|
RECENT RELEASE 
Book Title: Housesitter – Renfield Concierge Services Author and Cover Artist: TA Moore Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press Release Date: September 10, 2026 Pairing: MM Tense/POV: Third person, alternating POV, past tense Genres: Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy Tropes: Forbidden love, Lust at First Sight, Pants on Fire, Dark Past Themes: Sometimes lying is a form of the truth. Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 50 000 words It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. 
A full-time Igor? In THIS economy? Blurb Shepherd’s life was supposed to be simple, and short. Very short. Then the FBI raided the cult compound he was raised in and suddenly there was no one left to sacrifice him to his demonic spouse. So much for destiny. Luckily even the damned and the dead still need errands run, curses managed, and carnivorous plants pruned. These days Shepherd works for Renfield Concierge Services as a jack-of-all trades. His latest gig is house-sitting The Murder House, a necromancer’s delight in Connecticut. All he has to do is keep out nosy teens, feed the books, and stop the coyotes, or next door’s poodle, from digging up the “vegetable” garden. Easy enough. Until the necromancer’s “son” shows up with a death certificate, a notarized will, and a suspicious lack of knowledge about the supernatural world. Now Shepherd has to honor his signed-in-blood contract without attracting the attention of any legal—or infernal—authorities who might still be interested in his cult-related past. Because Hell loves a notarised document. Excerpt Marble Falls, Connecticut, boasted a picture-postcard-perfect harbor, more antique shops than seemed feasible for a town with under 4000 residents, and a colony of elephant seals. They also had one coffee shop. Shepherd pulled into the curb outside the Seal of Approval, behind a small, bottle-green scooter with the shop logo displayed on the panniers, and parked. He got out of the minivan, pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, and squinted at the shop. Today’s special was a Lavender Mocha with a ham and provolone cinnamon bagel for fifteen dollars. So it was bougie. That was promising. Shepherd had been to places where the only coffee dealer in town had been Betty in the local diner, with a greasy carafe of whatever had been on sale at Target. It was never freshly brewed either. No matter what time of the day you went in, it tasted like it had been thinking about what it had done for at least 24 hours. It wasn’t for Shepherd. Bad coffee and celibacy had been two of the three main reasons he’d run away from the cult he’d grown up in. Shepherd absently reached up to rub his throat, the clot of raised scar tissue over his collarbone slick and itchy under his fingertips. The fact his ‘family’ was about to sacrifice him to the Lady of the Furrow before they were interrupted by the FBI’s raid on the property did have a strong lead on first place. Still, the coffee and celibacy had been hard pills to swallow too. These days he avoided both when he could. Shepherd locked the minivan and stuck the keys in the pocket of his shorts and headed into the shop. The bells over the door rang as he pushed it open. A barista was in the middle of the shop, bucket between her feet, as she swilled away at footprints on the tiles. She looked up and gave Shepherd a quick once-over, one eyebrow quirked with interest by the time she got to his face. “Hi,” she said and plunked the mop into the bucket with a wet squelch. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Tourist?” Shepherd blinked at her for a moment. He missed New York already. Nobody there cared where he was from or why he was there. Most of the time they didn’t even notice him. That was how he liked it. It was one reason he didn’t like taking jobs out of the city. Unfortunately, his wallet didn’t much care what he liked, and travel contracts paid better. “Not exactly,” he said. “I’m here for a couple of weeks.” The bucket was on wheels. It squeaked over the floor as the barista dragged it with her to the counter. She propped it against the wall and left it there as she grabbed a clean apron to pull on. “Airbnb?” Shepherd fished his wallet out of his pocket and wrinkled his nose as he considered the answer. “Kinda?” The barista—Emily, from her name tag stitched onto the apron—leaned one hand on the bar. She cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. “That’s the sort of thing you should really be sure of,” she said lightly. “What would you like? Today’s special—” “I saw,” Shepherd interrupted her. “No. Thanks. Just a vanilla latte. To go.” She nodded, grabbed a cardboard coffee cup from beside the till, and turned her back to get to work on his order. Once she had the grounds slotted into the espresso machine, she looked back over her shoulder at Shepherd. “The soup of the day is Bloody Mary and Pumpernickel,” she said, pointing to the big, silver tureen being warmed over gas on the counter. “If you’re hungry.” About the Author TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | TikTok 
0 Comments
 This week's excerpt is from Endosymbiont, book 3 of The Vampire Guard.  TACG Deep Sea Bioresearch Facility, off the east coast of Africa “So, do you happen to have any of those little containers lying around?” Lucas asked. He held his hands out forming a circle. “Let me guess, little flat things about this big?” “Not like the culture plates I’ve seen recently, but yes, similar. Some were more like jars.” Kai met Lucas’s gaze steadily before he looked at the other members of his team. “We tried to hold onto them and searched for more until the end of the war. There was a trail in the few years afterward as well, but it was a dead end. Unfortunately, all the samples were destroyed. I’m Austrian and Ori is Jewish, so we did what a lot of people who survived did back then. We left Europe for a different home. In our case an opportunity was given to us in the States, and we took it.” “There were documents that survived,” Sophia added. “The old notebooks you sent me?” Lucas asked. She nodded and he sighed. “Parts were removed, but I have an idea what those were now. I didn’t think of it before since there was no real application much before the fifties, at least not that anyone knew of apparently. I mean the basic principle was in use back as far as the very early 1900s, before World War I, but…” “Lucas,” Declan and Forge said together. Kai smiled and glanced at Ori. It seemed Lucas’s bondmate and friends knew how to get him to focus. “Growing cells in a culture medium.” Lucas gave them a lopsided smile again. “A few decades later, cells that became known as immortalized cell lines were discovered.” “Immortal as in like us?” Porter asked. Lucas shook his head and smiled a bit. “No. The cells can come from many sources. The most commonly known cells are called HeLa cells and were from a human woman treated for cervical cancer, sometime in the fifties. The cells replicated and the same line is still being used today.” “And you think the Nazis were growing lines of these cells?” Porter asked. “Taken from vampires and werewolves?” “I think it’s a very real possibility,” Lucas said. “It certainly sounds as if they were taking tissue for something. Possibly that wasn’t the reason, but it’s pretty common to make unexpected discoveries during any sort of experiments.” “How would they—the Nazis—know who were vampires and werewolves and how to trap them?” Sophia asked the group. “The Nazi army was certainly not bereft of vampires. There weren’t as many werewolves but there were enough. I never saw for myself, but supposedly several of Hitler’s higher ranking inner circle were vampires.” Kai paused for a few seconds. “But as I say, I can’t confirm that. However, we’re no different than humans. We all have beliefs and ideals. Yes, werewolves are less politically inclined, but that makes little difference in the case of what happened in that part of the world then. Hitler was a genius when it came to influencing the masses. Those other than human were also German citizens and not immune to his rhetoric.” “We’ve all known humans who were involved with vampires, not just those bonded to them. Humans can learn how to spot a vampire or werewolf when they want or need to,” Blair pointed out. “I have a human friend who’s amazingly good at it.” Ori nodded. “Agreed. I always knew there was something about Yaar. I simply didn’t know what.” “When I was a cop, Lucas and I worked for years with another detective who was damn good at picking out someone not human,” Forge added. “The main point now is, it happened decades ago, and it doesn’t matter,” Ori said. “What matters is what’s going on in that facility here and now.” Porter glanced at his watch. “We should review our tactical approach. It won’t be long before we’re there.” He motioned to Forge. “Our first task is getting inside.” When Forge began to talk, Blair switched the image on the large monitor from the surveillance feeds to the facility schematics. “I’ll go in first, alone, and disarm the security and get the door open,” Declan said. “Alone?” Lucas’s voice hitched ever so slightly. Declan nodded. “I can’t work in a hazmat suit and if I fail, the section floods. No use endangering everyone.” Lucas opened his mouth, but Declan cut him off in a soft voice. “It’s the best way, mon cher, and not open for debate.”  Endosymbiont is available in eBook, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.      Brandon smiled and continued, “Anyway, I’m not a finance guy and don’t have a fancy business degree, so I wasn’t sure what I was finding, but I knew it was wrong, if that makes sense.” “It does. I had to enlist some high-power accountants. Fortunately, one of them is my cousin,” Raul said. “Don’t worry, they’re very discrete and have helped me out before. That rule you hear on TV, ‘follow the money’? It’s often true. They’re a lot better at sifting through the paper trails than I am.” He shrugged. “I think they like it.” “A name kept popping up, Oscar Bisset. Money was going to him, but it was never clear why. I think he was handling payments to Seafind as well, but I don’t know from whom or for what. I’m not even sure what the guy does for my father and siblings,” Brandon said. An orderly brought in a pitcher of water and some glasses. Brandon stopped talking, poured a glass and took a few big guzzles. “What were the two guys doing in the building where you were being held?” Brandon stopped drinking and set the glass down. “There were three men. A few times a fourth guy showed up, I never knew his name. The other three were Bob, Bill and Tom.” He shrugged. “Not sure that’s their real names.” Raul snorted. “I guarantee they’re not.” There was a sinking, tightening feeling in the pit of Raul’s stomach. Two men were in custody, not three or four. Fuck me. “Would you recognize them?” Raul tried to keep his voice neutral and calm. Brandon tilted his head and stared at Raul before slowly saying, “Yes.” Obviously, Raul failed at the calm and neutral part. Brandon was observant and didn’t need Raul’s werewolf abilities to know if someone wasn’t being as truthful as they could be. Raul had the suspicion from their first meeting Brandon saw through much of Raul’s gruff exterior. Note to self: don’t bother trying to hide things from Brandon. “They, Bob, Bill and Tom would bring in a batch of kids, five at a time, but there were always different numbers of boys and girls. Before they’d arrive, I’d have to do a search of police reports, particularly missing persons,” Brandon spoke softly. “They, the kids, would stay for a few days and those men would have me pull shipping schedules, trucks, planes, sometimes cargo ships. I had to find them the information they wanted without tripping firewalls or other alerts. Sometimes they wanted data to create documents, but I never saw the documents.” “Confidential information.” Brandon nodded. “Some was classified and not only in this country. A little time would go by, not sure how long. It got harder and harder to judge passage of time the longer I was in there. That’s when the kids would be taken away and it wouldn’t be long before the whole thing would start over and another batch was brought in.” He looked away and focused on the sheet covering his knees, picking at the material. “I tried to stop them, to do anything, but I couldn’t. Those poor kids were taken, and I couldn’t stop it, or save them or do a damn thing.” “You were using some pretty impressive defenses when we showed up. I’m guessing that’s what the drugs were for, to keep you off balance and subdued.” Raul desperately wanted to find a way to make Brandon feel better. Brandon offered him a small smile. “Thanks.” “How did you end up back in this area and being held hostage?” Raul asked. Brandon seemed to scrunch back against the pillow as he rubbed his arms. “I was grabbed in a parking lot near my building. The door to our garage was broken that day. No one could get their cars in or out.” He looked up at Raul. “Do you think someone tampered with the door on purpose?” Raul nodded. “It’s what I would do. It’s simple, doesn’t require a lot of high-tech tools and wouldn’t be easy to trace.” He rubbed Brandon’s knee a few times. “Then what happened?” “I remember being grabbed and a garden hose was wrapped around me, so my arms were pinned to my sides. Before I even had time to try and fight back I was jabbed with a needle, here.” He put one finger against the swell of his shoulder. “And something was put over my face. When I tried to breathe it smelled awful, turned my stomach. Then, bam, the lights went out.” “Hmm. Drugs, drugs and more drugs no doubt. Let’s start with the basics. Do you know how many people grabbed you?” Brandon bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t know. It all happened so fast.” “Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths,” Raul said. When Brandon looked at the door Raul squeezed his knee again. “I’m here and I’m a werewolf. Someone tries to get to you, I rip their arms off—literally. No one is getting into this room unless I let them in and everything you say is between us. Trust me, it’ll help you remember details.” “Okay.” Brandon closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, let it out slowly and repeated the process a few times. Raul took his notebook from his pocket. “What color was the hose?” “What does that—?” “We’ll gather details and sort them out later. Trust me.” Brandon nodded. “Green, with a little white stripe along the side.” “So, you were looking down. How many feet did you see?” “I… .” “Take your time. Think about the ground, you saw it when you looked down at the hose. How many feet?” Raul asked softly. “I see mine, and two, no three more feet,” Brandon said slowly. “Were they wearing shoes or boots?” “I had on dress shoes, I’d just left work. One foot had a brown shoe, the other two had on black work boots.” Brandon opened his eyes and looked at Raul. “Okay, two people snatched you. Were they both men?” Brandon closed his eyes again. After a minute he said, “Yes. Their arms were men’s arms. And one had a watch on, I remember it scratching me.” He rubbed a fading red mark on his forearm. “Were they the men at the warehouse?” Brandon opened his mouth, shut it for a few seconds, closed his eyes again and then nodded. “Yes! Same shoe and boots. It was Tom and Bob.” “And you saw them plenty of times. Now we’re getting somewhere. What’s the next thing you remember?” “I was in something moving. Tied up so I couldn’t move my arms or legs. There was rubber all around me. The walls were covered in it and I was wrapped in a blanket with a rubber backing.” Brandon rubbed his forehead. “It got lighter then darker in there. It was dark when they took me into the warehouse.” “How many times did it get dark then light?” Raul asked. Brandon frowned. “Um. Once.” He focused on Raul again. “That doesn’t make sense.” “It would if you were inside something that could be put on a plane,” Raul pointed out. “I remember moving, but not a lot of noise or stopping and starting. I think I had headphones on too.” “Good. This is all very good.” Raul stopped writing and closed his notebook. “The police will want to talk to you. They have two men in custody. Identifying them as the men who were holding you and those kids hostage will be very helpful.” “I’ll have to see them?” Brandon’s voice turned raspy. “You’ll see them. They’ll never know you’re there,” Raul said softly. He wanted to reach out and hold Brandon for a minute, but Brandon’s body language kept Raul where he was. “What about court? Won’t I have to see them in court?” Raul nodded. “Probably.” He inched closer to Brandon, leaned forward, and brushed a gentle kiss over his forehead. “But let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. Sometimes these things take many months, there’s plea deals and all sorts of crap between now and a courtroom.”  Scintilla is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.      “Where’s the incinerator?” Lucas asked. Declan stopped and turned to Lucas. “Also, on the next level down.” “I’ll need to prepare samples from some of these remains. The rest we need to burn.” He gave Jonas a sheepish look. “Blair’s great with the data and technical stuff and Declan is dope when it comes to obtaining information, but you’re the only person here with even a bit of experience who can help me.” Lucas stared at the floor for a second then focused on Declan. “Sorry, Declan.” Declan waved him off. “Oh, hell, no, don’t ever be sorry for not picking me to play with the body parts.” Lucas patted Jonas’s shoulder. “Bet you never thought sitting in on all those autopsies with me would lead here, to the big time?” There are more snippets in the Rainbow Snippet Facebook group. Endosymbiont is available in eBook, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.    My excerpt for this week is from Run for the Roses, book 1 of Circles  Val didn’t hesitate. He was going to miss Wyatt and wasn’t afraid to show how he felt. He stepped forward, pressed against Wyatt, and slipped his arm around his waist, holding on tight until Wyatt stepped away and broke their kiss. Leaning his forehead against Val’s, Wyatt spoke between pulling in desperate breaths. “I shouldn’t be gone long. I’ll check in as soon as my plane lands.” Wyatt stepped out the door and closed it softly behind him. Val felt suddenly very acutely alone. He spent a few more minutes propped against the door with his eyes closed. Fortunately, there was no one to see him need to compose himself. Val had never really minded living alone until recently after Janelle, then Wyatt, came to share his house. Now his little house seemed big and empty. Val went about his normal routine, minus the walk through the woods. He decided, if someone was watching him, that might be pushing his luck a little too much. For the next few days, his routine changed. Wyatt would call every morning and evening. During his lunch break, Val would call Wyatt but often was only able to leave a message. When he went to the small barn behind his house to care for Sig, he took his dogs. They might not actually be protection, but they were an excellent early warning system. Day three brought an excited call from Wyatt. “Whatcha doing?” “I suppose next you’ll want to know what I’m wearing,” Val said. He couldn’t keep the silly grin off his face, though the only one who was watching was Janelle’s cat. “I’m hoping the answer is nothing.” Wyatt dropped his voice an octave. “Well, maybe a cock ring.” Val swallowed and cleared his throat. “I looked online and found a few things that interested me.” Wyatt’s laugh was throaty, and the sound of it went straight to Val’s cock and balls. They’d discussed where they wanted their relationship to go and how to get there. When Val shyly told Wyatt he’d like to try using a few simple toys, Wyatt had suggested some sites. Val had only gotten as far as looking, but admitting he had an interest and need was the most important part of starting. Those activities were on hold for the time being, however. “As much as I’d like to talk about what interests you and distract us both, I found out some things. Very interesting things. Not as interesting as you, but for now it’ll have to do,” Wyatt said. Val chuckled. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I really do miss you.” “I’ve known you long enough, and I miss you too.” Wyatt’s voice was soft and kind. It sent warm feelings through Val. “But work before play. We’ll discuss the rest when I get back. Face-to-face, not on the phone. So, do you want to hear about my incredible skills at digging up details or not?” That made Val laugh outright, and he could hear a soft laugh in return from Wyatt. “You know I do.” “I’m e-mailing you some pictures; see if you recognize any of the people now. I found the connection to the Nottings and Paulle. Mrs. Notting—Carol—is Marcus’s half-sister. They have different fathers.” “So, different last names,” Val said. “Exactly!” Wyatt sounded so excited it gave Val chills. His enthusiasm was infectious. “What else?” “Well, funny you should ask. Carol and Marcus’s mother had a small Thoroughbred breeding farm. She wasn’t involved so much in racing, but did do some showing and judging of dressage horses. She had a couple good horses from good bloodlines. Small operation—cleaned the stalls herself and gave riding lessons to kids.” Wyatt paused and Val heard him move around, and swallow. “Not unheard of,” Val said. “The filly that was stolen and then killed traced her bloodlines to a stallion Mom owned.” “Wow, that’s a helluva coincidence,” Val said. Wyatt snorted. “Tell me about it. I’m not sure how this fits in with whoever is running around killing people. Yet. And I’m not sure it’s important. Yet.” “But there’s more,” Val said. “Oh, yeah. There was a trainer, just starting off about a decade ago. He had a kid working for him as a stable hand. There were some issues with a jockey fixing races. The kid, he was seventeen at the time, moved messages between the jockey and whoever was running the fixes,” Wyatt said. “And if it went south, he was a juvenile, and records would be sealed and expunged,” Val said. “So was the trainer involved?” “I’m not sure. But I did find out who the kid was.” Wyatt stopped and didn’t say any more. Val was on his feet and pacing. “Who? God, the suspense is killing me.” “Didn’t Janelle say Charlie knew nothing about horses?” Wyatt paused and Val heard papers shuffling. “And that he gambled a lot?” Val stopped pacing and looked out the window. He felt the hair on the back of neck bristle. “How long before he became abusive?” Val drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Uh…I think….” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, turned away from the window, and moved to the couch. “They got in deep fast. He always gave me the creeps, but seemed okay with her for the first few months. Real smooth and nice. Then he changed. She never said why, but it seemed like it was overnight.” “Did he ever watch her race?” “Yeah, at first. Why?” Val asked. “That fits perfectly. The kid’s name? Charlie Mills. My theory is it wasn’t a random event that Janelle met him. She started out as his mark. But he got possessive and probably realized she wasn’t going to throw races. I bet he figured a pretty girl, she’s tiny and would be easily intimidated,” Wyatt said. “But he didn’t take into consideration that a hundred pounds of jockey rides twelve-hundred pounds of attitude. And my money is usually on the jockey.” “You catch on quick. We make a good team, and that makes me happy,” Wyatt said. Val opened his mouth to ask another question, but he was cut off when all three of his dogs jumped up and ran to the window, barking. “What’s that?” Wyatt’s voice rose just enough to set Val’s nerves on edge. “Something outside, I think.” Val stood up and started across the room. Val stopped short when Wyatt barked, “Stay away from the windows! Is everything locked?” “Ye-yeah.” Val slapped his hand against his thigh. “Hey, guys, shush. Come on, it’s okay. Go lie down.” Then he spoke to Wyatt. “The outside lights are on too. Just like you said to do.” “Hear anything?” “No. It’s probably just a raccoon or something.” Val sat back down on the couch. His dogs had quieted and were scattered around the floor, lying down again. “Val—” “I’ll be fine. If there was someone near the house, the boys would be barking up a storm.” “Call that number if you have any doubts. Promise me.” Wyatt sounded worried. “I promise. How much longer will you be gone?” “I have a few things to check out in the morning but I think I can catch a flight back tomorrow night. Or the morning after, if I can’t get a ticket so soon. Call me before you leave for work in the morning,” Wyatt told him. “And Val, use that number. Even if you’re just uncomfortable.” “I will.” Val disconnected the call and stretched on the couch with the phone on his chest. He wished Wyatt were there with him now. Run for the Roses is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.    Mason grabbed the rope. He didn’t bother tying it around himself as he had Riece. Being tethered was something he neither wanted nor needed. The knot he tied shouldn’t have given anyone any trouble. It was reasonable to think someone up there had a knife. Most people this deep in the wilderness carried at least a pocketknife. The rope could have been cut off of Riece if need be, with plenty left to help Mason. The man was lying. When he reached the top, two different men grabbed his arms and hauled him up. A wave a relief flowed over Mason. He was out of that hole. Now he could assess their situation. His relief was short-lived. It was replaced at once by dread. There were three men. The first man he’d seen and two others slightly younger, maybe forty to fifty. Riece was on his knees. His camera hung from the fingers of one hand. It must have fallen near the pit edge. How Riece had managed to grab it Mason had no idea. A man Mason judged to be in his forties stood over Riece. His red hair was cut military style. He was dressed in fatigues and boots designed for the terrain surrounding them. Mason put his hands in the air. He took two steps away from the edge of the pit and stopped, staring at the scene before him. Red Hair was closest to Riece and held a .45 caliber Glock popular with many branches of military. He had it trained on the back of Riece’s head. It was obvious the guy had training. He stood close enough to Riece he’d have a point-blank shot, yet far enough away Riece couldn’t spin around and disarm the man. Not that Riece could’ve done that even if he did know how. A second pistol, a 9mm Glock, was holstered at the man’s hip. The oldest of the men carried a crossbow, but he also wore hip holsters with a pair of handguns. On his belt he wore a multipurpose entrenching tool—commonly carried—and a sheath encasing a survival knife—a little extreme but not unheard of. He wore a crossbow backpack, and from what Mason could see, he was well supplied with bolts in the quiver. Mason grappled with himself. Should he tell these men who he was and hope he could talk them down and convince them the best option was letting him and Riece—or at least Riece—go? Or keep his mouth shut and hope for an escape? The oldest of the three waved at the ground with the crossbow and said, “Get down.” He then said to the third man, “Get his gun.” “We’re here to take pictures. That’s it,” Mason said as he eased to his knees a few feet from Riece. If he’d been alone, Mason would have made his move while they were trying to disarm him, and taken his chances. He wouldn’t take chances with Riece’s life, however. Civilians’ lives always took priority. Riece’s life even more so. The man sidestepped close and held out one hand, waggling his fingers. “Try anything and you’ll end up dead.” Mason slowly took his gun from his hip holster and set it on the ground, then gave it a shove so it was closer to the man. He was trying to decide the best way to diffuse this situation and get Riece the hell out of here when he heard the approach of yet more people. Riece’s eyes widened and Mason’s hopes of them leaving without a fight were dashed. He pressed his lips together and stifled a groan when the woman and kid from the general store tromped through the trees along the gully. “What the hell?” the woman asked. She carried a rifle, standard for hunting, but also wore a sidearm. The kid had added a crossbow, slung over his back, and a rifle to his collection. Mason was getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. These people were armed to the gills. Far more than any hunter needed to be or usually was. He ran through the possibilities—drugs, poachers, survivalists, escaped cons—none of them were good. “Oh, Ranger Rick isn’t so mouthy now,” the kid chimed in. “What?” the older man asked. “He’s a park ranger,” the woman snapped. Red Hair burst out laughing. “So, don’t litter and we have nothing to worry about.” Mason sort of hated this guy. The woman rolled her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. “Are you stupid? Park rangers are federal officers same as ATF and FBI. We trapped a fucking fed.” “What’s he?” Red Hair pointed to Riece. “A photographer. Like I said, we’re here to take pictures. That’s all,” Mason said. “Empty your pockets,” Red Hair ordered Mason. He still held the gun on Riece but didn’t seem interested in him. Mason pulled his badge from his hip pocket and his wallet from his back pocket, tossing them to the ground and out of his reach. The kid swooped in and grabbed them off the ground. He immediately rifled through the wallet. “Huh, he’s a real card-carrying Injun.” The kid held Mason’s tribal ID card between two fingers and flipped it in the air. The older man snickered, “Half-breed mutt with those blue eyes. I guess setting up a trap down here wasn’t such a waste after all.” He reached out and rubbed his hand over the kid’s hair. “We can’t let him out of here,” Red Hair said.  Gone Away is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.    NEW RELEASE and UPCOMING EPILOGUE 
Book Title: Hilarina and the Ogre (and an extended epilogue, The Ogre Comes Home) Author and Publisher: October Arden Cover Artist: Dhananjaya Release Dates: September 15, 2026 (The Ogre Comes Home: October 13) Tense/POV: Close third, past tense, alternating POV Genres: MM Contemporary Romance with dark elements For Hilarina and the Ogre: Friends to lovers, found family, ace/demi spectrum romance, protector hero, first love, bullying, size difference, hurt/comfort, dark themes with a hopeful core. For The Ogre Comes Home: Reunion romance, hurt/comfort, amnesia, recovery from trauma, meeting the parents (again), marriage proposal, domestic intimacy Heat Rating: 2 flames Length: 81 000 words (17 000 words for the epilogue) It is a main story, plus an epilogue with no cliffhanger. Goodreads Hilarina and the Ogre | The Ogre Comes Home Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited Hilarina and the Ogre | The Ogre Comes Home 
A ballerina, an ogre, and a love that refuses to stay forgotten. Blurb Hilary Davis knows how to disappear. The Epilogue 
Trenton Wells remembers everything now. Excerpt The next day was worse. They were smart enough to take their bags with them when they went to lunch, but when they returned to the classroom, there was semen on their desks and smeared into their textbooks. Hilary probably would have recognized it for what it was regardless, but the empty condom wrappers helped. It brought the fear back, and not lightly. He couldn’t afford to replace his textbooks. When he went to Varda, he struggled to keep his voice even. “Knock it off.” She turned those pretty eyes up at him. “Knock what off?” “Do you know how expensive textbooks are?” “I can think of one way for you to get money.” He might have taken her up on it. It wasn’t just his own books that had been ruined, after all. But Trenton took him by the wrist and dragged him away. “Don’t talk to her.” “She’s responsible for this. If I accept her offer—” “And for the rest of the year have her around while I’m with you? Don’t. I’ll buy the books.” Hilary had to ask. And it wasn’t because of the condoms or the spray paint. “Do you—” But he had no idea how to make the words come out. How did you form words like that? And say them out loud? But Trenton knew what he was asking. “So to be in your life I have to want to fuck you? Is that it?” The boy didn’t shout the words. His voice was even as always. But he was angry, and it frightened a weenie like Hilary to hear it. Even knowing the anger wasn’t directed his way, and that Trenton was the only person in school who cared about him, it was frightening. “It’s just that you’re nice. You’re too nice to me. And the things you say. No one else says things like that.” “Yes, they do.” “In books, but not—” “I’m not going to be an asshole just to fit your notion of friendship. I finally found you. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to find you.” That was just more evidence against the boy. Trenton could have grabbed him by the face and shoved his tongue down his throat, and it wouldn’t have been more shocking to Hilary than those words were. But Trenton still wasn’t done. “People like me—we don’t get chosen. We live our quiet lives just trying not to take up space, hoping to get through each day so we can disappear into a book by the end of it. But you chose me. When you came to talk to me, and when you asked for help with the math. You didn’t mean for it to become anything. But what else could I do? I had to try. With you—because it was you—I had no choice but to try.” Hilary’s eyes were prickling. It was the words, yes. Words he’d never heard in his life. But also the tone. Trenton was still calm, or trying to be, but it was like he’d spent the whole morning reading aloud; his voice was hoarse with it. Hilary was forced to look down, unable to meet that earnest expression head-on. “I’m ordinary. I’m so ordinary, Trent. I’m not even smart, why would you—” Trenton hugged him, though it was more accurate to say he grabbed him, those arms like a vise. “I wanted this,” the boy said, meaning the embrace, “I wanted to do this since the night of the party.” That was impossible to believe. “While we were sorting through the garbage?” “When you offered the trade. To teach me while I taught you.” So even earlier, then. “But that was selfish,” Hilary objected. “I needed you more than you needed me.” “I’ll always need you.” Trenton’s face was in his shoulder, a little muffled, but not enough to obscure the words. It left Hilary helpless, his hands raised, hovering there at the boy’s back. “This isn’t normal. What you’re saying—whatever’s happening—” “And you want to be normal, do you? Because you were enjoying it so much. Your girlfriend and your fake friends.” It came again—that urge to hit Trenton. No, not hit him. Hilary wasn’t sure what it was, but it made his hands clench, and finally, finally, he was able to grab hold, his fingers crushing Trenton’s shirt in his hands. “I’m not worth it. You’re going to see. You’re going to be so embarrassed when you wake up and realize.” “Then let me be embarrassed,” Trenton said. “I promise you’ll be waiting longer than I will.” About the Author October Arden writes emotionally raw queer stories that live somewhere between literary fiction and romance. Their work explores fluid identities, found families, co-dependent devotion, and complicated love—often through the lens of characters who are chronically ill, neurodivergent, or quietly self-destructive. These are stories for anyone who's ever felt unwanted or unseen, where even the most damaged hearts can find a home. Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram 
Beryll & Osiris Brackhaus have a new queer sci-fantasy romance out (gay, bi, poly): In Love and War - The First Lotus Knights. It is the year 1985 ET. House Virasana has fallen, the Lotus Throne stands empty, and a bitter succession war has every noble House at arms. To make things worse, House Tô-Genji and House Medina are locked in a vicious feud over a flood of cheap illicit drugs tearing their worlds apart. Prince Li Lan Tô-Genji is as far from the fighting as one can be. Third son of the Duke of Qufu, Li Lan is the family scholar - kept behind palace walls to preserve tradition, etiquette, and history. Brilliant, restless, and quietly furious at a life chosen for him, he steals what little freedom he can. Sir Wilhelm Grebenstein arrives with a delegation seeking the Duke’s support for the Grebenstein claimant to the Lotus Throne. An expert swordfighter and genuine hero, he is not much taken with the dirty business of politics, but rather with the brilliant and resourceful third son of the Duke… Then, Sir Saïd, a dashing Medina knight, is taken prisoner and exhibited in the castle of Li Lan’s father, awaiting an uncertain fate. Yet Li Lan finds him to be an honourable, passionate warrior and both of them are deeply intrigued by each other. Saving Saïd would be treason. Leaving him would be complicity. Forced into an impossible choice, Li Lan and Wilhelm help Saïd escape - the three flee together, lighting a fuse that will reshape the Virasana Empire. Hunted across a realm in upheaval, they’ll have to fight for their lives, for their love and the reckless hope of an Empire actually worth fighting for. A swashbuckling queer throuple romance set in the beloved Virasana Empire universe, this standalone space-opera adventure by award-winning authors Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus blends passion, peril, hope, and humour with just the right amount of heat. Universal Buy LinkExcerpt
Wilhelm had his sword pulled and at the intruder's throat in a heartbeat and before he was even half awake. Of that at least, his father would have been proud. “Thank God,” Li Lan's voice said. The prince was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking prim and composed and beautiful, completely ignoring the sword at his throat. “You really should be more alert to intruders in your bedchamber. Any assassin could have killed you in your sleep.” “What are you doing here?!” Wilhelm's words came out a weird mix, between a shout and a whisper, and at the same moment, he registered the cool draft against his chest. He dropped his sword like a hot potato and pulled up his blanket instead. Thank God he wasn't sleeping completely naked like he did on board the Havelland, but had instead kept on his long underpants. It still left him so inappropriately exposed that he was struggling to string together a coherent thought. At least Li Lan appeared to be fully robed, as far as he could tell in the dim light coming in through the window and from beneath the door. Also, the prince didn't seem overly concerned by Wilhelm's barely dressed state, which made it more disturbing, considering how self-conscious the Tô-Genji were concerning their modesty. “I am about to do something very stupid. And … I have come to ask for your help,” Li Lan said, explaining nothing. Oh, thank God. So this wasn't some sort of romantic visit after all. And where had that ridiculous thought come from? Li Lan wasn't an Almaviva princess. Of course he had a reason of grave importance to be here. “What...?” He started to ask, but stopped himself. He took a moment to take a deep breath and arrange his blanket a little more securely around his chest, trying to force his sleep-addled mind into action. “What are you talking about? What kind of stupid are we talking about?” Li Lan had a sharp tongue and wit, but so far, he hadn't struck him as the adventurous type. However, right now, he sounded very much like a young hero, embarking on a valiant but foolhardy quest. “I will set the Medina prisoner free and try to flee the fortress with him.” He heard the words, but he had to run them through his mind a couple of times to make sure they were really what Li Lan had said. This was so much worse than anything he could have imagined. The obvious question was 'Why?', but before he could ask, Li Lan continued speaking. “We could try to steal horses and escape into the countryside, but there is no one who would help us and nowhere we could hide, so we would surely be caught sooner or later. We have no way of getting off-planet as neither of us can fly a spaceship. But you can.” With his mind desperately trying to scramble after Li Lan's words, it took him several seconds to understand the implication. “You are asking me to help you?” That was what Li Lan had started with. The enormity crashed down on him like a ton of bricks. This wasn't a simple, honourable quest to slay a dragon. Helping Li Lan would mean betraying the trust of his father, betraying his House, Li Lan's House, jeopardising the negotiations of House Grebenstein with House Tô-Genji, sacrificing any future he had. Looking at Li Lan, he found the graveness of the situation reflected in the other's face. His words weren't lightly spoken, and he was only too aware of how much he was asking. Li Lan lowered his gaze to his hands, which were holding on tightly to the hem of his sleeves. “I am sorry I have to ask this of you, but there is no one else I can ask. I have no other friends.” His words pierced Wilhelm's heart as true as a well-aimed arrow. How terrible to be among your own and still utterly alone. “But why? Why do you need to do this?” “Because my father is a monster more cruel than even I expected. I had hoped he would exchange the Medina for prisoners of our House, or grant him a quick execution. But my father wants to have him tortured to death. He has ordered me to find a justification within our traditions that would allow him to do so, when there is none.” Li Lan was keeping his voice low, but it was roiling with deeply held rage. Not pain, not suffering. Rage. Primal, incandescent rage, raw and true, utterly unbefitting of a Tô-Genji and yet, so very Li Lan. “It is wrong. I will not do this. I have done so many things I knew were wrong, telling myself I had no other choice, going along with what everyone else was doing. But this? This I won't do. I must draw a line. I would rather die than become something I will have to hate.” He was trying to do the right thing. Of the reasons Li Lan had listed, this one was utterly relatable. He was a noble knight of House Grebenstein, after all. The importance of honour and justice had been drummed into his head from the moment he had learned to walk. But was this a just cause? One worth risking everything for? “How do you know that Medina doesn't deserve the death your father decreed?” “Because we are at war and he is fighting for his House, the same way my brother fights for ours. Because he is funny and kind. Why else would he speak to me as an equal, more so than any of my own family, when by all rights he should have nothing but contempt for an enemy who puts him on display in a cage like a rabid animal?” “Beg your pardon? You spoke to him?” Li Lan had the good graces to look flustered. “Yes? Someone had to bring him food that first night. Hospitality demanded it. And … apart from you, he is the only interesting thing that has happened here in years.” Wilhelm couldn't help a little chuckle. This sounded much more like the Li Lan he had come to know and like during his stay on Qufu. Not gravely serious, or roiling with barely suppressed rage, but slightly indecent and quietly rebellious. Encouraged, Li Lan continued. “He laughed at my jokes. Like you do. How can I help my father arrange such a gruesome death for Saïd when we could be friends?” So this was a just cause. Which left only one possible answer to Li Lan's plea, but it took him a second to say the words. “I will help you.” Author Bio Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus are a couple currently living their happily ever after in the very heart of Germany, under the stern but loving surveillance of their three black cats. Both of them are voracious but picky readers, love telling stories and drinking tea, good food and the occasional violent movie. Together, they write novels of adventure and romance, hoping to share a little of their happiness with their readers. An artist at heart, Beryll was writing stories even before she knew what letters were. As easily inspired as she is frustrated, her own work is never good enough (in her eyes). A perfectionist both in the best and worst sense of the word and the driving creative force of their duo. An entertainer and craftsman in his approach to writing, Osiris is the down-to-earth, practical part of the duo. Broadly interested in almost every subject and skill, with a sunny mood and caring personality, he strives to bring the human nature into focus of each of their stories. Author Website: https://www.brackhaus.com 
RECENT RELEASE
Book Title: Summer and Shadows (The Pact of the Veil, Book Two) Author: Kathryne Lentes Publisher: Nine Star Press Cover Artist: Jaycee DeLorenzo Release Date: August 18, 2026 Pairing: FF Tense/POV: first person/past tense Genres: Paranormal, Lesbian Urban Fantasy Tropes: Taboo, trans, poly, pansexual, shifter, elves, witch, magic, conspiracy Themes: Self-acceptance Heat Rating: 1 out of 5 flames Length: 35 900 words It is the second book in the series. (Book 1 The Night Menagerie) It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Publisher | Amazon US | Amazon UK
The time is now; the city is LA. The hunt for a magical killer has begun Blurb Sah has gone through a lot in three years. I mean how often does a person find out their sister disappeared, meet a hot detective, get bitten by a werewolf, and discover they are part of a legacy of shape shifters? She thought her life would calm down and she could enjoy a summer vacation in LA. But now she is mixed up with the Fae and a magical serial killer. To survive she must find new allies and embrace her new self without reservation. Excerpt There are real monsters in the world. I know because I am one of them. After three years, I was still trying to get my head around that fact, even though I was getting ready to attend a convention full of them. The Menagerie, as they called themselves, were a group of shapeshifters who hid from the world. Still, since their discovery was always a dangerous possibility, they had created an entire intellectual property called the Façade to coax people into their world. It started as a game, and with my introduction, they had added novels to the mix. Now, I was traveling to California to try to sell my recent bestseller to a movie studio. I wondered if Dominique would ever forgive me if a werewolf novel of mine made it to the Cineplex before she did. She didn’t speak up. She was the main character in my first book series and the voice in my head when I was doing something I knew, in most plots, would end with me dead. We had had a really good run, and her adventures had brought me my first real success, but after most of the changes I had gone through, I had started a new urban fantasy series. It was almost autobiographical, not that anyone would ever believe it. I mean how often does a person find out their sister disappeared, meet a hot detective, get bitten by a werewolf, find said sister, lose said sister and hot (now maybe new girlfriend?) detective, and blackmail an entire group of supernatural entities to get the pair of them back. Not to mention discover you are part of a legacy of shapeshifters and can now channel a snow leopard totem. And finish up by trying try to live happily ever after only to have to engage in a death match with a psychopathic grudge-bearing werewolf leader. It was hard for me to believe, and I had lived through it—even if just barely. I took a deep breath and told myself to get out of bed. I don’t know why I was so focused on my past today when the future seemed so promising. It was probably because Val was out of the house. This was the first big trip I was going to make without her, and I missed her. She was one of the only people I had ever met who accepted me for being the giant pansexual polyamorous mess of a partner I was. I looked in the closet, trying to decide on a dress to pack in my luggage. I was much more comfortable in jeans and a band T-shirt than I was in Chanel, no matter what my budget told me I could afford. I needed something more formal if I was going to meet with a movie producer. Great, now I was beginning to miss my sister Nisha. She was the clothes horse of the family and would not only have brought me six of her dresses but also tried to do my hair and makeup before I left. She was out in Montana with a pack of werewolves. My life was not the only one that had changed a lot in the last couple of years.About the Author Kathryne Lentes has been writing stories as long as she could hold a pen in her hand. She is a transwoman who, when not working on her own projects, operates Paper Phoenix Ink, a blog showcasing queer creators. She is currently living in Saint Louis with her wife, two cats, and a pile of science fiction and fantasy books. Author Links
Riece walked with his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Once he was within reaching distance of the rope, Riece stopped. Mason wound the loose end around Riece’s waist and tied it. “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “Do what they say. No matter what it is.” He gave the rope a tug and looked up, saying, “All set.” There are more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group! Gone Away is available in eBook, paperback, Kindle Unlimited and through your local library digital catalog.  |
 Welcome to My World
|
RSS Feed
