Tuesday, December 31, 2019

December Book of the Month: Snowstorms and Second Chances by Brigham Vaughn


Summary:
Erik Josef is a forty-three-year-old, recently divorced businessman with one goal: wrap up his last project of the year so he can spend the holidays in Tahiti. All he wants is drinks on a beach, served to him by a woman in a bikini.

While waiting at an airport bar for his business partner to fly into Buffalo, New York, he encounters Seth Cobb, a chatty travel writer waiting for a flight to Pittsburgh to visit his family.

After a huge snowstorm grounds all flights, a mix-up at the Williamsville Inn leads to Erik and Seth sharing a room. Seth’s love of Christmas gets on Erik’s last nerve, but a mugful of Seth’s hot chocolate slowly melts Erik’s icy exterior.

When Erik realizes he’s attracted to Seth, he must choose between the life he’s always known, or a new adventure with a man a decade younger and a second chance at happiness.


Seth is adorable and Erik . . . well I warred between strangling him and smothering him a big Mama Bear hug.  All kinds of holiday feels to get you in the spirit of the season.

Okay so that's a short review but honestly, it says everything that made me love Brigham Vaughn's Snowstorms and Second Chances.  When I first met Erik, I kept thinking how am I suppose to cheer for this guy?  Then fate intervenes and he actually got snippier and I wanted to smack him one but when fate raises elements to a new level and Erik finally takes a minute to breathe, you begin to see a softer side, a nicer side, and you realizes he is actually human underneath that holiday bah-humbugging gruff.  I don't know that I could give him the chances that Seth does but I'm glad he did.

As a lifelong, born and raised Wisconsinite, I can tell you that snowstorms are unpredictable, they pop up with very little to no warning sometimes.  Heck I remember more than once when the TV weather morons hype up wicked snow for a week and then the day of infamy arrives they claim weather patterns shift and went more North or stayed South only to find yourself buried in 20+" 24 hours later.  Brigham Vaughn creates the setting as someone who knows snow.  The weather may mostly be just a setup for getting the main characters in the same close proximity but when it can alter plans so drastically as it does in Snowstorms, Mother Nature becomes a character in itself.  One of the things I loved(and yes I laughed and maybe even pointed and said "You had it coming, Erik") about Seth was his preparedness versus Erik's complete lack of readiness and nothing showed that more than in his choice(or lack thereof) of footwear.  Again, a great element spoken most likely from experience.

Whether you believe in fate, the magic of the season, or right place right time the end result is the same: the snowstorm is the best thing to happen to Erik and Seth but will they let what they discover continue once Mother Nature lets up?  I think you know what's coming: You'll have to read for yourself to find out.  Trust me, you will love every minute spent at the Williamsville Inn.

RATING:


“All joking aside, I guess we’ll have to hope that Christmas romance pans out for you after all,” Seth said a few minutes later.

“Guess so,” Erik said absently as he stared at the TV screen. He glanced at Seth. “For you too.”

“Thanks. Maybe that should have been my birthday wish last week.”

“You had a birthday last week?”

Seth nodded. “On the nineteenth. I spent it in Dresden. I was there to write a piece about the Striezelmarkt—the Christmas market—that’s been going on for over 600 years.”

“I’ve heard of those,” Erik said. “They’re all over Germany, right?”

“Yes. This is supposed to be one of the best though. There’s a carousel and the world’s biggest nutcracker. Plus, hundreds of booths filled with handmade crafts, pottery, candles, toys, wooden ornaments, and food. It’s incredible. Twinkling lights everywhere and the whole atmosphere feels festive.” By the end, Seth’s serious expression had melted away and was replaced by his now-familiar happy smile. He glowed when he talked about travel.

“It does sound incredible,” Erik agreed. “I can think of worse places to spend my birthday.”

“Oh, me too,” Seth agreed. “And I met a nice strapping German man by the name of Hans to celebrate it with. My German isn’t great, and his English was a bit broken, but we managed.” Seth gave him a little wink.

“I can’t say spending my birthday with Hans would be my choice,” Erik said drily. “But good for you.”

Seth shivered. “Is it just me or is it getting colder in here again?”

“It does seem like it.” Erik stood, then walked over to fiddle with the heater controls. “I’ll try cranking it up a little more.”

“I wonder if there are any extra blankets in the room?” Seth said as he walked past. He opened the closet doors. “Hmm. Nothing in here. Maybe in the dresser?”

“I didn’t notice anything when I put my clothes in there but check the bottom two drawers—I didn’t look in them. If you don’t find any blankets, I’ll have a talk with someone at the desk in the morning,” Erik said. He doubted a maintenance person was on hand twenty-four hours, especially in this weather.

“Or we could share body heat,” Seth said with a grin as he returned to his spot on the bed.

“Are you sure you didn’t get me liquored up so you could take advantage of me?” Erik asked, but he kept his voice light and teasing.

Seth shot him a dirty look. “No. Of course not. But the offer stands if you need it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Erik grabbed his toiletry kit and a pair of pajamas out of the dresser. “I’m going to shower. Alone. And get ready for bed unless you need the bathroom before I head in there.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Erik fled to the bathroom as if Seth’s offer to help him out was hot on his heels.

Author Bio:
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga.  She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.

Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.

To stay up to date on her latest releases, sign up for the Coles & Vaughn Newsletter.


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EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com




6th Day of Christmas Author Spotlight: Summer Devon


Summer Devon
Summer Devon is the pen name writer Kate Rothwell often uses. Whether the characters are male or female, human or dragon, her books are always romance.

You can visit her facebook page, where there's a sign up form for a newsletter (she'll only send out newsletters when there's a new Summer Devon or Kate Rothwell release and she will never ever sell your name to anyone).


FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  FB FRIEND
WEBSITE  /  BLOG  /  GOOGLE PLAY
SMASHWORDS  /  KOBO  /  PINTEREST
iTUNES  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS
EMAILS: summerdevon@comcast.net
katerothwell@gmail.com



His American Detective
Summary:
Victorian Gay Detective #1
The sole survivor of his family’s gruesome murder years earlier, “Poor Little Ned Lawton” has struggled to put the dark events behind him. So when a brash New York detective darkens his doorway demanding an interview, the wealthy young gentleman immediately shuts him out. But a rash of murders in America are mirroring of the London killings, and Patrick Kelly knows Ned might be the key to stopping the bloodshed.

Lawton, now called Edmund Sloan, is a wealthy young gentleman and philanthropist. He’s spent most of his life pushing all memories of his old family and that horrific day from his thoughts. Now a brash, provocative American detective insists he dredge up the past.

Together, Patrick and the unwilling Edmund must uncover the truth of the murders before the killer strikes again, whether it is in New York or London. As they hunt down secrets from his past, Edmund can’t hide his other secret from the sharp-eyed detective: the attraction he feels for men and the enticing Patrick in particular.

Click to read my review of His American Detective.

The Gentleman and the Lamplighter
Summary:
You Can’t Walk Away from Love.

Destroyed by the death of his former schoolmate yet unable to show it publicly, Giles Fullerton has taken to walking the streets of London in the middle of the night, the only time he can safely mourn the only person he’s ever loved—until one chance meeting with a lamplighter changes everything….

But You Can Walk Toward It...

Widower John Banks knows a thing or two about grief, and immediately recognizes a kindred spirit when he finally meets the handsome, haunted gentleman he’s admired from afar. And in fact, the two men discover shared passions and the possibility of a forever love—if they can overcome social taboos, and their own fears….

Click to read my review and an excerpt of The Gentleman and the Lamplighter.

The Private Secretary
Summary:
Down on his luck and desperate for employment, Ezra Seton is offered only one job: to work in the house of a heartless bully, the very man who drove Ezra's lover away. Gritting his teeth, Ezra takes the position. But neither the new job nor the master of house are what he expected. Still, he vows to keep his distance, no matter how difficult it is to maintain his composure.

Robert Demme's pleasure-seeking days are over. Having rescued his cousin Ambrose from a lunatic asylum, he expends much of his energy pacifying the fragile eccentric. Hiring an assistant offers some relief--and also intriguing temptation. Unfortunately, the fascinating Seton apparently loathes him. Determined to discover the reason, Robert uses his considerable wit to get under the man's skin, stunned when his plan backfires. Instead of unraveling the stalwart secretary, Robert has undone himself. All he's accomplished is a deepening of his own interest.

When the two spend the night together in an inn, their mutual desire proves too strong. The secretary and the gentleman succumb to lust. But when Ezra's old flame reappears and the cousin's experiments go awry, it's a battle to discover which will win the day: love or lunacy.

Click to read my review of The Private Secretary.

After the Storm
Summary:
Heartbroken after the death of his eccentric lover, Jenks is left to care for Mutt’s beloved pets on a lovely but isolated estate. With only the animals for company and rejected years earlier by his family when he left school to be with his lover, Jenks worries he’s fading from the world—until one misty morning when he discovers a half-drowned man on the bank of the river. And not just any man, but one who may have been the victim of an attempted murder.

James Griffin is respectable and married…and has buried his true passion his entire life. Jenks’s gentle manner and keen mind stir in him the sort of longing he wishes he had for his wife. The same frustrated wife he now wonders may have plotted his demise. His memories clouded, Griffin knows he must discover his attacker’s identity, resolve matters in his unhappy marriage…and confront the desire he feels for the shy but tenacious Jenks.

Together, they return to London to learn the truth of Griffin’s near murder. The police believe the incident nothing more than an accident, leaving Griffin and Jenks to find their way through a tangle of conflicting desires and ambitions to hunt the truth on their own.

Click to read my review for After the Storm.

The Gentleman's Muse
Summary:
When a frantic man races after David on a London street, he’s certain the fellow is a lunatic. But in fact, Isak Jensen is an artist caught by David’s beauty. He coaxes David to model for him, for a generous fee, of course. David, down on his luck and with a sister to support, agrees—despite his undeniable and dangerous attraction to the eccentric, wealthy artist. The sort of attraction that has led him into trouble before.

Enjoying rising fame as a painter, Isak struggles to keep his emotional distance from his handsome model—unsuccessfully. Dodging downstairs gossip and swirling intrigue amongst the servants, he and David indulge in clandestine rendezvous. Until the problems that hound David land on Isak’s doorstep in the shape of a former lover, a conniving aristocrat who preyed upon both David and his sister.

With a looming scandal in a censorious society threatening to destroy Isak, David, and his sister, Isac makes a perilous offer that could save them all.

Click to read my review for The Gentleman's Muse.



His American Detective
B&N  /  KOBO  /  GOOGLE PLAY

The Gentleman and the Lamplighter
B&N  /  KOBO  /  GOOGLE PLAY

The Private Secretary
B&N  /  KOBO  /  AUDIBLE  /  iTUNES

After the Storm
B&N  /  KOBO  /  AUDIBLE  /  iTUNES

The Gentleman's Muse
AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N
KOBO  /  iTUNES  /  GOODREADS TBR

Monday, December 30, 2019

5th Day of Christmas Author Spotlight: Jordan Castillo Price


Jordan Castillo Price
Author and artist Jordan Castillo Price is the owner of JCP Books LLC. Her paranormal thrillers are colored by her time in the midwest, from inner city Chicago, to small town Wisconsin, to liberal Madison.

Jordan is best known as the author of the PsyCop series, an unfolding tale of paranormal mystery and suspense starring Victor Bayne, a gay medium who's plagued by ghostly visitations. Also check out her new series, Mnevermind, where memories are made...one client at a time.

With her education in fine arts and practical experience as a graphic designer, Jordan set out to create high quality ebooks with lavish cover art, quality editing and gripping content. The result is JCP Books, offering stories you'll want to read again and again.


FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  FB FRIEND
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EMAILS: jordan@psycop.com
jcp.heat@gmail.com 



Among the Living
Summary:
PsyCop #1
Victor Bayne, the psychic half of a PsyCop team, is a gay medium who’s more concerned with flying under the radar than in making waves.

He hooks up with handsome Jacob Marks, a non-psychic (or “Stiff”) from an adjacent precinct at his ex-partner’s retirement party and it seems like his dubious luck has taken a turn for the better. But then a serial killer surfaces who can change his appearance to match any witness’ idea of the world’s hottest guy.

Solving murders is a snap when you can ask the victims whodunit, but this killer’s not leaving any spirits behind.

Click to read my review and excerpt for Among the Living(Random Paranormal Tales of 2019 Part 4).

Hemovore
Summary:
Mark Hansen thought working as artist’s assistant would be glamorous, especially if that artist was a vampire. Black tie events, witty repartee, gracing the pages of the local style section…. Didn’t happen. Not even once.

Jonathan Varga is an enigma. True, he’s quiet, generous, and scrupulously polite. But he has zero social life, refuses to be interviewed or photographed, and insists he can only consume feline blood.

Why supermarket blood won't suffice, Mark hasn’t asked. He’s rarely at a loss for words—he can dish an insult and follow it with a snap as quick as you can say “Miss Thang.” But one look at Jonathan’s black-as-sin gypsy eyes, and Mark’s objections drain away.

So he endures the perpetual grind of their routine: Jonathan hiding in his studio, swiping black paint onto black canvases. Mark hurling insults while he buffs the office to a shine with antiviral wipes. Each of them avoiding the other in a careful choreography…until a blurb in Art in America unleashes a chain of harrowing events.

As secrets from Jonathan’s past are brought to light, it becomes clear that all his precautions weren’t nearly enough.

Second expanded edition includes bonus novelette Sweet.

Quill Me Now 
Summary:
The ABCs of Spellcraft #1
What if the words you wrote came true? 

Spellcraft isn’t exactly a respectable business, but it does pay the bills. At least, it should. Unfortunately, Dixon Penn failed his Spellcraft initiation. Instead of working in his family’s shop, he’s stuck delivering takeout orders in his uncle’s beat-up Buick.

Winning a Valentine’s Day contest at the largest greeting card company in the tri-state area would be just the thing to get his life back on track—but something at Precious Greetings just doesn’t add up. And despite numerous warnings to quit pestering them about his contest entry, he just can’t stop himself from coming back again and again.

It doesn’t hurt that the head of security is such a hottie. If Dixon had any common sense, he’d be scared of the big, mysterious, tattooed Russian.

To be fair, no one ever accused him of being too smart….

Click to read my review for Quill Me Now.

Magic Mansion
Summary:
Professor Topaz is tired of fending off advice that he should retire in Vegas where magicians his age have an easier time finding work.

Ricardo Hart's career has sunk so low, he's resorted to shaking his moneymaker at bachelorette parties.

But there's a casting call for a new reality show called Magic Mansion that could change everything for these two gay stage magicians, one recovering from the loss of his partner, the other awe-struck by the presence of his idol. Each is poised for a critical second chance: at fame, and at love.

Who will win? Step into the Mansion, and find out....

Meatworks
Summary:
Desmond Poole is damaged in more ways than one. If he was an underachiever before, he’s entirely useless now that he’s lost his right hand. He spends his time drowning his sorrows in vodka while he deliberately blows off the training that would help him master his new prosthetic. Social Services seems determined to try and stop him from wallowing in his own filth, so he’s forced to attend an amputee support group. He expects nothing more than stale cookies, tepid decaf and a bunch of self-pitying sob stories, so he’s blindsided when a fellow amputee catches his eye.

Corey Steiner is a hot young rudeboy who works his robotic limb like an extension of his own body, and he’s smitten by Desmond’s crusty punk rock charm from the get-go. Unfortunately, Desmond hasn’t quite severed ties with his ex-boyfriend, and Corey isn’t known for his maturity or patience.

Meatworks is set in a bleak near-future where cell phone and personal computer technologies never developed. In their place, robotics flourished. Now robots run everything from cars to coffee pots. Taking the guesswork out of menial tasks was intended to create leisure time, but instead robots have made society dependent and passive.

Desmond loathes robots and goes out of his way to avoid them. But can he survive without the robotic arm strapped to the end of his stump?


Among the Living
B&N  /  KOBO  /  AUDIBLE  /  iTUNES

Hemovore
AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  AUDIBLE

Quill Me Now
B&N  /  KOBO  /  AUDIBLE  /  iTUNES

Magic Mansion
AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N
KOBO  /  iTUNES  /  JCP BOOKS

Meatworks
AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N
KOBO  /  iTUNES  /  JCP BOOKS

Monday's Mysterious Mayhem: The Mystery of the Bones by CS Poe


Summary:
It’s been a full year since the mystery that brought antique shop owner and part-time amateur sleuth Sebastian Snow together with NYPD homicide detective Calvin Winter. Patience, sanity, and their very lives have been put to the test, but love has persevered. Although Sebastian is now New York City’s best-known busybody, he’s done solving crimes and wants nothing more than to plan a romantic budget wedding.

Then Snow’s Antique Emporium receives a decapitated human head in the mail and the holidays are gory once again. Sebastian patently disregards the mystery of a lifetime because he is done with death and danger—but the killer escalates. Before Sebastian knows it, his closest friends and family are dragged into a series of horrific murders with antiquated clues hinting to the infamous Victorian American Bones Wars.

The clock is ticking to recover a long-lost artifact linked to paleontologist Edward Drinker Cope and to capture a murderer. But it’s not Sebastian who may become the next target—it’s Calvin.

Original Review November 2019:
I was kind of late to the party last year when I first stumbled upon Snow & Winter but I loved it immediately, the blending of contemporary, history, humor, murder, and of course romance made the whole thing just an all around bundle of joy.  Well the newest series entry, The Mystery of the Bones is no less brilliant.  And, as an added plus it's been a year from the setting of the first entry, The Mystery of Nevermore, so that means it's Christmastime(or nearly) which puts this in my holiday shelf as well(nothing like murder and mayhem to add to the holiday cheer I always say๐Ÿ˜‰).

In Bones we see Snow and Winter nearing their one year anniversary of meeting and once again a suspicious smell get's Sebastian's employee and friend, Max, questioning its origin.  Funny enough a package has just arrived and when opened they find the smell and a head, that's right I said a head, and the hunt for answers begins.  I love how Snow, well perhaps "learned his lesson" in regards to sleuthing is a bit inaccurate he has learned there is a difference between nosiness and sleuthing.  HOWEVER, this time around he's pulled into the sleuthing by those who have warned him against it in the past.

I won't say more to the plot because I don't do spoilers and frankly it is just too darn delicious not to discover the story yourself.

Calvin and Snow are happily if not frustratingly planning a wedding and try as Snow does to stick to it circumstances have other plans.  There's no doubt of their love for each other but what I enjoyed in Bones was the push and pull, snarky friendships Snow has come into with his ex, Neil and Calvin's partner, Quinn.  Those sniping scenes just round out the romantic suspense of The Mystery of the Bones to create an entertaining journey from beginning to end.  The fact that I can add it to my holiday shelf just an added bonus that makes it all the better.

I can't wait to see what danger Snow and Winter find themselves in next.

RATING:


MY MORNINGS at the Emporium were dictated by a comfortable and quiet routine:

Nat King Cole on the speakers.

Tolerable coffee from the cheap maker in my office.

Coaxing the thermostat until the ancient radiators pinged and hissed with steam.

And when someone disrupted that sense of order, it had a tendency to irritate me.

A sudden bang on the front door caused me to lose track of the till I was counting. I leaned over the counter and squinted at the blurry shape on the other side of the glass.

Whoever it was knocked again and called in a muffled voice, “Courier!”

I grunted and handed my assistant, Max Ridley, the wad of small change. “Count that for me.” I walked down the steps, made my way through the twists and turns of my cavernous store, then unlocked and opened the front door. A whoosh of bitterly cold, snowy wind entered. “We’re not open yet.”

The bike courier shrugged in her bulky winter attire. “Hey, man, not my problem,” she countered, speaking through a face mask. She thrust a clipboard at me. “Sign the last line.”

I brought the paperwork closer, but the details of the package’s origin were beyond impossible to read in the chicken-scratch handwriting of the courier’s office employee. “Hope you’re getting paid extra to deliver before business hours,” I said, signing my name on the form and handing it back.

The courier shoved the clipboard into her oversized bag, removed a square box, and all but threw it into my arms. “And many happy returns.” She turned, stepped back into the cold morning, and unlocked her bike from the lamppost across from the shop.

“Yeah. Happy holidays,” I muttered, closing the door. “What time is it?”

“Um… five ’til,” Max said from the counter.

I left the door unlocked.

Max shut the brass register’s drawer as I joined him once more. He picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. “That’s not the Depression glassware, is it?”

“I hope not,” I replied, setting the box down. “Unless they sent the decanter in pieces.”

Max visibly cringed at the notion.

Depression glass was too new to have any sort of permanent residency in my shop, but I’d agreed to taking on a rare seven-piece drinking set in what was promised to be a ruby red color, as a project for Max. He’d been more adamant of late about helping with research and amassing contacts of his own. And since the market was always alive and well for Depression glassware, I decided what the hell.

I used a pair of scissors to slice the tape down the middle of the box. I pulled the cardboard flaps back and removed a single sheet of folded paper from atop thick, opaque plastic. Scrawled in what appeared to be a modern rendition of Spencerian script was: Mr. Sebastian Snow, Proprietor.

“What’s it say?” Max asked before I’d gotten any further than unfolding the note.

“It’s not a winning lotto ticket,” I remarked, glancing sideways at him. “So I’m already losing interest.”

“Life isn’t all about money, Seb.”

“You can say that. You don’t have a hospital bill the length of a CVS receipt.”

I’d been shot in May. That batshit crazy Pete White had nearly taken me out with an antique revolver, and all I had to show for surviving was a nasty scar and enough debt to choke a horse. Unsurprisingly, upon learning the value of the Dickson drafts I’d saved, the surviving Robert family members wanted them back and had zero interest in letting me handle their affairs at auction.

As if my percentage would even make a dent in what I predicted their payment would be. Which—fine. Good luck to them trying to maneuver the world of high-end auctions without contacts. Meanwhile, I’d be over here dodging phone calls from the hospital’s collection department. No big deal.

I pulled my magnifying glass from my back pocket and held it over the cursive that mimicked the aesthetic of business communications circa mid-nineteenth century.

An Intriguing Proposition for a Most Curious Man.

Who I am is of no great importance. What I am proposing is.

I, hereby known afterward as Party A, am looking to hire Sebastian Andrew Snow, hereby known as Party B, to recover a most unusual article lost to time and neglect.

I paused, touched the flap on the cardboard box, and tilted it to read, but the only address details were my own. Who the hell was this, and how’d they learn my middle name? I played Andrew pretty close to the chest. No offense to Pop, but I wasn’t a fan.

“What’s that smell?” Max asked suddenly.

I made a vague sound of acknowledgment before continuing to read.

Upon said article’s salvage, Party A is prepared to reward Party B with a most substantial sum.

A Collector.

“Boss?”

“What?” I lowered the magnifying glass to the bottom of the page in order to inspect a disturbingly realistic hand-drawn eye. But that was it. No other details, no contact information, no nada.

“Did you shower this morning?”

At the second disruption to my thoughts, I set the paper down and turned to Max. “Yes.”

“Then what smells like sour milk?” He raised his own arm before shaking his head and saying, “It’s not me.”

“What’s it say about you that you needed to double-check first?” But then I got a whiff of the—death.

And as if Max and I came to the same conclusion at once, we both turned to stare at the steps on my left. Almost one year ago exactly, we’d found a rotting heart under the floorboards and my life forever changed when a redheaded detective came to the Emporium to investigate the mystery.

“‘Villains!’ I shrieked. ‘Dissemble no more!’” I quoted under my breath.

“Don’t.” Max moved around me and tiptoed down the stairs.

“Don’t what?”

He crouched and began to inspect the steps for loose boards that would allow one to successfully conceal a human body part. “Don’t pull out your quotes. It makes everything go topsy-turvy real fast.”

“It does not.”

“It makes you obsessive.”

“Curious,” I corrected. “And it’s human nature to be curious.”

“Not you. And when you get obsessive, people try to kill you.” He looked at me briefly with an expression that read sort of like fight me.

“You act like you’re going to find me dead in a gutter on Staten Island by tomorrow. It stinks in here—I have a right to be curious.”

Max shook his head and continued checking for a floorboard that’d give way to a macabre surprise. “Hello, 911? My boss thinks he’s Columbo….”

“Keep it up and I’m going to trash your holiday bonus.”

Max glanced up a second time, considered, but ultimately dropped the conversation. “The floor’s fine.” He stood, took a step, then frowned as his gaze lowered to the package on the counter.

I looked at it too. It was a very unassuming box. I leaned in and took a sniff. The rancid stench coming from within the plastic made me gag.

“Who’d you piss off now?” Max whispered, a wobble in his voice.

“No one.”

We both studied the box again.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him raise his fist in the classic gesture of rock-paper-scissors. I followed, and on the silent count of three, threw scissors. Max knocked my hand with rock. I let out a breath, squared my shoulders, then grabbed the heavy plastic bag stuffed into the package.

I hoisted out a decapitated human head.





LUCKY CHARMS and coffee leave a decidedly offensive aftertaste upon coming back up. I didn’t have any mints or a toothbrush handy at the shop either, so I tried to mask the vomit-breath with saltwater taffy.

It didn’t work.

In retrospect, of course, it was the least of my problems. But since I had no control over the uniformed officers standing around my counter and inspecting a scene straight out of The Silence of the Lambs, I had to hyperfocus on something. I unwrapped another piece of candy.

“Did you call Calvin?” Max asked from where he sat on the floor, his back against the bookshelves situated in the farthest corner of the shop. Dillon was parked between his legs, enjoying the nervous scratches Max was giving him and not really all that concerned about the morning’s proceedings.

I turned from where I stood at the midpoint between the officers and Max and said, “No.” I tugged the taffy from the wax paper. It stretched into long tendrils and stuck to my hand. I raised my thumb and index finger to suck them clean.

“Why?” Max protested.

“I think it might constitute as crossing a professional line.”

“Yeah, because you’ve zero experience doing that,” Max said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Things are different now.”

To say the least.

I rubbed the last of the sticky candy residue against my trouser leg.

“I don’t like this,” Max continued. “When Sebastian has a reverse Ichabod Crane situation, Calvin and Quinn show up. That’s how it works. The universe has established this.”

“I’m one money-order-made-payable-to-the-City-Clerk away from really pissing his sergeant off,” I explained. “I have to follow proper channels these days. That means starting with 911, and letting the NYPD decide which lucky detective team is investigating this mess.”

I turned my head just then to watch a third uniformed officer enter the shop. He muttered some nicety to the man standing guard at the door before immediately making his way toward the counter where a female officer stood.

I turned to Max and held both hands out, indicating for him not to move. “Stay here.” I started after the newcomer.

The cop was tall. Broad shoulders, dark hair, and thick eyebrows. He was watching me approach while quieting the radio emitting gibberish from his belt.

“Hi,” I said. I held out a hand. “I’m the owner. I called—”

“Sebastian Snow,” he answered for me.

I slowly lowered my hand. “Er—yeah.”

“You’ve got a reputation.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

“I’m sure you have.”

I got the distinct impression this officer did not find me to be a charming sonofabitch.

“Now, I know you like to play amateur sleuth, Mr. Snow,” he continued, hands on his utility belt. His accent was so Brooklyn, it was practically a stereotype.

“I’ve recently retired.”

“I don’t think you’re funny.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t think you’re cute.”

“Good.”

“Being a cop is a serious job,” he said in a chastising tone. “And when civilians stick their noses into our business—”

“I’m pretty certain I called you folks for help,” I interrupted.

The female officer leaned over the counter and whispered something to my new biggest fan.

“I know who he’s dating,” Dickhead retorted. He pointed a finger at me. “And this ain’t got nothing to do with you being gay.”

“Thank God,” I said humorlessly. Because I hadn’t heard that before.

“I wouldn’t care if you were engaged to my sergeant. You shouldn’t be allowed within a hundred feet of a crime scene.”

I tugged my sweater closed and crossed my arms over my chest. “So did you want to question me, or should I skedaddle and leave you to all this, Mr. Holmes?”

Dickhead’s nostrils flared like an enraged bull. He closed the space between us and stared me down—which didn’t work because I’ve been around the block a few times with cops—then something in his facial expression changed. Faltered, maybe.

“What’re your eyes doing?”

“Moving,” I answered, my tone more dry than white bread left on too high a setting in the toaster. My Dancing Eyes condition was hardly noticeable as an adult, but still they wobbled involuntarily at times. “I have achromatopsia. Sometimes my eyes move strangely when I get stressed.”

“You’re stressed?”

“Yes, Officer,” I said with a hint of mockery. “I’ve only had one cup of coffee and found a head in a box.”

“Your stressed is pretty calm, Mr. Snow.”

I shrugged. “Hysterics won’t change the situation. Although, I did vomit, if that’ll make you happy.”

“For Christ’s sake, Rossi,” the female cop said, loud enough for me to hear. She leaned over the counter a second time and asked, “Do you know the deceased, Mr. Snow?”

I stared at her, at Rossi, then back to her again. “Do I—know—the head? We’re not acquainted, no.”

Rossi started to speak, but the bell over the shop’s front door chimed for the umpteenth time and gave him pause. He looked around me, raised his lip, and all but rolled his eyes.

“Calvary’s here,” he muttered.

I turned around.

Rescue came in the form of Calvin Winter.

My most favorite detective of the NYPD.

Not that I was biased or anything.

He marched across the showroom floor, making a direct beeline for me where I stood at the base of the elevated counter with Rossi.

“Calvin—” I started, hoping I sounded cool and relaxed and not utterly relieved that despite our soon-to-be legally recognized relationship, he’d still been the one shouldered with another case involving yours truly.

But Calvin cut me off by grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a bone-crushing embrace. His heavy coat was damp from melting snow. The wool was itchy and cold against my skin, but the discomfort was eased by the familiar warmth and hard body under the layers. Sure, I’d been in bed with this handsome man only a few hours ago, but I didn’t think I’d never not find comfort in the scent of Calvin’s earthy cologne or the ever-present cinnamon on his breath from obsessive mint-popping.

He’d shown up like a knight in shining armor.





Author Bio:
C.S. Poe is a Lambda Literary and EPIC award finalist author of gay mystery, romance, and paranormal books.

She is a reluctant mover and has called many places home in her lifetime. C.S. has lived in New York City, Key West, and Ibaraki, Japan, to name a few. She misses the cleanliness, convenience, and limited-edition gachapon of Japan, but she was never very good at riding bikes to get around.

​She has an affinity for all things cute and colorful and a major weakness for toys. C.S. is an avid fan of coffee, reading, and cats. She’s rescued two cats—Milo and Kasper do their best on a daily basis to sidetrack her from work.

​C.S. is a member of the International Thriller Writers organization.

Her debut novel, The Mystery of Nevermore, was published by DSP Publications, 2016.


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The Mystery of the Bones #4

Snow & Winter Series

Southernmost Murder