New Release Blitz: Gretel on Her Own by Elna Holst (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Gretel on Her Own

Author: Elna Holst

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/26/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 23900

Genre: Pararnormal, LGBTQIA+, fairy tale, folklore, lesbian, witches, mental illness, confectioner, Germany, the Brothers Grimm

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Description

Once upon a time, a brother and sister were led away into the depths of the forest. It was only to protect them, their mother explained and the brother concurred; yet he insisted on pebbles, bread crumbs. He insisted on looking back for cats and pigeons and whatnots, brightened by the touch of the sun.

Twenty years later, Gretel Kindermann is on her own: her father has taken himself off to Dortmund, her mother is a fixture at the local mental healthcare institution, and her brother Hänsel, oh—

At the heart of the matter, like a thorny-rooted weed, is Frau Heckscher, the purveyor of all things sweet in the little village at the lip of the forest. And now, perhaps, also a niece that no one has heard of before, lately arrived from Vienna to wreak havoc on poor Gretel’s nerves and heart.

In Gretel on Her Own, Elna Holst offers a contemporary sapphic twist to your favourite Germanic fairy tale of homicidal arsonists and houses built out of baked goods, trickster witches, and parenting skills that leave a lot to be desired.

Excerpt

Gretel on Her Own
Elna Holst © 2021
All Rights Reserved

All her life, Gretel Kindermann had lived in the little village at the lip of the forest. In fact, as far back as anyone cared to remember—for there are always, for one reason or another, periods in the history of a place that no one can rightly recall—the Kindermanns had lived in the village. According to church records, a B. Kindermann, woodcutter, had been in residence sometime in the middle of the sixteenth century. Kindermanns were woven into the very warp and weft of village life, cropping up through the centuries, being christened, marrying, bearing children. Dying. Being born.

So, it was odd, unprecedented even, that on a raw, misty Sunday in early September, when a yellowing leaf here and there heralded the approach of autumn on the trees that lined an otherwise featureless residential street, Bernhard Kindermann was backing a rent-and-go moving van out of the driveway of no. 9, or, as it had been known to neighbours and friends for nigh on thirty years, quite simply ‘the Kindermanns’ place’.

Gretel, the grown daughter of this latest incarnation of a Kindermann paterfamilias, untied her mother’s apron and hung it over her arm, shivering in the nippy air as she walked down the drive to see her father off. Bernhard rolled down the window on the driver’s side and peered out at her, his gaze inscrutable. He picked at his gingerbread-coloured moustache.

“Do you have enough fuel to see you all the way to Dortmund?” asked Gretel, for something to say. She was in a perfect double bind, her hands clasped under the fold of the apron, pressing it to her: she wanted the moment to be over, and she wanted to prolong it indefinitely. They could not be said to have said all there was to say. Nor would they.

Bernhard glanced at the gauge to his left and shook his head. He shrugged his burly shoulders—those shoulders that had carried her through her childhood, it seemed to Gretel now as she was on the point of losing them.

“I’ll need a few breaks along the way.”

Gretel cleared her throat, dipped her head. She came up with nothing. “Well, call me when you get there.”

Her father looked as if something was on the tip of his tongue; but then he appeared to change his mind. He sat back in his seat and began to roll up the window.

“Ich liebe dich, Papi. Gute Fahrt!”

In embarrassment, Gretel heard the strain in her voice, the tear-laced squeakiness of it. She hadn’t called the man in the vehicle in front of her Papi in years. And she certainly was not in the habit of telling him she loved him. It was true—of course it was—but it generally wasn’t a sentiment they put into words.

Bernhard moved his work-worn hand in a gesture somewhere between a wave and the sign of the cross.

“Goodbye, Gretelchen,” he said. Or she thought that was what he said. He had started the engine and was turning the steering wheel to go.

*

“So he’s off then? Good riddance to him. Off to chase that whore of his across the country, I dare say. All I’ll say is he better not come crawling back when she leaves him!” Ursula Kindermann held out her hand, impatient for another smoke. Gretel grabbed the half-empty pack from the outdoor table.

“You smoke too much,” she muttered, endeavouring to distract her mother from the topic of Bernhard. As far as she knew, there was no ‘whore’ in the picture.

“So do you!” Ursula cackled, a canny glint in her eye. Like a rebellious child, she snatched the cigarettes out of her daughter’s grip.

Gretel smiled, despite herself. It was in moments like these, fleeting episodes of astute observation, brief but witty repartees, tiny sucrose crystals of clarity, that she thought—she dreamt—she feared: We got it wrong. This woman’s mind might be salvaged. There’s nothing much the matter with her at all.

Ursula studied her through a haze of smoke. She raised her hand to wave it away and ended up teasing her peroxide curls. “It’s your brother I’m worried about,” she huffed, half ingesting her cigarette with each greedy drag. “He’s gone to the wolves.”

“What wolves?” Gretel asked, placing the pack back on the table beside her, out of her mother’s immediate reach.

Ursula stared out across the empty patch of lawn, surrounded on three sides by a chain-link fence. Beyond it were the woods, and in the distance the iron rumble of a passing train could be heard.

“I can hear them in my bed at night, yipping and yapping, howling at the harvest moon. They’re on his trail, snapping at his heels. I’m telling you, they won’t leave the poor boy alone.”

“There are no wolves around these parts, Mami.” Gretel spoke softly, joining Ursula in gazing into the fir tree forest pressing close to the fence. “They were shot off years ago. It’s a scandal in its own right.”

The French door to the veranda creaked open behind them.

“Frau Kindermann? It’s time for your medication. Oh, hello, Gretel.” The nurse gave her an aloof smile. He carried a metal tray with a jug of water, a glass, and her mother’s tailor-made cocktail of pills in a plastic cup.

Gretel glanced at her wristwatch. “I guess it’s time for me to leave.”

“I know what I hear.” Ursula didn’t acknowledge Gretel’s statement, nor the nurse’s either. Her hand brushed back her hair from her ears, the glowing embers of her fag coming close to singeing the faux-blonde strands in the process.

Gretel rose from her seat. “Thank you, Nurse Richter. Mami, I’ll see you Friday, okay?”

Richter nodded to her as he put the tray aside and gently removed the potential fire hazard out of Frau Kindermann’s fretting hands.

“I know,” Ursula repeated, poking her finger in the man’s chest. “Don’t tell me I don’t know!”

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Often quirky, always queer, Elna Holst is an unapologetic genre-bender who writes anything from stories of sapphic lust and love to the odd existentialist horror piece, reads Tolstoy, and plays contract bridge. Find her on Instagram or Goodreads.

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New Release Blitz: Captivated by A.C. Thomas (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Captivated

Series: The Verge, Book Two

Author: A.C. Thomas

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/26/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 73400

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, sci-fi, gay, nerd/linguist, space pirate, space travel/road trip, abduction/captive, twins, interracial, class difference, tattoos, body mods, humorous, opposites attract, outrageous flirting, sexual banter, undergarments, ribbon play

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Description

Dr. Theophrastus Campbell leads a comfortable life, along with his twin brother, buried in academia. His unique gift for obscure languages goes unnoticed as he teaches University students to conjugate Latin. Everything in his world is just as it should be; restrained, understated, boring. He would give anything to break away. In all his daydreams of adventure, Theo never expected it to arrive in the form of an outrageously attractive Outlier covered in intriguing tattoos. And Theo never thought the price he might pay for adventure would be his own freedom.

Captain Park Jun-Seo leads a dangerous life, running a Crew of misfits through Restricted space as he desperately searches for the key to completing his parents’ work. Work that could mean the difference between life and death for countless others. In all of his frantic searching, Jun never expected to find the key in the form of a beautiful professor with more brilliance than good sense. And he never thought the price he might pay for knowledge would be his own heart.

Stoic Jun and irrepressible Theo must work together to break the code before their time is up. Falling into bed together is effortless, but their growing connection wasn’t in the plan. Theo charms his way beneath Jun’s skin with every nonsensical move he makes. Jun must decide if he can make room in his harsh, goal-driven life for the unpredictable force of love. Theo begins their journey as a lighthearted adventure—until he cracks Jun’s tough facade to reveal the hero within. Theo must decide if he can risk his battered heart when Jun is risking everything.

In the lawless depths of space, can two captive hearts set each other free?

Excerpt

Captivated
A.C. Thomas © 2021
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One

Ding. Ding. Donk.

Theo held his index finger up at the uneven chime of the ancient bell over the door—yet another harried university student bustling into his office after hours. It was practically midnight, hardly the time to ask for an extension.

Honestly, students were the worst part of teaching. Theo didn’t know why he had taken the TA position in the first place.

Okay, yes, he did. But, to be fair, Professor Gladwell looked amazing in his spectacles and fitted waistcoats, and who could blame Theo for going a little glassy-eyed whenever they had private meetings?

Well, Professor Gladwell’s wife, for one, probably.

Theo finished his note and dropped his pen into the onyx holder on his desk, preparing to give the student his full attention.

Some of his attention.

Whatever was left over while Theo drifted off on thoughts of the strain Professor Gladwell’s buttons were under on a daily basis as they tried to contain all that athleticism. Those poor, poor buttons.

He lifted his head with the bored expectation of finding another skinny, pasty academic struggling to hold armfuls of paper with desperation written all over their ink-smudged face.

In other words, someone like Theo.

This person was holding a sheaf of papers, and there the resemblance ended to every expectation Theo had.

Perhaps it was time to expand his expectations.

“I’m looking for Dr. Campbell.” The stranger’s voice curled around Theo’s ears like smoke.

Theo smiled up at him, admiring the way the lamplight glinted off of his black hair and deep bronze skin. Stars, but he was a handsome specimen.

With a flip of his hair back over his shoulder, Theo marked his place in his notebook by closing a finger in the pages. “Well, you’re certainly in the right place for it! Though I suppose that depends on which Dr. Campbell you are looking for. There are three of us in my immediate family alone. Although, Campbell isn’t a terribly uncommon name, so there could easily be many more Dr. Campbells than I’m entirely unaware of.”

The stranger looked like he very much regretted initiating this conversation. Theo was, unfortunately, familiar with the expression being directed his way.

The stranger shook his head slightly, as though Theo’s chatter were water in his ears. Something else Theo was extremely familiar with.

He leaned in slightly, casting a wide shadow across Theo’s cluttered desk when his bulk blocked out the light beside the door. “Dr. Campbell. Where is he?”

Theo traced the impressive line of the stranger’s shoulders underneath his unusual many-layered black leather coat before offering his free hand to shake. “I am Dr. Campbell. Pleased to meet you! My brother is also Dr. Campbell, and my father is Dr. Campbell as well, though they would be less pleased to meet you. Nothing against you, personally, they just aren’t terribly fond of interacting with strangers. Or people in general, to be honest. Sometimes I think they can barely tolerate me!”

The stranger winced as if he could relate to the sentiment and quietly responded, “Dr. Campbell has been described as a thin male with green eyes, red hair, and pale skin.”

His deep voice sank into Theo’s bones like the pleasant rumble of a hovercoach over cobblestones.

Dark, hooded eyes skipped over Theo as his visitor described each feature, as though checking off a list in his head, ignoring Theo’s offered hand.

Theo dropped it to the desk with a shrug; the slight couldn’t hamper his enjoyment of this diversion from his research. “I’m afraid that doesn’t narrow it down even the slightest bit. My brother and I are identical twins, and we definitely favor our father, to the eternal dismay of our poor mother. My dismay as well, to be honest. It would have been ever so nice to have her chestnut hair rather than this glaring beacon I’ve got atop my head. I tend to stick out like a redheaded thumb.”

The stranger sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, square jaw held tight as his broad shoulders rose and fell in a long, measured sigh.

Theo felt like sighing himself at the sight. The man really was uncommonly beautiful.

He could happily watch those shoulders move for hours. He even had some suggestions regarding the nature of the movement.

His attention was brought to the desk when the stranger slapped a battered manuscript on top of his notebook—an older heatbound copy, of all things. The stranger’s fingers were marked with ink, tattooed on the metacarpals between each knuckle with Hangul letters in beautiful calligraphy. Theo had never seen the like.

The stranger put pressure on the hand he held splayed across the document, pinching the finger Theo had left inside his notebook. He yanked it out hastily as the stranger growled at him. “This Dr. Campbell.”

Absently shaking his pinched finger, Theo scanned the manuscript. The simulated parchment was stained and rumpled. It appeared to have been dog-eared at the corners over and over again, and the pages bristled with assorted tabs. All signs of a book well loved.

He tried to read the cover page, lifting the stranger’s long fingers distractedly with his thumb and forefinger until he was hit by a jolt of recognition, filled to the brim with unexpected delight. “Wherever did you get this? I wrote this years ago during my graduate studies! I’m honestly surprised that anyone outside my thesis committee has even read it. It’s such an obscure topic, after all. I had the most terrible time just—”

The stranger’s palm slammed back down on top of the document, missing Theo’s hand by a hair. “You are this Dr. Campbell?”

It appeared as though he already knew the answer and was dreading it as he squinted dubiously in Theo’s direction. There was a slight tremble in the man’s fingers as they pressed hard against the sheaf of papers.

The stranger’s eyes remained shadowed by his strong brow, but his gaze washed over Theo—a wave of heat, laser-focused and far more intense than the conversation warranted.

A frisson of caution tried to nip at Theo’s mind, sounding an awful lot like his brother hissing in his ear about good sense. He shook it off the way he usually did and leaned his chin on his hand to peer up at the stranger through his lashes. “Why, yes, I am. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

The stranger lifted the manuscript, his fingers unmistakably trembling as he flipped through pages with a dry rustle of sim-parchment. He held the document open to a passage of translation Theo had featured in his study of long-dead languages and shook it rather rudely in his face. “This. You can read this?”

Theo launched into a recitation of the passage, finishing with a flourishing roll of the tongue. It was rare to find a fellow enthusiast on the topic, particularly one so pleasing to the eye. The stranger seemed unusually passionate about the subject, his breath quickening audibly as Theo rattled off the words of a people long gone.

Theo cocked his head to the side and reached for his pen as he opened his notebook. “If you have an interest in the topic, I keep one of my sources here in my office. Just there, on that shelf.” He gestured off to the side where his cluttered bookcase leaned heavily against the wall for much-needed support. “It’s titled An Annotated Glossary of Dead Languages by Dr. Fernsby.”

The stranger folded his sheaf of papers into his coat and walked to the bookcase in two decisive strides. Theo took the opportunity to study him further, pen hovering above his open notebook.

Quickly skipping past a few dozen sketches of Professor Gladwell standing at his lectern, he found an empty page.

As the stranger turned to face the bookcase, Theo caught a glimpse of black ink trailing up his neck to frame his sharp jawline in an odd geometric pattern of thin parallel lines intersected with tiny circles. He attempted to sketch the tattoos onto his paper.

Even more ink snaked out of the cuffs of his coat, wrapping around his wrists and stamping all the way down to his fingers with that lovely calligraphy scribed across his knuckles. Theo wrote down the characters and translated them to Core Standard in the margins.

Honor on one hand and Valor on the other. Fascinating.

Closer examination revealed a design of clustered hexagonal shapes running up the wrist of his left hand. Theo had just begun to sketch them when the stranger turned back toward him, book clutched in his fist.

Theo had never seen anyone remotely resembling the man; nothing about him said “Core,” from his sprawling ink to the look in his eye. He gave the impression of someone midway over a rickety rope bridge, unsure of every step but determined to get across.

Theo couldn’t help but find his appearance a little bit dangerous as he took in his severely handsome face framed by unevenly shaved black hair, all of it underscored by the dramatic sweep of his coat.

The impression was cemented when the man tucked the book away inside his coat and pulled his hand back out with a ray gun pointed in Theo’s direction.

Theo’s pen dropped a blot of ink onto his notebook as the man stepped closer.

The stranger’s eyes were so dark his pupils disappeared into the black of his iris. His unrelenting stare sent shivers down Theo’s spine that could not be attributed entirely to fear. “Come with me. Now.”

Theo chewed on his lip for a moment, considering, and then he turned the page of his notebook to jot down a short list of words.

When Theo’s attention fell to his notebook, the man repeated himself at an increased volume. His vowels were clipped, initial consonants rounded, almost like a citizen of the Core world Goryeo but significantly sharper. His words had a cutting edge to them Theo had never heard before.

A heavy boot kicked Theo’s desk, and the man’s handsome face twisted in anger. Theo glanced down at the chunks of mud littering his carpet.

“Your accent is absolutely fascinating. I need you to repeat these words back to me, if you please.”

Pen poised to take down the man’s answers, Theo rattled off his list of words expectantly.

The stranger’s scowl slid from his face, his eyes widening in Theo’s direction in the manner people often did when he caught them off guard.

It seemed to happen fairly frequently.

“I have a gun,” the man said, returning to his original volume if not his original vehemence.

Theo sighed, scribbling on his pad with a shake of his head that had his hair falling in his face. “No, no, that doesn’t help at all; that would take me ages to decipher. Repeat the list, if you please.”

The stranger gestured with his ray gun, raising it level with Theo’s head. His fingers had finally stopped trembling.

“I have. A gun.”

Theo used his pen to shove the tapered barrel of it away from his face in irritation. “No, you mustn’t obscure your lips that way. I need to see the movements. Now, the list, if you please.”

The stranger’s face did something decidedly odd and incredibly diverting where his features couldn’t seem to decide what direction they wanted to go, so they never went anywhere at all.

To Theo’s absolute delight, he actually repeated the first three words on the list before giving his head an emphatic shake, gesturing with the gun once more. “I don’t think you understand. This is an abduction, Dr. Campbell. You’re coming with me.”

Theo didn’t turn away from his notebook, busily adding to his notes. He sketched out the pattern the man had shaved into his close-cropped hair on the right side: three intersecting triangles. Theo directed his answer to his notebook, pen flying across the page. “Or else you intend to shoot me, I suppose, is meant to be the implication with the gun?”

A large muscle began ticking in the stranger’s clenched jaw.

“Yes,” he gritted out between even, white teeth.

Theo beamed at him, tucking his hair behind his ear with an excited wriggle. “How thrilling! Just give me a moment to jot off a quick letter for my brother, and we can be off. I must say, this coincides nicely with the due date for that stack of term papers I’ve been putting off marking. Well done, you.”

The stranger gave the aforementioned stack of papers a baffled glance as Theo turned to another page to leave a short note for his twin brother, Ari.

He was bound to be perturbed if Theo did not make it home in time for tea tomorrow after all.

Ari didn’t like it when Theo diverged from their schedule, which was a constant source of conflict as Theo was appallingly bad at keeping to a schedule. The dear thing spent most of their lives nudging Theo back on track—

“Enough.”

The dark snarl of the stranger’s voice, crackling in the space between them like a bolt of lightning, startled Theo into dropping his pen.

The stranger tugged up a hood of soft gray material attached to his black leather coat, casting his face in shadow. He reached across Theo’s desk, plucked him from his seat one-handed, and lifted him effortlessly across his desk, scattering clutter all over the floor.

One muscular arm curled around Theo’s midsection, holding his back tightly against the man’s firm chest.

Theo ran his hands over the corded muscle of the man’s tense forearm with an appreciative hum as they started to move across the floor.

He was quite tall indeed for Theo’s coltish legs to dangle midair. It made Theo want to turn and wrap those legs around his waist. It was evident he’d have no trouble supporting Theo’s weight.

Altogether, an absolutely delicious thought. And here Theo had thought he was in for yet another lonely, boring Thursday night.

The stranger considered the door for a moment, then reached out with his gun hand to yank at the figured brass handle, prompting Theo into action.

“Oh, I almost forgot!”

He stomped down on his captor’s boot, showering the carpet with another layer of caked-on mud and debris. The arm across his stomach tightened uncomfortably as the man hissed through his teeth.

The ray gun prodded Theo’s side menacingly, but he just turned his head with an apologetic smile. “So sorry about that; I assure you it was quite necessary!”

With a noise reminiscent of a lion with a thorn in its paw, the stranger carried Theo out the door and into the cold night air.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

A.C. Thomas left the glamorous world of teaching preschool for the even more glamorous world of staying home with her toddler. Between the diaper changes and tea parties, she escapes into fantastical worlds, reading every romance available and even writing a few herself.

She devours books of every flavor—science fiction, historical, fantasy—but always with a touch of romance because she believes there is nothing more fantastical than the transformative power of love.

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Cover Reveal: Fire In The Ice by Ryan Taylor & Joshua Harwood

Fire in the Ice

By Ryan Taylor & Joshua Harwood

Cover Created by : Cate Ashwood

Release Date: May 14, 2001

 

Available to Preorder at Amazon

 

What if love threatened to destroy everything you’d worked for?

Hockey right winger Tyler Jensen isn’t thrilled to get the news he’s been traded to the Bethesda Barracudas. The team may be red-hot in the rankings, but there’s someone there he’d rather not have to see every day.

Defenseman Kevin Moore is one of the top-rated rookies in the country. He’s living the dream playing for the Barracudas—until he hears that his old high-school crush Tyler is joining the team. Ty was once everything Kev wanted, but their age difference got in the way. Tyler decided a three-year gap was too much and left Kevin behind.

In Bethesda, Tyler doesn’t take long to notice that Kevin has grown up into precisely the kind of man he can’t resist—brawny, brainy, and beautiful. Kev feels the pull too, and as the men become closer, they work hard to keep their budding relationship secret. Professional hockey may be welcoming gay players now, but Ty and Kev aren’t sure management would like the idea of two Barracudas taking teamwork to an entirely new level.

As the playoffs loom, news of their romance gets out. Ty and Kev, caught in a storm of controversy that threatens to destroy them, need a power play to save their careers. How will they find one before it’s too late?

Fire in the Ice delivers on the promise that second chances can work and dreams can come true. If you like exciting hockey, plenty of humor, a beautiful HEA, new adults, young athletes, and enough heat to burn down the house, this book is for you.

About the Authors

Ryan Taylor and Joshua Harwood met in law school and were married in 2017. They live in a suburb of Washington, DC, and share their home with a big, cuddly German shepherd. Ryan and Josh enjoy travel, friends, and advocating for causes dear to their hearts. Ryan also loves to swim, and Josh likes to putter in the garden whenever he can. The romance they were so lucky to find with each other inspires their stories about love between out and proud men.

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New Release Blitz ~ Grave Robbing and Other Hobbies by Jayce Carter (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Grave Robbing and Other Hobbies by Jayce Carter

Book 1 Grave Concerns Series

Word Count: 72,680
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 277

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL
REVERSE HAREM
VAMPIRES
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

Ghosts, corpses and four hot men—what’s a girl to do?

Abandoned at three—whose parents want a kid who sees ghosts?—I learned the world is quick to punish misfits. I try my best to be a normal, boring human, but the call of the supernatural just won’t be ignored.

When a stranger shows up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, it’s no sexy tryst. Instead, I’m off to the graveyard, digging up the corpse of a murder victim at the demand of the local vampire coven—and that small felony is just the start.

The spirit of the woman has gone missing—something that shouldn’t be possible—and everyone is looking to me for answers. There’s Kase, a vampire who’s both terrifying and secretive. Grant, a mage with a bad attitude and a lot of power. Troy, the possessive werewolf-detective next door and Hunter, a mysterious bad boy who isn’t even close to human.

It’s a race not just against time but against everything to figure out where the spirits are going, who’s behind it and if I can trust the men who now share my bed.

And all because of a little grave robbing…

Reader advisory: This book contains violence, bloodshed, and death. There are references to parental abandonment and tattooing a child, as well as vague references to pedophilia and the threat of child sexual abuse by a foster parent. 

Excerpt

I wished a floating, nearly headless body at three in the morning were an unusual thing for me, but this was the fourth time this one had visited me in as many weeks.

A squinty gaze at my watch made me groan. At least she’s punctual.

“Avenge me!” the apparition demanded in an over-the-top ghostly voice.

I pushed myself upright to offer an annoyed look. “Don’t pull that scary crap with me, Melinda. I’m not some kid trying to contact spirits at a sleepover.”

The spirit shimmered then crossed her arms and gave me the same dirty look back. Ghosts have the worst attitude. “Well, if you did what I wanted the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have to keep bothering you.”

“You want me to kill a teenager.”

“He killed me. How is that not a fair reaction?”

“You ran a red light because you were trying to get your caramel macchiato to mix while complaining the barista didn’t make it right. Can’t really blame him for that.”

She pursed her lips as though she’d blown out a huge sigh, but with her being incorporeal, no actual air escaped. “If he hadn’t been driving, it would have been fine. Isn’t this your job? To make things right? You were given this gift for a reason.”

“I don’t know why I was given this gift, but I know I won’t be using it to murder innocent teenagers.”

“Can I talk to someone above you? Like your boss?”

I groaned and rubbed my eyes as it became clear I wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep any time soon. “Did you really just ask to speak to my manager? Look, if you can find whoever is responsible for me, please, be my guest and speak to them. While you’re at it, tell them I’d like to quit.”

Melinda jammed a bony finger at me. “Do you know who I am?”

“Someone who has ruined my sleep for four weeks.”

“And I’ll keep doing it until you agree to help.”

The threat was good, as far as threats went. Most ghosts tried to scare me into doing what they wanted, but after a person had seen as much as I had, those tactics fell flat. The worst an apparition could do was annoy me until they lost their hold on this world and went to the afterlife. A poltergeist could do some damage, but they were few and far between, luckily.

Melinda’s outline had already lost its sharpness. She’d dimmed until she was more of a shimmer than a clear picture. Another week—maybe two—and she’d drift to a whisper, then to nothing.

“And I’ll keep ignoring you until you’re no longer in this realm.”

An entitled huff came from her. “Look at me! I can’t believe I’m sitting here being ignored by some short, frumpy girl with bad hair.”

I considered pointing out that my hair didn’t normally look quite so wild, but she had woken me up in the middle of the night.

“Make peace with what happened,” I told her as I rolled over, my back to her. “Because I’m not going to help you.”

The bed didn’t sink, but an electric feeling that said she’d neared ran along my back. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she whispered, some of that sureness missing. “I wasn’t supposed to die like this.”

“Well, that’s how it always goes. Everyone thinks their death will be some great sacrifice, some noble leap, but that isn’t what it is.”

“Harrison already moved his mistress into our home.”

Okay, so I wasn’t entirely jaded, because an ache ran through my chest at that. Being dead sucked, I was sure, but being forgotten so quickly? Replaced? Far worse.

“The world keeps moving. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that no matter what, no matter who dies or how, the world doesn’t stop for any of us.”

“Then what’s the point? Why does any of it matter if as soon as we’re gone, it all goes away?”

I cuddled into the warmth of my bed, unsure what to tell her. She wanted to be reassured. She wanted me to tell her there was some great plan, that at the end of the day everything, made sense. I would have loved to tell her that because I’d love to hear it—to believe it.

The reality was that despite having spent my life surrounded by death, I had no stunning pieces of wisdom about it. I didn’t know why we were all here, or what the great purpose was, or why any of it meant a damn thing.

Instead, I told her the only thing I could. “Make your peace, Melinda, because you don’t want to end up where you’ll go if you don’t.”

She wailed, the screeching of a soul that few could hear and even fewer could survive. It made my ears want to bleed, so I grabbed my headphones and cranked up the music to cover it.

She’d be gone soon, since she only ever stayed for twenty minutes or so. I’d done this long enough to know which ones would cross over and which ones who would get stuck. Melinda?

She’d get stuck. She’d cling and try to bargain until the last moment, when she faded to nothing and ended up in purgatory. Even I didn’t like to think about that, about the place I’d glimpsed a handful of times that sent a creeping, gnawing terror through me.

The deep bass and rhythmic drumming drowned out her wailing, and I fell back to sleep. Eventually.

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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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Jayce Carter Grave Robbing and Other Hobbies

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New Release Blitz ~ The Captain and the Father of the Bride by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead (Excerpt & Giveaway)

The Captain and the Father of the Bride by
Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead

Book 8 in the Captivating Captains series

Word Count: 66,464
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 256

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description

If Leo marries his best friend, they’ll inherit a fortune. The only trouble is, he’s already fallen for her father.

Yacht captain Leo’s never stayed in one place long enough to fall in love. That all could change when he’s left £1,000,000. But there’s a catch. Leo can only inherit the money if he takes a bride before the year is out. And Leo’s the kind of man who’s only interested in taking a husband.

So Leo and his best friend hatch a plan. She’ll be his pretend bride, and he’ll use his new-found wealth to support her animal sanctuary. What could possibly go wrong?

Archie’s the closest thing to perfect that Leo’s ever seen. Dashing, mature and sexy as hell, after one hot night in a London hotel, Leo can’t stop thinking about the legal eagle who’s stolen his heart.

When Leo meets the father of his bride-to-be, he’s in for the shock of his life. Can Archie and Leo join forces to give themselves and a stricken seal pup a second chance, or will a grasping lawyer with a chequebook in place of his heart scupper the happiness of the captain and the father of the bride?

Excerpt

Leo held Liv’s hand as he watched the solicitor flick through the file on his large mahogany desk. Leo had never been to the reading of a will before, never been inside a solicitor’s office before, and Liv had gamely agreed to come with him for moral support.

He was amazed to see the green-shaded lamp on the solicitor’s desk, as Leo had only seen them in films, yet it seemed that here they were a perfectly normal part of real life. The room was so quiet, all sound muffled by the thick carpet that ran through the wood-paneled offices. Leo’s breathing and his own heartbeat sounded twice as loud, and although they were in the middle of London, he could barely hear the traffic or pneumatic drills that had been so ear-piercing when he was outside.

The solicitor shuffled some papers. It wasn’t even as if Herr Schreiber, captain of Cologne industry and the most colorful man ever to leave North Rhine-Westphalia for a life on the ocean waves, had been Leo’s relative. He had merely been a client whose yacht he had skippered around the Mediterranean. A very rich, rather eccentric client, but a client nevertheless. And in his own way, a friend.

Gunther Schreiber’s death, coming as it did in the arms of his cabaret-singing lover in the eighty-first year of his life, hadn’t been unexpected. In fact, rarely did the platitude he died doing something he loved ring so true, but for Gunther Schreiber, being in the arms of his latest muse was exactly how he would have ended his own final chapter. Leo had no doubt about that, and for the same reason, his sadness at the death of his late client was tempered with a sense of satisfaction at a life well-lived and filled to the brim with the fizz of champagne and the hum of the super yacht’s engine.

The last thing Leo would have expected was to find himself sitting in this vast office with its scent of leather and wood polish, his best friend at his side as they waited for the last attendee to arrive. What could possibly be in the will of Gunther Schreiber that would concern Leo Maxwell? Perhaps a little token to mark their happy sailing. One of the handmade yachts from Gunther’s salon, or perhaps one of the paintings that had decorated the walls. Leo hoped it wasn’t that, because he doubted he’d be able to afford the insurance premiums to protect those priceless works.

This is probably a mistake. Or he’s left me something completely random, one last prank to send me on my way.

Yet Mr. Brockett of Brockett, Brockett and Holliday had been very clear in his letter that Leo should attend the meeting in person. A meeting to discuss the last will and testament of Gunther Jost Schreiber, said the neat type on the thick ivory paper with its green and gold lettering, at which you will learn something to your advantage.

Mr. Brockett tapped his pen on the cover of a buff file on his desk. He looked over his half-moon spectacles to the door and pursed his lips. Leo was surprised by the frames of his glasses as well—was the office furnished entirely from the contents of an antiques shop?

Telling himself the experience was fun and not terrifying, Leo grinned at Liv.

“All right?” he whispered, his voice absorbed at once by the deadening effects of the muffling carpet. She nodded, the high brunette ponytail on top of her head bouncing with the motion. Then she smiled and squeezed his hand.

“I am sorry,” Mr. Brockett offered. “I’m sure Mr. Beaucock will be here very soon. I understand he’s a very busy man. A fellow solicitor, you know.”

Beaucock? Seriously?

Trying to avoid laughing, Leo asked, “Is he Gunther’s nephew or…? He told me he’d never had any children.”

“A very distant connection,” he replied. “Herr Schreiber’s only living relative.”

Leo nodded. “I see. Are any other of Gunther’s friends coming? Those ladies on the yacht…”

Leo hoped Mr. Brockett would know what he meant by that. The ladies came and went, and Gunther had always been very fond of them. Surely at least one of them would trot in on their patent-heeled shoes and inherit Gunther’s villa in Cannes?

“I’m not at liberty to disclose any details, but I can assure you that Herr Schreiber has been most generous in his provisions. He stipulated that the parties each be informed in a strict order and according to strict instructions.” Brocket chanced a thin-lipped smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

Liv gave a little snigger and murmured, “So all of Gunther’s girls don’t bump into each other?”

Leo put his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. “I’ve seen that happen! Someone called Heidi threw someone called Marisol into the sea!”

“Oh God, we saw it all when we were crewing for Gunther,” Liv told Brockett. “He got more action than any of⁠—” She was silenced by the sound of the door opening, the gesture ushering in a cloud of potent aftershave ahead of the new arrival.

“Jesus Christ, this place is out in the bloody boondocks!” a voice announced. “Hardly the beating heart of legal London, is it? Beaucock. Pleasure to meet one of the real old guard!”

Leo turned in his seat. There before him was a man dressed in pinstripes, a sneer taking up most of his long face. Leo instinctively held Liv’s hand tighter. He gave the new arrival a polite nod, even though he would much rather have run away. He’d met people like Beaucock before, monied pillocks who would hire him to skipper their eye-wateringly expensive yacht and treat Leo with contempt as the hired help.

“Morning,” Leo said to Beaucock. “How do you do?”

“I’ve had a hell of a morning in the very best way.” Beaucock planted his feet a shoulder-width apart and held out his hand to Leo. “Let’s just say that’s one more Premier League player whose license won’t be snatched away by the so-called forces of law and order for a tiny bit of harmless speed. They see a Ferrari and they think it’s payday. Well, not today!”

“Mr. Beaucock specializes in motoring cases,” Brockett explained as Conrad waited for Leo to take his hand. “High-profile ones.”

“Teflon Con,” Beaucock said with obvious pride. “Conrad Beaucock.”

Leo shook Conrad’s moist hand. “I’ve never met one of Gun’s relatives before. Nice to meet you. I’m Leo Maxwell, but some people call me Max.” Leo grinned at Liv. Some people being Liv. “And this is my friend Liv.”

Conrad gave Liv the sort of look a man might give a new car, appraising her in one glance.

“Good to meet you, Leroy.” He released Leo’s hand. “And great to meet you, Liv.”

“It’s Leo,” he prompted. Yes, Conrad really was that type, the kind who consigned people to a bin marked inconsequential human being within seconds of meeting them. And Leo had bought a smart tweed three-piece just for this meeting. His oilskin jacket and wellies hadn’t seemed quite the thing to wear. He didn’t even have to look at Liv to know that she wouldn’t be impressed. Men like Conrad were all too easy to come by in the yachting world, and they were as far from Liv’s cup of tea as it was possible to get.

“Capricorn,” Conrad replied as he took a seat. “Don’t tell me you’re into that bullcrap?”

“Leo is my name.” Is this guy for real? “I can’t even remember what my star sign is. I don’t particularly care.” Leo glanced at Mr. Brockett and the file on his desk. Conrad rubbed his hands together, then looked at his watch with such theatrics that Leo knew he was waiting to be asked what was on his wrist.

So Leo wouldn’t ask.

“Let’s get this baby read,” he told the solicitor. “My Rolex tells me I can give you an hour.”

A Rolex. More like a load of Bolex.

Leo shook his head. Conrad Beaucock, you are a tosser. “I’m sure Gun would be over the moon to know you’ve managed to squeeze the reading of his last wishes into your busy schedule. It’s not very respectful to the old boy.”

“It’s not like he’s here to complain, is it?” Conrad sniggered. “Get over yourself. Who are you anyway?”

“Mr. Beaucock, this is Mr. Maxwell. He skippered Herr Schreiber’s yacht around—” Brockett began to explain.

“So you’re a taxi driver without a taxi, yeah?”

“I’m RYA Yachtmaster Offshore certified, actually.” So there. “And, more importantly, I was Gun’s friend.”

“We both were,” Liv said, taking Leo’s hand again. “And we miss him.”

Leo grinned at her, the days of larking about in the sunshine rushing back to him. “Life’s going to be a lot quieter without Gun around!”

“Not mine, mate.” Conrad sneered. “My life’s going to be a lot louder once I bank that check!”

“Why, are you buying a drum kit?” Leo quipped. Was that a childish riposte? Oh, tough titties, I don’t care.

Brockett cleared his throat and opened the file.

So this is the moment, then.

The mystery of the meeting was about to be solved and Conrad Beaucock was about to inherit everything Gunther hadn’t given to his girlfriends. And after five minutes in his company, Leo knew that he didn’t deserve a penny of it.

Gunther had kept an exquisite ship in a bottle on board. He’d spotted Leo admiring it and had waxed lyrical about it. Maybe that was Gunther’s bequest?

“Now,” Brockett began, “this is a rather complicated matter. Herr Schreiber’s posthumous wishes have been carried out by a will, as you might expect, and a trust. Due to the sensitive nature of some of the bequests, it’s been necessary to be rather…exacting. To ensure that the documents could be sealed, as Herr Schreiber wished. I hope you’ll understand?”

Leo glanced to Liv, who gave him an encouraging smile. He listened intently as Brockett began to read, the will and trust documents a dense tangle of legalese and arcane wording that soon had Leo lost. Conrad, Teflon Con, looked as though it was all old news to him, the flash lawyer in his pinstripes and pointed shoes. He was a world away from Gunther, white-bearded and lounging in kaftans and silk slippers, like a cross between a hippy and Father Christmas.

“And now we reach the bequests,” Brockett said eventually. “There’ll be time afterward for questions, but I’d appreciate it if you would allow things to proceed. The ladies were somewhat ungoverned during this portion, but do try to cooperate.”

“Of course,” Leo said.

Heidi, Marisol, Anook and Tjitske came to his mind in a flurry of big hair, long nails and metallic bikinis. They had always been ungoverned on the deck of the yacht, so Leo couldn’t imagine them being any different in Mr. Brockett’s office. What a scene that must’ve been.

Brockett reached down beneath his desk and, to Leo’s surprise, produced a laptop. He lifted the lid and danced his fingers across the keyboard, then turned the screen to face his audience. There was Gunther again, large as life and beaming with happiness on the deck of the Aphrodite. Behind him Leo could see the crystal-blue ocean, a horizon stretching off into infinity.

Leo sniffed back a tear. He missed that wide smile. He glanced at Liv, knowing she would feel the same. “There he is, Gun the man!”

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About the Authors

Eleanor Harkstead

Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens. Her large collection of vintage hats would rival Hedda Hopper’s.

Originally from the south-east of England, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.

You can follow Eleanor on Facebook and Twitter

Catherine Curzon

Catherine Curzon is a royal historian who writes on all matters of 18th century. Her work has been featured on many platforms and Catherine has also spoken at various venues including the Royal Pavilion, Brighton, and Dr Johnson’s House.

Catherine holds a Master’s degree in Film and when not dodging the furies of the guillotine, writes fiction set deep in the underbelly of Georgian London.

She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.

You can follow Catherine on Facebook and Twitter and take a look at her Website.

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Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead The Captain and the Father of the Bride Giveaway

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New Release Blitz ~ A Reluctant Attraction by Rosanna Leo (Excerpt & Giveaway)

A Reluctant Attraction by Rosanna Leo

Book 3 in the Handymen series

Word Count:  81,531
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 326

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE

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Book Description

He was looking for an escape. In her, he found his home.

Contractor and Handymen host Nick Zorn needs a change. He’s been feeling listless, and when his ex-girlfriend embarrasses him in a viral post by sharing private details of their sex life, he’s downright ready to escape. When an opportunity to reinvent his career arises, Nick takes it, even though it might mean the end of Handymen. However, the team has one more project to tackle together first—a struggling cat sanctuary in dire need of renovation.

When Nick arrives at the shelter and meets its owner, a lovely widow named Claire, his life is once more thrown into disarray. Neither of them is looking for a relationship, but the attraction is fierce. As he helps Claire fix her workplace, he realizes he wants to help her in other ways too. Their flirtation sizzles, flaring into a friends-with-benefits arrangement.

But the more time they spend together, the more reluctant these ‘friends’ become to fight their deepening connection, even though they know their inevitable break will devastate them…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of cyberbullying and harrassment, mentions of animal hoarding, bereavement and mourning. There are also references to male impotence  and erectile dysfunction.

Excerpt

Nick Zorn opened the coffee shop door and paused at the entrance, waiting for the now-familiar giggles of ridicule. Releasing his death grip on the door handle, he took a hesitant step.

Luckily, no one noticed him.

This time.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he hurried toward the back of the café, and sat at a table in one of the darker corners.

Maybe it was time to start holding his head high again. He was Nick fricking Zorn, beloved TV star, businessman and friend to all.

A young woman at one of the other tables glanced in his direction. Her eyebrows shot up and she stifled a grin.

Beloved TV star. Yeah, right. And maybe it was time to start wearing dark sunglasses everywhere he went.

Seeing as his brothers hadn’t yet arrived, he pulled out his cell phone but didn’t turn to any social media apps. He just bowed his head and stared at his home screen, trying to appear busy.

Within minutes, Michael and Eli arrived.

“What took you so long?” asked Nick.

“Uh,” said Michael. “We’re right on time.”

Only when they sat, providing a buffer between him and the rest of the café customers, did Nick relax a little.

“You good?” asked Eli.

“Yeah. Just dandy.” Change the subject. Pronto. “Hey, did Lacey tell you what this meeting was about? She was vague with me.”

“Me too,” said Eli.

Lacey was typically the first to arrive for meetings. Of course, they usually held their meetings at the Inspiration Network offices.

For the last few years, Nick and his brothers had been hosting the Toronto-based TV show Handymen, as well as operating their own contracting business. On their show, they helped families realize their home renovation dreams, suiting them up with new appliances and teaching them how to tackle difficult renovation projects.

It wasn’t unheard of for Lacey to pull the brothers in for a meeting, rather than involving the whole crew, but there was an unusual air of secrecy about this tête-à-tête.

“What about you?” Nick asked Michael. “She must have told you something.”

Michael grunted. “Why would she tell me anything that she didn’t tell you?”

Nick and Eli just stared at him.

“For God’s sake. I don’t have any more of a direct line to Lacey than you fools do.” Michael frowned. “Although she was acting cagey the last time I saw her.”

Michael liked to pretend he and Lacey Styles didn’t have a special bond, but they did. Or at least, it was a different sort of bond from the one Nick or Eli had with her. Not only was Lacey their director on Handymen, she and Michael had had a relationship. It had been some time ago, and Michael was now very happy with his wife, Emily. His only present connection to Lacey was a solid working relationship, one based on trust and mutual respect.

That didn’t mean Nick and Eli hadn’t teased him about his ill-fated tryst for a good long time.

Not anymore. Nick had recently made a vow not to tease anyone about their relationship status, especially since his last one had ended up being such a clusterfuck.

Besides, they all cared about Lacey. She’d been good to them. She’d singlehandedly guided their TV careers, coached them on navigating the press and even taught three Neanderthal builders how to develop their presence on social media.

In Nick’s case, she’d also recently taught him the merits of keeping a low profile when needed.

Of course, most importantly of all, she had turned Handymen into a popular home renovation show. Their success was mostly in the Canadian market, but they had big plans. From day one, Lacey had made it clear she aimed to get the team a coveted timeslot on the Create Network, the biggest home improvement network around. It hadn’t happened yet, but Nick was hopeful. He knew they had the chops to break into the American market.

The shop door opened. Lacey spotted them and walked over. Dressed in her customary heels, a slim skirt and a frilly blouse, the brunette turned a few heads as she made her way to the table. “Gentlemen.” She sat down next to Nick and smiled. “I appreciate you meeting me outside of our regular venue and time.”

“No sweat,” said Michael. “What’s up?”

That was Michael. He never wasted a word, if he could help it. Nick stifled a chuckle.

“Anyone want coffee?” asked Eli. “I could use one.”

They all gave Eli their orders and held off on the official part of the meeting until he returned with four steaming cups.

Lacey grabbed her usual soy latte, took a sip and put it down. “I have great news. Life-changing news, actually.” She paused, looking at each of them in turn, creating suspense.

It only took a few seconds before Michael began to tap his finger on the table. “Put us out of our misery. Please.”

“All right, all right. So, guys, what has been my number one objective with Handymen?”

“Has Create picked us up?” asked Nick.

“Not quite,” said Lacey. “But it’s almost as good. As you know, I’ve always been focused on getting new viewers. A plan is in place to help us find a wider audience than ever before. A couple of days ago, I got called into a meeting at Inspiration. The executive producers were all there. They want to take Handymen in an exciting new direction.”

Nick bit his tongue. The last exciting direction the producers had suggested involved the Zorn brothers wearing tank tops during their tapings, ones that would show off their muscles. Luckily, they had all ixnayed that idea into oblivion.

“Basically,” continued Lacey, “they want us to take the show on the road.”

“Okay.” Eli had a note of caution in his voice. “Define on the road.”

Lacey’s smile grew tight. “I mean, on the road. Traveling. Visiting new cities. Tackling renovation projects in places like Vancouver, Montreal, New York, Boston. All over North America, frankly. The idea is that we would concentrate on a new city each episode. It would give us a chance to work with different styles of architecture, different gardening zones, even some historic properties. It’s a huge opportunity for some great exposure. Isn’t this wonderful?”

Nick kept a careful eye on his brothers. He didn’t need to hear them speak to know what they thought.

They hated the idea.

And he couldn’t say he blamed them.

Michael, for one, would never do it. He was married. Not only did Emily have a thriving business in downtown Toronto, he would never walk away from Zorn Contracting. It had been his idea to start the business, and he still saw it as his baby. They all did, of course, but Michael had always made it clear it was just as much of a priority to him as his work on Handymen.

Then there was Eli, who had just gotten married. His wife, Bernadette, known as Bernie, worked for a local not-for-profit agency. Her big project was to help administer a camp for children in cottage country, a couple of hours outside Toronto. It had become a passion project for both her and Eli, and because the camp only had one summer under its belt, Eli wasn’t about to ditch it.

Nick already knew neither of his brothers would take significant time away from their wives or their businesses. The first couple of years in a new business were crucial.

“Well?” prompted Lacey. “This is the part where you say, ‘This is amazing. Thank you for sharing this incredible news.’”

“But we’ve already filmed next season’s episodes,” said Nick.

“This would be for the following season, which we have to start working on soon,” explained Lacey. “As you know, our contracts only take us through the coming season. We haven’t been renewed yet beyond that, and it was a chance for the executive producers to make some changes. Change is good, guys. Tell me what you think.”

Eli began, his face pinched. “Lacey, I can’t. There’s no way I’d leave Bernie for that length of time.”

“It’s not like we’ll be gone for years. Just, you know, a few weeks here, a few weeks there. In total, maybe a few months out of the year. And you can travel back and forth as much as you’d like.”

“I’m sorry,” said Eli. “That’s not something I want.”

She looked to Michael. “And you?”

He shrugged. “No can do.”

“But, Michael…”

“It’s out of the question. Lacey, you know Em and I are settled here.”

“Look, I understand that the logistics will take getting used to, but it can be done,” she replied. “You could talk to Emily every day, thanks to that handy smartphone I taught you how to use. It’s not like you’ll be communicating via carrier pigeon. And, guys, if we want to hit the big leagues of TV, we need to break out of Toronto. You know this. I hear what you’re saying. It would be hard at first, but it would be so worth it.”

“Worth it for the network,” asked Michael, “or worth it for us?”

“Worth it for all of us.” She turned to Nick. “I guess you feel the same way?”

Nick’s face heated as the others scrutinized him. Of course, she’d assume he’d toe the Zorn party line. Sometimes, people didn’t credit him for having thoughts independent of his brothers, but he did.

Did he want this?

What did he want? Truth be told, he’d been considering it a lot lately, agonizing over it.

Frankly, the only thing he’d wanted for the last couple of months was a chance to escape.

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About the Author

Rosanna Leo  

Rosanna Leo writes contemporary and paranormal romance. She is the First Place Winner of the 2018 Northern Hearts Contest (Contemporary Romance) for A Good Man.

From Toronto, Canada, Rosanna occupies a house in the suburbs with her husband and their two sons, and spends most of her time being tolerated by their cat Sweetie. When not writing, Rosanna works for her local library, where she is busy laying the groundwork to become a library ghost one day.

Find Rosanna at her website, follow her on Instagram, Pinterest and Bookbub, and join her Facebook group.

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Rosanna Leo A Reluctant Attraction

ROSANNA LEO IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN THESE FABULOUS SEMI-PRECIOUS EARRINGS AND GET A FREE EBOOK FROM THE AUTHOR! Notice: This competition ends on 4TH May 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

New Release Blitz: The Vampire’s Witch by Damian Serbu (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Vampire’s Witch

Series: The Realm of the Vampire Council

Author: Damian Serbu

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: M/NB

Length: 98500

Genre: Pararnormal, LGBTQIA+, Established couples, vampires, witches, college, reunited, grief, men with pets, dark, ghost, immortal, magic

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Description

The Vampire’s Witch welcomes readers back to the world of vampires, witches, and magic.

Jaret Bachmann’s life spins out of control after a handsome stranger saves him from an attack along the bike path on Lakeshore Drive. His estranged high school sweetheart stalks him, the enraged ghost of his ancestor destroys his family, and his bike path savior-cum-lover abandons him after learning Jaret is a powerful witch.

A horrific family tragedy sends Jaret into deep depression. Struggling to find his way afterward, Jaret searches for comfort in the unlikely friendship of a secret vampire community.

Over time, Jaret’s friendship with the vampires strengthens and he forges a new family connection with Xavier, Thomas, and Catherine. But he and Anthony are estranged, and though their souls are entwined, their hearts are another matter.

Xavier, Thomas, Anthony, and Catherine return in this, the third book in The Realm of the Vampire Council series and a sequel to The Bachmann Family Secret.

Excerpt

The Vampire’s Witch
Damian Serbu © 2021
All Rights Reserved

19 April 2010

Chicago, Illinois

Even after three years, living in a big city still creeped Jaret Bachmann out. He hated his fear of dark corners and alleys, not to mention his concern about getting beat up as a gay guy. Straight guys, no matter how peaceful they looked, worried him. In broad daylight, he felt more secure as long as he watched where he went, kept his head up, and stayed in populated areas. And he loved living in the Rogers Park neighborhood. Being in a metropolitan area was so much better for him than small town Colorado. Still, he only had a little light available before the sun went down tonight.

He giggled at himself to release some tension. His mind went to some weird place about the sun setting, like a vampire might jump out and attack him. As if.

Heading out to meet his best friend, Brady, Jaret relaxed once he got to the path along Lake Michigan. He passed several joggers, almost got hit by a bike, and meandered his way south. He contemplated taking the “L” but had plenty of time to walk. The spring weather warmed up Chicago, still a comfortable seventy degrees, even as the sun slowly descended in the west. The weather was perfect. Besides, he could always use the exercise.

Jaret felt safer and got his iPod out to search for music. He loved Lady Gaga; why not a little monster love? Or Train’s latest CD rocked. Still, he paused at “Relax” and grinned. That song totally kicked ass. Totally. And, he hadn’t listened to much of his favorite singer’s first album in a long time. If he loved Lady Gaga, then words couldn’t describe his adoration for Mika.

He popped in his earbuds and picked up his pace. He even danced a little, despite being in public and seeing the few passersby glancing his way as if he’d gone insane.

The path grew darker with the setting sun and the trees lining both sides of the trail. This dance mix steeled Jaret’s nerves. He wiggled his butt, jumped to the side, and smiled at a little old lady and her dog as they walked by.

A few yards later, he was alone. He fretted a little but cranked the music to ignore the world around him. To comfort himself, he reached into his pocket and rubbed the ruby necklace he always brought along for protection. All the Bachmann heirloom jewels empowered his witchcraft and kept him safe, and he loved the beautiful rubies most of all. In a pinch, he could always use his magic to ward anyone off. He’d never had to use his ability to defend himself, except from ghosts, but knew he could if needed. Being a witch had its advantages.

Jaret almost missed the group of four guys sitting off to the side, watching the lake or something. He slowed when he glimpsed a bright-red shirt and thought of his boyfriend, Steve. He’d seen Steve earlier in the day, wearing this totally hot red T-shirt that clung to his chest and showed off his gorgeous biceps. He couldn’t remember the shirt exactly, though he thought it had a University of Nebraska logo on the front.

Jaret lurched to a stop when he bumped into someone. “Uh, oh. Sorry. I didn’t see you.” He glanced up to see another guy with a pretty big belly, yet tons of muscle, not to mention a wicked scowl.

The guy yanked out Jaret’s earbuds and glared down at him. “Fuckin’ fairy. Watch where you’re walkin’.”

“Sorry,” Jaret barely whispered and started shaking. He’d heard about gay bashings but had never experienced one. In fact, he had never been in a fight. He could see this dude meant him harm by the way he loomed over him.

Jaret reached into his pocket for the necklace. His shaking hands got the better of him, and his finger got stuck in the little coin pocket instead.

Growing more afraid, Jaret stepped to the side to continue until the guy moved with him and blocked his way. Jaret stared at the familiar logo of Northwestern football on the purple T-shirt. He often saw the very shirt on Steve. This guy was enormous. Not good.

His heart racing, Jaret scanned for anyone nearby watching. He spotted the group of four guys out of the corner of his eye. Any chance for help evaporated when two of them moved closer, and he saw they, too, wore Northwestern football gear.

One of them grinned and clapped. “Caught yourself a little fag, Mikey? What you gonna do with him?”

Mikey laughed and crossed his bazooka-sized forearms over his chest. Then he reached down and petted Jaret on the head like a dog. Jaret had little time to act to protect himself. There was no time to get the necklace out. He shot to the side to move around the asshole, but the guy put out his leg and tripped Jaret. He sprawled onto the path, skinning his elbow.

Jaret’s heart pounded as fear almost overwhelmed him.

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Meet the Author

Damian Serbu lives in the Chicago area with his husband and two dogs, Akasha and Chewbacca. The dogs control his life, tell him what to write, and threaten to eat him in the middle of the night if he disobeys. He has published The Vampire’s Angel, The Vampire’s Quest, and The Vampire’s Protégé, as well as Santa’s Kinky Elf, Simon and Santa Is a Vampire with NineStar Press. The Bachmann Family Secret is scheduled for release July 2020. Keep up to date with him on Facebook, Twitter, or at www.DamianSerbu.com.

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New Release Blitz: The Called by M.D. Neu (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Called

Series: The Calling, Book Two

Author: M.D. Neu

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 114300

Genre: Pararnormal, LGBTQIA+, Vampires, witches, immortality, paranormal, werewolves, royalty, psychic ability, magic, established couple

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Description

The world is changing quickly for Chris now that he’s part of the Immortal Community. With the events of his past finally behind him, he’s still having visions and true magic is gradually taking hold in the world. Chris is still new and has no real standing in the Immortal Community, but he is learning that nothing is what he thought.

Old enemies must work together and longtime friends may not be trustworthy. With Juliet, Amanda, and Kirtus by his side, they have to prevent the immortal and witch community from being exposed.

New friendships are made, and longtime alliances are called into question. How will The Called defeat these latest threats, and what does it mean for the world?

Excerpt

The Called
M.D. Neu © 2021
All Rights Reserved

The question of death returned to me as I reflected on recent events. You die and your body no longer functions. I was wrong. You die and your soul leaves, and what’s left turns to dust. That wasn’t the case.

Everything I thought was no longer my reality.

I sat with a glass of brandy between my hands, focusing on the fire in Juliet’s office. The oranges, reds, and yellows of the flames danced around the logs, releasing a warmth that barely penetrated my worried exterior. The crackling of the fire tickled my ears as the scent of burning pine lingered in and out of my consciousness. A knot tugged the back of my neck. What was this new vision? Worse yet, what did it have to do with me? Not to mention Juliet, Kirtus, Gregor, and the other Immortals.

“Chris.” Juliet’s gentle voice pulled me from my fog of apprehension.

How long had I been like this? A minute? A day? A year? I wasn’t sure. I turned from the fire. Kirtus sat next to me on the sofa, his coat removed, replaced by an air of worry. His red hair, green and gray eyes typically so intoxicating, brought me no joy. Gregor’s tall solid frame blocked one of Juliet’s bookcases, his rugged face a shadow of concern. All of Juliet’s tomes and books, several of them personal journals of her long life, sat there taunting me. Would they be able to unravel this new vision? This new mystery? They were next to no help with the witches, or my father. The monster. I sipped my brandy, hoping it would take the chill from my soul.

I caught Juliet out of the corner of my eye waiting for me to speak. She was patient as always. She sat with her ivory pant-clad leg crossed and a glass of red in her hand, but deep in her stunning eyes there was unease. Despite her apprehension in moments like this, she appeared so young. Nevertheless, behind that façade of youth was the power of an Immortal who had been around for 1650 years. No one should ever underestimate her.

My eyes narrowed on the red, and my stomach flipped, not from hunger or desire but from this new burden I was meant to carry.

“Would you like a glass?” she offered. Her dark blonde hair, normally combed out, was in a ponytail, making her appear all the younger. I caught a whiff of vanilla and roses, her signature scent. I inhaled deeper, hoping it would soothe me.

I shook my head.

“I realize it’s difficult, but please can you tell us the vision again.” Juliet’s voice was a whisper, but the request rang in my head. How many times would I have to retell this story?

I put the half-full brandy glass on the coffee table, recalling the images to me. “I’m standing in some kind of chamber, but it’s not anyplace I’ve been.” I scanned their three faces. “It’s not here.” My heart pounded louder in my chest. I focused on my breathing a bit more before I continued. “In the center, there is what appears to be a formal table of polished stone with nine ornately carved chairs around it. On the wall…” I kept my eyes closed and focused on the wall. “There’s a mural. You’re in it, Juliet; so is Sybil, Garrett, Fernando, Rahim, all the members of the Council of Light.”

“The council chamber in Egypt.” Juliet tapped her finger on the edge of her glass, the noise echoing throughout her office.

The sentence was barely spoken before all the images of my vision flashed back. It was too much, and my eyes flew open. Juliet, Gregor, and Kirtus surveyed me. Considering their strained expressions, they are worried about me. I waved off their unease and shook my head.

“What else?” Gregor’s deep voice cool and calm, but the glance he shared with Juliet betrayed his composure. He didn’t understand what to do with this information any more than I did.

I pulled the vision to my thoughts and continued, “The wall with the mural began to crack and crumble and I smell smoke. The chamber is on fire…” I focused on Juliet. “The stone table crumbles. The chairs burn and everything is in shambles.”

Juliet nodded and sipped her red.

“Something or someone destroyed it, but I didn’t see them.”

“Who could do such a thing?” Kirtus rubbed his hands together. “Only the Council of Light knows the actual location.”

“What else do you see?” Juliet’s peaceful aura melted my worry and fear. After a moment my thoughts cleared. Normally I would be upset at her for using her gift on me, but I needed it. Especially after all that had happened these last few weeks. My mother’s sacrifice to save me and kill my father still haunted me. My father’s death came after we discovered he was in charge of a coven of witches who wanted to destroy the world. It was a battle we had to fight to stop the witches from releasing true magic into our world.

We failed at that. True magic had still seeped into our world before we cut it off.

I had hoped it was all behind us. I wanted things to return to normal, but my gift of being a Seer had other plans. I focused once more on the brandy, wanting a sip but not taking it; my gaze returned to the fire. More of the vision came forward. “As the room fell to ruin and the mural burned, a large carved wooden chair with inlays of gold and decorated with jewels pushed the debris away.” I closed my eyes again. “There was a shadow figure sitting in the chair.”

“Who is it?” Kirtus asked.

“I’m not sure, but I hear his voice.” I pushed my eyes together tighter to help me hear.

“I’ve stayed out of the way of history, but it’s time to return and bring what is right and just back to this world.” I took a breath. “That’s what he said, but I don’t sense malice from him, but I don’t know. Sorrow and pain, maybe. Sacrifice?”

“What does he look like?” Juliet called me to focus.

“He’s tall and he’s wearing some kind of toga with deep crimson and white stripes. I can’t really see anything else.” My eyes fluttered open.

Everyone was silent. The crackle of the fire might as well have been the rumble of a train going through the room. It was unbearable, and I was about to speak.

Kirtus beat me to it. “Why don’t we take a break?”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. After the man vanished, I was standing on a grass-covered pasture. In front of me was a hill with a young girl sitting there laughing and clapping her hands. She had long brown hair and her gaze planted on an oversized full moon. It was impossibly big.” I sighed. “I’m sorry but that’s all.” I slouched deeper in the couch, focusing my own gaze on the ceiling and the rich wood inlays and trim. “I have no idea what any of it means.” The square patterns offered my brain a relaxing, ordered shape.

“That’s okay.” Gregor’s voice was stronger now as if he realized what needed to be done.

Maybe he did. I couldn’t be sure.

“You’ve given us a lot of information to go through. Add that to the reports of magic both Victor and I have seen. There is a lot happening we still have to address,” Gregor continued. “Once we begin to break it down, perhaps more will come to you.”

I faced him. “Maybe. I hope so, because right now, it feels like a whole lot of nothing. Especially when you are already dealing with these other problems.”

“We’re all new to this Seer business.” Kirtus’s hand rested on my leg.

His touch caused a shiver to rush through my body, and right now, all I wanted to do was take him to me, hold him, and get lost in his arms and warm body.

“Plus, it’s not like you haven’t been through a whole lot of hell over the last few weeks.” Kirtus offered me a grin, the single dimple on his left cheek popping out. It melted away more of my worry.

“Is it possible it’s another witch?” Kirtus asked. “Especially if magic is involved.”

He must have already known about the reports of magic being seen both in San Jose and up in San Francisco. Either way he didn’t seem surprised by this news. Or, he could have an amazing poker face.

I turned toward Juliet, who had left the chair she was sitting in and walked over to her office windows to look out. Her ivory pants and jade-green shirt somehow still looked as crisp as the moment she had glided into my bedroom only a few hours ago.

“I doubt it’s a witch, especially given the comment about staying out of histories way and setting things right.” Juliet’s voice was tight. “The clothing Chris describes is a Roman Senator, I think.” She turned to me and the others. “Another Immortal, maybe, one from the fall of Rome.”

“That doesn’t narrow the list down.” Gregor pulled at his goatee. “Especially if we include the Dark.” His frown stretched farther across his face. “Perhaps we need to talk to Victor.”

“I can ask him,” Kirtus offered. “He mentioned he wanted to see me this week.” He tried not to grimace.

Was it about the lieutenant position and the posting as his representative to the Council of Light? What he mentioned to me earlier tonight? Was that what he wanted to speak to him about?

“Thank you.” Gregor offered a slight bow of his head. “Juliet, is there anyone you know who can help with this?” He walked over to the golden cart with the bottles of alcohol and red on it. He poured himself a glass of red. “What about the witches you know here? What about the local coven? You have a good relationship with them. What about the one who charmed this estate?”

Juliet’s lips pulled into a small frown. She crossed over to the cart and poured herself another glass of red.

“I could have gotten you that.” Gregor’s tone was gentle.

She waved him off before she sipped her drink. “He’s a Healer, not a witch, and I’m not sure if he will assist us; we have an unfortunate history.” She held her drink in one hand and pulled a book from the shelf. She turned to her desk and walked to her seat, a quiet, far-off look about her.

I peeked over at Kirtus. “We should go.” I stood and glanced over to Juliet. “You have a lot on your plate with the reports of magic. I’m sorry I’ve added to the burden, but with this new vision I figured you needed to know.”

“Chris, if you see anything else…” She trailed off.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Chris.” Gregor extended his hand. “This new vision and perhaps the magic we’ve seen may be related.”

“I hope not.” The pull of Kirtus’s body helped me realize he was by my side. “I’ll see if I can track down anyone on my end.” He glanced over to Juliet. “My network isn’t nearly as broad as yours, but you never know.”

“I think we’ll need all the help we can get,” Gregor affirmed.

I spared a worried glance at Juliet. Something was bothering her, and it wasn’t just my vision or the reports of magic. I didn’t recognize what it was, but I understood my creator well enough to leave her be. She would tell me once she had processed her thoughts and all my vision information.

She met my gaze. “Yes, we’ll speak more. Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.” I took Kirtus’s hand, and we walked out of her office for the second time tonight.

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Meet the Author

M.D. Neu is an award-winning queer Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.

When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of twenty plus years.

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New Release Blitz: Summoned by J.P. Jackson (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Summoned

Series: Magus Malefica, Book One

Author: J.P. Jackson

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 94500

Genre: Pararnormal, LGBTQIA+, witches, werewolves, faeries, paranormal, contemporary, fantasy, bears, dark, gods, interracial, magic, magic users

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Description

Devid Khandelwal desperately wants to experience the supernatural. After years of studying everything from crystals to tarot to spellcasting, nothing has happened that would tell him the Shadow Realm is real. And that kills Dev. As a last-ditch resort, he purchases a summoning board, an occult tool that will grant him his ultimate desires.

Cameron Habersham is Dev’s best friend. Cam loves Dev like a brother and will do anything for him, as long as he looks good doing it. So when Dev asks him to perform the summoning board’s ritual, he reluctantly agrees, but he knows nothing will come of it. Nothing ever does.

However, within a day, Dev and Cam’s lives are turned upside down as wishes begin to come true. They discover the existence of a supernatural world beyond their imagination, but peace between the species is tenuous at best.

Dev finally gets to see the Shadow Realm, meets the man of his dreams, and is inducted into the local male coven. But for all the desires that were summoned into existence, Dev soon realizes the magical community dances the line between good and evil, and Cam ends up on the wrong side of everything.

The old adage is true: Be careful what you wish for.

Excerpt

Summoned
J.P. Jackson © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“It’s how much?” Cam scoffed, glaring at Damien behind the counter.

“$299.99, plus tax.” Damien’s tongue piercing got in the way of the ‘s’, and the word came out more like ‘pluth’.

“Ignore him, Damien. New piercing? I like it.” Dev tried to ameliorate his best friend’s rude comment, then turned to scowl at Cam. “Honestly, why did I ask you to come?”

“Because you love me.” Cam tapped a finger on the box Dev clutched in his hands. “Dev, your parents are going to kill you if you spend that much money.” Cam cocked an eyebrow at Dev. “And seriously, man, how are you going to pay for…whatever that thing is?”

“With this.” Dev pulled out his wallet and flipped the black leather cover open to extract a brand new, slick, and shiny, never-been-used MasterCard.

“And where the hell did you get that?”

“Special offer for impending university graduates.” Dev sneered. If all went well, he’d be graduating in the next couple of weeks. Cam, however, had dropped out the previous year to figure himself out as a rebellion against his parents’ divorce. His mother had fiercely argued against the idea for two months until she gave up and agreed to Cam taking the year off.

“Oh dude. Just say no.” Cam had never been supportive of Dev’s interest in the occult, but this was going to be the last purchase.

Unless this purchase worked. And Dev knew it would.

It had to.

Dev placed all his hopes and dreams on the fact that this was going to work.

*

Dev couldn’t wait to open up his latest acquisition.

When he and Cam had arrived at Dev’s house, all he wanted to do was rush up the stairs to hide out in his bedroom, tucked away from any distractions or family drama, intent on inspecting his newest possession. Well, any distraction other than Cam, who had accompanied him home.

Instead, as Dev started up the stairs, looking back over his shoulder to ensure Cam was following, he careened into his sister Amna.

“Ugh, you oaf!” Amna shoved him backward, pushing him into Cam. “Oh! Whatchya got in the bag? It looks like it’s from that witchy store you like!” Amna slid a finger into the bag to pull it towards her to inspect. Dev pulled his prized possession towards him.

“Cam, come on, let’s go.” Dev snarled at Amna.

Cam, however, wasn’t keeping up. He’d wandered into the kitchen. Cam was playing nice.

“Hi, Mrs. Khandelwal.” Dev’s mom loved to cook and proudly fed her family traditional meals. Tonight’s fare, from the smell of things, was Rogan Josh. Dev hated curry with a passion. He wasn’t fond of lamb either and the two together were wretched. He decided going out for fast food was a better alternative.

“Cam,” Dev ground up his face with displeasure, “let’s go.”

Cam shot daggers back at Dev. He shook his head, rolling his eyes as he returned his attention to Dev’s mom. “Nice sari!” Cam smiled. “Later, Mrs. Khandelwal.”

Upon entering Dev’s room, Cam flopped onto the bed and began examining his too-long fingernails, preening them while lying on his back. Cam’s shoulder-length sandy-brown hair, which had a slight wave to it and a multitude of natural blonde and auburn highlights, splayed out behind his head, making his pose look model-esque. His three-days’ worth of stubble added to that. Dev would never have used the description of “male model” in front of his lifelong pal. The last thing Dev wanted was to feed Cam’s ego. Cam’s head filled most spaces he inhabited.

“Get your damn boots off my bed.” Dev slapped Cam’s feet.

“Oh my god. Yes, Mom.” Cam toed off the designer rainbow-snakeskin boots. The thud, thud ricocheted in the tiny bedroom.

“What are those things made of? Lead?” Dev quipped in response to their noisy removal.

“That’s the sound of a quality product, bitch.” Cam gave Dev the side-eye. Dev caught the glance. They glared at each other for all of a second, then burst into laughter.

He continued to stare at Cam, who returned to plucking away at some unseen dirt beneath a thumbnail. He had to admit, Cam was too handsome for his own good. They had known each other since grade school and had been, for the most part, inseparable. Dev had stood by idly as Cam used his good looks to get what he wanted. Not that Dev would describe himself as ugly. Far from it. But between the two, Cam always got the good-looking guys first, and that encouraged Cam to parade around, flaunting his beauty.

Dev had invited Cam to tag along on his afternoon shopping excursion. The out-of-the-way pagan store, Magix & Mystix, held all sorts of goodies, most of which Dev couldn’t afford, hence the credit card, but he’d had his eye on this particular object for the last couple of months and had squirrelled money away like a miser in order to afford it. All that saving, though, still hadn’t amounted to the amount of cash required.

But his luck had changed when a kiosk from a local bank had opened in the Student’s Lounge at the University. The handsome, bicep-bulging booth occupant, wearing a shirt obviously a size too small, promised an enticing introductory percentage rate on the credit card, stating the bank offered the cheapest one in the city. And with this purchase from Magix & Mystix in mind and the desperation to get his hands on it, Dev signed the credit card contract in a heartbeat.

All the way downtown, and during their short walk to the store, Cam had proclaimed he was being led through the seediest parts of Edmonton’s dark alleyways on their way to make the purchase and complained often about how they were going to be robbed, stabbed, or murdered in some grisly fashion.

None of that had happened.

But Dev had finally got his paws on the summoning board, and as he pulled the rectangular box out of the store’s signature black paper bag, his stomach tensed with excitement. The coveted item had a silver pentacle stamped in the center with one word superimposed over top.

Desires

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New Release Blitz: Buried by Lizzie Strong (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Buried

Series: The Secrets Witches Keep, Book One

Author: Lizzie Strong

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/19/2021

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 88400

Genre: Pararnormal, LGBTQIA+, Witches, Swamps, Frankenstein monster, Necromancy, Sisterhood, Deep friendship, asexual

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Description

Quinn’s mistake wasn’t killing Leo Ashwood; it was bringing him back. Now in a cat and mouse game with a monster she created, Quinn learns what her powers are truly capable of.

Brought together by a vision, Cecelia and Quinn are entangled in the chase for Leo Ashwood. Cecelia, a seer who is known for sticking her nose into other’s business for their better good, is now sent into a world unknown to her with no defense against the monster, her own powers, and the budding feelings for Quinn. Maggie, however, was merely at the wrong place at the wrong time and left with no other choice but to join forces. An up and coming YouTube superstar struck down by sickness, her voice is both her magical survival and death wrapped in one.

These three young, untrained witches will have to lean on each other if they want to survive. Navigating the world of humans, the new reality of witches, and the horror of magic, they might just make it… if they can keep their secrets to themselves.

Excerpt

Buried
Lizzie Strong © 2021
All Rights Reserved

10-39 at 37 E street, suite 1802, back-up required.

“Quinn Gwenevieve Foster, age 16, born Idabel, Oklahoma… you sure are a long way from home.” Pressure built up at the back of my head as the voice of the detective clawed at the insides of my ears. The pressure dulled but never released as I opened my eyes, which was an effort in itself. My eyelids were the weight of cement bricks.

The windows fogged in the frosty interrogation room. The only light came from the sharp halogen bulbs and the long, thin window along the top of the wall. A female officer had chained my hands to the table, which forced contact with the harsh steel, stinging my skin.

“I want a lawyer,” I answered, my head hung to the right.

“Of course, and you can have one. While we wait for them, why don’t we talk?”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. Exhaustion bit into my muscles, turning my bones to putty. If I did not rest soon, I would pass out. I wasted too much magic in Leo Ashwood’s apartment. My aunt would not be pleased to hear how recklessly they caught me. The last time I was caught by human police, she yelled my ears raw. Out of love, out of concern and fear, it didn’t matter why she was furious with me. History showed time and time again that humans were not capable of mercy to witches. Granted, the detective had not accused me of being a witch…yet.

“I want a lawyer, sir.”

“It’s Detective Henry Smith, Miss Foster.” His face softened around the cheeks but not near his lips. The way one’s face softens when they are trying to convince someone smaller and more naïve of untrue things. His lips pursed tighter. He reminded me of Officer Blevens, the officer who dragged me out of the graveyard years ago. A man who tried to lie to my face about how much trouble I was in. I was found hip-deep in what looked like an empty grave… Well, it was an empty grave by the time they got to it. The true corpse fell apart piece by piece about thirty yards north of my arrest. Darlin foamed at the mouth when Winestra called her at about two a.m. to come to the police station. Officer Blevens looked me dead in the eye that night and gave me the same face Detective Smith gave me now. ‘It was just a slap on the wrist.’ Liar.

“I want a lawyer.” I learned my lesson from last time.

They didn’t even let me shower. I stank enough to make my eyes water and gag every time I moved. They washed my hands but crusty blood lurked under my nails. My hair was a ball of grease superglued to the top of my skull and left to drape around me. I’d never felt that gross in all of my life, and I once spent six hours drenched in rainwater and coated in graveyard soil. Her gravestone illuminated behind my lids: Melissa Keen, beloved mother and daughter, born in 1981, taken too soon. She had still been fresh; it was the whole reason I dug her up. The fresher the better. If I could bring her back, then I could bring back others…

It didn’t work out.

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Meet the Author

Born a Marine Brat I moved from state to state for much of my youth. Books were the one consistent thing in my life. Split between the high fantasy and war novels from my father and my mother’s deep love for horror novels, it was only a matter of time. From a young age I would fill up notebooks and word documents. Adaptability came in handy as I’ve worked in many different fields: food service, retail, education, special education, management. I kept coming back to books. In college I fully came out to my friends and family about my Pansexuality. Many were supportive but confused on what being Pansexual even was. I learned representation is key, but I also want to write books about fantasy, adventure, and monsters. My work is best described as a little bit spooky, a little bit magic, and a whole lot of fun.

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