Summary:
Captivating Captains Novella
When a ghostly dandy and his roguish companion try their hand at matchmaking, things definitely go bump in the night.
For centuries, foppish Captain Cornelius Sheridan and brooding John Rookwood have haunted the mansion they duelled and died for. Now these phantom foes must join forces to save both their home and their feuding descendents.
But when Captain Sheridan sacrifices his afterlife for the sake of true love, will Rookwood risk everything to keep his companion by his side, or is it too late to say "I love you"?
Publisher's Note: This book is related to the Captivating Captains series.
When a duel ended with both men dead I doubt either expected to be stuck with each other for eternity but that is exactly where they find themselves some two hundred years later. Rockwood and Sheridan have been pushing each others buttons as well as letting their families know they(and others especially a frisky feline) linger. As a old classic film fan, The Captain's Ghostly Gamble reminds me kind of a mix of The Odd Couple meets Topper meets Beyond Tomorrow, but oh so more.
Ghostly Gamble is a delightfully humor filled novella that is perfect for this time of year. Matchmaking ghosts, bickering frenemies who have spent way more time together then they ever expected, descendants who aren't completely honest with each other, and then there is the moment where everything becomes clear(but what that moment is and what "becomes clear" is something you have to read for yourself😉😉) there is plenty packed into this Captivating Captains short that will make you smile, laugh, smile again, and laugh some more.
Halloween isn't the time you normally expect to find a romantic comedy but it does happen, they don't always work but The Captain's Ghostly Gamble does. A truly delightful read for any time of year but an extra special treat now. I was aware of this story last October but unfortunately time just wasn't on my side and it just kept slipping down my TBR list but I came across it the other day and jumped at the chance before time decided otherwise again. I'm glad I found it again because The Captain's Ghostly Gamble is a true gem.
RATING:
Lone Wolf by Anna Martin
Summary:
Jackson Lewis isn’t a typical werewolf. He isolates himself in a small town outside Spokane and dedicates himself to making his business—Lone Wolf Brewery—a success. If it leaves him little time for romance, he’s okay with that. His soul mate could be out there somewhere, but he isn’t actively looking.
So he’s in for quite the shock when he literally bumps into his soul mate—Leo Gallagher, an adorable, nerdy, vibrant music therapist who’s Jackson’s polar opposite.
But he’s human. And a man.
Jackson is straight—or at least he’s always assumed so. Though he can’t deny his attraction to Leo, it’s a lot for both of them to deal with.
While Jackson and Leo figure out what their future might hold, they face prejudice from both the human and werewolf communities—including a group of fanatics willing to kill to show humans and werewolves don’t belong together.
He Speaks Dead by Adrienne Wilder
Summary:
*This book was previously published with a different cover.
Charlie Harrington not only sees the dead and speaks with them, he can make them real. Lucky for him, because the love of his life, Ethan, isn't among the living.
While their relationship is unusual, things are good between them until Charlie is accused of murder and Detective Daniel Briggs walks into his life. Then, for the first time in years, Charlie is attracted to someone alive.
Ethan knows he should step aside and let Charlie live his life, but he just can’t give Charlie up--even if staying with Charlie may eventually kill him.
So he’s in for quite the shock when he literally bumps into his soul mate—Leo Gallagher, an adorable, nerdy, vibrant music therapist who’s Jackson’s polar opposite.
But he’s human. And a man.
Jackson is straight—or at least he’s always assumed so. Though he can’t deny his attraction to Leo, it’s a lot for both of them to deal with.
While Jackson and Leo figure out what their future might hold, they face prejudice from both the human and werewolf communities—including a group of fanatics willing to kill to show humans and werewolves don’t belong together.
Summary:
*This book was previously published with a different cover.
Charlie Harrington not only sees the dead and speaks with them, he can make them real. Lucky for him, because the love of his life, Ethan, isn't among the living.
While their relationship is unusual, things are good between them until Charlie is accused of murder and Detective Daniel Briggs walks into his life. Then, for the first time in years, Charlie is attracted to someone alive.
Ethan knows he should step aside and let Charlie live his life, but he just can’t give Charlie up--even if staying with Charlie may eventually kill him.
Entombed by A Drew
Summary:
Dark Terror #3
An innocent teen’s attempt to engage with his recently deceased grandfather takes him down a white river journey, as he traverses the supernatural world before he finds himself out of his depth. The well-known psychic, Phil Spiers is called upon for assistance by the household and he eventually reaches a fork in the road, balancing a fine line between overcoming evil dominance and a developing love interest. It is full of twists and turns including a diverse suite of characters who will engage the reader in a desperate race to the end.
Summary:
Bedknobs and Broomsticks #1
A gay high-society wedding. A stolen book of spells. A love-threatening lie. Can a witch avoid a murder rap without revealing the supernatural truth?
Cosmo Saville guiltily hides a paranormal secret from his soon-to-be husband. And if he can’t undo a powerful love spell, uncertainty threatens his nuptial magic. But when he’s arrested for allegedly killing a longtime rival, he could spend his honeymoon behind bars…
Police Commissioner John Joseph Galbraith never believed in love until Cosmo came along. Falling head over heels for the elegant antiques dealer is an enchantment he never wants to break. So when all fingers point to Cosmo’s guilt, John races to prove his fiancé’s innocence before they take their vows.
As Cosmo searches for the real killer among the arcane aristocracy, John warns him to leave it to the police. But with an unseen enemy threatening to expose Cosmo’s true nature, the couple’s blissful future could shatter like a broken charm.
Can Cosmo find the lost grimoire, clear his name and keep John’s love alive, or will black magic “rune” their wedding bells?
Mainly by Moonlight is the first book in the sexy Bedknobs and Broomsticks romantic gay mystery series. If you like spell-binding suspense, steamy star-crossed fun, and a dash of paranormal, then you’ll love Josh Lanyon’s charming tale.
Another absolutely brilliant bit of storytelling from Josh Lanyon, and yes, it really is storytelling not just writing. I'll start off by saying that this is a series that continues on, not just with the same people but the story as well so don't expect everything to be answered, everything to be revealed, everything to have closure. I am on pins and needles waiting for book two.
Now, let's talk Mainly by Moonlight. I loved how it made me nostalgic for the endearing comedy of Bewitched, the magical drama of Charmed, and the spell-driven romance of I Married a Witch. Magic, romance, murder, spells, mystery, these are all there. We quickly learn that John is under a love spell and as much as Cosmo wants to do the right thing and break off the engagement when he learns it, he doesn't but continually searches for signs that the love John feels for him is real once he demands the spell be removed. Throw in Cosmo being a likely candidate for murder suspect and you have plenty of room for romance, hi-kinks, and drama. Sure there are times I want to kick both characters in the backside and whack them upside the head to make them see sense but there is just as many times I want to wrap them up and say its going to be okay. It's this contradicting hit-and-hug scale that kept me going, that fueled the need-to-know-now speed with which I read Moonlight and had me equally kicking myself for not savoring the story once I reached the final page. That push and pull feeling of needing to know versus savoring is how I know this is a great read for the win-win column.
I have theories percolating for book two(and beyond perhaps) but I won't divulge them as I don't want to spoil anything from Moonlight. It's these theories that make a few things in John and Cosmo's(mostly John) behaviors and actions acceptable. Does that mean if my theories don't pan out I'll rethink how much I loved this book? Not at all because I know the author will further the story in an equally entertaining way.
Now for those who aren't fans of insta-love and question the believe-abilty behind how fast the boys get everything ready in just two weeks time, even throwing out the magic bit that John knows nothing about, I still found it reasonable how he could believe it gets done in just 14 days. Both families seem to be in-the-know when it comes to getting things pushed through fast so magic or not, 2 weeks to set it all up is definitely acceptable. I'll admit, insta-love isn't always well written in the fiction world but when its as well done as Josh Lanyon has with Cosmo and John, it's not only acceptable(even with the magical element) its entertaining and fun.
Josh Lanyon definitely has another winner here in Mainly by Moonlight but as I said above not everything is revealed, not what I would label a full-fledged cliffhanger ending but there are questions yet to be answered. I mention this because not everyone is a cliffie-lover so if you don't like the waiting-for-answers bit, you might want to put this one on hold but if you love well written world-building magical romantic mysteries than you'll definitely want to put her new Bedknobs and Broomsticks series at the top of your TBR list, its not to be missed.
RATING:
Click to Check Out Previous
Random Paranormal Tales of 2019
The Captain's Ghostly Gamble by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead
John Rookwood peered through the grimy leaded windows and saw lights approaching along the driveway. It was the same every year—uninvited guests always arrived on their anniversary.
“Captain, they’re nearly here! Stop preening, man!”
“Guests!” Captain Cornelius Sheridan didn’t look away from the ornate mirror where he was admiring his own reflection. He beamed at himself before pouting, then placed one hand on his hip. As John watched, Sheridan turned a little to the left, a little to the right, admiring his own form, clad as he was in a suit of shimmering gold silk.
He frowned and adjusted one of his lace-shrouded cuffs very slightly, then considered his reflection again, turning his shapely calf a little before he leaned down to brush an imaginary smut from his white stocking. “Does one need more powder, Rookwood? One doesn’t want to look gauche for one’s chums!”
“You have natural pallor enough, Captain. Besides, they’re not our chums.”
A large conveyance had drawn up to the front door. John turned up the collar of his greatcoat, watching as two passengers, a man and a woman, climbed out.
“The damned impertinence of it, turning up uninvited every year. Wandering about my house, disturbing our peace. They’re lucky I haven’t taken a pistol to them.”
“Natural? Lord preserve me from natural! More powder and a touch more rouge on the lips, I think.” Sheridan put his elegant hand to his silken cravat and slightly adjusted the diamond pin there. An even larger diamond was housed in the ring he wore, and it glittered as brightly as his eyes. “My home, Mr. Rookwood, lest we forget.”
At the sound of their guests letting themselves in at the front door, John sighed. “Rookwood Manor has been in my family for generations, as well you know, you damned dandy interloper!”
“Indeed, sir, Sheridan Manor was once home to your people, but one believes there was the small matter of a duel and now it is mine.” Sheridan glanced at John and beamed, his handsome face now fashionably pale. He bowed low, a cloud of rose perfume billowing from the decadent cuffs. “Let us go and say hello to our newest friends, Mr. Rookwood!”
John bowed in return, doffing his tricorne hat. “That duel was unfair—therefore, in default, Rookwood Manor is still mine, I think you’ll find.”
As John’s heavy boots thumped over the floorboards, a woman’s voice echoed up from the entrance hall.
“Did you hear that? I swear I heard footsteps!”
“Ooh, the young lady sounds so terribly nervous!” Sheridan hugged himself in amused excitement then clapped his hands together. His grin was positively wicked as he added, “What fun!”
“Should be easy to get shot of them, then!” John looked over the bannister as the couple began to set up their equipment. He’d seen quite a lot of this caper over the years, gadgets galore ranged through his house with nary a by-your-leave. How terribly rude. “Well, then, Captain, as my footsteps have served to scare her witless, would you like to go next? I’d wager you shan’t terrify them in the least, but I’m happy to watch you try!”
The two men peeped down into the baronial hall below, where the enormous studded oak door stood open on the autumn night. Leaves swirled in around the feet of the second visitor, a young man with a large bag slung over his shoulder. He threw it down and looked up at his splendid surroundings, his face set into a scowl.
“Oh, now what a handsome gent!” Sheridan touched his hand to his breast and quirked one eyebrow. “If my heart had not already stopped, it would certainly have just skipped a beat. Who have we here?”
He began to descend the staircase, polished shoes shining in the light of the chandelier, the diamond buckles on his toes twinkling. With a glance back at John, Sheridan hopped down the last two risers and landed neatly in front of the couple, who continued to unpack their infernal equipment. Then he blew a sharp blast of rose perfume into the young lady’s face.
She stumbled back a step and nearly lost her footing on the uneven floorboards. “What—what was that? Dan, can you smell it? Roses. They say that the highwayman who haunts this place smells of roses. I’m not imagining it, am I? And it’s suddenly so cold in here!”
“You do know that it’s all bollocks, don’t you?” Dan tutted and shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve even talked me into this. The sooner it’s on the market, the sooner some big hotel chain buys it and the sooner I get to buy that Ferrari I’ve always wanted, so let’s get the night finished and lock the bloody door on this dusty old hole.”
“Can you please not say bollocks when I’ve got the EVP recorder on, Dan?” The young woman crouched down to rummage about in a trunk. “I can’t believe you want to sell this place—my family lived here too, you know. And anyway, a haunted house is much cooler than a Ferrari.”
“Oh, he’s one of yours!” Sheridan called upstairs to John. “A Rookwood, which makes him suddenly far less attractive! A Rookwood who intends to sell my bally house!”
“Balderdash—it’s Rookwood Manor, after all, and will you just look at that handsome face!” John followed Sheridan downstairs. Could the young lady hear him, or even see him? She had glanced in his direction and was gawping at the stairs.
“Dan! I can hear footsteps again!”
But Dan had turned his back, so John prodded him on the shoulder to get a better look. Was this impertinent young man worthy of the name Rookwood?
“Stop pissing about, Jenny,” Dan huffed. “Funny isn’t it, really? Here we are, a Rookwood and a Sheridan, spending one last night in the place where our great-whatever-uncles however far removed supposedly rattle their chains and flap their sheets? And by tomorrow the For Sale board will be up!”
Lone Wolf by Anna Martin
Chapter One
JACKSON WAS not the sort of guy people called on in an emergency.
He was the sort of person who stepped back when there was an emergency and let others do their thing. Knowing when to move away and let the experts take over was an important quality.
Today was not his day.
“I need help! Help!”
All he’d wanted was to pick up some fresh vegetables at Whole Foods, but a woman in the next aisle was screaming. Actually she wasn’t the only one screaming. There were a few other people doing the same thing, including a baby.
With a sigh, Jackson stuck his head around the corner, his curiosity a stronger instinct than the one to run away.
The woman screaming for help sat on the floor with a baby in her arms. A werewolf baby, by the looks of things, since her fangs were out.
Holy shit. That was definitely not supposed to happen.
“Sir!”
Double shit. The mother had made him, probably recognizing him as another wolf.
“Please.”
Jackson set down his basket and jogged over. By now, some of the store staff had gathered round and were ushering all the lookie-loos back. Apparently Jackson and the mom were the only werewolves in the store—just his damn luck.
“Is she okay?” he asked, nodding at the baby and keeping his fingers well away.
“She’s not even two yet,” the mom wailed.
Werewolves didn’t experience their first shift until puberty, most often somewhere between the ages of ten and fourteen. For an infant to have dropped her fangs already was… unusual.
“You should get her over to the Children’s Hospital,” Jackson said gently, still keeping his fingers away from the baby. He definitely didn’t want her to bite him with those fangs. She was a cute little thing, with chubby red cheeks, big brown eyes, and two delicate white canines overhanging her bottom lip that looked sharp as fuck. Thankfully the baby wasn’t screaming anymore. If anything, she looked confused by the noise her mother was making.
“I don’t drive,” the mom sobbed. “I got an Uber here.”
Jackson forced down the urge to sigh again. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you.”
THE MOM, Katelyn, and baby Ava were safely deposited at the Spokane Children’s Hospital emergency department. By the time they got to the hospital, Jackson felt somewhat responsible for them and walked Katelyn through the doors that led to the werewolf emergency room. It was set away from the human equivalent for a multitude of reasons, some rooted deep in old prejudice, others in practicality. Jackson tried not to think about it too hard. It was a blessing his mom worked here. Otherwise he wouldn’t have had a clue where to go.
He was curious to know what exactly had caused Ava to suddenly sprout fangs ten years earlier than she should have. He didn’t even know it was possible for baby teeth to be fangs. Jackson could sense a Wikipedia downward spiral in his near future, but despite his curiosity, he wasn’t about to stick around and wait for Katelyn and Ava to get a diagnosis.
There was a quick way to get back to his truck and a longer, more convoluted route, but the latter option meant he could avoid passing by the X-Ward. Once, when he was a kid, he’d accidentally glanced into the highly secure space where they kept people who had been bitten by wolves. The idea was to keep those humans safe while they waited to see if they were going to change, or if the antivenom would work if they’d administered it in time, but Jackson had vivid memories of a woman wailing and a teenager struggling to escape two nurses who were trying to restrain him. It looked like hell. His mom had dragged him away quickly when she’d noticed him staring, and lectured him all the way home about not sneaking off.
Though he understood logically why the ward was needed, it still sent a shiver down his spine. So he took the long route back to the parking lot and didn’t grouch about it.
The hospital was bustling with people, which just made Jackson want to retreat. He hated when people got all pushy, and he was definitely in the way, since he was neither a sick child nor someone caring for one.
He was in the process of escaping when a young man rushed down the corridor, replying to a message on his phone and definitely not looking where he was going. The guy barged right into Jackson, almost knocking him over.
“Sorry!” the guy called, already half a dozen steps away. He held up both hands and elegantly turned to stop. “Are you okay?”
Normally Jackson would have just muttered something rude under his breath and made a hasty retreat. But there was something wrong. Very, very wrong.
Maybe the guy saw the wrongness in Jackson’s expression because he hadn’t kept running to wherever was so important he didn’t have time to look where he was going. He took a careful step forward.
“You’re…,” Jackson started, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“Hey, can I help?”
He was a little shorter and a lot slimmer than Jackson, with reddish brown hair and pale skin. He wore a lanyard with an ID badge, which meant he worked at the hospital. His face was twisted into gentle concern.
Jackson blinked hard.
“You’re my soul mate,” he said, the words feeling wrong in his mouth.
His heart gave an encouraging thump. Jackson felt sick, but there was no point denying it. The pull came right from his gut, making his vision sharpen and senses heighten. He blocked off everything around them instinctively, letting his world narrow to the two of them. The busy hospital all but melted away, leaving him intently focused on the young man in front of him.
Jackson was already in tune with this curious stranger, the one looking at him now like he was going mad. Maybe he was.
“I’m human.” The guy shook his head, like Jackson was wrong.
That wasn’t important. Jackson didn’t know how to explain it to himself, let alone to the poor guy standing in front of him now looking both shocked and terrified.
“I’m so sorry. I have to go,” the guy said, digging into his back pocket. He pulled out a dog-eared business card that he shoved at Jackson. “I have a meeting, but… you should call me.”
He was gone before Jackson could say anything else, disappearing around the corner. People kept rushing past Jackson, but he couldn’t make himself move. Eventually he looked down at the card.
Leo Gallagher
Music Therapist
Mainly by Moonlight by Josh Lanyon
Prologue
Something dark was following him.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn’t notice at first.
When he did, he was not unduly concerned. It was an old part of town, a dark part of town—and Valencia Street ran through one of the darkest of the dark parts. Not in the sense of street lamps—or beings—missing a few light bulbs, though yes, come to think of it, it was a Stygian sort of night in the Mission District. The witch’s moon peeping slyly through the purple-edged girders of clouds shed little light on the closed shop fronts and wide empty streets. Deep shadows crawled from the mouths of alleyways, loitered by doorways.
A good night to get yourself mugged. Or magicked.
Neither thought worried him overmuch. He was running late. As usual. His main concern was that Seamus might grow impatient and leave—or worse, take offense and change his mind entirely.
In fact, it was hard to believe Seamus had invited him to this private viewing in the first place. They were not friends. Not even friendly.
Not after the incident of Great-great-great-uncle Arnold and the Louis XVI rococo hanging mirror.
Maybe offering Cosmo first chance at the grimoire was Seamus’s attempt to make amends. Though that was unlikely. There was no more arrogant son of a warlock than Seamus Reitherman. It was doubtful he believed he had anything to make amends for.
No, this gesture, if sincere, would be nothing more than a calculated effort to get the best price possible.
Which he would. If this was the real thing, Cosmo had no intention of quibbling over money. Let alone magic.
In three long strides he reached the darkened storefront of the Creaky Attic. His heart sank.
CLOSED read the sign in the front door. It was gently swinging, as though it had only been turned over a few moments ago.
Oh, but then the shop would be closed. It was well past midnight. Cosmo reached for the door handle.
Wrong again. It was locked.
He swore softly, studying the front of the store for movement within the indistinct interior. With the exception of the swaying sign, nothing moved. Even the playful night breeze stilled. Cosmo took a step back, absently considering the flowery white and gold script that flowed across the top of the unlit bay window: Antiques and the Arcane.
Though the lights were off, he could see straight down the crowded, shadowy center aisle to a sales desk—and the black outline of a doorway beyond. Pale lamplight glowed from within Seamus’s office.
Cosmo raised his hands before the front door. He murmured, “Ticktock, turn the lock.”
Simple magic. The kind of thing they learned as children. He didn’t expect it to work, but like the mortals say, it’s the little things. The locks turned—there didn’t appear to be any wards or enchantments protecting the entrance at all—and the door swung silently open as though pushed by an unseen hand.
Cosmo stepped inside. “Hello? Seamus?”
The shop smelled of old books and furniture polish and incense.
Barring the incense, it smelled like his own shop, though there was a sharp, unpleasant undernote he didn’t recognize. But then disagreeable smells were part of the antiques dealer job description. More often than not, the past stank.
“Sorry I’m late,” Cosmo called into the resounding silence. “Hello?”
No one answered. Nothing moved.
Yet the shop did not feel empty.
Framed in the office doorway, the lamp on Seamus’s desk shined with cheery disregard, a sharp black silhouette against the red walls. Cosmo walked soundlessly down the aisle, passing a Secor wooden barrel chest worth a couple grand, a late 19th century Broadwood upright piano in an ebonized and satinwood decorated case. The ivory keys rippled a ghostly little tune as he passed. Fauré’s “Clair de Lune.”
On the other side of the aisle he could make out Goddess boxes, smudging kits, and figure candles in the gloom. Seamus sold both the cheesy and the costly with equal aplomb.
“Seamus?” This time Cosmo did not call out. Something in the listening silence made him uneasy.
He remembered the presence he had felt on the street outside. But no, whatever that had been, it was still behind him. Unable to cross the shop’s threshold? Perhaps he had been wrong about the lack of wards and enchantments on the front door.
He reached the old-fashioned wooden circulation desk, went behind it, and entered the office. He froze on the threshold.
Seamus was on the floor, lying prone in twin pools of lamplight and blood.
Cosmo stared and stared and yet couldn’t seem to make sense of it.
Every detail was imprinted on his mind—the strands of gray in Seamus’s long ponytail, the silver glint of the ring on his hand, his staring bloodshot eyes—and yet he couldn’t seem to take in the whole picture. He felt strange. Cold and far, far away. Not astral projection far, far away. More Am I about to faint? far away.
Seamus was…dead?
Dead?
Not just deceased. Violently dead.
He could not see a wound, but all that blood had to be coming from somewhere. Some opening not intended by Goddess or nature. He swallowed his rising sickness.
An ebony-handled athame—the double-edge blade black with gore—lay a few inches from Seamus’s outstretched hand.
But this was not suicide.
Murder?
Who? Why?
Cosmo’s stricken gaze lit on what appeared to be yellow chalk markings above Seamus’s head. He moved closer for a better look, and his scalp prickled in horror.
The first strokes of a sacred symbol. Had someone begun to draw a pentagram?
No. This was truly unthinkable. Seamus had been slain by someone within the Craft. Cosmo knelt to reach for the dagger but remembered in time—all those hours spent watching television finally going to good use—and drew back.
He must touch nothing. He must leave. Now.
But those markings. He should make some record. He should… He felt for his phone.
A rustling sound overhead made him look up.
The image sliding across the low ceiling was straight out of his childhood, out of a lot of people’s childhoods: the sharp black silhouette of a witch on a broomstick. His relationship with that symbol was vastly different from most people his age—most people of any age. Even so, ridiculously, the sight of that profile—crooked hat, crooked nose, crooked chin—paralyzed him for a second or two.
“SFPD. Don’t move!” a voice bellowed from the doorway behind him—and Cosmo jumped.
“Keep your hands where I can see ’em. Do. Not. Move. A. Muscle.”
After his initial start, Cosmo did not move a muscle. He did not dare so much as breathe. Even with everything that had happened in the last four minutes, he could not believe he had not sensed the cop’s approach. Fool. Fool. Fool. He really was out of Practice.
“Facedown on the floor and lock your hands behind your head.”
Cosmo said urgently to the blinding white light, “I haven’t touched him. I found him like this—”
“Get on the floor. Facedown. Now.”
There were two of them. Two flashlight beams hitting him square in the eyes, and although the room was not in total darkness, it was disorienting. With time and cover there were evasive actions he could have taken, but he had neither.
The shock of finding Seamus dead had chased everything else from his mind. Now he remembered. The grimoire. Where was it? Was it in the shop? Had Seamus’s assailant taken it?
“Last chance. Get on the fucking floor, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
They were as frightened as he was.
He could not be arrested. There had to be some way—
Getting shot was not a viable alternative.
Though possibly preferable to having to explain…this.
Cosmo placed his hands on the floor, surreptitiously wiping the heel of his hand across the yellow chalk. He lowered himself, trying to avoid the spreading cobweb of Seamus’s blood weaving across the channels of woodgrain.
He blinked into the glare of the flashlights, forcing his soft voice to an even quieter and more soothing tone, seeking to reach them, to convince them. “This is a mistake. I’m not who you’re looking for. I just got here—”
“Hey,” the voice behind the second flashlight beam interrupted. “Isn’t that…”
“Isn’t that what?” demanded the first cop.
No, no, no. He tried again to reach them, keeping his voice so soft, so soothing… “This is a mistake. I’m not—”
The second cop said in a wondering tone, “Holy shit. I think I know him.”
“Well, who the hell is he, then?”
Goddess, no. Please no. He gulped. “Just listen, will you? This is not what it appears—”
“Holy shit,” the second cop repeated. Then in that same slow, incredulous voice, “Isn’t he the guy Commissioner Galbraith is supposed to be marrying this weekend?”
Catherine Curzon is a royal historian who writes on all matters of 18th century. Her work has been featured on many platforms and Catherine has also spoken at various venues including the Royal Pavilion, Brighton, and Dr Johnson’s House.
Catherine holds a Master’s degree in Film and when not dodging the furies of the guillotine, writes fiction set deep in the underbelly of Georgian London.
She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.
Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens. Her large collection of vintage hats would rival Hedda Hopper's.
Originally from the south-east, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.
Anna MartinAnna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the southwest of England and now lives in the Bristol, a city that embraces her love for the arts. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.
Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, Anna is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theater (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), going to visit friends in other countries, and reading anything thatís put under her nose.
Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, prereading, and creative ass kicking provided by her best friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept responsibility for anything Anna has written.
I am a writer of contemporary and speculative fiction and artist of all things monster. I live to create new worlds and the people in them. Several of my books have been best sellers both nationally and internationally. I have also been a finalist in the LAMDA awards, the "Oscars" of gay literary works.
I do my best to write original stories with powerful characters and emotion as well as a fast-paced plot. My goal isn't just to deliver a good story but to take the reader into the story and let them experience the characters as if they are right there with them.
While almost all my books have a romantic element, I will be the first to admit, they are not traditional romance. In fact, I'd like to think there is nothing traditional about them. And the stories I paint are done so way outside the lines of traditional genres.
One of my favorite things to do as a writer is push the boundaries of what makes a story and to deliver the unexpected and maybe even change the perspective of the reader.
My characters are more often than not, beautifully flawed, not always the good guy, and make mistakes. Their stories will take dark turns which, in the end, make the light at the end of the tunnel all the brighter.
If you're looking for something different, exciting, and unique, my books are for you.
Check out my website for updates and how to contact me. I love hearing from fans.
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.
Josh Lanyon
Bestselling author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON has been called "the Agatha Christie of gay mystery."
Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Josh is married and they live in Southern California.Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Catherine Curzon
Eleanor Harkstead
EMAIL: contact@eleanorharkstead.co.uk
Anna Martin
Adrienne Wilder
The Captain's Ghostly Gamble by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead
B&N / KOBO / PRIDE PUBLISHING
Lone Wolf by Anna Martin
He Speaks Dead by Adrienne Wilder
Entombed by A Drew
Mainly by Moonlight by Josh Lanyon
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / B&N
KOBO / iTUNES / AUDIBLE
iTUNES AUDIO / GOOGLE PLAY
SMASHWORDS / GOODREADS TBR
KOBO / iTUNES / AUDIBLE
iTUNES AUDIO / GOOGLE PLAY
SMASHWORDS / GOODREADS TBR
