The Hunt God’s Hound by AT Lander

Book 3 in the Of Gods and Men series

General Release Date: 23rd August 2022

Word Count: 26,393
Book Length: NOVELLA
Pages: 113

Genres:

EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
GODS AND GODDESSES
HISTORICAL
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

Heroes aren’t real, and neither is love…right?

Conall, a snarky and cynical Irish goatherd, just wants a boring life—no quests, no heroes and definitely no curses. That all falls apart when a chance encounter with a Fomori sorcerer leaves him trapped in the body of a female wolfhound.

Arlen, a kind and noble hunter of the Tuatha de Danann, is tracking his most dangerous target yet, but his skills are not enough. To track this magical monster, he needs someone touched by its power…someone like Conall.

They strike a deal—to hunt their mutual enemy while Arlen bends the curse as much as he can. Now a hound by day and a human by night, Conall’s heart and instincts draw him to his handsome rescuer. When he goes into heat, it starts a tempest of passion and emotion that will either bring them together or tear them apart.

Can these two unlikely companions overcome an ancient evil, or will their story end in tragedy?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of animal slaughter, violence and injury. There is a cursed main character and mentions of breeding the shapeshifted MC.

Excerpt

Conall had definitely gotten fucked last night. Fucked and drunk. There was an unpleasant ache in his head, along with the lovely ache in his ass. He waited for his uncle’s shouting to pierce through his hangover, but it didn’t come.

That was nice. The bed was also nice, a warm nest of blankets with a firm mattress—a breathing, human mattress. That explained the ‘fucked’ part of last night, as well as the lack of yelling—he had to be in someone else’s house.

Or someone else’s tent, as Conall saw when he opened his eyes. The previous night came flooding back to him, and he grinned at the memory. The local lord had thrown a feast to honor some victorious mercenaries, and someone had remembered Conall’s skillful blow jobs. After that, there had been mead and song and some fun manhandling by a big fellow with delightful stamina.

Then memory gave way to realization. There was light filtering in through the tent-flap, the gray light of a misty dawn.

“Fuck!” Conall cursed. He should’ve been up an hour ago.

“Whazzat?” his bedmate groaned. “Stop yelling. It’s too early.”

”Goatherd’s hours,” Conall said, though he privately agreed. “Where’d you throw my clothes?”

“Why would you want clothes?” the man asked, rolling over. A hot erection nudged against Conall’s hip, making his resolve waver. “A few more minutes can’t hurt…”

“I-I have to get to work,” Conall said, fighting down his suicidal libido. After what had happened last night, he knew it wouldn’t be just ‘a few minutes’. “If I’m any later, my uncle will butcher me—”

“Your uncle, whoever he is, doesn’t scare me,” the man said breezily.

“Good for you,” Conall said. He spotted his robe and reached out of the blankets to grab it. “He’s not going to beat your ass.”

“Don’t worry about your pretty little ass,” the mercenary said with casual confidence and a pat on Conall’s rump. “I’ll keep him away from it.”

“I’m sure you will.” Conall scoffed—he’d heard that line a thousand times. “Right up until you ride off for the next war and leave me to his tender mercies.”

Conall ducked back under the covers to avoid the morning chill and did his best to wrestle the robe on without elbowing his large bedmate. It didn’t work—Conall was tall and gangly and the mercenary took up too much space. He almost jabbed the man in the face before a massive hand caught his arm.

“Why would I leave such a great piece of ass in a place like this?” the mercenary asked, like Conall was speaking nonsense. “You’ll come with me. When I’m rich and famous, you can stay in my big bed all day!”

He grinned like an optimistic idiot, and actually winked at Conall.

“So you’re going to be the next Cú Chulainn?” Conall asked dryly. “Make your name fighting and die horribly before you’re thirty?”

“Life’s short,” the man said, “but people will tell my legend forever. You’ll be in the stories too—‘the great hero’s honey-treat’.”

Conall couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing. The big lummox blinked at him in confusion, but didn’t resist when Conall tugged his arm free.

“Good luck with that,” Conall said, rolling out of the nest of blankets. The sharp chill of an Irish morning bit into his feet, and he grabbed his boots as fast as possible. “I’ll keep an ear out when the bards come through.”

The man blinked again, tilted his head as though trying to think, then shrugged. “Your loss.”

“Yep,” Conall said, and crawled out of the low tent.

It wasn’t until he felt cold air on his face that he rolled his eyes. Did the man really expect him to run off with a stranger after one good fuck and some grandiose promises? He couldn’t toss a rock without hitting a would-be hero in this part of Munster, and for every one that won cattle and glory, there were a thousand failures. Conall had survived twenty-five boring, safe years and fully intended to keep that streak going.

The mercenary camp was outside the hill fort and on the opposite side from the village, so Conall had to run. It was second nature by now—dodging between buildings, livestock and townsfolk.

He braided his shoulder-length hair as he went, pulling the black strands out of his face and tying them with a leather thong. A few of his regular bedmates threw out catcalls, and he grinned back.

At last, he came to his uncle’s house. It was built from stone, perfectly round and larger than many. The goat pen was out back, but Conall’s sling, staff and any chance at breakfast were inside. He had to run the gauntlet if he wanted to get them before his uncle caught him, but he’d been getting faster and his uncle slower every day.

He darted in and grabbed his weapons without even needing to look, then went for the cook-fire that a servant girl was sleepily poking.

“Hey!” she cried as he swiped three small flatbreads straight off the griddle. One went into his mouth and the other two into a fold of his cloak, the light burns worth each second of speed.

“There you are, you son of a bitch!” his uncle yelled, but Conall was already out of the door.

“Son of your sister,” Conall muttered around his breakfast. He’d weather the inevitable storm after he took the goats out to pasture. It was almost boring—he could practically recite his uncle’s rant from memory.

Just another typical day in the life of Conall mac Cormac…

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About the Author

AT Lander

AT Lander has loved stories, both the reading and the telling, since she was a child. Born in upstate New York to an English professor and a former librarian, she now lives in the queerest part of Massachusetts. She never leaves home without a knitting project or a pencil, and she’s never met a cat she doesn’t like.

She has worked as an history museum guide, a professional storyteller, and an actress, sharing tales of what was, what could have been, and what can only be imagined. World mythology is her driving passion, as what better way to understand a people than through the tales they tell?

Follow AT Lander on Twitter and Facebook.

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Stolen Bride by Samantha Cayto

Book 3 in the Treaty Brides series

General Release Date: 23rd Aug 2022

Word Count: 50,612
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 181

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
ROYALS

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Book Description

Being a bride is a state of mind, not of body.

Prince Ronan of Moorcondia knows he is one of the luckiest boys alive. As the king’s second son, he has status and wealth without the heavy weight of the crown. Every man admires his hedonistic ways, but his behavior masks a shame that he feels. What he really desires is a quiet life with a man whom he can love.

Jarl Tarben is on a mission to save his people from starvation. Efforts to forge a treaty with Moorcondia have come to naught. In a desperate bid, Tarben has been tasked with abducting Ronan and forcing him into marriage. As distasteful and dishonorable as the scheme is, duty demands that he obey. He refuses to bed the prince by force, however, leaving it Ronan’s choice.

Ronan vows not to succumb to the temptation that Tarben presents. Pride alone dictates that he remain chaste, even as he grows closer to the barbarian. Tarben is everything Ronan ever dreamed of, and the lure of him grows stronger with each day that politics keeps them together.

When unseen forces threaten to consume them both, they must put aside pride and join forces to protect both their peoples.

Reader advisory: This book features an instance of sexual assault and a forced marriage.

Excerpt

“Drink up, your highness. You’re falling behind.”

Ronan, younger son of the king of Moorcondia, shot his companion the kind of prideful grin that he’d carefully cultivated since arriving at the university. “Alas, I have to leave for an assignation with a lady and can’t afford to be too much in my cups.” He slid the glass of beer back in the direction of his classmate.

The boy barked out a laugh and clapped Ronan on his shoulder with the kind of bone-jarring exuberance that seemed so common among boys of their age. Ronan didn’t understand why every interaction had to turn into a contest of inflicting pain and humiliation. The others thought it all hilarious, reinforcing what he’d known for most of his life. He was not like them, not like any boy he’d ever met.

Not even his studious older brother thought anything strange about the rough and tumble lives of their male friends. It was merely that as the future ruler of their country, Morlen had the weight of duty on his shoulders and had to prepare for the time he would ascend to the throne. Such was the fate of the one of them who’d come out of the womb first, even by mere moments. He joined them when he could for nights of drinking and carousing, careful always not to do anything to tarnish his reputation. As the ‘spare’ in the family, Ronan had no expectations and could do most anything he liked. No, not really. He was only able to get away with what people thought a young, rich man would do. Too bad those were things he didn’t like at all.

He didn’t let his desires show on his face and instead bade his companions a good night. They gave him a raucous send-off, filled with innuendos of what they assumed he would get up to and demanding a full report the next day. He joined in the merriment with rehearsed bravado. “Now, lads, you know a gentleman never speaks of what happens between the sheets. I shall only say that I’m glad we don’t have classes tomorrow.”

Ronan threw on his heavy cloak and braced for the chilly night he knew waited for him outside. Spring was only grudgingly arriving, but his semester of classes would soon come to an end, and he could return to Moorcondia for the summer recess. It would be a relief to finally go home. This first year of university had proven more taxing than he’d expected. It wasn’t his studies. It was the strain of keeping up his pretense of being a profligate rake. No one forced him to play this charade. Morlen certainly didn’t care. But Ronan feared that if he didn’t present the image of masculinity that everyone expected, they would easily see inside him, to his true self. He wasn’t sure he could bear the scorn he felt certain would come his way.

I am a coward.

He considered, as he had many times, asking his parents to let him drop out. A university education was relatively new among the royal family. They might not care if he came back or not. But if he didn’t, what would he do then? No matter how everyone had become accustomed to his uncle’s new wife, Ronan wasn’t so stupid as to assume his family and the members of court would accept him in any role other than an advisor to his brother. He would be expected to marry the proper noblewoman to add to the next generation of the family. That was his destiny, and staying at university helped put that eventuality off for a few years. There was value in that.

Ronan’s personal guard, a somewhat grizzled man who was nonetheless capable of breaking a man’s neck with a single twist, pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up in the drinking house and silently followed in Ronan’s wake. He hated having to be chained to someone else all the time, but one older man who held no interest for him and kept his opinions to himself wasn’t so bad, although the man’s silent censure was often palpable. It was better than the contingent of younger guards who surrounded Morlen day and night—not that anyone really thought they were at risk here in this seat of learning… Still, it was important for the realm as well as each of them personally that they be safe from any violence. With Sir Frauk at his back, no one dared so much as shoot an angry look at him. Ronan simply had to pretend he didn’t care about being shadowed by another who undoubtedly gave the king regular reports on how his younger son was running wild. His whole life had become one long effort at play-acting. It felt as if no one truly understood who and what he was, not even his twin.

Ronan tugged his cloak closer as he walked through the nearly empty streets of the old city, the sound of Sir Frauk’s heavy-booted tread behind him. Monks had settled here long ago, attracting more people and founding a community. Starting a place of higher learning had come naturally to those original men, and now the university was surrounded by a vibrant city that existed on the edge of Moorcondia. It was a hub of trading, as well, attracting commerce from all over, except from those people who dwelled in the Dark Mountains. They kept to themselves, enigmas as much as the land where they lived. The craggy rocks were not inviting and rose high into the clouds.

They cast a looming shadow over this part of the city in particular—not surprising, given that this was where one went for less savory pursuits. The boys at the university considered it a badge of courage that they ventured here late at night. Ronan despised it and couldn’t wait to reach his apartments. All he wanted to do was take a relaxing bath and curl up in bed with a good book. He could picture his valet waiting patiently for his return. Unlike Frauk, Igon was quick to show his disapproval of Ronan’s nighttime pursuits. But once he’d settled Ronan into bed, he left him blessedly alone.

Ronan picked up his pace with eyes on the uneven cobblestones to ensure that he didn’t slip. The fashionable boots he wore pleased him, but they weren’t very sturdy. The last thing he wanted was for Frauk to think it was drink that made him stumble. The man suddenly uttered a muted cry, very unlike him. Ronan turned to see why and froze at the sight of the large soldier crashing to the ground. Another man, little more than a dark figure, heavily armed, loomed over him. Ronan stepped forward, although to do what he couldn’t fathom. He was terrible at the martial arts and didn’t possess so much as knife on him.

A rush of air and a flicker of something out of the corner of his eye was all the warning he got before someone grabbed him from behind. He was swept off his feet, and a cloth was pressed against his nose and mouth. Trained in warfare as he was, he instinctively started to put up a fight. Whoever had him, though, was far stronger, the man’s massive arm holding him around his chest in a vise-like grip. And there was something soaking the gag, a sweet smell that made his head swim. As he fought to regain his freedom, the drug caused his muscles to go lax. Then there was nothing.

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About the Author

Samantha Cayto

Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.

She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don’t understand why they can’t read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.

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Buried by Despair by Jayce Carter

Book 3 in the Dark Sanctuary Series

General Release Date: 23rd August 2022

Word Count:  79,908
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 297

GENRES:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
REVERSE HAREM

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Book Description

One brat against three Doms—let the fun begin.

After an attack leaves Kat with scars—both the ones on her skin and others far deeper—she tries to hide from the world. Even going to Sanctuary, where she’d always felt safe before, seems too difficult. Each time she looks in the mirror, she can’t see the confident woman she used to be.

Dean, Olin and Bradley can’t stop thinking about the feisty brat who has lost her spark. They miss the way she used to smile, how she stood toe-to-toe with anyone, and now they’ll do whatever it takes to help her find that part of herself again.

A happily ever after will be more difficult than any of them expect, however, as the threat to Kat turns out to be far from over. Bodies start to appear that look just like her, and the man who hurt her is closing in on them all.

Can Kat find her strength again or will the man stalking her finish her off this time?

Excerpt

This isn’t right at all.

Frustration caused Kat to toss her pen across the desk. After six different attempts at the same cartoon, she’d hit her limit.

She needed to get something new up on her store, since she’d kept up with a biweekly schedule for over two years without fail, but nothing had come to her. Somehow, all those cute little ideas she normally had, the quips, the humor, the adorable characters with large eyes and charm, sat just out of reach.

Kat folded her arms on her desk and dropped her head onto them. Her back ached from the hours she’d spent staring at her sketch pad, from all the attempts that had led to nothing. She kept thinking that if she started drawing, some idea would come to her.

It always had before.

The problem?

Each time she tried, her brain went AWOL, and she found herself back in that damned hotel room. A flash of pain, the memory of a smirking face—

“Knock it off!” She stood, shaking her hands as if that would dispel the memory she’d been running from for the past few weeks.

It didn’t work, but what other option did she have?

Kat paced, then reached to smooth her hands over her hair. She grimaced at how oily it was. How long had it been since she’d washed it?

Days. Maybe longer?

The sensation grossed her out, but the idea of stripping down, of taking a shower, that seemed far worse. She hadn’t been willing to attempt it, choosing instead to use clean wipes on the important areas.

Fox Asher, the doctor who had taken care of her at the hospital, had said no baths anyway.

Fine by me. What does it matter?

Kat sighed and shook her head. She’d never been a coward before, so what was wrong with her now?

The ringing of her phone made her jump, her fingers clutching the front of her button-up pajama top, as if holding it closed made it into some sort of armor. Once it filtered through her head that it was only her phone, Kat cursed herself and picked up her cell from the desk.

Sunny’s name flashed across the screen, and the desire to ignore it hit her.

Then again, if she didn’t answer, Sunny would show up with Garrison, Connor and Trent in tow. Kat had ignored calls for days, having no desire to talk to anyone, but that sort of understanding only went so far.

Not only was Sunny sweet, but the Doms of Sanctuary, the BDSM club that felt like the one place in the whole world where Kat belonged, were both protective and tenacious. The last thing she needed was for any of them to show up and disturb her hiding.

She sighed and answered the call. “Hey, Sunny.”

“Kat…” Sunny’s voice was exactly what Kat didn’t want to hear. It was pity and worry.

At least it was Sunny and not Ell, though. Sunny was sweet and worried, but Ell had been there. Kat couldn’t handle seeing that knowledge in Ell’s face.

Kat forced some levity into her voice, faking a smile she didn’t feel. “What’s with that voice? Did you make the mistake of taking my advice and hiding Trent’s paddle?” The last word caught in Kat’s throat.

Something that would have made her laugh before felt like swallowing rusty nails, and that same memory of pain hit her.

“I just miss you,” Sunny said, ignoring Kat’s statement. Damn, it would have been so much easier if Sunny was carefree. Instead, she had that ‘I really care’ tone of voice.

“I’ve been busy with work,” Kat lied.

“Uh-huh. Well, I thought maybe you could come over soon? We could have dinner. I’ll cook something you love.”

“I’m swamped right now. It’s not a good time.”

Sunny sighed. “You can’t just hide away from the world.”

“I’m not.”

“I know how you feel, but you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Kat squeezed her eyes shut and trapped the words she wanted to scream inside her head. She wanted to tell Sunny that she had no idea what Kat was going through, that she didn’t need sympathy, that what she needed was to get back to regular life and forget the whole thing as soon as possible.

Yet…when offered a chance at regular—meaning dinner with her friends—Kat couldn’t stomach the idea.

“There isn’t anything to worry about,” Kat said. “I really need to get going, though. We’ll talk again soon, okay?”

Sunny’s voice echoed through the line, but Kat didn’t want to hear it. She hit the End button, her head pounding, her breath racing. She all but collapsed into her office chair, her knees weak and her hands trembling.

The ringing of the phone made her squeeze her eyes shut as she dropped her head into her hands and ignored the sound.

Her life had changed so much but she couldn’t move forward.

And each time she shut her eyes, all she could see was the face of the man who had done it to her, who had turned her into this, and she wasn’t sure if that would ever go away.

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About the Author

Jayce Carter

Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing. You can learn more about her at her website.

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Title:  Better Than Home

Series: Better Than Stories, 6

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Narrator: Nick J. Russo

Original Release Date: April 18, 2022

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 35K

Genre: Romance, Contemporary, MM Romance, Bisexual, Established Couple

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Synopsis

The lawyer, the diva, and a new adventure…

Matt-

Life is good. A few years ago, I met someone special, came out as bi, fell head over heels, and married the love of my life. A man. But not just any man.

Aaron is a confident, unapologetically fabulous diva who isn’t afraid to take chances. I love that about him. New state, new career path…no problem.
Except things don’t always go according to plan. That’s okay. It might be the perfect time to get back to basics and check off a few items on our original list…like buy a house and start a family. Whoa! House first.

However, house hunting isn’t glamorous at all, and with my partnership at the law firm in the balance, it’s kind of stressful. Everything we’ve dreamed of is within reach—if we can just find a place that feels like home, we’ll be better than good.

Better Than Home is a sweet and sexy novella featuring Matt and Aaron from my International Bestselling book, Better Than Good. The lawyer, the diva, and the happy ever after of a lifetime. For readers who know the real love story happens after the first “I love you.”

Excerpt

Chandler went quiet for a moment in what I was sure was a calculated sales technique. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle and sincere.

“Let me show you one more older home next weekend. It’s outside of Bethesda. Great property, lots of land, very private, but in a great neighborhood. It’s not even on the market yet. The listing is supposed to be up by next week. However, I can give you an early pass at it. If you hate it, we’ll go back to the drawing board. Thoughts?”

Aaron shot a quick sideways glance my way. “It’s a date.”

“Not a real date,” I qualified like a real dumbass. “I mean…yes. That sounds good.”

Chandler grinned, then led us through the green-carpeted maze of the house. We said another round of good-byes before heading to our car.

I pulled away from the curb and scowled. “A date?”

“Hmm?” Aaron scrolled the playlist on his cell before fastening his seat belt. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to date Chandler,” I groused.

“A house-hunting date.” He snickered.

I tore my gaze from the road for a second and did a double take. “Are you smiling?”

“Yep. What’s wrong with smiling?”

I slowed at the stop sign on the corner. “Theoretically, nothing. But you look amused.”

“And what’s wrong with being amused?” Aaron countered, more amused and smiley than ever.

“Hmph. I’m getting sick of Chandler. And now…you’re really smiling.”

Aaron pursed his lips as if in an effort to keep his grin from spreading like wildfire across his face. He captured my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“I am. You’re cute when you’re pretend jealous.”

“I’m not pretend jealous or real jealous,” I protested.

“Maybe a smidge?” he teased, biting my thumb.

I yanked my hand away and fixed him with a mock glare that had him howling as I shifted gears and pulled into traffic again. “Okay, fine. Chandler has a crush on you and I don’t like it.”

“No, he doesn’t. But I suppose this is a good time to remind you that you are quite literally the best thing that ever happened to me,” he hummed dreamily.

I stole a peek at him. “Uh…thanks. What does that have to do with our infatuated real estate agent?”

“Chandler is straight. His ex-girlfriend is an editorial assistant at the magazine. And he isn’t the problem anyway. You’re not having fun.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t enjoy spending every Saturday with a hunky agent who drools over my husband like he’s the last brownie at a family picnic.”

Aaron chortled merrily. “I’m saving myself for you. Corner and middle pieces…all yours.”

I chuckled along with him. “So…what are we gonna do about this house dilemma? There’s no way we’re moving into a fixer-upper. We are not those people.”

“But…what if we learned to be those people?” he asked in a careful tone.

“Huh? How? When?” I shot another sideways glance in his direction before turning down an idyllic road with green fields dotted with massive trees, wild flowers, and horses in the distance.

He circled his wrist in that way he did when he was excited about an idea. “Hear me out. I’m just thinking aloud…what if we were the general contractors?”

“If we were the contractors, the house would fall around our ears,” I snarked.

“I’m serious, Matty. Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about this. I’m not suggesting doing anything crazy ourselves, but we can certainly piece a few minor repairs and updates together to make a tired old house into a fabulous new home.”

“No, we can’t. We work. The last thing we’re going to want to do is sand floors or paint. We’ve done the painting thing before and—”

“And it was great! Our walls are perfection. Every color was chosen with love and applied with care. We can do it again.”

Oh, boy.

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Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, 2018-2019, and 2020-2021 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.

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Conjure Lake by Rebecca Henry

General Release Date: 16th August 2022

Word Count: 85,529
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 300

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
FANTASY
PARANORMAL
ROMANCE
YOUNG ADULT

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Book Description

When feelings are more than a warning, they become haunting.

Eighteen-year-old Serena is attending university on the west coast when her life is flipped upside down. After the untimely death of her parents, Serena returns to New York City to care for her seven-year-old brother, Jack. As financial pressures mount, Serena makes the difficult decision to move them to their family’s heritage lake house in upstate New York.

Jack hasn’t spoken to anyone but her since their parents’ death and Serena’s only focus is learning how to become a full-time mother to her little brother with the hope that she can save him from his sorrow. But when the siblings arrive in the tiny and isolated town of Corvin Grove, they realize their family’s name raises eyebrows from the townsfolk as the two settle into the abandoned lake home.

It doesn’t take long for the siblings to discover that things inside the gothic house are not what they appear to be. An ancient witch has cursed Conjure Lake and if they stay in Korwin Cottage, they may never make it out alive.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of horror, gore and child endangerment. There are references to past animal death.

Publisher’s Note: This book is related to the Ambrosia Hill series.

Excerpt

Serena closed the suitcase on her bed, zipping up what was left of her life in New York City, and slipped the tote bag carrying her sketchpad over her shoulder. Little remained to be done—everything had already been sealed in brown boxes and moved to a cold storage unit on the edge of the city. A lifetime of memories of baby books, photo albums, old Christmas decorations, her father’s first guitar, her mother’s easel—all packed and sleeping in the dark. Just like her parents, who now lay in the ground, side by side for eternity. The little things that had once made their house a home were now buried in their own coffins, never to be resurrected and soon to be forgotten.

After the funeral, Serena had vowed she’d never visit her parents’ graves. There was no point. Rose and Edward Bancroft were now just two names written in stone atop a lonely hill at the back of a cold and isolated graveyard. Like her parents, she didn’t believe in an afterlife. Neither her mom nor her dad had been religious—if anything, they were like scientists, putting faith in what science could prove. It seemed gruesome and unfair to leave their bodies rotting in the cold, hard ground. Serena never wanted to remember her parents as muted, decayed and sealed in a box six feet under the earth. Whatever made them human—whatever the soul was, if there ever was one—had departed the day they died. What was left in those graves was nothing but corpses.

Rose and Edward Bancroft had been killed in a car accident during a rainy afternoon drive to the library to pick up her little brother, Jack. The police officer who worked the scene assured Serena that they likely never saw the semi-truck that had smashed into their car, killing them both instantly. No, for them it began and ended with a glimpse into each other’s eyes—a last look at this world in the face of their true love.

But for Serena and Jack, it was an end and a beginning. The end of a life as a happy family, and the beginning of something else—an eternity as orphans.

Suitcase in hand, Serena paused at the doorway, looking around her childhood bedroom for the last time. The walls echoed with memories, haunted by ghosts of sacred moments she’d never again share with her mother. Her first night home after the funeral had been unbearable. The absence of her parents had felt like a physical thing, a black void so large there was no room to breathe in their city apartment. It was as if their ghosts lingered in their belongings. Her father’s reading glasses still lay abandoned on the coffee table next to the weekly paper. Her mother’s apron hung forgotten by the oven.

A car honked outside, startling Serena from her reverie. A quick glance out of the window told her the cab had arrived to deliver them to their new life. Serena sighed as she dragged her heavy suitcase to the ground and rolled it down the empty hallway for the last time. “The taxi is here, Jack!” she called out to her brother. “We’ve got to get going if we are going to catch our train.” He didn’t answer, not that she expected him to.

Jack had always been quiet—more of an observer than a talker. Their dad had referred to him as “his little professor” because he always had his nose in a book. Most of his friends were the librarians who pulled aside books for him and brought him treats, usually delivered with a wink and a smile. Jack would glance up at them with a silent nod of appreciation, pressing all four of his fingers against the lenses of his glasses as he pushed them up his nose, leaving them eternally smudged with fingerprints. But after the accident Jack had stopped speaking completely. No one, not even his beloved wiener dog Tinker, could reach his island of grief.

From that terrible day and every day since, Serena had done all she could for her little brother. At age seven, Jack was far too young to be alone, so Serena had left her life behind at the University of California to be with her brother back in New York so he could finish the school year. Those first days had been hard. The thought of getting out of bed and making breakfast before their walk to Jack’s school had seemed insurmountable, but they had managed. Now the school year was finally over and summer had come.

Serena stood in the foyer, eyes closed as she imagined her parents’ laughter around the breakfast table, their kisses on their foreheads at bedtime. But nothing, certainly not wishes, could conjure them back.

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About the Author

Rebecca Henry

Rebecca Henry is an American author living abroad in England. She is a devoted vegan who gardens, practices yoga, crafts, travels the world, and bakes. Rebecca’s favorite holiday is Halloween, and she is obsessed with anything and everything witchy! Besides writing fiction, Rebecca is also the author of her vegan holiday cookbook collection. Her love for animals, baking with her family, having a plant-based diet and cruelty-free food all came together in her holiday cookbook collection.

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On Common Ground by Mina Jane Madeley

Book 1 in the Ground Rules series

General Release Date: 16th August 2022

Word Count:  73,806
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 284

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE

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Book Description

He’s thin-skinned and stubborn… But she won’t get kicked out without a fight!

After six years in Paris, thirty-four-year-old investment banker Adrian Hensley returns to San Francisco, engagement broken and ego wounded. His hope for some peaceful solitude is shattered when he finds a stranger subletting his home without his knowledge. The pretty brunette would be the embodiment of his sexy secretary fantasy, if it weren’t for her feisty temper and her tendency to get him worked up…in more ways than one.

Eva Duncan, a legal secretary with a knack for finance, makes a point of remaining independent. No man will ever decide her fate—not again. When Adrian comes barging into her quiet life, old childhood wounds reopen, and she won’t get kicked out of her home. At least, not without a fight. Yet, standing her ground proves to be tricky for Eva in front of a handsome, too-often-half-naked Adrian.

Between her tenacity and his arrogant façade, Eva and Adrian jump from one misunderstanding to the next, making their forced cohabitation as explosive as their attraction. How long will it take for them to learn that the ‘right decisions’ are not always those which lead to happiness?

Excerpt

Slouched in the back seat of a cab, I rub a hand over my two-day stubble as the driver parks, the streetlamps almost blinding my sleepy eyes. I step out into the chilly wind and retrieve from the trunk the three bags containing everything that’s left of my life in Paris. It’s all I’ll need for a fresh start. The rest would only be a reminder of Pauline’s betrayal.

A surge of anger engulfs me again, not as strongly as it has the past five weeks, but despite putting physical distance between us, the disgust, resentment and sense of failure still weigh heavily on my shoulders.

I stretch my aching muscles, stiff as if I’ve ridden planes and taxis for an entire month. Even in the foggy darkness, my building hasn’t changed much since I last lived in San Francisco—four stories high on a steep hill, with typical bay windows.

Inside the lobby and up the stairs, my surroundings still feel familiar, and so does the cold metal of my key in my hand. I’ve always clung to it, even after moving across the world. Deep down, part of me knew I’d come back. I’d planned to. Yet, not once did I imagine my return in these circumstances—alone.

I reach for the lock but hesitate. Madison lives here now, and I shouldn’t barge in. I knock on the door once, impatient to surprise my little sister—twice, the anxiety creeping its way back into my gut. How will Madison react after all this time? I hope she’ll be happy to see me. The impromptu visit seemed a good idea when I planned a one-week stay for my job interview. The intended short trip has turned into a permanent move back, and Madison might just be upset with me landing on her doorstep when I haven’t even called in months.

Another apartment door unlocks behind me, and a young man comes out, dressed in black jeans and a hoodie, his long blond hair poking out of a beanie. With the shadow of a beard on his jaw and his six-foot height, I almost don’t recognize him.

“River?” I ask.

His eyes widen. “Adrian? Great to see you, dude.”

I drop my bags to shake his hand. “You, too. It’s been a while.” My gaze sweeps over him from head to toe.

The last time we crossed paths in this hallway, he was still a teen who looked up at me as if I were a rock star, tried to sneak in when I hosted parties and spied on every woman who left in the early mornings. A lifetime ago, it seems. The past few years have turned him into a man, and me into a boring adult.

River nods toward my front door. “Are you visiting?”

“Moving back, actually.” My voice sounds serene, as if uttering the words aloud marks the start of my new life. “I knocked, but Madison’s not here. Do you know when she’ll be home?”

River pauses, one eyebrow cocked. “Dude… Madison won’t be here anytime soon.” He blows out a small laugh, cut off by his phone buzzing in his hand. “Gotta run, but let’s catch up, all right?” He walks down the stairs and out of the building before I can ask him to clarify his cryptic words.

Showing up unannounced wasn’t the brightest idea, but after months exchanging only rare and impersonal texts with Madison, the fallout from my failed engagement isn’t a topic I wanted to discuss over the phone.

I knock a third time, just in case. The key prickles my palm. I’d hoped Madison would be home this late on a Thursday. Wherever she is, I can’t wait in front of the door for however long it’ll take her to come back.

I call out with the door half-opened. “Madison?” The fatigue in my voice echoes in the silence. No answer.

The living room has changed. A flowery fragrance floats in the air. Apart from the furniture, each trinket and piece of decor is different from what I left behind. In the dim glow of the standing lamp, wherever my eyes linger, the light touches of gold and soft blue turn my apartment into a stranger’s place.

The shimmering night view of the bay through the windows, still as staggering, comforts me. I take in a deep breath and bask in that sentiment. I’m home.

My limbs are numb from hours of travel, and my eyes drift closed. The urge to lie down is hard to resist, but if I cave, sleep will overtake me in seconds. A shower seems essential at this point.

Dropping my bags by the guest room door—unpacking postponed until tomorrow—I rehash the carefully chosen words to explain my return without mentioning the humiliating reason.

Pauline and I are over. So is my life in France.

Simple enough. No reason to share the sordid details that led to our breakup.

Madison will need to move out of my apartment. I can’t keep lending it to her. I won’t stand sharing it, not even with my sister. Finding some peace, alone, is the first step to getting my life back on track.

Just like the rest of my apartment, the bathroom is different. Dozens of girl products cover the countertop, all arranged by size. I place my toiletry bag next to the sink and dig for my shower gel.

My fingers brush the pack of condoms. A bitter chuckle escapes me. A one-night stand wasn’t enough to erase the damage Pauline’s cheating inflicted on my ego. Switching back to being single and playing the field after a decade in a relationship isn’t easy or fulfilling. Instead, the meaningless night had left me hollower and more lost.

I swallow the frustration in my throat, bury the pack deep inside my bag and undress, avoiding even the smallest glance at myself in the mirror. I can’t stand that beaten look in my eyes, lately.

The shower’s scalding water pours down my back, washing away some of the exhaustion and misery.

A clank in the hallway startles me. I step out of the shower and slip my sweatpants on. With a long calming breath to regain some composure, I exit the bathroom to face Madison. But the brunette standing in the living room in a tight dress and stern ponytail is not my sister.

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About the Author

Mina Jane Madeley

I’m French, which is as good a start as any to write Romance, if you ask me. The soft twinkling lights in the winding paved streets of Paris, the warm breeze and spellbinding smell of lavender in Provence… and we invented the french kiss, didn’t we?

Although my rebellious teenage self preferred writing crime thrillers, the passion for literature was already there, as well as my interest for languages. I learned Spanish, Italian, and a little bit of German, but English stuck with me.

As I studied English and American literature and linguistics at the University, immersing myself in the language made it impossible for me to write in French, as if my brain couldn’t create in French anymore. Luckily, it kept the french romanticism, and I fell into Romance novels.

Fast forward a few years of various choices, different jobs, different lives, my passion for writing romance is still intact, and it’s time for me to share it with you!

Find out more at her website.

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Finding a Farmer By Jason Wrench

General Release Date: 16th August 2022

Word Count: 66,905
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 256

Genres:

BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
CRIME
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description

Sometimes you need a new job to put the important things in life into perspective. And sometimes love finds you when you least expect it…maybe even while picking apples.

Dale Devereux is an unemployed, spoiled rich kid on the cusp of turning thirty. His grandfather, Jameson, decides it’s time for Dale to learn the family business, so he sends him to work on one of the corporate farms in Woodstock, New York.

Talgat Kudaibergen is the twenty-seven-year-old who is currently running things at Deveraux Farms Upstate. He took over operations after his mother’s and father’s deaths. Along with his younger sister and brother, Ayala and Rasul, the three siblings have kept the farm running.

Dale finds out quickly that he has a lot to learn about living life outside the big city. Talgat and his siblings grow to appreciate Dale and what he’s able to bring to the farm.

Slowly, Dale and Talgat realize that they may have more in common than either imagined. The two start to have feelings for one another, but their romance is threatened when money goes missing from the farm’s coffers.

Reader advisory: This book contains mention of embezzlement, attempted murder, and cancer.

Excerpt

I glanced down at the Rolex watch my granddad had given me when I had finished my MBA a few years earlier. It’s not one of the crazy expensive ones. Of course, I’d had to google the price after he gave it to me. At the time, it was worth around ten grand—so, nothing to sneeze at, but still on the lower end of the Rolex scale. I’ve thought about upgrading it a couple of times but can’t bring myself to do it. Sure, I can afford a more expensive one. Between my day job working on Wall Street and my trust fund, I can afford almost anything I want.

I guess I should say my ‘former’ job on Wall Street, since that’s what I was celebrating—my getting fired. I wasn’t fired for cause or anything. My firm had scrolled back its trading arm in the US to focus on overseas markets. Thankfully, Granddad had taught me to squirrel away money. I’d been taking my skills on the trading room floor of the Stock Exchange and turning them into my private nest egg. There was something satisfying about having an account with seven figures that hadn’t been given to me by my family. At least the firm had waited until the Tuesday after Memorial Day to fire my ass. So, there I was on June first, drunk out of my mind.

I stared down at my empty glass, which was supposed to be filled with two shots of Belvedere Single Estate Lake Bartężek Vodka. I was about to raise my hand and order another one when I caught sight of my watch. I hadn’t realized it was this late already.

“Dudes, it’s ten-thirty,” I said, looking at my two drinking companions.

On my left was my best friend in the universe, Grayson Jackson. Grayson and I had met when we were attending The Quad Preparatory School in Manhattan. And with a seventy-five-thousand-dollar-a-year price tag, The Quad opened the doors to go anywhere we wanted. We’d both ended up at Harvard, for the fun of it. After making it through our undergraduate years barely sober, I’d gone off to their MBA program, and Grayson had gone to law school. Now we were both single, hot, wealthy guys in their late twenties getting everything we ever wanted out of life. We’d lived by the ‘work hard, play harder’ motto our entire adult lives.

On my right was Avery Addington, my sort of on-again, off-again lover or fuck buddy. He’s a couple of years younger than me. I had met him on a dating app and figured it would be a onetime hookup, but he’d ended up sticking around. I called him my ‘on-again, off-again boyfriend’ because I didn’t know what the hell we are. Hell, I didn’t know if we even were at that point. We weren’t exclusive, that much I knew. God, the idea of being in a long-term relationship gave me heart palpitations—and not the good kind. I liked my freedom. I enjoyed doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. If I found a hot guy at a bar and I wanted to fuck him senseless in the back room, then I took him into the back room, bent him over and showed him the best time of his life. And while I’m an admitted slut, I was on PREP and played safely…most of the time. And despite my use of protection, I got regular checkups to make sure I hadn’t contracted anything. Shit happens.

“It’s already ten-thirty?” Avery slurred. “How long have we been drinking?”

I found myself with my mouth open, on the verge of responding, but I honestly did not know what time we’d gotten there. I tilted my head to the side and glanced at Grayson, because I knew he’d know.

Grayson rolled his eyes. “You texted me about four, and I got here about five-thirty. You said you’d just gotten here, which I figured meant you had at least thirty minutes on me already. Based on this, you’ve been here drinking for six hours,” he said with the emotion of a forensic accountant. Oh, I should have mentioned that Grayson had also gotten a master’s in accounting after law school from NYU. He worked for the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office in accounting crimes—or something like that. Honestly, when he talked about numbers, I daydreamed. I enjoyed making money and could tell you all about bulls and bears, but when it came to the day-to-day math part, I tuned out. I liked the game of making money, the strategy of making money—hence, why I have an accountant who handled my books.

“I don’t feel drunk,” I heard myself say right before I started touching my forehead. “But I can’t feel my forehead.”

“Okay,” Grayson grumbled. “I hate to be the adult in the room, but I have work in the morning, so I’ve gotta get out of here. Can you two make it home?”

“Your place or mine?” I asked Avery.

“Yours. It’s closer.”

“We can call my car service.” No worries.

Grayson shook his head and grabbed my phone off the table. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m calling your car service.”

“But we’re not ready to leave yet,” Avery whined.

“Yeah, I think you two are.”

“But, Dad,” I complained.

“I’ve gotta go,” Grayson said flatly. “And I’m not leaving you two to your own devices. To keep my conscience clean, I’m putting you in a car and sending you on your way. What you do after that is up to you.”

I thought about objecting, but I knew Grayson was right. I’d had my pity party and would have to get up and join the world of the unemployed the next morning. Thankfully, between my granddad’s and my contacts, I was sure I wouldn’t be unemployed for too long. Honestly, I didn’t understand why some people stay unemployed. It’s like, why don’t they use their personal and family networks to get a new job? It’s not like it’s that difficult.

Grayson got up and put his suit coat back on.

“How can you wear a suit in this heat?” I questioned.

“Don’t you wear a suit to the office?” Grayson asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said, as I tried to stand and realized my eyes were going in and out of focus. Grayson reached out and steadied me until I got my feet firmly planted below me. “Whoa, maybe I’ve had too much to drink.”

“You think?” Grayson asked.

Once I was fully standing and the lightheadedness had passed, I helped Avery to his feet and the three of us exited the bar and grill after paying our tabs. I didn’t know how much this evening was going to cost me. I’d handed over my American Express Black Card and given my signature. I’d worry about the expense later.

Thankfully, my car service arrived right as Grayson’s Uber did. I shuffled into the car, sliding over so Avery could get in. Once Avery closed the door, the driver took off. I put my arm around Avery and rested my head on his shoulder. I felt his arm sneak around and pat the side of my head as he leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of my head.

Why aren’t we dating? I thought to myself, as I was almost on the verge of falling asleep.

“We’re here,” the driver said.

“Thanks. That was fast,” I muttered as I untangled myself from Avery, who had fallen asleep.

“What?” Avery said as I jostled him awake.

“We’re at my place.”

“I must have fallen asleep.”

“Well, duh,” I said, reaching over him to open the door.

I nudged him out of the car and followed before gently closing the door. I stared up at my apartment building, noticing all the lights in the windows were turned on.

I walked into Twenty Exchange, where I have a two-bedroom apartment. For its location and proximity to Wall Street, Twenty Exchange is an ideal apartment complex for the up-and-coming business type in Manhattan. Not only is it in the heart of Wall Street, but it also caters to an exclusive tenant list. When I decided I wanted to live there, I had my granddad pull a few strings to get me to the top of the list for a new two-bedroom apartment when one opened up, which wasn’t often. But here I was, four years later and I’m still living here, paying my four-thousand-dollar-a-month rent. Maybe one day I’ll break down and buy a condo in the city. But for the time being, I’m okay with renting. I’ve always liked the idea that I could choose to move at the end of my lease if I wanted to.

The doorman opened the door for us with a polite bow of his head. “Good evening, Mr. Devereaux.”

“Good evening, Jack,” I responded. “How are the kids?”

“They enter the first grade this year,” the uniformed man responded. He had the look that all proud fathers get when they realize their kids are growing up much faster than expected.

“Wow! Already… I can’t believe it,” I said with a smile. “Well, good night.”

“You, too, Mr. Deveraux.”

Granddad had taught me early in life to always respect those people in service positions. He was a whiz at remembering names, birthdates, anniversaries and all kinds of other facts. Me? I was happy I could remember someone’s first name and maybe one or two details about their lives, but I tried.

Avery and I made our way to the elevator banks. I pushed the button, then leaned against the wall to make the marble around me stop spinning. I haven’t been this wasted since my first year in college.

I heard the ding of the door and sort of spun myself into the elevator then hit the button for the fifty-fifth floor. Avery was leaning against me by this point as the elevator doors slid shut.

The ride up was smooth and uneventful. When the elevator opened onto my floor, Avery and I stumbled out and made it the few feet to my door. I whipped out my key card and let myself into the apartment.

“I’m going to get a bottle of water.” I asked Avery, “You want one?”

“Yeah, we should definitely hydrate after all this alcohol. I’m going to take a leak first.”

I didn’t watch him make his way to the bathroom, but I heard him as he bumped into one wall and tried to apologize to it.

I made my way into the kitchen, opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of Glacial Flow, a bottled water company that harvested water from fifteen-thousand-year-old glaciers. Each twenty-four-ounce bottle cost something like sixteen dollars, but I liked it and loved the conversation starter it provided me when I was drinking one at work. I could always talk about saving the planet and our melting icecaps while I was drinking one. Trust me, the irony wasn’t lost on me.

I twisted off the top and took a swig, savoring the crisp taste before swallowing. I leaned against the fridge, took a second sip and noticed that my answering machine light was blinking. Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Who has an answering machine in the twenty-first century? Well, I do. And it’s connected to my home line. I know, who has one of those in this century?

I’d broken down and gotten myself a home line and answering machine when I had to work from home for six months during the pandemic. I could have done everything through my cell phone, but I figured having an actual phone with a headset attached was going to make my life easier while I stared at the four-monitor terminal I’d set up in the spare bedroom. I lived in the one bedroom, and the second one had become my home office. I figured the only people who ever stayed over with me slept in my bed, so I didn’t need a spare room. Besides, a spare room seemed like an utter waste of space. Who needs to have a bedroom that is only used when they have company over? I don’t get that. If someone is coming for a visit, I’ll put them up in a luxurious hotel, not my apartment. Again, I liked my space.

I walked over to the flashing red light, put both water bottles on the island separating the kitchen from the dining area and pushed the button.

“Dale, it’s your granddad. I heard through the grapevine that you were let go from your firm today. I’m sorry to hear that, but I think it’s the perfect opportunity to talk to you about the family business. Why don’t you show up at my office tomorrow morning at seven a.m. for breakfast?”

Well, fuck!

“How the hell does he already know?”

“Who knows what?” Avery asked, coming into the kitchen. I picked up one of the bottles of water and offered it to him. I turned around, leaned my hip against the island, unscrewed the cap on my bottle again and took another swig.

“My granddad. He already knows about my being let go today. I swear he has spies that watch my every move.”

“You don’t think he’d actually do that, do you?” Avery questioned, scrunching up his face in an expression I couldn’t read.

“No. It’s a figure of speech…or maybe hyperbole. In reality, Granddad knows too many people in this town. I can’t say that I’m too surprised, though, but I wish I’d been the one to tell him. You know?”

I glanced over at the clock on the microwave, and it read eleven-twenty p.m. “Dear God, I have to be up in five hours.”

“Five hours?”

“If I’m going to get to his office by seven a.m., I’m going to have to get up at four-thirty to hit the gym.”

“Why not skip tomorrow?”

“Because you don’t look this amazing by skipping the gym,” I said. I attempted to wink at Avery, but I’m sure my wink probably appeared more like some kind of facial spasm. “Let’s just crash.”

I grabbed Avery’s hand and led him down the hall to my bedroom. I wished I could text my granddad and say I wouldn’t be able to see him in the morning, but I knew that when you’re summoned by my granddad, you show up—whether you like it or not.

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About the Author

Jason Wrench

Jason Wrench is a professor in the Department of Communication at SUNY New Paltz and has authored/edited 15+ books and over 35 academic research articles. He is also an avid reader and regularly reviews books for publishers in a wide number of genres. This book marks his first full-length work of fiction.

Find out more about Jason at his website.

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