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6/8/26: Cold as Ice by Beth Bolden
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Wednesday, July 1, 2026
🌈💖💙💚💛💜🤍🌈 Pride Month 2026 At A Glance🌈🤍💜💛💚💙💖🌈
Tuesday, June 30, 2026
🌈💻Blogger Review💻🌈: Fireworks Flame by Lacey Daize
Holiday Surprise #6
Rick only meant to go to a conference in Vegas, but he ended up with more than he'd bargained for.
Rick loves his son Dennis more than anything, and never regrets that one night with the handsome alpha—Alan. But he does wish that he knew enough about the other man to tell him that he's a father. However, his search is renewed when it's clear just how much their son wants to know his missing parent.
Alan can't stop thinking of the one who got away, but is he ready for a family?
Alan's first major accounting conference came with the unexpected bonus of handsome omega Rick. But even after they've all gone home, he can't get the other man out of his mind. He never thought he had a child from that night though. When he learns about his son, he can't wait to meet him, and to reconnect with the man who'd caught his eye so long ago.
But can one night turn into forever?
Fireworks Flame is an 18K word , non-shifter, M/M, mpreg, omegaverse romance
I finally got around to reading Fireworks Flame, the last entry I had left of Lacey Daize's Holiday Surprise series. Just so good. I expected more 4th of July experience/setting but the "fireworks" in the title have more of a surprise style meaning than heavy on the holiday. That's okay because it still made perfect summer reading and don't get me wrong, the holiday is definitely there just IMO not as prevalent as some of the other holidays in this series.
Here we have Rick and Alan, ships who pass in the night, alpha and omega who are literally drawn together from across a crowded room, and a pairing where timing is everything. The author could have taken the opportunity to create heartbreak and overwhelming drama that can often go with this scenario but instead, no excess dramatic baggage was added to weigh it down. Don't get me wrong, there is some heartache and drama but it's well balanced and heightens the fun and romance of the journey these two find themselves on.
My mpreg author list is still pretty limited so I can't say Daize will remain at the very top of the list but in my experience so far, I gotta give the author that spot. Such a great blend of fun, drama, family, friends, and of course romance makes for a very happy reader. I certainly look forward to checking out more from the author's backlist.
RATING:
Chapter 1 - Rick
~6 Years Ago - June~
Istretched, luxuriating in the feel of hotel sheets. There was nothing quite like waking up on the first day out of town.
It wasn’t exactly a vacation, but I was going to enjoy it nonetheless. It was my first major industry conference as a CPA. Las Vegas this time, instead of a smaller regional conference.
Of course I’d scheduled myself two extra days off work in order to play tourist once the conference was over. But that still didn’t qualify as a vacation.
I rolled over and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. I’d made myself a list of all the sessions I’d signed up for, but still had to find the rooms.
Well, that was what the morning was for: check in and figure out how long it would take me to get around.
I laughed. I was acting like a teenager, just excited to be somewhere new. But I couldn’t help it. I loved my job and four days of information and continuing education seminars meant I could be even better at it.
Everybody, even my parents, had assumed that I’d gone into accounting because it was a safe career. There would always be people who needed help with money, which meant that there would be a job wherever I went.
But the truth of it was that I loved helping others manage their money. Seeing people reach their goals, and knowing that I helped them get there… Well, there was nothing like it.
One advantage of a large conference was that there were sure to be others who were as enthusiastic as myself, and not just in it because of the stability. I couldn’t wait to meet like-minded people and talk with them.
I chuckled. None of that would happen before a shower.
I climbed from the bed and strolled into the bathroom to get the water started. Then I turned to the counter to rummage through my toiletry bag for my soap and shampoo.
Finding what I was looking for, I pulled them free, and caught a glance of myself in the mirror.
I laughed. My red hair was sticking up in all directions in a classic case of bed head. I ran my fingers through it, but it was never so easily tamed.
“Oh well. A shower always fixes it.”
A shower which was calling my name.
Great things were going to happen. I just knew it.
∞∞∞
I’d known the conference was huge, but I’d thoroughly underestimated the logistics of such an event. Even in a hotel that was prepared to handle the nearly ten thousand participants, a crowd of that size meant that some seminars had us all packed in like sardines.
My planning had paid off, and I’d known to book it from the previous session, but as more people crowded in around me I felt just the tiniest bit of claustrophobia.
It was jarring. Tight spaces had never bothered me before, but the jostling as people tried to find seats was disconcerting.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to force the unease away. That was when I smelled it: alpha.
Delicious alpha.
I opened my eyes. Of course I would smell alphas. They were all around. Saying I smelled alpha at the conference was like saying I smelled popcorn in a crowded theater.
But it wasn’t just any alpha. It was a single one, and it called to me.
I took another breath and focused on it. There was no mating drive, nothing indicating that fate was in play. But it was soothing in a way that made me want to curl up next to him—and I could tell by a subtle sharpness that it was definitely a him.
I looked around, but there was no way to figure out which of the couple hundred people in the conference room was the one I was smelling—especially since I was about halfway back so couldn’t see faces.
Another deep breath, and I blew it out slowly.
My claustrophobia was gone. I felt safe just smelling him, and that was enough.
Still, the omega part of me wanted to know who the mystery man was.
∞∞∞
The strange alpha and his delicious scent were like a security blanket that followed me around the conference. Every time I found myself in a seminar that was too crowded for my comfort, all I needed to do was close my eyes and take a deep breath.
He was almost always there, with only a couple times he wasn’t in the same room.
Still, after five days, I hadn’t been able to figure out who he was, and as the conference came to an end I realized that I’d probably never meet the man who’d unknowingly helped me handle the overwhelming nature of the event.
As the farewell luncheon ended I paused by the door for one more look around. But it was all a sea of faces, and no good way to pick one scent from them.
I sighed. Maybe two days of fun would help me put the man from my mind.
∞∞∞
The hotel bar was only moderately crowded, but I guess that was to be expected of a Monday night. Most of the convention-goers had dispersed the night before in order to be back to work.
My own flight was the next morning, and I was satisfied with my break. I’d collected a small mountain of business cards during conversations with other professionals, and had a few people whom I was already looking forward to connecting with later.
I’d done a few touristy things, probably put on a few pounds from the delicious food, and was walking away with ten dollars more than I’d budgeted for gambling.
The only regret: not figuring out who the mystery alpha was.
I held up my hand to catch the bartender’s attention and motioned to my almost-empty beer.
He nodded in understanding, and knowing that the next round was coming I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
I was going home with the continuing education credits my license required. But more than that, I’d learned things that I hoped I’d be able to put to practical use. If even one thing helped my clients, then I would consider it a successful trip.
Another breath for the memories. It was a milestone in my career after all.
My breath caught. The scent—his scent—was back.
My eyes flew open just as the bartender placed my beer in front of me. I handed over the cash for it and a tip, then looked around.
No longer was I trying to find one person in a sea of nameless faces. There were only about forty people there, and I was a man on a mission.
I quickly narrowed the direction I could smell him from. Then I froze.
There he was, with broad shoulders and black hair that begged me to run my fingers through it. He was sitting alone at a table, reading something on his phone.
I studied him for several seconds, and smiled when I didn’t see the glint of a ring on his hand.
Maybe it was reckless to flirt with a man whom I’d never see again, but it felt right.
I took a sip of liquid courage, stood, and made my way to his table.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked.
Lacey DaizeLacey lives in New Mexico with her four critters. She’s a Jill-of-all-trades by day, but loves writing in her spare time. She dabbles in a variety of pairings, but jumped feet-first into the deep end of omegaverse the first time she read it. She loves the play on social expectations and the different ways to express romance.
Monday, June 29, 2026
🌈Monday's Mysterious Mayhem🌈: Doc by RJ Scott
Redcars #4
Raised in hell. Remade in blood. Levi is a mercy; he won’t survive.
Doc has lived his whole life in the shadows, using sharp skills and colder instincts to keep his sister and her kids safe. He fixes problems no one talks about, navigates dangerous circles without leaving a trace, and has learned that survival means staying hidden, staying in control, and never letting anyone close enough to see the cracks.
Detective Levi Rosen is the exception he never planned for.
Levi should walk away the moment he realizes Doc is tied to a world of underground violence, organ traffickers, and buried bodies. Instead, he finds himself drawn to the man behind the mask—the quiet precision, the impossible loyalty, and fear buried so deep it barely shows.
Together, they’re forced to navigate a violent network, shifting loyalties, and a past that’s been hunting Doc since he was a boy. And Levi has to decide how far he’s willing to go for a man who doesn’t believe he deserves to be saved.
Doc is a dark, emotional MM romantic suspense about trauma, obsession, forced proximity, morally grey choices, found family, and choosing someone even when the world keeps trying to take them away. This is Book 4 in the Redcars series and should be read in order.
When I read Redcars last year, I never cared for Doc. He was rude, unfriendly, had the worst bedside manner EVER, I never imagined him being the MC, especially one you rooted for. When I saw he was getting his own book, you can imagine my initial reaction was not one of "YAY!!!" but after a few minutes, I had no doubts RJ Scott would make him, well not "loveable" but definitely "rootable", okay that's not a real word but I'm sticking to it😉.
We learn quite a bit about Doc, Alejandro to a chosen few, and it helps paint a bigger picture as to why he is the way Redcars readers recall him as. To some extent, it makes it okay but there is plenty of it that still rubbed me wrong, HOWEVER, despite that, you want him to find a HEA, he's earned it. Liam has his own issues and hurdles, he is just so darn likeable, he just might be the one to help him find what he has been running from or avoiding all this time.
I won't go into details so as not to spoil anything. Just know that Doc. and Redcars as a whole, is definitely darker than what we have come to expect from the author. That said, she puts the same effort and part of her heart into the story. Dark or not, Doc is an unforgettable read that will bring you to tears, put you through the emotional wringer, and yet when you come out the other side, you are left uplifted, and I can't ask for more.
Novak is sitting on my Kindle but I think I need a little time to let my heart heal from Doc and Liam's journey before jumping in but I'm looking forward to yet another less than stellar character find whatever it is that will awaken his heart.
ONE
Gael
The room reeked of blood and sweat, a sour-metallic stink that clung to the back of my throat. The man on the chair slumped forward, wrists raw where the rope had bitten into him. His chest rose shallow and uneven—no breaks, no bruising, nothing visible to explain why every breath sounded wrong. His head lolled at an angle, jaw slack, lips split and caked with dried blood. One eye was swollen shut: the other stared glassy and unfocused. Dried streaks of vomit stained his chin, and each inhale rattled as if pulled through water. He was more corpse than man, a shell propped upright, skin carved and ruined, his body kept vertical only by rope and stubborn refusal to die.
“Don’t keep fucking with the product,” someone muttered in badly butchered Spanish, “he’ll die before we take his kidneys.”
“I have a way of keeping him alive.” A shadow moved. Boots scraped across the concrete. Raven’s voice was low, calm. Almost amused. “Gael! Here!”
They shoved me forward; my hands still stained with the iodine I’d been using on my mother an hour ago. Her cracked ribs had barely knit from the last time. Now this. Always this.
“Watch this!” Raven said, pride dripping from his words.
The victim’s eyes rolled white as I pressed fingers to his throat. Pulse—thready. Breath—a wet rattle. Not the chest. His airway. Something inside was swelling, closing, drowning him from the inside out. My stomach clenched. I’d seen this kind of thing before—too many times. Men, women, and kids who’d stood up to Raven and were left hanging by a thread. Some tried to bargain, some sobbed until their voices gave out, and others just went quiet and never spoke again—but all I knew was that life slipped away fast when someone sounded like they were breathing through blood.
I pressed along his neck and jaw, and it felt wrong—spongy, shifting, as if things inside weren’t where they should be. His throat was filling, bruised deep, maybe crushed, maybe torn, choking him slowly. In my head, I begged him—why won’t you just die, don’t make me do this—pleaded with him even as I knew he couldn’t hear, and my hands kept moving even as my heart tried to crawl away.
Raven crouched next to me, smoke from cigars and pungent sweat flooding my nose, staring into the eyes of the dying man. His big hand clamped on my shoulder, hard enough to bruise. I froze. Scared. Alone. With no choice but to obey.
Raven’s other hand toyed with the blade he carried everywhere—a narrow, cruel thing with a carved bone handle worn smooth where his fist rested. The grip was etched with tiny grooves, darkened by years of blood and sweat—the same blade he’d used tonight to carve the victim’s face into ribbons, each slash clean and precise, art to him and horror to everyone else. His grin was too wide, eyes bright with a kind of glee that twisted his face into something unhinged. He grabbed my hand, pushed it to the man’s chest, where his heart beat fast.
“Gael?” he rasped. “Feel him dying? That’s power.”
“Please, Raven,” I begged, my voice breaking.
He chuckled, a dry sound that made the hair on my neck prickle. His fingers dug into my shoulder as if he wanted to leave a mark. “You don’t get to choose,” he whispered, as if sharing a secret. “Your mama’s been useful—keeps her mouth shut, brings food, pays for the quiet. But even she wears out. I take what I want, niño. I make new toys when the old ones stop working.” He smiled then, too wide, and for a second his face softened, like a man humoring a pet. Then the smile snapped back, and the tenderness was gone. “Maybe I’ll bring your sister in next. Fresh meat. New lessons to teach.”
Someone in the small crowd of onlookers chuckled. “Lucía would be tight.”
I whirled on them, leering at me, one man holding his crotch. I tried to lurch for him, but Raven held me tight and shook me.
“You promised you wouldn’t let them touch my sister!” I said, and something inside me cracked, panic hardening into ice.
His thumb pressed into my jaw. “I can’t control my men.” In that moment, Raven was the devil in flesh, a nightmare made real, and he gloried in the way I waited and stared.
“I’ll do it!” I snapped. My voice didn’t shake, although my hands did.
Raven dropped his hand, and his gaze flicked to me, sharp, cold. “All yours.”
I tilted my chin. “Don’t touch my mom for a week.”
He closed his fingers around my throat. “You think you can bargain with me?” He spat the words.
I stared at him as his grip tightened. “I can keep this man alive for whatever you need from him.” God forgive me.
Raven glared at me, fury in his eyes, and then he released his hold, and I nearly fell to the floor.
“Your momma’s too broken to take what I give right now,” he said with a hateful laugh. “You have a deal, El Doctorcito.”
A week would give my mother time to heal. That was all I was asking for. Maybe I could get her and my sister Lucía away in the next seven days. I’d almost saved enough favors to get one of them across the border. I had to hold out a while longer. I focused on the victim as he lifted his head, and I saw a missing eye, the gaping hole, the ribbons of flesh from each cut Raven had made, the terror, the plea in his expression.
Let me die.
I had no gloves. No proper tools. Only a knife wiped once on a dirty rag and a length of tubing ripped from a siphon pump. My stomach churned, but I worked. Hands steady because I’d taught myself they had to be. Cut. Push. Clear the airway—blood and swelling choking him from the inside—until the man could drag in air again.
The man screamed again, then sobbed.
Still breathing.
I leaned back, sweat dripping into my eyes, and got my first sight of the stranger in the corner who wanted kidneys from this victim—sweating, overdressed for the heat, his accent was a butchered attempt at Spanish. An American. Out of place. Wrong in a way that made my skin crawl.
Raven wasn’t done showing me off.
He angled my face toward the American as though he wanted the man to get a good look at whatever he thought he’d made. “He learns fast,” Raven said, voice warm in a way that never meant comfort. “Faster than any of the others ever did.”
The American made a faint grunt of approval, but Raven wasn’t watching him anymore. His focus was fixed on me—too intense, too proud, the way a man might look at a weapon he’d forged.
“He doesn’t flinch,” Raven went on, admiration thick in his voice. “Not like the other ones who cried or begged.” His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, anchoring me, guiding me closer to the dying man. “This one watches,” Raven added. “He listens. He remembers.”
The American’s brow lifted. “Are you training him?”
Raven smiled. Slow. Cold. “Already trained.” His fingers pressed into my neck—possessive, claiming. “He can tell you how long this one has left just by the feel of the heart. He knows where to cut to keep the rest intact. He knows how to keep a body alive long enough to take what needs taking.”
My stomach turned, but Raven didn’t let me step away.
Raven snorted a laugh. “Useful, isn’t he?” he asked the American. I was a tool, an instrument, a thing.
The American nodded once, businesslike. “If he can keep them stable, that’s worth something to my clients.”
Raven’s smile widened until it was all teeth. “He’ll be worth more than you think.” Something in his voice made the room shift—as if he believed it, as if he’d already written the future in blood and expected me to play my part. He tapped two fingers against my chest, right over my heart. “I built him myself,” he murmured. “Piece by piece.” My pulse stuttered under his touch, and his smile widened. “See how steady he is? He was made for this.”
The American didn’t argue. Raven never needed proof. He just needed an audience. He yanked me to my feet, pulled me into his side, and held me so close I couldn’t breathe, pushing me toward the men who stood around the room—his sicarios, loyal cartel soldiers with dead eyes and blood on their hands. The only thing stopping any of them from touching me was my usefulness to the compound and to the boss.
“El Doctorcito,” someone said with an exaggerated bow, and Raven laughed so loud it shook his whole body.
“El Doctorcito!” he cried, and then shunted me from the room, past the ring of his men, one of them pushing me into the Sinaloa sunshine and dirt—heat rising in shimmering waves, the smell of dust and diesel thick in the air, cactus and scrub baking under a merciless sky—as I stumbled—cicadas screaming in the brush, a dog barking somewhere behind the shacks, tinny music blaring from a distant radio—every sound too sharp in the hot air, and the smells too—roasting corn from a vendor’s cart, sewage trickling in the gutter, cheap beer spilled and souring in the sun. I ran for my fucking life back home. Neighbors stood in their doorways, eyes following but never meeting mine, pretending they didn’t see. A woman pulled her child inside; a man turned his back. Everyone knew, but no one ever spoke.
No one cared that my shoes were too small, that my voice still cracked when I spoke.
No one cared that I was only twelve.
RJ ScottWriting love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Sunday, June 28, 2026
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