Summary:
Age of Exilum #1
WAR IS COMING… the angels of Osestra and the demons of Exilum are preparing for the final battle to be played out in Manna, the human realm, and one young man is caught in the middle.
Vern Swain may be the key to everything.Vern is a country boy dreaming of seeing his name up in lights. He runs away to become a star. His journey is just beginning, but it takes him in unusual directions…right in the path of his guardian demon.
Teague, son of Xaphan is a demon of Exilum charged with ruining Vern's life, but he just can't do it. He's confronted by his family, and forced to choose sides.
War is coming, but who's fighting for Manna?
I want to start by saying that there is a lot of "setting up" storytelling in Demon or Angel which may make it hard for some to connect, but make no mistake it is storytelling with brilliant potential. I can't wait to see where the Lynn Michaels takes the Age of Exilum series.
Now lets get to Demon or Angel.
As the saying goes, there's a fine line between love and hate, I have a feeling the line between demon and angel, right and wrong, good and evil is going to be even finer in this series. Vern and Teague seem to be the stars in this play but I sense Sean and Tucker have a very large part to play in the future battle for Manna(Earth). This is one of those universes where every character plays a part, no one is what I call filler, no matter how small a part or how few pages they might appear in they all make a lasting impact.
I loved watching Vern grow in this story. With a bully for a father and bullies everywhere he turns, with the exception of Sean, you know he's going to overcome it but watching that journey is a true delight. As for Teague he seems to be on his own journey of discovery, soul searching to where is loyalties lie which make for some interesting scenes between him and his brother, Zepher.
Do bad things happen to good people for a reason? And is that reason worth the pain and suffering? These are questions that you'll have to discover for yourself. Sometimes books in a continuing series like Age of Exilum can be hard to get into because of the amount of time the author devotes to setting the scene, getting to know the characters, overall universe building but Demon or Angel is easy to get lost in. Now, I don't mean you find yourself lost and unsure of what's going on, no, I mean to get so immersed in the story and characters that before you know it you reached the last page and are left wanting for the next installment. So if you are the kind of reader who doesn't like to wait for the story to continue I recommend waiting to start but definitely put this at the top of your TBR list because it's absolutely brilliant reading.
RATING:
Summary:
Ellowyn Found #1
Vampires live.
And they hunger…
Otto Jones, a cop assigned to the seemingly random murder of a vampire, would rather hide out in the nearest bar than waste his time on a dead vamp. He hates the bloodthirsty demons. But when the king of the vampires commands him to work with one of the lesser princes and find the killer, he has no choice.
Prince Jessamine Senera is ready to sacrifice his happiness in a loveless marriage for his family’s benefit… but not yet. He dreams of adventure, excitement, and true love. He lives on romance novels and detective stories and wishes he could drink synthetic blood like every other vampire. But he can’t. He needs human blood to survive and is hated by vampires and humans alike.
As Otto and Jessa draw closer to an entity that doesn’t want to be discovered, Otto finds the heart he thought long dead opening to the romance-loving Jessa. No good can possibly come from falling in love with a vampire, but when a shadowy assailant attacks Jessa, Otto will descend into the darkest pit of the earth to rescue him.
If you like vampires, mythical and urban settings, intense suspense, and happy ever after, then you’ll love this first book in the dark and mysterious Ellowyn Found trilogy!
A Vampire’s Heart is a stand-alone paranormal dystopian noir romance with a satisfying conclusion to the love story and a central mystery that weaves the trilogy together.
Summary:
One night can change everything…
Jesse Sykes has lived far longer than his youthful appearance suggests. Becoming a vampire after tragedy struck seemed the only option when his soul was shattered, after all he’s no stranger to having to hide what he is from the rest of the world. But eternal life isn’t without problems or heartache.
With a good job and great friends, Ian Moreton’s life would be almost perfect—if only he wasn’t in love with his best friend. His feelings are unrequited, and in an effort to move on, he takes a chance on a one-night stand with the handsome stranger he meets in a bar.
Jesse knows the risks of becoming attached to a human, but with neither of them looking for anything serious, where’s the harm? At least, that’s what Jesse thinks until his chemistry with Ian proves off the charts.
A second hook-up solidifies their connection…and brings Jesse to his senses. He scrambles to protect Ian from danger, but it’s already too late. With Ian unwittingly drawn into a world he knows nothing about, events are set in motion that will change both of their lives forever, and it’s up to Jesse to steer them safely through it.
Summary:
Dark Terror #2
A near-fatal incident stirs an awakening of an adolescent's ability to connect with entities from the deep and dark hidden world, that which is beyond our natural awareness. A world of lost souls, both good and bad, all trying to reach out to the boy now that they are aware of his surreal capability.
Coming to terms with his psychic ability that he neither asked for nor knew how to wield it, he is unwittingly drawn into solving a grisly mystery from beyond the grave. This will become the greatest test of his faith in himself.
Will he survive?
Summary:
Heartbroken after the death of his beloved Nana, Hannes, the family outsider, finally allows himself to grieve. The legal battle over Nana’s quirky old house -- the only place he’s ever felt accepted and loved -- is over, and he moves in and finds a sense of peace.
... And a rabbit.
An adorable bunny with a huge personality moves in, too, and refuses to leave. Hannes instantly falls in love with the sweet animal who helps heal his heart. But one morning, Hannes’ view of the world changes when the rabbit transforms into a man. A man named Mattis.
After the initial shock, Hannes and Mattis discover a connection between them that runs deeper than it seems. Will their newfound feelings survive unraveling secrets and meddling families, and grow into something real? Something deep and everlasting?
This is one of those stories that just kind of sneaks up on you. I imagine in the publishing world just about every animal has been told in shifter stories but I can honestly say I have never read a rabbit shifter tale. 9 Willow Street is a fun, romantic, and sexy quick read. By "quick" I don't mean it lacks substance, because this newest Nell Iris novella may be shorter than most shifter tales it is certainly not lacking in story.
One thing I want to point out that I loved was that Hannes is missing his great grandmother, very rarely do we see characters that even mention having a "great"-grandmother let alone a loving relationship with one. I realize that not everyone has the opportunity to get to know there great grandparents, I was lucky enough to know one of mine, not just know her but to have a relationship with her. I just turned 20 when my Great Grandmother Alta passed away in 1993, she was just shy of her 92nd birthday and I have always felt blessed to have known her. So that element in itself in 9 Willow Street made this novella special and really spoke to me.
As for Hannes, you just want to wrap him up and give him a giant Mama Bear Hug and tell him everything is going to be okay and then in hops a little white rabbit with odd markings and you almost feel as if his great grandmother sent the little guy. I won't say too much more, but Mio is a special little rabbit, not your typical garden variety that likes to eat your flowers, he's a cuddler and is exactly what Hannes needs.
That's all I'm going to say about the story other than, as it is a novella, 9 Willow Street may be short on quantity but it is long on quality and well worth the read. You will want to smack a couple of people but mostly you just want to smile, laugh, and believe. When I think of paranormal shifter tales, high drama and even violence tends to come to mind but you won't find that here. Oh, there is drama but not really angsty. What you do find is true joy, true love, that will entertain from beginning to end.
RATING:
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Random Paranormal Tales of 2019
Demon or Angel by Lynn Michaels
Teague stormed into the apartment like a proud peacock, walking around the tiny living room, inspecting everything from the bare walls to the furniture to the carpet. Like a dorm room, it was sparse and functional, but Vern didn’t give a damn. It was safe.
Vern perched on the edge of the couch and threw his hands in the air. “What, Teague? What the hell are you going to tell me? What is going to make any of this better?”
“It won’t make it better, but maybe you’ll, I don’t know, understand?” Teague reached for Vern.
He looked every bit the angel he appeared to be when they’d first met. He’d learned since then and wasn’t so quick to jump into his arms.
Teague’s blond hair cascaded down to his muscular shoulders, and his face, perfectly symmetrical, could only be described as angelic like the archangel Michael from the pictures he’d seen in the church’s literature back home. His eyes were…hazel? They changed by the moment shifting from green to brown with flecks of gold floating around. He didn’t dress much like an angel. He wore tight jeans and a faded t-shirt. He’d tossed a red leather jacket over the armchair. His jaw was scruffy with five o’clock shadow.
“So you’re real. And so is the other one?”
“Yes. And stories like Wonderland and Narnia…and the Bible are based on truth, too. Some of us can cross over. We’re from somewhere else. It’s called Exilum. We’ve been coming here for ages. There’s a plan, Vern.”
“Vick.”
“Can you give it a rest?”
Vern crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to give Teague anything, but he needed information. He rolled his eyes. “Fine…go on.”
“We come here, and humans call us demons, say we’re from hell, like what you’ve read in the Bible or any of the other stories. But you’re only getting part of it.”
“What’s all of it?”
“If Exilum is what you would call hell, then Osestra, the sister realm, is heaven. We’ve been fighting for longer than man has walked upright. We call your world Manna, and we’re fighting for it.”
A Vampire's Heart by Kayleigh Sky
Otto froze with his glass halfway to his lips, his gaze on the guy dancing with her.
Not a vampire. His hair was too light and not a wisp of menace wafted off him. A human.
Otto drank, a long swallow that burned his throat.
The guy swayed with his boots stuck to the floor. They were mid calf over skin-tight leather. His shirt was a plain pinstriped button-down that looked bizarrely sexy over the leather. But the guy danced for shit. The princess slapped him on the shoulder. His long hair, tied back by a few braids, was a mix of indeterminate color in the red light.
Otto finished his drink.
Another song began, and the human loosened up. He still wasn’t any good, but he made a couple moves that were limber. Otto grimaced at the images that sprang into his head. How bendy was this guy?
“Another?”
He turned to the bartender, who gestured to his empty glass. Otto pointed toward the dance floor. “Who is that?”
“The princess.”
“The guy with her.”
The vampire shrugged. “Never seen him before.”
Otto slapped two twenties on the bar. “Find out.”
The vampire shrugged but pocketed Otto’s money. A minute later he set a new drink down. Otto picked it up.
Now the guy was dancing with one of the vampires who’d accompanied the princess. He didn’t dance any better, and they were both laughing. The princess approached the bar. She was several yards away, and Otto froze when she turned her head and stared at him. The moment didn’t last long before she looked away again. Beautiful but ferocious. Otto preferred soft. Malleable.
Bendy.
The Awakening by A Drew
On Phil’s fourteenth birthday in 1974… Miserable simply did not describe how he felt. He couldn’t wait to be discharged from the mid-century built community hospital. The building was covered in dark gray walls which had seen better days, cloistered by gardens that struggled to survive. Phil reflected on the state of the hospital and pondered upon whether it matched his own mental state because he was convinced something was seriously wrong with his head since the accident.
He desperately tried to keep his eyes firmly shut, doing his best to relax and with a bit of luck, bring his heart rate down to a respectable level. Praying for the morning to arrive, he beseeched, “Dear God. I’ll never try to impress Jason again …or anyone else for that matter. I’m so sorry that I tried to show off by jumping into the river.”
Tragically, it was this birthday, his fourteenth one, when he nearly drowned after he jumped off the tree. That day would be forever etched in his memory. He trailed along with his friends who hung out with the older kids from school as they cooled off in the river.
Jason who was one of the oldest in the group brought out a long rope from his backpack and deftly tied it around a strong looking branch off a tree as it extended over the river. The dare was simple. Each boy had to swing over the river as far as he could in readiness to release their hold of the rope just before it started to return to the shore.
Phil did his best to hide his attraction towards Jason, after all, if anyone found out that he liked boys, he’d be in deep trouble. As he thought of the consequences for his attraction of other of his own sex, he couldn’t help himself as he gave a furtive glance at the object of his desire.
Jason was considerably taller than Phil and had lustrously dark curly hair. His shoulders were so broad, developed over many years of playing rugby, in fact far more than he should have instead of studying, but he certainly didn’t care. The sports star was the coolest and the most successful player on the field. Even the way he smiled was cool, reminding him of an Elvis Presley impersonator.
While the boys got ready to impress the girls, Phil secretly hoped to gain Jason’s undivided attention. Whoever jumped the farthest in each round, would be rewarded by a kiss from sweet Emily-Lou. She was one of the hot cheerleaders, and it was generally whispered by the boys that she only rewarded tough boys, usually with a kiss on the school grounds. Phil joined the group with only one goal in mind. To be alongside Jason but he didn’t dare let anyone know about it.
Bolstered more by Jason’s gaze on him as he climbed the tree rather than the girls’ attention, from the safety of a thick branch, he held on to the rope with all his might, but something made him freeze. It was pure and simple unadulterated fear. He was so high up on that sinewy tree, perched precariously on the branch. His only savior was the greasy rope, slippery from the countless instances when other children had gripped it firmly before launching themselves off and into the river.
Right now, getting Jason’s attention was no longer was on his priority list, but hearing the taunts from some of the boys shook him up enough to help him take a deep breath. He quickly looked around and noticed Jason and a few of the kids did not take part in the jeering but watched him with some concern.
He wrapped the rope tightly around his hand before shouting bravely, albeit somewhat awkwardly and not feeling very much like the older boys at that moment. In pure fear and with his eyes firmly shut, he jumped, praying that he had swung high enough to release his grip on the rope, effecting a perfect entry into the slow running river rather than slamming into terra firma.
Despite all hopes of swimming majestically in front of his friends after what he thought was a great swing into the river, Phil, in fact, woke up feeling the hard dirt on his back. He wasn’t sure what happened, but the urge to breathe was strong enough for him to push away the frantic hands that prodded over his chest. He felt confused, reeling in pain and completely out of sorts.
His first impulse was to cough and retch while trying to push away a hand that was trying to turn him onto his side. Phil decided to sit up, but darkness quickly enveloped him again, before eventually waking up in the community hospital.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the hospital, but Phil seemed to continually repeat cycles of lucidity before lapsing into unconsciousness for the whole time he was there. He didn’t verbalize it, but he wished that all the whisperings stopped around him so he could get some decent sleep.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but sometime later when he was fully awake, his gaze was drawn to the familiar sight of his parents who stood before his bed. Their faces said it all, through their deep frowns and pale complexions. This was a worrisome time for them.
His mother tearfully asked as she rushed to his side, “Phil darling, how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay, I think. Not sure what happened though.” He responded, smacking his lips and trying to lubricate his mouth. He was so thirsty. It felt like it had been days since he had a glass of water.
His mother frowned, looking indignant as she sharply responded to him, “What happened? Young man, you nearly drowned! That’s what happened! We told you so many times not to go near the river to swim. That river has many unexpected currents coursing through it! How many times do we need to remind you that many people have tragically died in that river?”
Some things never change. Phil might have nearly died on that occasion, but that still didn’t stop him receiving a lecture from his mother even though he was laying on his hospital bed. Give me a break Mom. I just wanted to impress the others.
What complicates things more was not the shame of being rescued and puking in front of all the kids, particularly Jason, but it was the fact that from the time when he was able to open his eyes, Phil noticed shadows streaming across the walls of his cold room. These shadows seemed to be urgently whispering incoherent words. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, because they all talked over each other, but nevertheless, it was constant chatter.
It was eerie to see them but even more frightening to witness their urgent whispers. Phil had been embarrassed to mention these things to the treating doctor who came to check on him later that afternoon, in case he might have thought Phil was losing his mind. The man spoke like a pompous old schoolmaster, despite his youthful appearance. Phil tried to explain to him about the shadows and their whispers when the man abruptly interrupted him.
9 Willow Street by Nell Iris
Next morning, I wake up early. It’s still dark outside, and I’m not sure what woke me up -- a quick glance at the ancient mechanical clock radio on the bedside table tells me it’s almost two hours until my alarm will go off, so I close my eyes again, willing myself to go back to sleep.
My eyelids are heavy, and I melt into the mattress as my mind drifts. I must already be dreaming because I can smell coffee; strong and bitter and fruity, and it’s making my mouth water. The scent grows more intense and I hum. I’ve never had a dream this life-like before.
My eyes flutter open and I rub a palm over my face, but the coffee aroma doesn’t disappear even though I’m clearly awake. Knitting my eyebrows together, I turn on the light.
And there, on the bedside table, stands my favorite cup -- the one Nana hand-painted with my name and wood anemones, my favorite flower -- full of hot, steaming coffee.
“What the ...?” I push myself up to seated and stare at the thing as though it’s a huge disgusting cockroach.
... and from the corner of my eye, I notice someone sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall under the window.
I gasp, scrambling backward until I almost fall off the bed. When my feet hit the floor, I put as much distance between me and the stranger as I can. My legs wobble and my hands tingle as I press my back against the wardrobe door.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” I say, voice breathy and hesitant. I wouldn’t scare a mouse in my state. My gaze flits between the intruder and the door.
Can I make a run for it?
My heart is galloping in my chest, and I shake my head, trying to clear it and make sure I’m properly awake, but he’s still there. He’s real, not a figment of my imagination.
As I look closer at the man, who’s not saying anything, just sits there as though he’s trying to be as unthreatening as possible, I realize he’s vaguely familiar.
I definitely recognize the Bob Dylan T-shirt he’s wearing. “Are you wearing my clothes?”
He nods, making his huge white-blond curls bounce around his head. The tip of his nose twitches and his forget-me-not colored eyes are big and guarded.
It’s the eyes that does it.
“Wait! You’re that guy. The one the Nymans were here looking for.” I bite my lip as I search my brain for the name of the missing man. “Mattis?”
“Yes.”
I jump when he speaks, making my head slam against the wardrobe, and I wince.
“Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
I scowl at him, inching myself closer to the door, hoping he won’t try and stop me when I get close enough to bolt.
Why, oh why, did I make that stupid rule for myself to never bring my phone to bed? If I’d had it, I could’ve hidden in the closet and called 911.
“I made you coffee, Hannes. Please don’t run, I need to talk to you.”
“How do you know my name?” My voice is nowhere near as demanding as I want it to be. Instead, it sounds more like a plea and cracks.
Slowly, he rises to his feet in one fluid motion, keeping his gaze on me and his voice soft. “I know many things about you.”
“How?” I’m pretty close to the door now. Just a few steps and I’ll be out.
“Please don’t run. Sit, drink your coffee, and I’ll tell you.”
I shake my head. “Why should I? How do I know you’re not here to kill me or something?”
He cocks his head and his nose twitches faster. “’Don’t be afraid. I know I probably look big and scary to someone as small as you, but I promise I’m nice. I won’t hurt you.’”
I freeze as he quotes my own words back to me, the ones I said to Mio that day I found him in the kitchen. “How?” I whisper.
Teague stormed into the apartment like a proud peacock, walking around the tiny living room, inspecting everything from the bare walls to the furniture to the carpet. Like a dorm room, it was sparse and functional, but Vern didn’t give a damn. It was safe.
Vern perched on the edge of the couch and threw his hands in the air. “What, Teague? What the hell are you going to tell me? What is going to make any of this better?”
“It won’t make it better, but maybe you’ll, I don’t know, understand?” Teague reached for Vern.
He looked every bit the angel he appeared to be when they’d first met. He’d learned since then and wasn’t so quick to jump into his arms.
Teague’s blond hair cascaded down to his muscular shoulders, and his face, perfectly symmetrical, could only be described as angelic like the archangel Michael from the pictures he’d seen in the church’s literature back home. His eyes were…hazel? They changed by the moment shifting from green to brown with flecks of gold floating around. He didn’t dress much like an angel. He wore tight jeans and a faded t-shirt. He’d tossed a red leather jacket over the armchair. His jaw was scruffy with five o’clock shadow.
“So you’re real. And so is the other one?”
“Yes. And stories like Wonderland and Narnia…and the Bible are based on truth, too. Some of us can cross over. We’re from somewhere else. It’s called Exilum. We’ve been coming here for ages. There’s a plan, Vern.”
“Vick.”
“Can you give it a rest?”
Vern crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to give Teague anything, but he needed information. He rolled his eyes. “Fine…go on.”
“We come here, and humans call us demons, say we’re from hell, like what you’ve read in the Bible or any of the other stories. But you’re only getting part of it.”
“What’s all of it?”
“If Exilum is what you would call hell, then Osestra, the sister realm, is heaven. We’ve been fighting for longer than man has walked upright. We call your world Manna, and we’re fighting for it.”
A Vampire's Heart by Kayleigh Sky
Otto froze with his glass halfway to his lips, his gaze on the guy dancing with her.
Not a vampire. His hair was too light and not a wisp of menace wafted off him. A human.
Otto drank, a long swallow that burned his throat.
The guy swayed with his boots stuck to the floor. They were mid calf over skin-tight leather. His shirt was a plain pinstriped button-down that looked bizarrely sexy over the leather. But the guy danced for shit. The princess slapped him on the shoulder. His long hair, tied back by a few braids, was a mix of indeterminate color in the red light.
Otto finished his drink.
Another song began, and the human loosened up. He still wasn’t any good, but he made a couple moves that were limber. Otto grimaced at the images that sprang into his head. How bendy was this guy?
“Another?”
He turned to the bartender, who gestured to his empty glass. Otto pointed toward the dance floor. “Who is that?”
“The princess.”
“The guy with her.”
The vampire shrugged. “Never seen him before.”
Otto slapped two twenties on the bar. “Find out.”
The vampire shrugged but pocketed Otto’s money. A minute later he set a new drink down. Otto picked it up.
Now the guy was dancing with one of the vampires who’d accompanied the princess. He didn’t dance any better, and they were both laughing. The princess approached the bar. She was several yards away, and Otto froze when she turned her head and stared at him. The moment didn’t last long before she looked away again. Beautiful but ferocious. Otto preferred soft. Malleable.
Bendy.
On Phil’s fourteenth birthday in 1974… Miserable simply did not describe how he felt. He couldn’t wait to be discharged from the mid-century built community hospital. The building was covered in dark gray walls which had seen better days, cloistered by gardens that struggled to survive. Phil reflected on the state of the hospital and pondered upon whether it matched his own mental state because he was convinced something was seriously wrong with his head since the accident.
He desperately tried to keep his eyes firmly shut, doing his best to relax and with a bit of luck, bring his heart rate down to a respectable level. Praying for the morning to arrive, he beseeched, “Dear God. I’ll never try to impress Jason again …or anyone else for that matter. I’m so sorry that I tried to show off by jumping into the river.”
Tragically, it was this birthday, his fourteenth one, when he nearly drowned after he jumped off the tree. That day would be forever etched in his memory. He trailed along with his friends who hung out with the older kids from school as they cooled off in the river.
Jason who was one of the oldest in the group brought out a long rope from his backpack and deftly tied it around a strong looking branch off a tree as it extended over the river. The dare was simple. Each boy had to swing over the river as far as he could in readiness to release their hold of the rope just before it started to return to the shore.
Phil did his best to hide his attraction towards Jason, after all, if anyone found out that he liked boys, he’d be in deep trouble. As he thought of the consequences for his attraction of other of his own sex, he couldn’t help himself as he gave a furtive glance at the object of his desire.
Jason was considerably taller than Phil and had lustrously dark curly hair. His shoulders were so broad, developed over many years of playing rugby, in fact far more than he should have instead of studying, but he certainly didn’t care. The sports star was the coolest and the most successful player on the field. Even the way he smiled was cool, reminding him of an Elvis Presley impersonator.
While the boys got ready to impress the girls, Phil secretly hoped to gain Jason’s undivided attention. Whoever jumped the farthest in each round, would be rewarded by a kiss from sweet Emily-Lou. She was one of the hot cheerleaders, and it was generally whispered by the boys that she only rewarded tough boys, usually with a kiss on the school grounds. Phil joined the group with only one goal in mind. To be alongside Jason but he didn’t dare let anyone know about it.
Bolstered more by Jason’s gaze on him as he climbed the tree rather than the girls’ attention, from the safety of a thick branch, he held on to the rope with all his might, but something made him freeze. It was pure and simple unadulterated fear. He was so high up on that sinewy tree, perched precariously on the branch. His only savior was the greasy rope, slippery from the countless instances when other children had gripped it firmly before launching themselves off and into the river.
Right now, getting Jason’s attention was no longer was on his priority list, but hearing the taunts from some of the boys shook him up enough to help him take a deep breath. He quickly looked around and noticed Jason and a few of the kids did not take part in the jeering but watched him with some concern.
He wrapped the rope tightly around his hand before shouting bravely, albeit somewhat awkwardly and not feeling very much like the older boys at that moment. In pure fear and with his eyes firmly shut, he jumped, praying that he had swung high enough to release his grip on the rope, effecting a perfect entry into the slow running river rather than slamming into terra firma.
Despite all hopes of swimming majestically in front of his friends after what he thought was a great swing into the river, Phil, in fact, woke up feeling the hard dirt on his back. He wasn’t sure what happened, but the urge to breathe was strong enough for him to push away the frantic hands that prodded over his chest. He felt confused, reeling in pain and completely out of sorts.
His first impulse was to cough and retch while trying to push away a hand that was trying to turn him onto his side. Phil decided to sit up, but darkness quickly enveloped him again, before eventually waking up in the community hospital.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the hospital, but Phil seemed to continually repeat cycles of lucidity before lapsing into unconsciousness for the whole time he was there. He didn’t verbalize it, but he wished that all the whisperings stopped around him so he could get some decent sleep.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but sometime later when he was fully awake, his gaze was drawn to the familiar sight of his parents who stood before his bed. Their faces said it all, through their deep frowns and pale complexions. This was a worrisome time for them.
His mother tearfully asked as she rushed to his side, “Phil darling, how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay, I think. Not sure what happened though.” He responded, smacking his lips and trying to lubricate his mouth. He was so thirsty. It felt like it had been days since he had a glass of water.
His mother frowned, looking indignant as she sharply responded to him, “What happened? Young man, you nearly drowned! That’s what happened! We told you so many times not to go near the river to swim. That river has many unexpected currents coursing through it! How many times do we need to remind you that many people have tragically died in that river?”
Some things never change. Phil might have nearly died on that occasion, but that still didn’t stop him receiving a lecture from his mother even though he was laying on his hospital bed. Give me a break Mom. I just wanted to impress the others.
What complicates things more was not the shame of being rescued and puking in front of all the kids, particularly Jason, but it was the fact that from the time when he was able to open his eyes, Phil noticed shadows streaming across the walls of his cold room. These shadows seemed to be urgently whispering incoherent words. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, because they all talked over each other, but nevertheless, it was constant chatter.
It was eerie to see them but even more frightening to witness their urgent whispers. Phil had been embarrassed to mention these things to the treating doctor who came to check on him later that afternoon, in case he might have thought Phil was losing his mind. The man spoke like a pompous old schoolmaster, despite his youthful appearance. Phil tried to explain to him about the shadows and their whispers when the man abruptly interrupted him.
9 Willow Street by Nell Iris
Next morning, I wake up early. It’s still dark outside, and I’m not sure what woke me up -- a quick glance at the ancient mechanical clock radio on the bedside table tells me it’s almost two hours until my alarm will go off, so I close my eyes again, willing myself to go back to sleep.
My eyelids are heavy, and I melt into the mattress as my mind drifts. I must already be dreaming because I can smell coffee; strong and bitter and fruity, and it’s making my mouth water. The scent grows more intense and I hum. I’ve never had a dream this life-like before.
My eyes flutter open and I rub a palm over my face, but the coffee aroma doesn’t disappear even though I’m clearly awake. Knitting my eyebrows together, I turn on the light.
And there, on the bedside table, stands my favorite cup -- the one Nana hand-painted with my name and wood anemones, my favorite flower -- full of hot, steaming coffee.
“What the ...?” I push myself up to seated and stare at the thing as though it’s a huge disgusting cockroach.
... and from the corner of my eye, I notice someone sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall under the window.
I gasp, scrambling backward until I almost fall off the bed. When my feet hit the floor, I put as much distance between me and the stranger as I can. My legs wobble and my hands tingle as I press my back against the wardrobe door.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” I say, voice breathy and hesitant. I wouldn’t scare a mouse in my state. My gaze flits between the intruder and the door.
Can I make a run for it?
My heart is galloping in my chest, and I shake my head, trying to clear it and make sure I’m properly awake, but he’s still there. He’s real, not a figment of my imagination.
As I look closer at the man, who’s not saying anything, just sits there as though he’s trying to be as unthreatening as possible, I realize he’s vaguely familiar.
I definitely recognize the Bob Dylan T-shirt he’s wearing. “Are you wearing my clothes?”
He nods, making his huge white-blond curls bounce around his head. The tip of his nose twitches and his forget-me-not colored eyes are big and guarded.
It’s the eyes that does it.
“Wait! You’re that guy. The one the Nymans were here looking for.” I bite my lip as I search my brain for the name of the missing man. “Mattis?”
“Yes.”
I jump when he speaks, making my head slam against the wardrobe, and I wince.
“Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
I scowl at him, inching myself closer to the door, hoping he won’t try and stop me when I get close enough to bolt.
Why, oh why, did I make that stupid rule for myself to never bring my phone to bed? If I’d had it, I could’ve hidden in the closet and called 911.
“I made you coffee, Hannes. Please don’t run, I need to talk to you.”
“How do you know my name?” My voice is nowhere near as demanding as I want it to be. Instead, it sounds more like a plea and cracks.
Slowly, he rises to his feet in one fluid motion, keeping his gaze on me and his voice soft. “I know many things about you.”
“How?” I’m pretty close to the door now. Just a few steps and I’ll be out.
“Please don’t run. Sit, drink your coffee, and I’ll tell you.”
I shake my head. “Why should I? How do I know you’re not here to kill me or something?”
He cocks his head and his nose twitches faster. “’Don’t be afraid. I know I probably look big and scary to someone as small as you, but I promise I’m nice. I won’t hurt you.’”
I freeze as he quotes my own words back to me, the ones I said to Mio that day I found him in the kitchen. “How?” I whisper.
Lynn Michaels lives and writes in Tampa, Florida where the sun is hot and the Sangria is cold. Lynn is the newest addition to Rubicon Fiction, and she loves reading and writing about hot men in love. She writes paranormal and contemporary MM Romance.
So… About me. I’ve never run a marathon or scaled Mt. Everest. I’ve never scuba dived or sky dived. I’ve surfed though. That was fun. I have six tattoos, and I really love ink. I also love all plants. Zinnias are one of my favorite flowers. If you’ve never see a zinnia, look it up. Very pretty. It’s an old-timey plant but super easy to grow. Anyway, the big thing I do is write m/m erotic romance. But as much as I love romance and sex, I really love going deep into the dark with my characters. What are their wounds? How can I peel them raw and drag them into the light? This leads to some fairly dark stories sometimes, but even the dark ones come with humor. I think the contradictions in people are ripe for hilarious scene setups. I need humor and light in my life—otherwise, I go into some pretty dark places myself. I live with only one cat now—I once had thirteen. That was crazy. I take up most of the things I research for my characters—photography, tarot, and jewelry making for example. I even bought a recorder once because Ori from Jesus Kid played one. I love that part of my job. I also love to walk and lift weights. I’m not a big fan of yoga—just throwing that out there. So far, all of my characters embody something of me, and all of my characters have given me something of them. But no matter what the struggle is from book to book, love always wins out. I'm strong on plot, strong on character, stronger on love. You can count on happily ever after from me every time. I write my stories to open hearts and uplift spirits. Love matters. It counts. And it's for everyone.
Annabelle Jacobs lives in the South West of England with three rowdy children, and two cats. An avid reader of fantasy herself for many years, Annabelle now spends her days writing her own stories. They're usually either fantasy or paranormal fiction, because she loves building worlds filled with magical creatures, and creating stories full of action and adventure. Her characters may have a tough time of it—fighting enemies and adversity—but they always find love in the end.
Lily Lamb aka A. Drew is a Turkish Australian multi-genre indie author. She works as a nurse by day where she feeds her soul by caring for others. At night she tends to her imaginative alter-ego by writing tales involving love, passion, mystery and LGBT romance.
Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bona fide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies’ room), loves music (and singing along but, let’s face it, she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (“Make it so”). She loves words, poetry, wine, and Sudoku, and absolutely adores elephants!
Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender, or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.
Nell is a forty-something bisexual Swedish woman, married to the love of her life, and a proud mama of a grown daughter. She left the Scandinavian cold and darkness for warmer and sunnier Malaysia a few years ago, and now spends her days writing, surfing the Internet, enjoying the heat, and eating good food. One day she decided to chase her lifelong dream of being a writer, sat down in front of her laptop, and wrote a story about two men falling in love.
Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angst, and wants to write diverse and different characters.
Lynn Michaels
Kayleigh Sky
Annabelle Jacobs
EMAIL: ajacobsfiction@gmail.com
A Drew
Nell Iris
EMAIL: contact@nelliris.com
Demon or Angel by Lynn Michaels
KOBO / iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
A Vampire's Heart by Kayleigh Sky
Wounded Soul by Annabelle Jacobs
The Awakening by A Drew
9 Willow Street by Nell Iris
