Peter Cratchit's Christmas Carol by Drew Marvin Frayne
Summary:
Peter Cratchit, a young lad preparing to make his way in the world, is the eldest son of Scrooge’s lowly clerk Bob Cratchit. Peter flourishes under the tutelage of his “Uncle” Scrooge and seeks to make his mark as a man of business, like his uncle before him.
One Christmas Eve, as Scrooge lays dying, Peter embarks on a risky ocean voyage that he believes will secure the future for his family. Onboard, Peter finds love, happiness, and success, only to lose it all by the voyage’s end.
Returning to London, Peter shuns his family and instead finds himself living on the streets, haunted by his failures and his dead lover, selling his body just to survive while he waits for the winter cold to claim him once and for all. But winter snows also mean Christmas is coming, and for the Cratchit family, Christmas is a time of miracles. Can a visit from three familiar spirits change Peter’s life again? Is there one more miracle in store for the lost son of one of Dickens’ most enduring families?
I'm just going to say it: this was amazing!
It never really dawned on me to see if there was any Xmas Carol stories in the LGBT genre but when this one crossed my path, I was intrigued from the beginning. Not only was it a Dickens' style story but it involves his characters and I was very interested to see how the author would bring them to life. The reasons behind Peter's ghostly visitors may be a bit different than Scrooge's but never the less poignant. My heart broke for Peter at times, I found myself internally screaming wanting to make Peter see this way or that, to turn left instead of right, but the author had Peter's journey set and I was just along for the ride.
If you are simply expecting a gay retelling of the Charles Dickens classic than you will be disappointed, Peter Cratchit's Christmas Carol is the character's own story, yes he knows his Uncle Scrooge's holiday adventure, yes he's visited by his own three spirits, yes he has to learn his lessons, to discover what is important in life but they are different lessons and that is what makes this story so good. A blending of classic and new.
I've only ever read one other Drew Marvin Frayne before(and it was just a few weeks ago and another Christmas short) and to be perfectly frank, I was skeptical about an author "tinkering around in Dickens' playground" but I needn't have been because the author makes this story unique, intriguing, heartbreaking, heartwarming, and one that should be read any time of year. Charles Dickins' A Christmas Carol is my absolute favorite Christmas story and one I read, watch, listen to every holiday season multiple times, now I may not read Peter Cratchit's Christmas Carol every year but I will definitely re-visit it for years to come. As I said above, Drew Marvin Frayne's take is a blending of classic and new, not a re-telling in any way, shape, or form but if you need a label or tag then I suppose "sequel" probably best describes it. Whatever label you want to use, it is not to be missed.
RATING:
Kraken My Heart by KL Hiers
Summary:Sucker for Love #2
It’s just Ted’s luck that he meets the love of his life while covered in the blood of a murder victim.
Funeral worker Ted Sturm has a foul mouth, a big heart, and a knack for communicating with the dead. Unfortunately, the dead don’t make very good friends, and Ted’s only living pal, his roommate, just rescued a strange cat who’s determined to make his life even more miserable. This cat is more than he seems, and soon Ted finds himself in an alternate dimension… and on top of a dead body.
When Ted is accused of murder, his only ally in a strange world full of powerful magical beings calling for his head is King Grell, a sarcastic, randy, catlike immortal with impressive abilities… and anatomy. The two soon find themselves at the center of a cosmic conspiracy and surrounded by dangerous enemies. But with Ted’s special skills and Grell’s magic, they have a chance to get to the bottom of the mystery and save Ted. There’s just one problem: Ted’s got to resist Grell’s aggressive advances… and he isn’t sure he wants to.
Summary:
Witchbane #1
Seth is used to risking his neck. He never intended to risk his heart. Seth Tanner swore to avenge his brother’s death. But when his quest for vengeance brings him to Richmond to stop a dark coven’s next ritual murder, he’s hell-bent on keeping Jackson Evan Malone from becoming the warlocks’ next victim. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with the man he’s sworn to protect.
Evan thinks Seth is crazy. Maybe that’s true—but Seth could still be right about the danger. Evan doesn’t believe in witches, and he’s still healing from past betrayals. He might trust Seth with his life—but what happens when he starts to fall for his handsome, dangerous protector?
Witchbane is a supernatural, second chance at love thrill ride packed with hurt/comfort, deadly magic, immortal witches, determined hunters, spells and curses, true love, impressive explosions, spooky chills and sexy thrills!
Jock Blocked by Noah Harris
Summary:Colin: My life is pretty quiet, and I prefer it that way. I do my schoolwork, I have what some would call a nerdy hobby and I have my, um…toys. Tutoring pays the bills, and when I’m asked to help the star football player fix his grades, it’s just another job, right? Then I find out he’s a dragon shifter who likes to party rather than study. God, I wonder if the stories about dragon shifter anatomy are true? Not that I’m likely to find out since he’s clearly straight!
Leon: Being on the football team and belonging to the best frat on campus is great. I get to have fun, and women throw themselves at me. Life was looking good until my team captain found out I was failing a class and hired a nerdy little human tutor to keep me focused and get me back on track. But…It turns out the guy is actually kind of cute...and quite a distraction!
All Colin wants is a quiet life studying and building his models. All Leon wants is to have fun and play football. When the nerd and the jock are thrown together, logic dictates they can’t both have what they desire…or can they?
Summary:
Hollydale Omegas #1
“I will always love you, both in this life and the next. I vow to love you, honor you, and stay by your side through haunted houses, dead relatives, and random appearances of red croquet balls.”
Milo is a mild-mannered omega who just wants to save his Sweet Ballz, the candy shop he owns on Main St. in Hollydale. Someday maybe he will find an alpha as awesome as the book boyfriends he reads about in the popular books by his favorite author. But for now, Milo is content to be at home curled up with his favorite romance books.
Rafe is a lonely alpha trying to juggle his writing career while settling into the gorgeous old manor he's just purchased in quaint Hollydale. He just wants to have a home of his own away from the craziness of his rich, socialite family. All Rafe wants is peace and quiet to secretly write his popular romance novels, and to maybe someday find a sweet omega to love like the ones he writes about every night.
Rafe can't explain the odd happenings in his new home, or the strangely sweet little old lady who comes and goes, even when the doors are locked. Is he being gas-lighted or is there more going on? Rafe and Milo could be perfect for each other, if they can first overcome the red croquet balls that life keeps throwing at them.
This is the first book of The Hollydale Omegas series. This book is 35k and most likely contains an HEA. 18+ readers only please! And yes, this book contains M/PREG, adults adulting in sexy grown-up ways, and way more than an occasional use of potty mouth language.
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Random Paranormal Tales of 2021
Peter Cratchit's Christmas Carol by Drew Marvin Frayne
Scrooge was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. He died some two years past on this very day, Christmas Eve. I would it were not so; yet I suspect the old man would not agree. He became rather infirm at the end, frail and forgetful, and though he did his best to remain cheerful, I know he hated to show weakness of any kind. It wasn’t a matter of pride, nor vanity; no, it wasn’t for his sake that he cared so. It was that, as he himself often said, he had become a sort of safeguard, a protector, to his family and to his community, and he hated the thought of us carrying on without him there, watching over us all. And we, of course, would clasp his hand and tell him that he would be looking over us in the next life, and that such thoughts brought us great comfort, and they should bring him great comfort too. And he would sigh, and agree with us, and settle in, at least for a while, until another great spasm wracked his breast, and his chest would heave with immense, raggedy gasps for air, and his worries arose all over again.
He died a good death, if it could be said that any death should be regarded as good. Though I have not spent nearly as many years as Scrooge did on this planet, I have knocked about a bit, and circumstance has shown me both great fortune and great tragedy. And as such, I have come to believe there is no good death to be had in this world. I have seen many poor wretches, past all hope of recovery from whatever it was that ailed them—whether it be an infliction of the body or the soul—beg for death, pray for it, and have watched it come in many guises, be it the cold, or the cough, or the cutthroat. I have seen their prayers answered, even if those answers came in some form of pain they had never envisioned. And yet I say, when the end did finally come, each and every one begged to stay, begged for their final breath to be forestalled, begged to live for even one moment more. Yea, though I have been on this world for less than a quarter of a century, I have come to know its horrors and have learned the greatest horror of all is that there is no world, no life, beyond this one.
Scrooge would not have agreed with this; oft he told us the tale of his visitation by his old friend, Jacob Marley, dead seven years in the grave before his return, and the further visitations by the three spirits who haunted him, also on a Christmas Eve. To Scrooge, there was no greater evidence of providence than this, and he lived such feelings in his heart for the rest of his life. I was glad of it; we all were, all of London town, though those of us who were closest to him felt his change of heart and his largesse most keenly. And many was the time, as a young man, on a Christmas Eve like this one, I sat cross-legged on the floor at Scrooge’s feet and listened to his tales of Christmas ghosts and astonishing spirits, of visitations to the past, and of the wondrous things that are yet to come.
Yet even then, I was a skeptic. After his tale was complete, Old Scrooge, as wise at reading faces as he was at managing his business, would frequently tousle my hair and tell me, “Young Master Peter, you must have the conviction of your faith. It is not enough to simply believe; you must know Christmas, and keep it in your heart all the year long.” Such words were enough for Tim and for the others; but I, I would only smile, and say, “Yes, Uncle Scrooge,” in a manner and tone that were always respectful, but that the cunning old man also knew to be mollifying. And Scrooge would then bend quite low—for he was a tall, wizened old fellow, and I have always been inclined to be undersized—and he would say to me, “You must not fear the world so much, Peter Cratchit.” And I would nod, and he would pat my cheek, or sometimes playfully pinch my nose. But what he meant by those words, I cannot say. In my experience, there is much to fear in this world, and much calamity the world will set upon the unwary soul who is not ever vigilant.
A growl in my stomach disturbed my thoughts. Time to dispense with these ruminations on the past; I was hungry. I willed my body out of its bed, a small recess in the side of a crumbling brick building used for the storage of livestock, a cramped pen to house the beasts before they were led to slaughter. The recess provided some shelter from the elements; there had been rain last night, so it was useful to keep dry, though the rain had been only a drizzle, and the weather was unseasonably temperate for so late in December. That was no small mercy.
The recess had once been a side door, now sealed up, when the building had been used for some other purpose, long forgotten to time. The smell of animal excrement that clung to the building—and to those who worked or, like me, dwelt within her—was formidable, but it also meant the alley I called my home remained deserted during the nightly hours. Safety in this life often comes at great cost. Those who have suffered at the world’s hands know this lesson all too well. The men who tended the animals had assembled a small cleaning station, clean water and a strong lye soap, behind the building, and they charitably did not begrudge my use of it from time to time, provided I did not tarry, and they did not see me. I hastened in my morning ablutions and made my way out to the street.
There was a bakery on Saint Martin’s Close; it was there I would seek to break my fast. Every morning, my repast was the same: two hot buttered rolls and a small tankard of ale. The only difference was whether the baker would tally the cost of his labors on my tongue or on my tail.
I made my way down Carol Street to the main Camden Road. I used to live on this very road, as a youth, but far down the other end from those places where I now worked and resided. Camden Town was named for Camden Road; the road was the heart of the ward, bisecting it in the north and making up the entirety of its western edge. It was impossible to be in Camden Town and avoid the Camden Road. And yet, in all of my wanderings through this neighborhood, I always avoided the familiar façade of my former house, with its chipped paint and ill-fitted front door. I was more interested in the thick, oaken door that led to the alley behind the bakery, where the business received deliveries of flour and other such supplies. I knocked. Some days, the baker answered promptly, as if expecting me; other days, like today, I had to wait. He was a busy man, having woke well before the dawn to assemble his breads and rolls and pastries and cakes. His bakery was a small one, but he did a good measure of custom, enough to keep him in flour and dough and sugar and coal for the ovens. Still, he had only one boy to help him prepare the daily wares—in this neighborhood, even relative prosperity resulted in genuine poverty.
Whether the boy was his son, or some urchin off the street, I do not know. The baker and I did not converse on such matters. It was, in part, because the man’s well of English was so deficient that any conversation would prove inconsequential at best. I could not identify his native tongue, and he spoke only the English of a tradesman and knew the terms for barter and exchange, and little more. My own English improved greatly under the tutelage of Ebenezer Scrooge, who gave me books to read and provided college-trained tutors to sharpen my intellect. I was beyond basic schooling by the time our families came together; but my mind was quick and hungered for knowledge, and Uncle Scrooge filled it with book after book on all manner of subjects—history, literature, economics, philosophy, mythology, the principles of business. I eagerly took it all in, save perhaps the poets, who I found too disordered, too insubstantial, to truly relish. Still, for an occasion such as this, the silver portion of my tongue was not really necessary. It was my tongue’s other talents that the baker was interested in. I suppose, in the end, this, like so much in life, was simply a matter of business. I needed what the baker had to offer; he felt the same. Talk would only prolong the necessities of exchange.
The man finally answered and hurried me inside. In nicer weather, he sometimes took his payment in the alley, but he did not like the cold and the damp, so he ushered me into a cramped cookery room stuffed with coal- and wood-burning ovens. I had no objection to being enveloped in warmth; it made for a pleasant change of atmosphere from my usual status at this time of year.
I could see by the sights and sounds of his distresses that my morning patron was more harried than usual. His eyes were darting around the room. His gestures were quick, and rough, and impatient. He was a large, hirsute man, with a rotund belly and a gray, prickly beard, which, at the moment, was dusted in a rather generous supply of flour.
I was no longer fond of beards; I generally preferred smooth-faced youths, like myself, and not the wooly chins of older men, though, in my line of work, older men were my main custom. And this was business, not pleasure, and the baker felt the same as I, especially today. Even as he penned me into his back kitchen, he continued to bellow orders to the boy out front. I often wondered what the boy thought of our exchanges. Perhaps it was of no consequence to him. Perhaps he was grateful he did not have to provide a similar service. Or perhaps he did. Who can say.
Kraken My Heart by KL Hiers
Carefully, like Ted was navigating through a minefield, he tried to sneak back to his room. Despite his diligent and precise pace, his foot collided with a very large ball of fur just as he walked around the edge of the couch.
Mr. Twigs yowled in protest and promptly bit Ted’s ankle.
“You stupid cat!” Ted growled in pain, his leg jerking and sending the cat stumbling into the wall. His heart dropped in instant regret, and he hurried to turn on a lamp. “Shit! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, little dude! Are you okay?”
Mr. Twigs was glaring at Ted over his sunglasses and growled loudly. A portal suddenly opened up in the living room floor with flashing bright lights and whipping winds.
Ted froze, staring stupidly at the giant black void in the apartment floor. Being able to create a portal was a very rare skill, and he’d never seen one in person before. “What the…?”
As if the swirling hole wasn’t crazy enough, Mr. Twigs transformed into a very tall, very skinny, and very naked young man. He flashed a smile full of pointed teeth, hissing, “Oh, that’s the last time you kick me, asshole.”
“I didn’t kick you!” Ted argued indignantly. “It was a fucking accidennnnnttt!” he screamed as Mr. Twigs pushed him and sent him toppling headfirst into the portal.
It was like… going down a water slide filled with pudding.
Ted didn’t feel air around him, not exactly, but it was something thick and suffocating. The light all around him was so bright that he couldn’t see, and he thought he had to be dying.
His stomach dropped as if he was falling, but he couldn’t see anything to track his descent. He grunted when he smacked into something solid and wet, the wind knocked right out of his lungs. He wheezed, trying to draw in oxygen and staring up at a high vaulted ceiling.
Ted watched the portal close above him, and he weakly lifted his head to see where he was. He was lying in a puddle of something sticky, and the room was reminiscent of an old castle throne room.
Big ceilings, lots of stained glass, fancy throne….
He was also completely surrounded by monsters.
Ted scrambled to stand up, but he slipped in the sticky mess beneath him. He could feel the goo all over his back and hands, sliding around as he struggled to get out of it. He bumped into something cold and whirled around to find a dead body.
It was one of the feline creatures, its eyes lifeless and milky, soaking in a puddle of….
Oh God.
It was blood.
“Pardon me, coming through!” a deep voice growled, echoing throughout the massive chamber. “Stand aside! This is official royal business, so move your ass!”
Ted was nauseated, staring up at a human figure pushing his way through the crowd of monsters.
He was short but broad, thick in stature, and sporting a nasty smile full of pointed teeth. Otherwise, he looked quite normal. His hair was jet black, cut close to his scalp, with a well-groomed beard streaked with silver, and his eyes were a spectacular shade of gold, looking over Ted like he was a tasty piece of meat.
He wore a three-piece suit, but it was a much flashier ensemble than Ted would have worn for his job at the funeral home. The jacket and pants were black, but the tie was an obnoxiously bright purple, and he could see a glittering watch chain hanging from the man’s matching purple brocade vest.
“Well, aren’t you just a pretty little thing?” the man greeted. “What’s your name, darling?”
“I’m, I’m…,” Ted stammered, looking around frantically as the monsters backed away. Whoever this man was, he was definitely in charge. There was something about the way he was looking at Ted that made him blush and his heart beat a little faster.
“I’m Ted…. My name is Ted,” he managed to choke out. He wondered if he was dead or if this was some sort of nightmare. His mind was having trouble processing that any of this was real. “Where am I? What is this?”
“Welcome to Xenon, darling,” the man replied. “I’m Thiazi Grell. I was voted most likely to get detained for illegal activities by my primary class, very avid Tetris player, and reigning Miss Pretty Petunia Pageant champion for the last two hundred years. Oh, and King of Xenon.
Obviously.”
“Huh?” Ted squeaked.
“Would you like something to drink?” Grell offered. “Something strong. Help you calm down, put some more hair on that luscious chest, come to terms with the murder charges….”
“With the what?”
Witchbane by Morgan Brice
Seth
How the hell did I end up on a date with a cute bartender? Seth walked beside Sonny as they meandered around downtown Richmond. Still, being with Sonny felt comfortable, in a way Seth hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know one of the locals, blow off a little steam, and make a friend who might be able to help him find the elusive Jackson Malone.
Seth had spent all evening watching Sonny tend bar. Sonny was good at his job, helpful to the servers, and made the customers feel at home. He was also damn good looking, and his worn jeans pulled just right across his toned ass. So when Sonny started throwing signals, Seth responded, and suddenly the evening had taken an unexpected turn.
“What do you do for fun?” Sonny asked, making conversation as they walked. Seth knew that behind the casual questions, Sonny was trying to figure out whether taking Seth home was a good idea. Seth found himself wanting to make a good impression.
“I read,” Seth said, sticking as close to the truth as he could. “Watch movies. Action flicks, superheroes, that kind of thing. Play video games, when I have the time. When I got out of the service, I thought I’d take a little time off to see the country, so I’m finally taking the road trip I promised myself.”
“By yourself?” Sonny sounded torn between being impressed and concerned.
Seth shrugged. “I’ve got friends scattered around, from the army and before. So I drop in and catch up. But yeah, mostly by myself. Clears my mind, you know?”
I should just ask him about Malone, Seth thought. The clock’s ticking. If Malone is a regular, Sonny’ll know. Then again, asking the guy he might be hooking up with about another dude was awkward, to say the least. It’s not like I can say, “I need to protect this guy I don’t know from a dark warlock. Do you have his number?”
“You want to go get some coffee?” Sonny asked after they had walked for a while. “This place I know has really good desserts, and it’s a nice place to just sit and chill for a while.”
It had been so long since Seth had been on anything resembling a date that he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. “Sure,” he said, less because he wanted dessert than because he didn’t want his time with Sonny to end yet.
Maybe he’d misread the signals. He’d thought Sonny was interested in him. Like, interested. Not that Seth wanted to have a quickie in the alley behind the bar, but he hadn’t expected Sonny to want to invest time getting to know him. After all, Sonny knew Seth was just passing through. It’s not like there might be a relationship to build.
And yet, as Sonny led him to a cool little indie coffee shop with an Edgar Allen Poe theme, Seth discovered that he felt all right with taking it slow. He liked that Sonny wasn’t rushing things, focused just on getting into Seth’s pants. It had been a long time since Seth had spent time with an attractive guy just talking...and flirting. God, he was rusty. But Sonny made it seem easy. Somehow, just sitting and chatting seemed natural, unforced. And for the first time in a long while, Seth felt himself relax.
“If you want to talk sports, you’re out of luck,” Sonny admitted as they found a cozy alcove with two plump leather chairs angled for conversation. “I know the scores for the latest games because the TV plays in the bar, but I don’t follow any teams.”
“Thank God,” Seth replied, settling into his chair. “I’m better on cars and motorcycles if that’s your thing.”
“I’m not a true gearhead, but I had an uncle who ran a garage and I used to help out in the summers.” Sonny paused to drink his coffee. They’d each paid for their own, but Seth had overheard Sonny’s order. Chai latte. Fancy, but hardly flamboyant. Seth splurged and added cream to his regular coffee. It tasted as good as it smelled.
“I learned to do some basic repairs, more out of necessity than anything else,” Seth admitted. “I’ve got a long way to go before I can strip a car down to the axles and rebuild it...although I think it’s cool to watch someone who can.”
The conversation turned to video games, a passion they both indulged, and Seth enjoyed the chance to talk in detail about his favorites with someone else who had played them through. “We should so do a campaign together,” Seth said and wrote down his username on a napkin for the big multiplayer game they both enjoyed. On impulse, he added his phone number. His heartbeat spiked when he slid the napkin to Sonny, afraid he’d been too forward. But when Sonny tore off a part of the napkin and returned the favor—including the phone number—Seth relaxed again.
“It’ll be fun to campaign with someone I’ve actually met,” Sonny replied. “So many of the guys out there are total douchebags.”
Seth was about to agree when Sonny’s phone rang. “Sorry, it’s work. Gotta take this.” Sonny frowned at the distraction. He listened for a moment, and his expression morphed from annoyance to resignation. “Okay. Give me twenty. Thanks.”
He shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked up at Seth. “I’m really sorry. Eddie, the guy who was supposed to work the night shift, got really sick and had to leave. Liam can’t handle both bars himself. So...I need to go in.”
“That’s okay.” Seth tried to ignore his disappointment. Even if they didn’t end up in bed, he’d been enjoying the company. “This was fun.” Had Sonny set it up for a co-worker to call him with an out if the evening didn’t shape up the way he wanted? Maybe Sonny had been waiting for Seth to make the first move, and decided things weren’t moving along fast enough? S***, how can I f*** up a date?
Sonny leaned over and put his hand on Seth’s arm. “I had a great time,” he said, making a point of meeting Seth’s gaze. “And if you’re still in town, I get off at seven tomorrow, too. If Eddie’s still sick I’ll make sure Liam has a different replacement. So come by if you want to try this again. Maybe go back to my place afterward, you know, Netflix and chill?”
“I’d like that,” Seth said, surprised at how warm Sonny’s hand felt on his arm. “Can I walk you back to Treddy’s?” Since he figured that they had both parked behind the bar, it only seemed right.
“Sounds like a plan,” Sonny agreed. They finished their coffees and headed out into the night. The walk back passed quickly, and Seth discovered he didn’t have to stretch to make small talk. Chatting with Sonny came naturally, and Seth felt a little sad to find them in front of Treddy’s so quickly.
“See you tomorrow?” Sonny dared to stretch up to brush a quick kiss over Seth’s lips. He had pulled away before Seth collected his wits enough to think about kissing back.
“Definitely,” Seth replied, hoping he didn’t sound twitterpated after the surprise of the kiss. Sonny shot him a wink and disappeared inside, and it took Seth another minute to realize he needed to move away from the door.
Sonny’s kiss went through him like a bolt of lightning right to his balls. Seth turned away from the doorway and tried to subtly adjust himself. The Hayabusa sat right where he had parked it, but Seth paused to think about his grocery list and what was in his laundry basket so that he didn’t have to ride home with a hard-on.
Back at the campground, Seth let himself into the trailer, surprised at how disappointed he felt. When he’d gone to Treddy’s, he’d expected to have a beer, chat up the bartender and some regulars about Malone, and make an early night of it. Now he felt a little cheated—and frustrated. Seth fished a beer out of the fridge and sat at his laptop.
His phone chirped as he waited for the laptop to power up, and for a moment, he found himself hoping Sonny had decided to text him. He’d already added Sonny to his contacts. Instead, “Luis” came up, and Seth resigned himself to talking shop.
“Hey, Luis. What’s up?”
“Hey, yourself. I couldn’t turn up anything on that warlock in Richmond you’re chasing, but I did get some hits on the one in Pittsburgh. Noah and I were over that way last week chasing a pack of shifters, and I had the chance to dig around while we were there.”
“Thanks,” Seth replied, trying to get his head back into the game. “Your hunt go all right?”
“We’re alive, and the shifters aren’t, so I guess that’s a win. Normally, I’d be ‘live and let live,’ you know? But this pack had gone gangland, and they’d already killed three cops. So Noah and I took care of it.” He paused. “I got banged around plenty, but Noah got clawed in the leg, so we’re holed up until that heals.”
“That sucks, man. But I’m glad you’re mostly okay.” Luis and Noah were friends of Toby’s, some of the first hunters Seth had met. Since then, he’d gotten to know several other teams, either people he happened upon in the field or friends of friends. He hadn’t found it unusual that many hunters worked in teams, but the number of those teams that were more than just work partners did give him pause. Then again, hunting was a lonely job, and “civilians” didn’t understand. Some of the hunters he’d heard about had a home base and kept to a radius. Many of them traveled like he did, from job to job. Seth supposed that hunting solo was the perfect gig for natural loners. If he were honest with himself, Seth had to admit he was a little jealous of guys like Luis and Toby, who’d found partners in every sense of the word.
“You get any leads on the Richmond warlock?” Luis asked. “Noah and I aren’t too far away—if you want back-up.”
Seth knew Toby’s opinion of him going after Gremory’s disciple by himself. His mentor had waxed obscenely creative in telling him just how foolhardy he thought it was for Seth to go up against the warlock solo. But Seth also knew that neither Luis nor Noah had any magic of their own, and so he didn’t want to be responsible for getting anyone else hurt.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay. I appreciate it, though. And if I can help you out, just call.”
“We’re near Cleveland if you change your mind. Got a line on a couple of vengeful ghosts to put down once Noah’s healed up. But we could be in Richmond overnight if we hauled ass.”
“Go gank those ghosts,” Seth replied. “I’ve got this. Thanks for the intel. Anything you turn up on the witch-disciples, shoot my way. And let me know how to return the favor.”
“Sure thing,” Luis replied. “Watch your back.”
Seth hung up, and somehow the trailer felt emptier than usual. He turned on some music and pulled out a file on Corson Valac, Gremory’s disciple who had made Richmond his home. But as he slogged through the information, he found his focus had gone to s***. His mind wandered, wondering how Sonny’s evening was going.
Did Sonny make a habit of picking up dates at the bar? Seth wanted to think their connection had been special, but a guy who looked like Sonny would have his pick of partners, and Treddy’s probably turned into a meat market late night. He hoped that Sonny had been telling the truth about meeting up with him tomorrow.
But was he going back tomorrow? After all, he only had four days until Halloween, when Valac was likely to make a move against Malone, and Seth still didn’t know what either Malone or Valac looked like, or where to find them. Maybe the whole thing with Sonny was a bad idea, a diversion he couldn’t afford when Malone’s life was on the line.
Then again, Sonny might be a good ally, someone who could lead him to Malone and who knew the area. And if he spent the day chasing down leads, trying to uncover Valac’s current identity and getting his bearings, surely he could spare a few hours in the evening? Does it count as interrogating a witness if I’m giving him a hand job while I ask the questions?
By one a.m., Seth finally gave up on research, pitched the beer bottle, and headed for bed. And if he jacked himself off to thoughts about a certain dark-haired bartender, Seth figured that was his dirty little secret.
How the hell did I end up on a date with a cute bartender? Seth walked beside Sonny as they meandered around downtown Richmond. Still, being with Sonny felt comfortable, in a way Seth hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know one of the locals, blow off a little steam, and make a friend who might be able to help him find the elusive Jackson Malone.
Seth had spent all evening watching Sonny tend bar. Sonny was good at his job, helpful to the servers, and made the customers feel at home. He was also damn good looking, and his worn jeans pulled just right across his toned ass. So when Sonny started throwing signals, Seth responded, and suddenly the evening had taken an unexpected turn.
“What do you do for fun?” Sonny asked, making conversation as they walked. Seth knew that behind the casual questions, Sonny was trying to figure out whether taking Seth home was a good idea. Seth found himself wanting to make a good impression.
“I read,” Seth said, sticking as close to the truth as he could. “Watch movies. Action flicks, superheroes, that kind of thing. Play video games, when I have the time. When I got out of the service, I thought I’d take a little time off to see the country, so I’m finally taking the road trip I promised myself.”
“By yourself?” Sonny sounded torn between being impressed and concerned.
Seth shrugged. “I’ve got friends scattered around, from the army and before. So I drop in and catch up. But yeah, mostly by myself. Clears my mind, you know?”
I should just ask him about Malone, Seth thought. The clock’s ticking. If Malone is a regular, Sonny’ll know. Then again, asking the guy he might be hooking up with about another dude was awkward, to say the least. It’s not like I can say, “I need to protect this guy I don’t know from a dark warlock. Do you have his number?”
“You want to go get some coffee?” Sonny asked after they had walked for a while. “This place I know has really good desserts, and it’s a nice place to just sit and chill for a while.”
It had been so long since Seth had been on anything resembling a date that he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. “Sure,” he said, less because he wanted dessert than because he didn’t want his time with Sonny to end yet.
Maybe he’d misread the signals. He’d thought Sonny was interested in him. Like, interested. Not that Seth wanted to have a quickie in the alley behind the bar, but he hadn’t expected Sonny to want to invest time getting to know him. After all, Sonny knew Seth was just passing through. It’s not like there might be a relationship to build.
And yet, as Sonny led him to a cool little indie coffee shop with an Edgar Allen Poe theme, Seth discovered that he felt all right with taking it slow. He liked that Sonny wasn’t rushing things, focused just on getting into Seth’s pants. It had been a long time since Seth had spent time with an attractive guy just talking...and flirting. God, he was rusty. But Sonny made it seem easy. Somehow, just sitting and chatting seemed natural, unforced. And for the first time in a long while, Seth felt himself relax.
“If you want to talk sports, you’re out of luck,” Sonny admitted as they found a cozy alcove with two plump leather chairs angled for conversation. “I know the scores for the latest games because the TV plays in the bar, but I don’t follow any teams.”
“Thank God,” Seth replied, settling into his chair. “I’m better on cars and motorcycles if that’s your thing.”
“I’m not a true gearhead, but I had an uncle who ran a garage and I used to help out in the summers.” Sonny paused to drink his coffee. They’d each paid for their own, but Seth had overheard Sonny’s order. Chai latte. Fancy, but hardly flamboyant. Seth splurged and added cream to his regular coffee. It tasted as good as it smelled.
“I learned to do some basic repairs, more out of necessity than anything else,” Seth admitted. “I’ve got a long way to go before I can strip a car down to the axles and rebuild it...although I think it’s cool to watch someone who can.”
The conversation turned to video games, a passion they both indulged, and Seth enjoyed the chance to talk in detail about his favorites with someone else who had played them through. “We should so do a campaign together,” Seth said and wrote down his username on a napkin for the big multiplayer game they both enjoyed. On impulse, he added his phone number. His heartbeat spiked when he slid the napkin to Sonny, afraid he’d been too forward. But when Sonny tore off a part of the napkin and returned the favor—including the phone number—Seth relaxed again.
“It’ll be fun to campaign with someone I’ve actually met,” Sonny replied. “So many of the guys out there are total douchebags.”
Seth was about to agree when Sonny’s phone rang. “Sorry, it’s work. Gotta take this.” Sonny frowned at the distraction. He listened for a moment, and his expression morphed from annoyance to resignation. “Okay. Give me twenty. Thanks.”
He shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked up at Seth. “I’m really sorry. Eddie, the guy who was supposed to work the night shift, got really sick and had to leave. Liam can’t handle both bars himself. So...I need to go in.”
“That’s okay.” Seth tried to ignore his disappointment. Even if they didn’t end up in bed, he’d been enjoying the company. “This was fun.” Had Sonny set it up for a co-worker to call him with an out if the evening didn’t shape up the way he wanted? Maybe Sonny had been waiting for Seth to make the first move, and decided things weren’t moving along fast enough? S***, how can I f*** up a date?
Sonny leaned over and put his hand on Seth’s arm. “I had a great time,” he said, making a point of meeting Seth’s gaze. “And if you’re still in town, I get off at seven tomorrow, too. If Eddie’s still sick I’ll make sure Liam has a different replacement. So come by if you want to try this again. Maybe go back to my place afterward, you know, Netflix and chill?”
“I’d like that,” Seth said, surprised at how warm Sonny’s hand felt on his arm. “Can I walk you back to Treddy’s?” Since he figured that they had both parked behind the bar, it only seemed right.
“Sounds like a plan,” Sonny agreed. They finished their coffees and headed out into the night. The walk back passed quickly, and Seth discovered he didn’t have to stretch to make small talk. Chatting with Sonny came naturally, and Seth felt a little sad to find them in front of Treddy’s so quickly.
“See you tomorrow?” Sonny dared to stretch up to brush a quick kiss over Seth’s lips. He had pulled away before Seth collected his wits enough to think about kissing back.
“Definitely,” Seth replied, hoping he didn’t sound twitterpated after the surprise of the kiss. Sonny shot him a wink and disappeared inside, and it took Seth another minute to realize he needed to move away from the door.
Sonny’s kiss went through him like a bolt of lightning right to his balls. Seth turned away from the doorway and tried to subtly adjust himself. The Hayabusa sat right where he had parked it, but Seth paused to think about his grocery list and what was in his laundry basket so that he didn’t have to ride home with a hard-on.
Back at the campground, Seth let himself into the trailer, surprised at how disappointed he felt. When he’d gone to Treddy’s, he’d expected to have a beer, chat up the bartender and some regulars about Malone, and make an early night of it. Now he felt a little cheated—and frustrated. Seth fished a beer out of the fridge and sat at his laptop.
His phone chirped as he waited for the laptop to power up, and for a moment, he found himself hoping Sonny had decided to text him. He’d already added Sonny to his contacts. Instead, “Luis” came up, and Seth resigned himself to talking shop.
“Hey, Luis. What’s up?”
“Hey, yourself. I couldn’t turn up anything on that warlock in Richmond you’re chasing, but I did get some hits on the one in Pittsburgh. Noah and I were over that way last week chasing a pack of shifters, and I had the chance to dig around while we were there.”
“Thanks,” Seth replied, trying to get his head back into the game. “Your hunt go all right?”
“We’re alive, and the shifters aren’t, so I guess that’s a win. Normally, I’d be ‘live and let live,’ you know? But this pack had gone gangland, and they’d already killed three cops. So Noah and I took care of it.” He paused. “I got banged around plenty, but Noah got clawed in the leg, so we’re holed up until that heals.”
“That sucks, man. But I’m glad you’re mostly okay.” Luis and Noah were friends of Toby’s, some of the first hunters Seth had met. Since then, he’d gotten to know several other teams, either people he happened upon in the field or friends of friends. He hadn’t found it unusual that many hunters worked in teams, but the number of those teams that were more than just work partners did give him pause. Then again, hunting was a lonely job, and “civilians” didn’t understand. Some of the hunters he’d heard about had a home base and kept to a radius. Many of them traveled like he did, from job to job. Seth supposed that hunting solo was the perfect gig for natural loners. If he were honest with himself, Seth had to admit he was a little jealous of guys like Luis and Toby, who’d found partners in every sense of the word.
“You get any leads on the Richmond warlock?” Luis asked. “Noah and I aren’t too far away—if you want back-up.”
Seth knew Toby’s opinion of him going after Gremory’s disciple by himself. His mentor had waxed obscenely creative in telling him just how foolhardy he thought it was for Seth to go up against the warlock solo. But Seth also knew that neither Luis nor Noah had any magic of their own, and so he didn’t want to be responsible for getting anyone else hurt.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay. I appreciate it, though. And if I can help you out, just call.”
“We’re near Cleveland if you change your mind. Got a line on a couple of vengeful ghosts to put down once Noah’s healed up. But we could be in Richmond overnight if we hauled ass.”
“Go gank those ghosts,” Seth replied. “I’ve got this. Thanks for the intel. Anything you turn up on the witch-disciples, shoot my way. And let me know how to return the favor.”
“Sure thing,” Luis replied. “Watch your back.”
Seth hung up, and somehow the trailer felt emptier than usual. He turned on some music and pulled out a file on Corson Valac, Gremory’s disciple who had made Richmond his home. But as he slogged through the information, he found his focus had gone to s***. His mind wandered, wondering how Sonny’s evening was going.
Did Sonny make a habit of picking up dates at the bar? Seth wanted to think their connection had been special, but a guy who looked like Sonny would have his pick of partners, and Treddy’s probably turned into a meat market late night. He hoped that Sonny had been telling the truth about meeting up with him tomorrow.
But was he going back tomorrow? After all, he only had four days until Halloween, when Valac was likely to make a move against Malone, and Seth still didn’t know what either Malone or Valac looked like, or where to find them. Maybe the whole thing with Sonny was a bad idea, a diversion he couldn’t afford when Malone’s life was on the line.
Then again, Sonny might be a good ally, someone who could lead him to Malone and who knew the area. And if he spent the day chasing down leads, trying to uncover Valac’s current identity and getting his bearings, surely he could spare a few hours in the evening? Does it count as interrogating a witness if I’m giving him a hand job while I ask the questions?
By one a.m., Seth finally gave up on research, pitched the beer bottle, and headed for bed. And if he jacked himself off to thoughts about a certain dark-haired bartender, Seth figured that was his dirty little secret.
Jock Blocked by Noah Harris
1
Colin
Sweat beaded his forehead as he leaned in closer, careful not to jostle the table too much. Colin narrowed his eyes as he brought the tweezers forward, clutching a tiny piece of plastic, and dabbed a small bit of glue onto one end of the short rod. Setting the tube of glue aside, Colin took a deep breath, steadying his hand before placing the tiny cylinder in its designated place. Giving it an extra bit of pressure, he tweaked the angle until it was sitting exactly where he wanted it to be.
Drawing his hand back, he set the tweezers down on the work surface and looked over the half-built model in front of him. With only the guts of the miniature painted and delicately put together, it looked like a mess of pipes, beams, and partially finished compartments. When it was done, however, it would look like the majestic, if tragic, passenger ship it was meant to represent.
The glue from the recent additions would need time to dry, however, and he wasn’t going to fuss with it while that happened. That was perfectly fine with him, as the other half of the table in his room had the rest of the parts needed for the next step laid out and waiting to be painted. Once the paint dried, he would be able to busy himself with adding another layer to the model.
A knock at the door drew his head up from his handiwork, and he frowned at the display of the electronic clock on his computer desk. Without realizing it, he had burned through an entire afternoon, busying himself with his latest creation.
His roommate’s wry voice came through the door. “Colin? You alive in there?”
Snorting, he carefully moved his chair to the side. “Yes, give me a second.”
Sliding his chair, so it sat snugly under the worktable, he opened the door. Leaning against the doorway, showing off her Amazonian height, Lily stood with an amused smirk on her face.
“And what have you been toiling away at this time? Another extra credit? Porn?” she asked.
Colin sighed. “I don’t know what sort of people you’re used to dealing with, but if they’re spending hours looking at porn, maybe they should find themselves a different hobby.”
Lily snorted. “I mean, I hope you wouldn’t be in here watching porn for four hours straight.”
Four hours sounded about right, though he couldn’t remember registering the passage of time. Even as a boy, Colin’s ability to focus on a single task at the expense of everything else around him had been a story his parents and siblings loved to tell other people. First, it had been books after he’d learned to read, becoming so absorbed in a book he probably wouldn’t have noticed if a bomb went off. Studying had become second nature to him once it was required later on in his school life, and that sort of focus had drawn him to hobbies that allowed him to embrace it.
Lily nodded down the hall toward the kitchen. “Hungry?”
Colin placed a hand over his stomach, and it growled as if in response. “I guess I am.”
“Then come on, I cooked something,” Lily said, turning on her heel to walk back toward the kitchen.
Grinning, Colin closed his door behind him, following after her. “Please tell me it’s one of your legendary meals.”
“Dunno about legendary, but I made Bolognese.”
Colin sighed contentedly. “Then yes, one of your legendary meals.”
On cue, the rich smell of meat and tomato sauce filled his nose as they approached. Lily was usually confused by Colin’s enthusiasm for her food, but considering he was all but useless with a stove, he would happily take a well-cooked meal if it was created by someone else’s hand. He didn’t consider himself very picky, but when it came to food, he would choose Lily’s cooking over his own or even that of their other roommate.
Colin glanced around as he stepped into the cluttered kitchen. “Where’s Sam?”
Lily stopped in front of the pot on the stove, lifting the lid off. “She said something about a tournament.”
Colin took another breath, inhaling the intense cooking smells. “She’s found another game.”
Lily shrugged. “I can never keep up with them all. Last time it was some board game that had a rule book bigger than a textbook, and this time it’s some card game that’s played half online. I don’t know how she manages to keep up with it all or afford it.”
Colin snorted. “Probably because a lot of the people who come into the tutoring center ask for her specifically.”
Lily frowned. “Really? Everyone I’ve ever seen at her games aren’t the kind of people I would expect to be having problems with their studies.”
Colin raised a brow. “Are you trying to say that every geek out there is also a nerd?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Geek’s like their games, shows, and stuff like that. Nerds are like me, obsessed with grades and learning.”
Lily stirred the sauce, shaking her head. “And also happen to be the only ones who actually care about the difference between the two.”
Colin laughed. “But you’ve got a point. The people who ask for her specifically are also the ones you never see on the tutor list for anything else.”
Lily paused. “Let me guess, pretty girl, who really likes geeky things.”
Colin winked. “Now you’re getting it.”
Lily shook her head. “Everyone likes to talk about how the frat boys and jocks are the biggest horndogs on campus, but I think they’re severely underestimating just how horny a nerd can be.”
“Geek.”
“Both work in this case.”
“I am not a horndog.”
Lily looked up from the pot, smirking. “Remember when I did your laundry?”
Colin hesitated. “Yes.”
“Well, let’s just say someone needs to learn to put their toys in a different hiding place if they’re going to have their roommate do their laundry for them.”
Colins’ face burned. “And this is the part where we change the subject as quickly as possible.”
Lily chuckled. “Then go sit your butt down at the counter so I can serve you some food.”
“I am capable of getting my own food,” Colin said even as he obeyed her.
Lily turned to watch him, her eyes glinting as they caught the light from the overhead lamp. Colin knew logically that the flash in her eyes was from the extra layer of tissue all large cat shifters had, but it was always a little disconcerting to see, especially at night.
She grinned. “Something the matter?”
“Just don’t like it when you get all feral looking right before dinner,” Colin grumbled as he pulled out a stool to sit down.
Lily rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the pot. “Humans.”
“You ever considered the possibility that maybe it’s not just humans?” Colin asked.
“Are you trying to say that I’m just naturally scary?” Lily asked with a chuckle.
“I’m saying that historically, humans spent as much of their time being prey for predators as they did being the hunters. So we have plenty of holdovers from that period that make us as wary. Just as you would expect from prey shifters like squirrels or deer,” Colin pointed out.
Lily shook her head as she spooned out a healthy portion for him. “I’m just fishing for a compliment, and you have to drag out your science degree knowledge on me.”
“Ah, I did it again.”
Lily slid the bowl toward him. “Good old Colin, ruiner of fun.”
Colin grinned, bringing his food closer. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s not just your fun I’m fond of ruining.”
Lily leaned onto the counter. “Didn’t you recently lecture Sam about how it’s unhealthy for a canid to eat a lot of chocolate?”
Colin snorted, twirling spaghetti around his fork. “She was so frustrated with me, and kept trying to get me to understand that she’s a lupine, not a canid.”
“It will never not amuse me, watching that goofy girl somehow still get her feathers ruffled. You’d think with the way she works, she would have gotten rid of that damned stubborn wolf pride,” Lily said with a shake of her head.
Colin was too busy shoving the rich pasta sauce into his mouth to respond. His focus in school had primarily been animals, but that also meant that he ran into a lot of shifter biology and psychology as well, to the point that he’d decided to take a minor in Shifter Biology. The revelation of shifter’s existence to the human population had brought about an entire movement for the acceptance of their shifter cousins. Now they were accepted as a part of the world, and there was always a growing need for those who studied and sought to understand them.
Lily squinted. “I can see you thinking, even while you’re eating, you know that, right?”
Colin swallowed his mouthful of food before chuckling. “Sorry, I can’t help it. If I’m existing, I’m thinking about something.”
“Ever thought about turning it off for a bit?”
“If I did that, I’d probably end up going crazy,” Colin admitted.
“Maybe try getting laid.”
Colin groaned. “Please tell me we’re not about to have a conversation about my love life.”
“I think you’d have to have one before we could talk about it.”
“Ouch.”
Not that she was wrong, but he didn’t appreciate it being said quite so bluntly. Colin didn’t expect anything else from Lily, however. His friend and roommate was the quintessential lion shifter, regal, proud, determined, and lacking any tact whatsoever. Her honesty, both unvarnished and brutal, was one of the things Colin liked about her. There was something attractive about a person who was willing to state the truth, no matter how few friends it won them.
“You could always try to change that,” Lily pointed out.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m doing fine, thank you.”
It wasn’t as though he’d been utterly bereft of attention during his time at college. At twenty-four-years-old, Colin had experienced and enjoyed the freedom of so many people mingling on campus. Sure, he’d recently let his thick black hair get a little long for his taste, and the long nights studying had put dark circles under his blue eyes, but he still considered himself attractive. There were, after all, plenty of people attracted to tall, lanky guys, even if he did have to hide his eyes behind thick glasses. He wasn’t going to win any awards for his fashion choices, but he liked to run, and he ate well, so there had been a few takers over the years.
He’d just stopped taking them after a while.
Lily grinned. “Hey, Valentine’s Day is right around the corner.”
“First of all, it’s weeks away, secondly, what does that have to do with anything?”
“I mean, you can use that to your advantage, can’t you? Here you are, single, cute, and there’s a holiday celebrating couples coming up in a few weeks. Seems like a good time to start trolling around to find yourself a date.”
Colin scrunched his nose up. “So, your advice is for me to start trying to find a date just because of some arbitrary day on the calendar?”
Lily laughed, turning back to the stove. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound very romantic at all.”
“Was it supposed to?”
“Yes, the idea of finding someone to spend a romantic holiday with was supposed to sound romantic, Colin.”
“Makes me feel as if you think I’m so desperate for a love life that I’m willing to snatch up anyone who’s single and lonely.”
Lily finished spooning out her own food with a shake of her head. “Trying to get you to be romantic is like squeezing blood from a stone, you know that?”
Not that Colin hadn’t heard it before, though it had been a few years since the last time someone had thrown that particular accusation his way. His first attempt at a real relationship a few years ago had been one hell of an experience, and not one Colin was eager to repeat. At first, he and James had seemed perfectly matched, with both of them in the same field, both somewhat reserved and preferring quiet activities over anything energetic and boisterous.
And what a disaster it had turned out to be.
Lily tilted her head. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“Just reminded me of my disastrous love life,” Colin said with a light laugh.
Lily narrowed her eyes. “You were with James for six months, and it was two years ago. You can’t keep using that as an excuse to hide away from dating.”
Colin frowned. “I’m not hiding from anything.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that he was constantly busy, he could almost see what Lily was talking about. Between his studies and his work in the tutor center, Colin didn’t have a lot of time to spare. That he was content doing his own thing when he did have free time wasn’t something he considered a mark against himself.
He was just busy.
“This from the man more focused on his dinner than looking at me while we talk about this,” Lily pointed out.
Colin was spared having to answer her by the soft buzz of his phone in his pocket. Shooting Lily an apologetic look, he pulled it out to look at the notification on the lock screen. At the sight of Katie’s face, the woman in charge of the tutoring center, he quickly opened up the message.
“Something good?” Lily asked as she twirled her fork around on the plate.
“Looks like Katie has another job for me.”
Lily grunted. “Sounds good, you said you needed some extra money.”
“Tell me about it. Seems like some frat boy needs help,” Colin told her as he looked over the message.
“Which one?”
“Alpha Delta.”
“Don’t sound so excited about it.”
Colin wrinkled his nose. “I’m not going to make any judgments before I get to the job since they’re asking for help. But let’s be honest, most frat boys aren’t really interested in getting better, they just want to be good enough to keep having fun.”
“You’re such an optimist.”
“I like to think of it as realistic.”
“But not so much that you’ll turn the job down.”
Colin snorted, sliding his phone away. “Not a chance.”
Chapter 1
Rafe
“It’s everywhere, Ian. No matter where I turn, it’s pumpkin spiced everything! I seriously cannot escape it.” Turning to check for cars before crossing the street, I talked on the phone via the Bluetooth device that rarely left my right ear. “I don’t care how tasty it is, why can’t we at least make it through September before we’re knee deep in pumpkins? That’s all I want to know.”
I eased my way through the crowd of people on the sidewalk. I ignored the stares and odd glances passed my way from the idiots who didn’t see the blinking light of the earpiece I wore. I walked around the corner, ducking my head as I passed under the low red awning over the front door of Fairytale Florals. I grinned I as saw Ian sitting next door at a table he’d saved for us at The Glazed Bun.
Glancing across the tables that formed the patio seating area, his eyes flicked over the other patrons until he saw me. I waved a hand silently with an amused smirk. Ian turned off his own phone, dropping it down on the table in front of him as I made my way over to join him.
“What? You can’t even say good-bye before you hang up the phone? Ass.” I laughed as I slipped into the empty seat across from Ian.
“Kinda pointless to say good-bye when I’ll be saying hello a few seconds later, don’t you think?” Ian smirked. “Hello, Rafe.”
“Oh, shut it. Did you order coffee yet?” I looked around for the server, anxious to get a dose of caffeine.
“Yep. I ordered you a pumpkin spice latte.” Ian threw his blonde head back and laughed at the stony glare on my face. “Chill out, Rafe. They’re bringing coffee out soon. I’m just screwing with you.”
The waiter came up right then, a tiny little red-headed omega with bright green eyes and an even brighter smile. Efficiently setting empty coffee mugs in front of us, he then put a slim silver carafe of coffee in the center of the table.
Digging into the front, waist level pouch of his shamrock green apron, he chirped at us in a nasal sing-song voice: “Hey, cuties! Meet Tom! Tom is all yours today.”
With a sly wink he added as he openly checked us both out, “Your server, that is. Tom’s number is negotiable, but let’s get through breakfast first, m’kay?”
I grinned up at the sassy little guy as he pulled packets of sugar and containers of creamer out of the apron pocket. With a quirked brow, I leered at him suggestively. “Well, I really hope that number is negotiable if you’re already giving up your cream.”
Tom looked at me with his head tilted slightly, as if sizing me up. With a nod, he said: “You’ll do. And baby, Tom would never give up the cream at the first meet-cute. And definitely not until after someone buys Tom a drink or three! Let Tom just put that right out there, m’kay?”
He pulled out the menus that had been clamped under his arm and set one in front of each of us. Ian caught the omega’s small, delicate hand as he put the menu down on the table. Stroking his thumb over the back of Tom’s hand, Ian asked with a flirtatious wink: “Can I hear more about this giving up of your cream? And how soon can I buy Tom a drink or three?”
Tom winked and pulled his hand back. Pointing at me and then back to Ian, he said: “Oh, you two are trouble! Good thing Tom loves trouble, right? Now be a couple of good little alphas for Tom and look over your menus. Tom will be back soon to take your orders, m’kay?” He blew a noisy kiss at us and sauntered away, swinging his round little butt as he went. The black uniform trousers hugged his curvy globes to perfection, and Tom obviously knew how to work that to his advantage.
Ian drew in a sharp breath and said: “Dibs.”
I shook my head with a grin. Casually, I reached for the carafe and began to pour myself a cup of coffee as I spoke. “Dibs? Seriously, Ian? You do realize that Tom is a person and not the last piece of pie at Thanksgiving, right?”
“Yeah, and I also realize that I got here first and waited forever for your slow ass to show up. For making me wait, I get dibs. Plus, let’s be honest. That little twink would eat you for dinner.” Ian’s matter-of-fact words combined with the earnest expression on his face totally cracked me up.
My eyes narrowed as I shook my head. “Fair point. Now hurry up and pick out what you want to eat. I have an appointment with the realtor after this.” I added a cream and two packets of sugar to my coffee before finally taking a drink. “Ah. Nectar of the gods. I tell you, I don’t know how non-coffee drinkers survive the day.”
Ian watched me affectionately, his fingertips tapping out a steady rhythm on the tabletop. “Realtor, huh? I guess that means that you’re putting down roots and sticking around here in Hollydale?”
I nodded with a shrug. “I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re right. There’s nothing left for me back home, and I can write anywhere. But I need to get my own place. No offense, Ian, but your couch just isn’t that comfortable.”
“Yeah, but the rent on it is more than fair.” His green eyes glinted with pleasure at the idea of my moving here permanently. He’d been bugging me to make this move for the past several months now.
“Zero price for zero comfort? That’s more than fair, I suppose.” I tilted my head and looked up at the clear blue sky overhead as I pretended to think for a minute. I looked back over at Ian and said with a shrug: “No. In fact, you should be paying me for sleeping on it. The massage bills and chiropractor fees alone are more than what a month’s rent at a decent hotel would be.
“Yeah, I suppose it would seem that way.” Ian nodded in fake agreement. “Except that I’m not paying for your happy endings. You can pay your own masseuse bills, my friend. And the decent hotel wouldn’t have my charming face and a fridge full of beer.”
“Ah, good point. Forgot about the beer. Well, anyway, I’m meeting up with a realtor to see what is up for sale around this tiny town. I don’t have the highest of hopes that anything here will compare to my place back home though. I don’t mean to sound like an ass, it’s just that there are more amenities in the city.”
Ian shot me a wry grin. “True that. However, what we lack in amenities, we make up for with loads of charm.” He waved his hand as if showcasing the row of cute little shops that lined the small main street around us.
Tom came bustling over to take our order. He must have been in a rush, because there was a minimum of sass before he zipped off again after making sure that we were good on coffee.
As Tom was heading our way with an expertly balanced tray a little while later, Ian was saying: “You know what you need, Rafe? You need a night out. Let’s go to the bar tonight, have some drinks, and let you experience the local nightlife before you become a resident of our fair town.”
“Does this place even have a gay friendly bar or club? Because I’m not exactly in the mood to deal with a bunch of ignorant rednecks or turn down lonely ladies all night. No offense.”
Tom set our food down as I was speaking. After he’d emptied the tray, he hugged it to his chest as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.
“Oh! Tom knows the perfect place!” He turned to Ian, his lithe frame practically vibrating with excitement. “Have you been to the O-zone Lair?” At Ian’s smiling nod, Tom turned back to me and explained.
“The O-zone Lair is an Alpha/Omega friendly club. The downstairs is low-key, but upstairs? Oh, my lands! Honey, you and those killer green eyes would be in serious trouble upstairs.”
He looked around then leaned in closer to speak in a stage whisper. “Tom loves the freaky party upstairs!” Standing tall again, he turned to Ian. Fluttering his eyelashes, he pouted a bit before talking in a fast clip.
“Are you two studs going there tonight? Tom is always up for a night at the big O. Tom has the cutest little omega friend that really needs to put down his book and get out for a night on the town too. That is, if you would like some help convincing your buddy here that Hollydale isn’t a completely boring little burg?”
Ian flicked a glance in my direction. At my slight nod, he held out his phone to Tom. “Put your digits in, baby boy. I’ll text you when we know what time we’re heading over, if that’s okay?”
Tom took his phone and tapped the screen with a flurry of his fingers. “Here you go, lover boy. Tom just hopes that this wasn’t a misguided attempt to get Tom’s number and then leave Tom sad and lonely on a Saturday night when you’re too shy to show up.”
Ian’s mouth dropped open. “Have people actually done that to Tom?” I grinned as Ian automatically fell in with Tom’s habit of speaking of himself in the third person. Ian took his phone, catching Tom’s fingers in his as he did.
“I would never do that to a beauty like Tom. Now tell me baby, can Tom really bring a friend for my buddy Rafe over there tonight? Because I think I’m gonna be busy letting Tom show Ian here the second floor.” Ian pulled Tom’s fingers up to his mouth and kissed those delicate fingertips before releasing them.
Tom giggled as Ian’s eyes still roamed brazenly over that trim little body. “Ooh, Ian.” He was downright purring at this point. “Tom is just going to have so much fun showing Ian the second floor!” He turned to me then. Tilting his head thoughtfully, Tom looked me over one more time. “Okay, Tom will make Milo come out tonight and meet Rafe. This will be fun, Tom promises that Rafe will enjoy the big O.”
After Tom left us to eat our food, I rolled my eyes at Ian. “The O-zone Lair? Seriously? And do I want to know what goes on up on the second floor?”
Ian winked at me. “There’s a reason why the locals call it the big O, and it’s not an abbreviation. That’s all I’m saying, if you catch my drift. But hey, just stay downstairs and have some boring vanilla fun with Tom’s buddy. There’s a full bar, a dance floor, and from what it sounds like, the company of a pleasant little bookworm omega. Which is the perfect date for a writer. What could possibly go wrong?”
I took a bite of my spinach omelet and rolled my eyes. I couldn’t begin to list the things that could go wrong, but I knew that Ian would have a rebuttal for every argument that I could name. No, it was just easier to go along with it. Ian and I both knew that he’d win in the end anyway. Besides, who knows? Maybe I’d actually have fun tonight.
Drew Marvin Frayne is the pen name of a long-time author (Lambda Literary Award finalist) who is finally taking the opportunity to indulge his more sentimental and romantic side. When not writing the author lives with his husband of 20+ years and their dog of 10+ years in a brick home in the Northeast.
K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.
Morgan Brice
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
Noah Harris is a 28-year-old bisexual man currently single and living in a small apartment in New York.
Being a natural introvert with significant extrovert tendencies he expresses himself through the world of writing MM books, often with a darker, paranormal twist. His books are written from the heart of his deep, sensitive and mysterious, but playful and creative, wild spirit.
Noah is dedicated to giving something back to the universe, sharing generously in his successes and inspiring and motivating others through his writing and in any other way he can. He believes in living a natural, healthy lifestyle and has embraced meditation as a way of clearing the 'noise' in his head and allowing his dark creativity to shine through in his books.
He is determined to reach out to as many readers, who he considers his 'friends', as he can through his unique personal touch and through building like-minded communities online. It is this personal touch, with his readers, that sets him apart from most other authors today.
I'm a happily married mom of one snarky teenage boy, and three grown "kids of my heart." As a reader and big romance fan myself, I love sharing the stories of the different people who live in my imagination. My stories are filled with humor, a few tears, and the underlying message to not give up hope, even in the darkest of times, because life can change on a dime when you least expect it. This theme comes from a lifetime of lessons learned on my own hard journey through the pains of poverty, the loss of more loved ones than I'd care to count, and the struggles of living through chronic illnesses. Life can be hard, but it can also be good! Through it all I've found that love, laughter, and family can make all the difference, and that's what I try to bring to every tale I tell.
Drew Marvin Frayne
EMAIL: drewmarvinfrayne@gmail.com
KL Hiers
Peter Cratchit's Christmas Carol by Drew Marvin Frayne
Kraken My Heart by KL Hiers
Witchbane by Morgan Brice
Jock Blocked by Noah Harris
Pumpkin Spiced Omega by Susi Hawke
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