his ass, sprawled in the dirt. Nick ran full speed, parallel to the train. He’d likely seen the same opening Todd did and was going for it, with Todd right behind him. The train picked up speed, pulling away from the station. If they weren’t on it soon, it would be moving too fast for them to jump into a car. A sharp whistle slithering through the air as Todd turned toward Nick caused his heart to skip, then thud against his sternum. Whirling along, no more than a foot off the ground, a bolas collided with Nick’s legs just below his knees. The balls wrapped the rope around his legs, taking him down. Nick pitched forward and hit the ground with a harsh grunt, hands out, preventing him from landing face-first in the gravel. He looked up, watching the movements of the rifles trained on him. One of the soldiers motioned with his rifle and said, “On your back.” At once, Nick obeyed, rolling onto his back, hands held up and to his sides. A few more strides brought Todd to Nick. He dropped beside Nick, holding one hand out and pressing the other against Nick’s chest. Todd might have expected Nick to follow through and escape without Todd, but there was no way Todd would ever consider abandoning Nick. “You two are very slippery, and I’ve had quite enough of your shenanigans,” the captain said. She strode through her troops and stood in front of them, staring down at Todd. She jerked her chin at Nick’s legs. “Get that thing off him and get them cuffed. We’ll take them to the stockade and get this mess with Witze straightened out. In the meantime, you two are under arrest. Try running again and the other gets a bullet between his eyes.” Nick lifted his legs so the bolas could be unwound. Todd climbed to his feet. He grabbed one of Nick’s hands for Todd to pull up against. Their packs were taken, and they were forced a few paces apart, hands pulled behind their backs and cuffs slapped into place. A horse was brought forward. “Time to mount up,” one of the soldiers said and shoved Todd at the animal. He slung the packs’ straps over the saddle pommel. Another soldier dropped a noose around Nick’s neck, gave a tug, and tied him to the horse’s saddle. Todd dug his heels in. “Where’s his horse?” “He’s roped to it. Now get on.” The soldier slammed a fist into Todd’s back, forcing him forward a few steps. “Either he rides with me or I walk with him,” Todd ground out. “Oh, for the love of…if the fool wants to walk, let him,” the captain said. She held out her hand, fingers waggling. “Give me another rope.” A second noose was handed over to her, which she promptly dropped around Todd’s neck, then gave a jerk, pulling it tight. When he groaned out a breath, she smirked and stepped closer to Todd. “My advice? Don’t piss me off again or I’ll forget my orders and put you both out of my misery.” BOOK BLAST ![]() Book Title: The Perfume of War Author: Garrick Jones Publisher: Tellwell Publications Cover Artist: Garrick Jones Release Date: November 25, 2024 Genres: Crime Thriller, WW2 Spy Thriller Themes: Historical Crime fiction, WW2; Spies/Action/Thriller Heat Rating: 2 flames Length: 134 000 words/420 pages (paperback version) It is Book #4 in the Seventh of December Series and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Amazon AU | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Smashwords ![]() Blurb “Please donate generously to Mrs. Roosevelt’s charity. Every penny raised from this series of concerts along the eastern coast of the United States will help with the resettlement and care of child refugees from war-torn continental Europe.” Over dinner with J Edgar Hoover in Washington, Tommy Haupner is shocked to learn that his forgotten and empty Swiss bank account has been topped up regularly with staggering sums of money … deposits that originate in Nazi Germany. Could this bank account have something to do with anonymous letters posted to him at home in London, their contents a single blank slip of paper on which are written two words: NAZI GOLD? When he returns to Britain, he soon discovers that not only is his own life in danger but also those of his nearest and dearest who become pawns in a savage game of revenge. Excerpt I knew he’d tell me if he knew anything; we’d pledged never to keep secrets after our first foray behind enemy lines in early 1941. “All right, I’m listening,” I said. “I’ve been told not to bring anything. No personal items and no documents, not even a toothbrush.” “Uh-oh,” I said. That sort of deployment, where clothes, right down to underwear, toiletries and everything else would be supplied, indicated that whatever the mission was going to be, it wouldn’t be a local training course. “How long will you be away? Any idea?” “Minimum three weeks, maybe more. That’s all I know.” “I know duty calls, but what a shame. I was looking forward to having dinner with you again at Xavier’s. And your parents will be very disappointed; I know they were excited about travelling to Washington for the presentation of your Silver Star.” “Yeah, I know, babe. Me too. I’ve just finished writing a letter. Will you give it to them?” He must have seen the sudden change in my face, because he laughed softly then pulled me down on to his lap. “No, it’s not one of those sorts of letters, Tommy. I just want to let them know how sorry I am not to be able to catch up this trip, but I’m sure there’ll be another opportunity. Who knows: maybe this secret mission might be in the USA.” We both knew that that was hardly likely to be the case. Reporting for deployment with absolutely no personal items except the clothes you were wearing indicated a place, or a situation, where the threat of capture was a reality. My mind ran quickly through the possibilities: occupied France or Italy were top of my list. “What about your niece’s birthday party?” I asked. “I know she had something special planned that included both of us.” “Helene will cope. I’ll put five dollars for her in the letter to Mom and Pop.” “Money isn’t the same as a present. I’ll see if I can find something from us both when I get there.” “Tommy …” “Yes?” “We knew a day like this would come. I’m not being dramatic or anything, but we’ve been so lucky so far. We’ve talked about what it’s like for everyone else: husbands and wives and lovers separated by the war, families bereft of their sons, wondering where they might be. It’s the life we’re all faced with now and I have to go; I simply don’t have a choice. You understand that, don’t you? And I promise I’m coming back.” “You’d better, soldier,” I said, willing myself to believe it. Although I was trying to sound calm and collected, inside I felt more than a little anxious. Yes, we’d known a day like this would come, but I’d wished with all my might that it never would. I had no qualms about being sent away myself, but Shorty … well, that was a different thing altogether. “Have you eaten?” he asked. “Not yet.” “Well, the family’s out having dinner with your uncle Otto, so …” “So what?” I asked. “I brought ham, cheese and a loaf of fresh white bread home from the embassy—even a slab of butter, believe it or not. Fancy a sandwich, naked, in the dark, mister?” It was a crazy thing to do, but our relationship had been filled with small madnesses. Wearing just our garters and socks, we sat on the kitchen table eating ham and cheese sandwiches, washing it down with glasses of milk, also purloined from the embassy kitchen. He’d brought home enough for everyone else too, including a spare large bottle of the almost-impossible-to-obtain white stuff. With a soft burp he wiped the milk moustache from his upper lip; I was about to do the same but he stopped me. “Let me, Tommy,” he whispered low in his throat, and wiped it away with the flat of his tongue. I knew the family wouldn’t return unexpectedly and catch us in the kitchen, so I pushed him on to his back on the kitchen table. Not wanting to waste our last evening together for another month, I got to work on him, promising my man a good hour at least of looking after him. “An hour, Tommy?” he said, laughing into my mouth. “Who says it only has to be once?” I replied as I kissed my way down his body. About the Author ![]() From the outback to the opera. After a thirty-year career as a professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQ University. Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic. ![]() Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram Pinterest | Newsletter Sign-up ![]() My snippet this week is from Love and Lust, book 4 of Pain and Pleasure. So far, Taren happily admitted, Ian was darned pleased. And, yes, Taren was proud of himself, thank you very much! He’d found some interesting and fun new toys for them to experiment with while Taren continued Ian’s ever constant submissive ‘training’. Currently they were on their way to an adult, BDSM resort for a few nights of uninhibited fun. There are more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group! Love and Lust is available in eBook and through Kindle Unlimited.
“That little stunt would’ve killed a human who wasn’t scintilla. Even a werewolf would feel very painful effects.” She gave Brandon’s face a harsh pat. “Isn’t that right little boy?” Brandon nodded and glared at the floor. She spun the chair around and Brandon was facing the computer tower again. “Get it done.” She slapped her hand onto a piece of paper. “I-I c-can’t with t-the ch-chair m-m-moving.” She stood straight and blew out a breath. “Spineless.” Stepping away from Brandon she turned to Bob. “Get a stable chair.” “Zoe, this one keeps him subdued. We used it before,” Bob argued. Zoe whirled on Bob and flicked her fingers in his direction. Brandon watched, fascinated, as five thin, long sparks hit Bob in his neck like tiny spears. He slapped one hand to his neck and yelped. “What the hell!” Bob sputtered. “I know more about him than you do. I think I’ve got this covered. Just do it!” Zoe snapped. Bob growled but stormed out of the room. He was back a few minutes later with the solid, winged-back chair Brandon was used to and dropped it beside Brandon. Bob grabbed Brandon under the arms and hefted him out of one chair and shoved him into the other one. The rolling chair was kicked away and the stationary chair was pushed into place. When Bob’s phone rang, he raised one finger and held the phone in the other hand, glancing at the screen. “It’s Bisset.” He answered the call. “Yeah, I’ve got him here. Okay. I’ll take care of it.” After his phone was pocketed, he turned to Zoe. “Change of plans. Tala is in custody. They know what she is. The power to the police station where she is needs to be cut so no one can see her and Bisset get out.” Zoe walked to the table and leaned against it, gazing down at Brandon. She leveled a bone-chilling stare at him and steepled her fingers together. Tiny sparks wafted into the air. She arched one eyebrow and smirked. “We’d better get started then.” BLOG TOUR ![]() Book Title: Thunder Road: Badlands Book 7 Author: Morgan Brice Publisher: Darkwind Press Cover Artist: Natania Barron Release Date: December 17, 2024 Tense/POV: third person, past tense, alternating POV Genres: MM Urban Fantasy/Paranormal/Psychic romance, Historical/Steampunk Tropes: Established and developing relationship, co-worker romance, forbidden romance in Victorian era Themes: Newlyweds, trust, depending on each other Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 61 000 words/204 pages Thunder Road is part of a series but can be read as a standalone. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links ![]() Can Simon and Vic end the deaths and disappearances, or have they finally found a foe too powerful to stop? Blurb Simon and Vic are home from their honeymoon, just in time for a brand new case! Mysterious missing person reports, a cursed motorcycle club, and an ancient entity add up to trouble. A bad bargain to stop a long-ago gang war requires a yearly sacrifice from a tightly-knit group of riders, and even their coven of witches hasn’t been able to stop the deaths. Then the granddaughter of a former lighthouse keeper comes to Simon for help. When the lighthouses were automated, they lost their live-in guardians, who worked protective spells to shield the coast from killer storms and a murderous creature. Those protections are fading, and an old evil has gained power, growing stronger with every life it claims. Can Simon and Vic end the deaths and disappearances, or have they finally found a foe too powerful to stop? Thunder Road is an action-packed MM paranormal romance chock full of old magic, protective guardians, found family, an ancient monster, brave motorcyclists, helpful ghosts, loyal friends, psychic visions, hurt/comfort, supernatural suspense, and an evolving, established romantic relationship with all the feels. Excerpt “For the amount of time we spent naked, we sure have a lot of dirty laundry,” Simon observed, looking at the overflowing basket. “How did that happen?” “It was too chilly to go out without clothing, and we didn’t want to get arrested.” Vic tossed another pair of socks into the pile. “Have you heard from Ross? Did the department survive without you? No crime sprees?” Vic rolled his eyes. “Myrtle Beach isn’t exactly known for its crime waves, but apparently, things stayed pretty quiet. Ross hasn’t given me a lot of details—said he’d fill me in when I went to the station. I think he’s doing his best to help me extend that honeymoon feeling as long as possible.” “Yeah, Pete keeps telling me that nothing much happened with the store.” Simon closed his empty suitcase and zipped it shut. “I mostly believe him, and I appreciate that he handled everything well on his own. But I guess we had to return to the real world sooner or later.” As much as Simon had relished the time away with Vic, he also liked running Grand Strand Ghost Tours and enjoyed helping people—living and dead—with his psychic abilities. He knew the value of being able to provide answers and closure, and his insights had brought killers to justice and solved long-cold murder cases. “Of course, we’re getting back just in time for the craziness that happens in the fall.” Vic set his empty suitcase aside. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that, but it is what it is. Motorcycle season is starting. That’s always busy—for good reasons and bad.” Myrtle Beach had been a favorite destination for motorcyclists and cycle clubs practically since the bikes were invented. Road rallies ended in town with celebrations on the Boardwalk. Cycle clubs held fall gatherings once the beaches weren’t quite as crowded and the temperatures more leather-friendly. Local cops cracked down on cars and cyclists cruising Ocean Boulevard, but people managed to make several passes before being shooed away and then returned. Bikes and bikers were a subject of conversation. Businesses appreciated the influx of visitors in the shoulder season—the months when the weather was warm, but most of the tourists had gone home. It picked up some of the slack from the exodus of beachgoers. Locals grumbled about traffic and noise, and some held outdated impressions that raised questions about crime or violence. As Vic frequently pointed out, thanks to how expensive good bikes had become, the average bike owner was forty-seven. Which was at odds with the perception of young toughs from fifties-era movies. Not that carousing didn’t happen, but the average rider was also married and much more likely to be an accountant or a doctor than a drifter. “It’s usually not the bikers causing the problems,” Vic said. “It’s the people who come to the bars to hang out and pretend. They’ve seen Roadhouse a few too many times and want to live the dream.” That usually meant they woke up hungover and needing bail. About the Author Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy MM paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic and urban fantasy, with less romance, more explosions. All of the modern-day Morgan Brice and Gail Z. Martin series crossover, so characters from one series appear in cameos and on page in important secondary roles in books from other series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but the more you read the more the expanded universe of friendships and connections becomes clear. Morgan and Gail believe that paranormal elements make any story even better, and her worlds are full of ghosts, psychics, shifters, creatures, vampires, monster hunters, and magic. She's also a huge fan of the TV show Supernatural. (Chibi art by Kamidiox) Author Links Website | Audible Profile | Amazon profile Facebook Group | Facebook Page Pinterest (for Morgan and Gail) | Twitter Sign up for my newsletter and never miss a new release Read a copy of my Badlands short story Restless Nights here for free ![]() Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card ![]() Brandon’s electrical field blew away from him in one short, quick burst. He slumped back, dizzy, and drained to the point he nearly passed out. He caught a glimpse of Bob jerking backward and landing flat on his ass on the floor with a grunt. The woman burst out laughing. Not the reaction Brandon expected. “Again, you fool, what the hell are you doing?” Bob clambered to his feet and started toward Brandon. A simple wave of one hand by the woman stopped Bob in his tracks. She narrowed her eyes and stalked closer to Brandon, casually slipping her hands into her side pockets. “Mr. Bob, tell me, what did you think you were doing?” She stopped beside Brandon, just inside his field of vision and put a hand lightly on his shoulder. An electrical charge radiated out of her to Brandon, steadily increasing until Brandon tried to duck away, clenching his teeth and gasping. “Was that what you thought you were doing?” she asked Bob. Bob shook his head. “That guy with him, a werewolf, he’d put his hands around this guy’s neck and…” Bob shrugged. “…controlled him somehow. I was trying—” The woman laughed again. “A child’s trick.” She took ahold of Brandon’s chin, her nails digging into his skin and short, low pulses of power came from her fingertips. “You’re a clever little boy.” She tightened her grip. Pain coursed along Brandon’s jaw and into his chest. Tears sprung to his eyes. The woman rolled her eyes and let go. “Clever, but a soft piece of shit.” She knelt in front of Brandon and stroked his cheek a few times. “Here’s the deal, you’re a specially trained scintilla. A little more talented than normal. Well, so am I. Except my training took a completely different course. Do you understand?” Brandon swallowed hard and whispered, “Yes.” “I thought you couldn’t hurt each other with your charge?” Bob asked. Brandon was interested in the answer to that question too. “There is a way around everything if one knows what to do and has the skills.” The woman stared down at Brandon, her lips twisted into a cruel smirk. “That little stunt would’ve killed a human who wasn’t scintilla. Even a werewolf would feel very painful effects.” She gave Brandon’s face a harsh pat. “Isn’t that right little boy?” Brandon nodded and glared at the floor. She spun the chair around and Brandon was facing the computer tower again. “Get it done.” She slapped her hand onto a piece of paper. “I-I c-can’t with t-the ch-chair m-m-moving.” |
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