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One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. If any of the purchase links included here don't work be sure and check the authors' websites/social media for the most recent links as they can change over time for a variety of reasons.
End Street Volume 1 by Amber Kell & RJ Scott
RATING:
Merrick by Claire Cray
RATING:
Inked in Blood by K Evan Coles & Brigham Vaughn
Re-Read Review October 2020:
Halloween is Murder by Josh Lanyon
Kingdom Volume 1 by RJ Scott
RATING:
Amber Kell
RJ Scott
Claire Cray
K Evan Coles
K. Evan Coles is a mother and tech pirate by day and a writer by night. She is a dreamer who, with a little hard work and a lot of good coffee, coaxes words out of her head and onto paper.
K. lives in the northeast United States, where she complains bitterly about the winters, but truly loves the region and its diverse, tenacious and deceptively compassionate people. You’ll usually find K. nerding out over books, movies and television with friends and family. She’s especially proud to be raising her son as part of a new generation of unabashed geeks.
K.’s books explore LGBTQ+ romance in contemporary settings.
Josh Lanyon
Halloween is Murder by Josh Lanyon
Kingdom Volume 1 by RJ Scott
Here at Padme's Library I feature all genres but followers have probably noticed that 95% of the posts and 99% of my reviews fall under the LGBT genres, so for this year's Pride Month I am showcasing 20 of my favorite M/M vampires in no particular order. Vampires of all sorts perfectly blended with romance, drama, mystery, humor, and heart, creating unforgettable reads.
One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. If any of the purchase links included here don't work be sure and check the authors' websites/social media for the most recent links as they can change over time for a variety of reasons.
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Summary:
Dragons, vampires, werewolves, fae, witches and one very confused human.
* * * *
Sam, 100% human (no, really) inherits a crumbling building and a private detective agency from his Uncle.
Bob, a brooding stubborn and ancient vampire turns up at his door and refuses to leave.
Before Sam can say 'I only want human cases' he's knee deep in werewolves, dragons, vampires and witches.
The Case of The Cupid Curse #1
Sam Enderson is a human detective who inherits a building from where his Uncle used to run a detective agency. He finds himself working for paranormal creatures despite his resolve to stick with humans only. To supplement his income as a new PI Sam rents out rooms in the large house.
Bob is a vampire and turns up on Sam's doorstep to rent a room. Sparks fly and Sam is attracted to the vampire despite himself.
Sam is cursed by a witch, and has two cases landing on his desk. Werewolves, annoying ghosts and a grumpy gargoyle are enough to drive Sam mad. But somehow in amongst all of this he has to find a missing fae and a missing shifter child.
The Case of the Wicked Wolf #2
Naiads, humans, sirens and a challenge for Alpha make up the intricate story in the race to rescue the missing children.
Sam and Bob have more than just the case of one lost child to handle. Not only is Shelby Hartman missing, but other paranormal children have disappeared. The race to rescue the children is hampered by naiads, humans, sirens and a challenge for Alpha.
Hartman Hunter is desperate to find his daughter. He turns to the demon Danjal Naamah for help. The problem is that Danjal is the only person Hartman has ever loved—the man he let go for the sake of the pack…
Volume One
Re-Read Review March 2017:
Sam the human(he says) and Bob the Vampire are even better the second time around. I've never re-read a book less than 6 months after my original read before and loved it so much I'm already looking forward to my next re-read ;)
Original Review October 2016:
The Case of the Cupid Curse #1
Cupid Curse is a wonderful beginning to a series. It introduces us to the main characters, and a few secondary ones, with just the right blend of drama, humor, and mystery. We all know that not witches are bad but when one curses you, you definitely don't take it for granted. Sam finds himself wanting to run a purely human cases only private investigation business but he soon finds that is not the route fate seems to have in mind. Witches, gargoyles, ghosts, sirens, faes, and a vampire named Bob(which completely caught me off guard in a lovely humorous way that still has me smiling weeks after originally reading) have put Sam smack into the middle of world he really didn't want to be in.
The Case of the Wicked Wolf #2
Sam is still searching for the missing little girl wolf, Shelby but we also meet Dan the demon as well as get to know Hart the alpha better. Wicked begins right from where Cupid left off and Sam is still intent on having human only cases but once again, fate intervenes and is Sam completely human himself? Well, you have to read that for yourself but I will say with each case and each new paranormal he helps, Sam gains little extras that certainly question who or what he is.
Original Overall Series Review October 2016(1-5):
How had I not read this series before? It should have been a no brainer considering how much I love RJ Scott's work not to mention that it's a collaboration with Amber Kell. Oh well, it's always nice to stumble onto an unexpected surprise and that is definitely what you get with End Street Detective Agency, surprise blended with humor, drama, mystery, paranormal, and of course underneath it all and entwined throughout is love. Ghosts, vampires, sirens, wolfs, dragons, faes, gargoyles, familiars, demons, and the list goes on. Who knew so many paranormal entities could not only co-exist but even work, live, and love together? No matter how many books RJ & Amber decide to write in the End Street universe, I have a feeling that it will be a very real probability that it's a series I'll revisit often and most likely every Halloween. A must read if you are even the slightest bit of a paranormal fan.
Summary:
Merrick #1
New York, 1799: the future looks bright for the charming young book dealer William Lacy, until a raucous night of drinking lands him in shackles. He narrowly avoids the brutal prison system thanks to his mother, who negotiates with the judge to secure him a five year apprenticeship in lieu of a prison sentence. And so William finds himself in a carriage bound for the remote woods upstate, where he'll spend the next years of his life learning a new trade under some old master.
When he first sees Merrick, William thinks he's been dropped into a medieval horror story. Tall and gruff, dressed in a hooded robe that completely conceals his features, and riding a black mare, Merrick might as well be the Grim Reaper.
But appearances are deceiving. An uncannily skilled apothecary and healer, Merrick proves to be a generous host and a gentle teacher, and William soon finds himself surprisingly comfortable in his new surroundings. Yet troubling mysteries abound: Why does Merrick never show his face or hands? Why do his movements seem so young and sure beneath his robes? What lies within the cave behind the stone cottage?
Something unnatural is afoot. But most alarming by far is William's own reaction to his new master. For Merrick's strange charms are bewitching enough by day; but by night, in the darkness of the room and the bed they share, William finds himself entirely overwhelmed by desires he never imagined...
Original Review February 2015:
This was such a great find. I wasn't looking for a vampire or supernatural story, I was actually searching for historical fiction when I saw "New York, 1799" in the summary and went and "1-clicked" it. So glad I did. I'll start by saying there is, in my honest opinion, a bit of an over abundance of exclamation points in William's inner monologues. I only mention it because I know for some that can be an issue, but for me it wasn't. Not once did those exclamation points or lack of inner thoughts in italics a distraction from the ride the author was taking us on. I found the story to be beautifully told and the characters very intriguing. From William being faced with a five year court appointed apprenticeship to his acceptance of who and what Merrick is, this book had me completely enthralled.
Summary:
Jeff Holloway is a twenty-five-year-old skater with a killer smile and lots of free time on his hands.
He’s also a vampire who prowls the dark corners of San Francisco looking for entertainment and his next meal.
Lately, he’s been spending lots of time watching a tattoo parlor in the Mission District, where someone tall, artistic, and handsome has caught his eye.
Santiago Alvarez, the forty-three-year-old owner of Iron & Ink has a huge secret. He lives a quiet life, finding joy in his career and his friends, but it’s caused him to shut himself off from dating and getting close to anyone romantically.
When he bumps into Jeff on the sidewalk near his shop, he’s intrigued but hesitant to let anyone get close.
An unexpected event one night will change everything for both men, and neither of their futures will ever be the same.
I'll admit Inked in Blood was kind of a last minute re-read decision, not that I forgot about the story because Coles & Vaughn is one of my absolute favorite collaborating author duos, it cropped up in the authors' newsletter yesterday and as I had just finished a book I thought, "that was a great one let's give it another read". So glad I opened the newsletter yesterday😉.
Jeff and Santiago are just as entertaining the second time around. Even though Coles & Vaughn's collaborations are generally contemporary romance, it's pretty obvious they have a knack for the spooky side too. So if you've never read one of their amazing stories and want a short introduction to their work, Inked in Blood is a great start. As I said, it's a different genre for them but it's a perfect example of their talent for storytelling. As I said two years ago, maybe one day they'll re-visit their paranormal side and further Jeff and Santiago's adventure. One can hope😉🤞🤞😉.
Original Review November 2018:
Who doesn't love a good vampire tale every Halloween? Inked in Blood is a wonderfully entertaining short read from the collaborated minds of Brigham Vaughn and K Evan Coles. Their previous works together have all been amazing pieces of storytelling and although Inked is drastically shorter in quantity it is not lacking in quality. As I said, their work together is great but so far has all been contemporary but with Inked in Blood, its pretty obvious that they have plenty of talent in the paranormal world of storytelling as well. I really hated to say goodbye to Jeff and Santiago so maybe if we're super good the boys will get another adventure to share.
RATING:
Who doesn't love a good vampire tale every Halloween? Inked in Blood is a wonderfully entertaining short read from the collaborated minds of Brigham Vaughn and K Evan Coles. Their previous works together have all been amazing pieces of storytelling and although Inked is drastically shorter in quantity it is not lacking in quality. As I said, their work together is great but so far has all been contemporary but with Inked in Blood, its pretty obvious that they have plenty of talent in the paranormal world of storytelling as well. I really hated to say goodbye to Jeff and Santiago so maybe if we're super good the boys will get another adventure to share.
RATING:
Summary:
When his enigmatic partner takes off on an annual fishing trip, City of Angeles gumshoe Barry Fitzgerald is left to handle an All Hallows’ Eve kidnapping case on his own.
The victim? A murdered millionaire’s penny-pinching son and heir. The culprit? That’s where it gets tricky. According to the missing man’s sister, vampires are behind Patrick O’Flaherty’s disappearance.
Barry doesn’t believe in ghosts, goblins or vampires, but when the case goes—literally—to hell…well, who you gonna call?
1st Re-Read Review October 2019:
I honestly have nothing new to add to my original review other than I think I loved Halloween is Murder even more the second time. The classic Hollywood references are still a treat for me, almost easter egg-ish. Followers of my blog have long realized that I am a huge historical fan but I am also a lover of old Hollywood and the classic horror films so those lines and scenes put a huge sappy grin on my face. As for the connection between Barry and Mike, well it isn't graphic or lengthy but personally there is no doubt whatsoever that lust and passion exists. Halloween is Murder is not only a great Halloween treat but a reading gem.
Original Review November 2017:
His partner leaves town on a fishing trip, he's kept his attraction to said partner to himself thinking it is but unsure if its reciprocated, a kidnapping case comes through the office door, oh and did I mention its nearly Halloween. What could go wrong for private detective Barry Fitzgerald?
I just want to start by saying that Josh Lanyon has done it again! Halloween is Murder may just be a short story/novella but it is packed to the brim with everything that has put her on my "go-to-one-click-must-read" author list. There's mystery, there's humor, there's passion(even without a love/lust scene), there is even vampires. That's right I said vampires! Now I know that not every reader today will know who Barry Fitzgerald the actor was but as a classic film fan I love that Josh Lanyon added this tidbit, it just goes to show the love and respect the author has to historical references.
As for the obvious mutual attraction between Barry and Mike, even if its not obvious to them, well most might not call it passion because there is no sex but I found it to be just oozing with lust with the potential for so much more. Sometimes its what is hinted at off-page that gets the reader's blood pumping.
I use to take away a half a mark automatically for short stories but in the past three years since I started Padme's Library I have come to find a healthy respect for the smaller length tales that I no longer do so. I completely rate my reading on content and heart, whether a story is 5, 50, or 500 pages makes no difference. If its well written and kept me intrigued from beginning to end than I am a happy reader. Halloween is Murder made me a happy reader and although I don't believe there is any future plans right now for Barry and Mike, I know that if Josh chooses to create more cases for the duo I will be first in line to read.
RATING:
When his enigmatic partner takes off on an annual fishing trip, City of Angeles gumshoe Barry Fitzgerald is left to handle an All Hallows’ Eve kidnapping case on his own.
The victim? A murdered millionaire’s penny-pinching son and heir. The culprit? That’s where it gets tricky. According to the missing man’s sister, vampires are behind Patrick O’Flaherty’s disappearance.
Barry doesn’t believe in ghosts, goblins or vampires, but when the case goes—literally—to hell…well, who you gonna call?
Audiobook Review October 2021:
Listening to Barry and Mike's journey is just as fun as reading it, maybe even more so because the narrator brings it to life in a way that makes the listener feel like you're a fly on the wall sneaking peeks firsthand. Halloween is Murder makes for a perfect holiday read/listen and definitely made for a brilliant way to jumpstart my Halloween Eve.I honestly have nothing new to add to my original review other than I think I loved Halloween is Murder even more the second time. The classic Hollywood references are still a treat for me, almost easter egg-ish. Followers of my blog have long realized that I am a huge historical fan but I am also a lover of old Hollywood and the classic horror films so those lines and scenes put a huge sappy grin on my face. As for the connection between Barry and Mike, well it isn't graphic or lengthy but personally there is no doubt whatsoever that lust and passion exists. Halloween is Murder is not only a great Halloween treat but a reading gem.
Original Review November 2017:
His partner leaves town on a fishing trip, he's kept his attraction to said partner to himself thinking it is but unsure if its reciprocated, a kidnapping case comes through the office door, oh and did I mention its nearly Halloween. What could go wrong for private detective Barry Fitzgerald?
I just want to start by saying that Josh Lanyon has done it again! Halloween is Murder may just be a short story/novella but it is packed to the brim with everything that has put her on my "go-to-one-click-must-read" author list. There's mystery, there's humor, there's passion(even without a love/lust scene), there is even vampires. That's right I said vampires! Now I know that not every reader today will know who Barry Fitzgerald the actor was but as a classic film fan I love that Josh Lanyon added this tidbit, it just goes to show the love and respect the author has to historical references.
As for the obvious mutual attraction between Barry and Mike, even if its not obvious to them, well most might not call it passion because there is no sex but I found it to be just oozing with lust with the potential for so much more. Sometimes its what is hinted at off-page that gets the reader's blood pumping.
I use to take away a half a mark automatically for short stories but in the past three years since I started Padme's Library I have come to find a healthy respect for the smaller length tales that I no longer do so. I completely rate my reading on content and heart, whether a story is 5, 50, or 500 pages makes no difference. If its well written and kept me intrigued from beginning to end than I am a happy reader. Halloween is Murder made me a happy reader and although I don't believe there is any future plans right now for Barry and Mike, I know that if Josh chooses to create more cases for the duo I will be first in line to read.
RATING:
Summary:
The three books in this volume were previously published titles available separately. There have been no changes to the stories. Previously known as the Supernatural Bounty Hunters series.
The Vampire Contract #1
A vampire guilty of murder on the run from justice to prove his innocence. A werewolf sent to retrieve him with one thought – that only the guilty run.
Vampire Micah Jamieson is found guilty of killing his human husband. He runs from the execution he is facing to get home. He just has to pray he’ll reach home before supernatural law enforcement, in the shape of a Glitnir Court Retriever close in on him.
Wolf shifter and Retriever, Connor Strand easily captures Micah and he’s fully prepared to take the runaway in. But his wolf has other ideas.
Something about Micah challenges Connor and his long held beliefs. What if Micah is actually innocent? Will Connor put to one side his own prejudices, and then risk both his life and career to keep Micah safe?
The Guilty Werewolf #2
Declan Finlay is the best Retriever that Glitnir has.
Well, he is now that Connor Strand has gone rogue.
He is sent to find Connor - the guilty werewolf. But he doubts that his best friend could ever be guilty and he resolves to track him down and find out why he ran with the renegade vampire.
When the Fae Alliance, reporting to Glitnir, demand that he not go alone he is forced to accept the Incubus, Levi Tiernan, an assassin, as his companion on the journey. If Declan doesn't kill Connor, then Levi will.
What happens when old lust and love dictate action and suddenly Declan is questioning everything he loves.
The Warlock’s Secret #3
In a world where magic is rare, Joseph Jamieson is one of the most powerful holders of power. Orophin Tiwele, or Phin to his friends, is the son of the Elf King and has magic of his own. The rules say two supernatural beings with magic cannot be together and Joseph and Phin have lived by that rule despite their attraction to each other.
The resistance is growing larger each day, but traitors threaten everything Joseph has built. He wants peace, but soon comes to realize the way to peace, is through war.
When the only thing that will save lives is Joseph and Phin working together, it becomes impossible to see where magic and passion end and where love could begin.
New Release Overall Series Review July 2017:
Micah and Connor are definitely a handful which makes them perfect for each other. Declan has met his match in the incubus Levi. Joseph finally gets some happiness if he & Phin finally let each other in. Asherkan & Simeon make for an interesting pair. Can their attraction be enough for Nicholas & Brody to overcome their differences? Reuben and Ethan have been given another chance after nearly a thousand years, but will it turn our any differently the second time around? These leaders and members of the Resistance want to change their corner of the world to make things better for all supernaturals but will they be able to find happiness for themselves along the way?
The series may have been given a new title along with a new presentation but the story arc is just as good as when I originally read it nearly 2 years ago. I loved how each story was another piece of the puzzle, I do love a good puzzle, and when everything and everyone comes together in The Third Kingdom, all the details start to fall into place. The finale is amazing and brings a conclusion that will leave you feeling every emotion out there but completely satisfied when you hit the last page.
Generally, when a series centers on a different couple for each installment I have a hard time connecting with each new one because the first couple reached my heart so completely but RJ Scott has a way about her that it never becomes an issue. I love them all equally. If you are someone who only reads paranormal tales in October as Halloween approaches, be sure to pencil Kingdom in your calendar because it is so worth it but if you are like me and can enjoy them anytime, don't wait another minute to give these guys a read, you won't regret it.
Original Overall Series Review October 2015:
This is an overall series review as you really can't read just one. Each book may center on a different couple but each is just another piece of the puzzle that is Supernatural Bounty Hunters. The mystery behind the vampire twins, Joseph and Micah, quest for peace leads us on a journey of blood, deceit, death, and love. Another great world created by RJ Scott that brings you a little bit of everything and makes for a great Halloween read. Who am I kidding? It makes for a great read anytime of the year.
End Street Volume 1 by Amber Kell & RJ Scott
The Case of The Cupid Curse #1
Sam Enderson stood outside his building and smiled with pride. The fresh sign painted on the door in crisp black letters read 'End Street Detective Agency'. Examining the overall effect, he nodded in satisfaction. This move to becoming a private investigator was as far from being a timid bookseller as he could get. No one would walk all over someone who investigated crimes for a living.
Three months of correspondence school and a shiny new multi-weapon licence had given his confidence a much-needed boost. After the hellish past year, in which he’d found his boyfriend in bed with his now ex-best friend, followed by the death of his favourite uncle, Sam was ready for a new start in life.
Uncle Hanson. Just thinking about him made Sam feel sad. He had fond memories of visiting his uncle at work. The man had always liked Sam. He evidently had carried that affection into Sam’s adult life. After all, he had left Sam an entire building in his will, the building Sam now stood in front of. An office with accommodations over the top, it was worth quite a bit of money despite its proximity to an undesirable area.
"You should sell," his friend Oscar had said. Oscar had had no love for Uncle Hanson. In a sniffy tone, he’d often consigned Hanson to the idiot pile and called him ‘odd’.
"I don’t want to sell," Sam had protested.
"What are you going to do with it?" Oscar had asked.
"Open up my own agency."
Oscar still wasn’t speaking to him, even now, three months later.
Sam sighed at the memory then mentally pushed it all to one side to admire his property. The lower half consisted of a business office and reception area, with the upper two floors divided into four apartments. Three were empty but his uncle had filled the fourth one with notes from his own investigative practice. That room was high on his list of things to sort out, but he first needed to concentrate on renting out one of the empty apartments.
Sam may have inherited the house, but it hadn’t exactly come with a burgeoning bank account to match. Forty years of being a detective and all Hanson had had to show for it was this building, a small bank account and a room full of papers. Sam was determined to be different. He even had a five-year plan in place. Sam didn’t doubt for one minute that he knew exactly why his uncle had had little money to speak of. Uncle Hanson had done too much pro bono work for them.
Filing cabinets and boxes overflowed with notes from years of being a private detective. A lot of those papers included cases involving aspects of the paranormal, things Sam thought better left alone. Sam didn’t have a drop of supernatural blood in his entire body and he didn’t plan on associating with those who did. It hadn’t exactly worked out for his uncle.
Paranormals had their place. Hell, they owned half the city. Vampires and werewolves, witches, fae and pixies—they all had their own parishes. Neighbourhoods where they lived amongst their own kind. Like enjoyed living with like, and, although they often mixed and matched, no one in Sam’s family had ever crossed the romantic boundary between the magical and the not.
Sam didn’t count his second cousin Christa, who had taken up with a blood demon. There was a bad seed in every batch.
Worried he’d use up the rest of his small inheritance, Sam had put an ad in the local paper to rent out two of the four apartments. They were empty but spacious rooms that had no one currently occupying them. After a quick mop and dust, they were ready for renters. Why his uncle had a space with no one living there didn’t make much sense. Of course, if his cousin Erik hadn’t been estranged from his father, Sam wouldn’t have inherited anything. A twinge of guilt went through Sam, but he hadn’t heard from his cousin in years and had no way of getting hold of him.
“Excuse me!”
A soft voice had Sam spinning around to see an old lady looking up at him. Her wrinkled skin and the way she leaned against her cane betrayed her great age.
“Can I help you?”
She squinted at him as if trying to make him out through her foggy white eyes. “You owe me a favor.”
“What?” Sam examined the lady carefully, but he hadn’t ever met her before in his life. What possible kind of favor could he owe her?
“The man here before. He promised he’d help me out,” she explained.
“I’m sorry—”
The old lady didn’t give Sam a chance to explain. She jabbed her finger into the air at Sam, pursed her lips, then began shouting. “He owes me. He owes me!” she repeated twice, her voice rising to a screeching pitch.
Ahh, now it becomes clear. “You must be talking about my uncle. Why don’t you come inside and we can discuss what I can do for you.” Although he didn’t feel the need to keep a dead man’s promise, if he could help the woman out, he would.
After opening the front door, he motioned for her to go ahead of him.
She settled into his visitor chair while Sam scooted past her to sit on the leather chair opposite, patting his uncle’s gargoyle statue as he walked past. Uncle Hanson had the strangest collection of art he’d ever seen. Eventually, he’d get rid of it all, but right then the weird pieces reminded him of his beloved relative and better times.
“My name is Sam Enderson. How can I help you?”
Scowling over at him, she shook her head. “The guy here before never told you not to share your name, did he?”
“The man here before was my uncle. No, he didn’t tell me not to share my name.”
She shook her head as if not understanding Sam’s stupidity. “You never share your name with a witch unless you want her to do a spell.”
Sam jerked in his seat, appalled at what he’d let through his front door. “You’re a witch?”
The woman slammed her cane onto the wooden floor. “Of course I’m a witch. I’ve got the wrinkled skin, the hunch, the cane, and the rheumy eyes. What did you think I was?”
He shrugged. “I-I thought you were just an old woman.” An old scary woman who gave him the creeps, but an old woman nonetheless.
“Old!” the witch shrieked. “How dare you call me old? I’m only a hundred and sixty!”
“Forgive me.” Sam raised his hands in alarm. “I didn’t mean any offense.” Secretly he wondered how old a witch had to be before she fell into the ‘old’ category.
“Well, I am offended,” she snapped.
“Sorry. I don’t know much about your world.” Witch or not, he couldn’t help the little slip of derision into his tone.
The witch regarded him carefully. “What are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What blood flows in your body?” she asked, as if expecting him to come up with some sort of interesting paranormal cocktail.
“Human. Just human,” Sam answered.
“You don’t like paranormals, do you?”
“No.” Sam saw no reason to deny the fact.
“So what are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’ve inherited this building.”
“And you intend to do what?”
“Carry on business as usual. Private investigations. It’s what I’m qualified for.” And he had the multi-weapon license to back him up.
“Then you’ll have to do paranormal cases.” She gave him a taunting smile.
Sam’s stomach churned. “Why?” He didn’t plan to ever take a paranormal case.
“Because the law states no business can discriminate against a paranormal due to his or her status,” she explained. “It’ll get you shut down, it will.” There was definite glee in the old woman’s expression.
All Sam wanted to do at that moment was place his head in his hands and curse. He didn’t. He was much too professional for that. Instead, he shrugged. His mom always said if you had nothing good to say, then don’t say anything.
The witch cackled in true witch fashion, and Sam shuddered inwardly. The scent of something dead and decaying pervaded the room. Add in the crooked teeth and the rags for clothes and he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t immediately pegged her as something different.
“Now about that favor…” she continued.
“What?” He couldn’t look her in the eyes. Maybe if he didn’t look, whatever she said wouldn’t be real. He was comfortable with his denial. In fact, he might just lock the door, pull down the shades, and wallow in it for a few days.
“I need help tracking down a werewolf.”
Sam looked at her. “Why?” Paranormal hunting paranormal? That couldn’t end well.
The witch scowled at him while tapping her cane on the floor. “What do you mean, why?”
Had he stuttered? “I mean, why do you need a werewolf?”
“It’s none of your business why I need a werewolf, boy. I just do,” the witch snapped.
“It is, if you want me to do your dirty work.” Sam knew all kinds of uses witches had for werewolves and none of them was nice. “Not to mention hunting werewolves is illegal.”
“Pfft.” She waved away the law as if it were nothing. Probably was since she didn’t plan on breaking it but had asked Sam to do it instead. “I’ve got a rare potion to make, and I need some werewolf bones.”
“No.” Sam might not like paranormals very much, but he wasn’t going to hunt one down, either.
“Your uncle owes me!” she screeched.
Sam wanted to cover his ears at the high-pitched noise. “My uncle is dead,” he began to explain as patiently as he could. “I was willing to hear you out, but I’m not going to go kill an innocent werewolf so you can make a potion.” Were werewolves actually innocent? Hadn’t there been that whole rampaging werewolf-pack mess last year? Sam seemed to remember people—human, non-magical, regular people—getting killed in that little incident. Still, whatever issues he had with werewolves, he didn’t do that kind of work. He had enough problems without getting jailed for killing werewolves, innocent or not.
“This potion can save a loved one!” the witch announced dramatically. “I need those bones.”
“Find a different potion. I’m sure any given werewolf is someone’s beloved too.”
The witch scowled at him, then abruptly leaned back in her seat and smiled. The smile exposed a mouthful of yellowed teeth, and Sam winced inwardly at her lack of dental care. “Do you have anyone you love, Mr. Enderson?”
Sam’s mind shifted back to the image of his boyfriend of ten years screwing his best friend. “Not anymore.” Despite his ex pleading for forgiveness, some things Sam wouldn’t forgive. He’d moved out and away from his lover within days and blocked both work and mobile numbers from his phone. His uncle had been his last close relative that had stayed in his life. So really, with his uncle dead, at this point in time, he had no one he could call a loved one. But he’d give her his own bones before he admitted the extent of his loneliness.
The witch stood with a purposeful air. “When you’re on the verge of losing someone you love, come find me and maybe I’ll free you. Until then, enjoy my present.”
With a poof of smoke, the witch vanished.
Gasping, Sam tried to wave away the stench that accompanied the smoke, acrid and with a hint of burnt almonds. Finally, when that didn’t work, he rushed over and opened a window to let the ashy smell out. Great start to his first day as a PI.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Ahh!” Sam jumped back from the window to face the empty room. What the hell? Was she still there? Was the witch invisible?
“An idiot,” the voice repeated. This time Sam confirmed the source, emphasized when the statue on his desk turned its head and regarded him with eerie yellow eyes.
“What the hell are you?” he managed to ask coherently.
The statue’s stone wings moved, creating a sound like gravel underfoot. “I’m a gargoyle. What are you?”
“I-I’m a human.” Sam swallowed rapidly, trying to get some moisture into his dry throat. “What are you doing here?”
The statue stretched out of its crouch until it stood about a foot tall on the corner of the desk. Its baleful glare pinned Sam to the spot. “You’re an idiot. That witch has something planned for you, and it isn’t good.”
“H-how do you know?” Sam’s heart beat faster than a rabbit chased by a werewolf.
The gargoyle rolled his eyes. “You’re not too bright, are you? Your uncle trafficked with that witch.”
Sam frowned. His uncle had been a kindly old PI, who hadn’t seemed to actually do much from day to day. There was no way he had trafficked anything. He had been the type of man who always had a ready supply of candy for eager young visitors like Sam.
“The sweet old man who brought you candy didn’t exist,” the gargoyle answered his thoughts. Wait? How the hell…?
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
The gargoyle ignored the question, “He would’ve had that werewolf for the witch by the end of the day and walked away with enough cash to eat for months.” He didn’t sound like he approved, and there was sadness in his tone.
“N-no, that can’t be true.” Sam shook his head in denial. Surely the gargoyle had his facts wrong?
“Have you actually looked at the paperwork upstairs yet? I heard you banging about. I assume you actually read some of them?”
“I was moving furniture for my future tenants.” Sam shook his head. “And no, not yet. I thought they were just old case files that needed organizing.”
Defending himself to a freaking gargoyle made Sam feel like an idiot. The damn thing had been sitting there every time Sam had visited, and never once had it appeared to be anything more than an ornament. The creature must be wrong. Sam would have seen it if Uncle Hanson had been a bad guy. He wasn’t stupid. How could he not have understood his uncle’s true nature? Nope, this ‘gargoyle thing’ had to be wrong.
The gargoyle clomped across the desk. “Look at the files and check out the back closet in the file room. Your uncle had more going on than anyone knew about. That includes exposing himself to a lot more than just a witch with teeth problems and a ready hand with curses.”
With those parting words, the gargoyle sank back into his original position. A loud, crackling noise filled the room, and the creature became a statue once more. Sam poked at it with his index finger, but it didn’t move again.
“Huh.”
Maybe he was in the middle of a dream, one where he was going to wake up in his sun-lit apartment in Johnstown with his boyfriend in bed with him.
File room.
The gargoyle’s words sank in. Maybe he did need to check out the apartment with all the files a little more carefully. It wouldn’t hurt to see what other pies his uncle had his fingers in. As he stepped out of the office, a knock on the front door had him turning away from the stairs and back towards the front door. Why would someone be knocking? The door was unlocked. At least, he didn’t think he’d locked the door. But then, it was an old place. Maybe the latch had closed behind him when he’d escorted the witch inside.
His mind still on the files upstairs, he opened the door and stopped, frozen.
Vampire.
The man could be nothing else. Tall, elegant, and having an unearthly beauty, the vampire gave him a smile that exposed his fangs. “I hear you have an apartment to rent.” The vampire’s voice was like scotch over ice and dripped with sensuality.
A vampire here? In the daylight? Sam glanced past the vamp. Yep, the sun shone brightly in the sky.
“Ah, you’re not used to us.” The vampire flashed another smile. “We don’t actually burn up in the sun.”
That’s a shame. That would be one less paranormal to cause trouble.
“Um, you need an apartment?” Sam had never heard of a vampire living in an apartment. “I thought you people had mansions and crypts and stuff.”
The vampire threw back his head and laughed. “That’s only in the movies. Now, can I see your place?”
“…Umm” Sam searched his mind for a good excuse. Anything to keep the skeevy, blood-sucking supernatural out of his house.
The tall vampire smiled. “You know that part about vampires reading your mind?”
With a sinking stomach, Sam nodded.
“That part’s true.”
Sam sighed. “You’d better come in. It’s right this way.”
The day had started out so well, too. Now, Sam just wanted to go back to bed and hide under the covers.
“I’d be happy to keep you company,” the vampire said in a low, sultry tone. For a second, Sam didn’t understand what the hell the vampire was talking about, and then he recalled what he had just thought about beds and covers. Sam looked over his shoulder to see the vampire checking out his ass. Rolling his eyes, he headed up the stairs, leading the vampire to the top floor. He pulled an old-fashioned key from his pocket, unlocked then opened the door.
“No spell locks?” the vampire asked with concern in his voice.
Sam shook his head. Like he’d had any time to do things like that. The vampire was lucky the room had been tidied and cleaned. “You’re welcome to add your own, of course.” Fuck, he was going to rent to a vampire. He could hope the creature didn’t want the place. “It’s nothing fancy.”
Please want something fancy.
Before Sam could take more than two steps into the apartment, the vampire pinned him to the wall. “I’m not a creature. I’m a man, and I’d be happy to show you exactly how manly I am.”
To Sam’s shock, he could feel the vampire rubbing his erection against him. “U-um, s-sorry.” Was this what vampires did just before they drank every drop of blood from your body?
“I don’t want you sorry. I just want you to want me.”
Sudden, inexplicable desire burned through Sam and his body hardened in reaction to the proximity of another man. The vampire smiled, exposing a flash of fang. A shiver of fear trembled down Sam’s spine.
“No!” He shoved at the vampire, who, surprisingly, broke his hold and released Sam.
The vampire watched Sam with a wary look. “What are you?”
Why does everyone keep asking me that?
“I’m human, okay? Just human.” Sam scowled at the vampire.
“No human has ever shattered my glamor.” The vampire sounded thoughtful, and his appraising look unnerved Sam.
“Well, good for me.” Sam folded his arms. He might not like paranormals, but he knew enough about vampires and their way of controlling people to know he didn’t want that within six feet of him. “I’m not going to rent a room to someone who tried to glamor me. You might as well go.”
The vampire smiled. “My name is Bob.”
A snort of laughter burst out of Sam. “Your name isn’t Bob.”
The vampire tilted his head, and his eyes glowed with amusement. “How do you know?”
“Because I just had a witch tell me not to share my name with a paranormal so I doubt you would be telling me your real name.”
Bob grabbed Sam’s wrist. His grip was firm, and instinctively Sam yanked his arm to try to break the vampire’s hold. “There was a witch here?” Bob snapped urgently. “What did she look like?”
“A witch.” What did it matter what she looked like? “She was old, crony, and witchy. You know—” He gestured expansively with his free hand— “A witch.”
“What did she want?” Bob still hadn’t let go of his wrist. The vampire didn’t know his own strength. One last tug and Bob finally let him loose. Idly, Sam rubbed at the sore skin burn.
“From what she said, werewolf bones.”
Bob scanned the room as if he expected the witch to jump out of the wall or something. “Never trust a witch and never, ever, tell a witch your real name.”
“Okay, um… Bob.” Sam could barely hold back the laughter building inside him.
“My real name is Roberto, but I go by Bob,” Bob finally said. “Vampires don’t have last names outside a coven. Your last name reveals the group you belong to. I am an independent.”
Sam couldn’t hold back the laugh inside him. Dire warnings about witches aside, he couldn’t wrap his head around a badass vampire calling himself Bob. Hell, a vampire named Bob. That was wrong on so many levels.
“Vampires are supposed to be sexy. There’s nothing sexy about a Bob,” Sam finally managed to say without laughing. Why he cared what the vampire called himself, he didn’t know, but there was no way he was going to call a vampire Bob.
Bob seemed to forget his need to warn Sam about witches and names and instead pulled Sam into his arms. Evidently he had returned to his first agenda. “I’m sure I can convince you I’m sexy,” he drawled. What was it about this man—vampire, whatever—feeling like he could manhandle him at every turn?
Sam narrowed his eyes at the vampire. The man might be the sexiest thing Sam had ever seen, but he wasn’t going to admit it…
Damn. He had just thought that. And damn—Bob had heard him. Shit. Bob was definitely smirking.
“Do you have a multiple personality disorder or something? You bounce around more than anyone I’ve ever met. From scary vampire to smirking idiot in a second.”
Bob smiled and didn’t appear to take offense at Sam’s comment. “You’ll have plenty of time to examine my personality when I move in. How much is the rent?” The quick change of subject threw Sam, but it didn’t keep him from trying one last time to stop Bob from moving in. He mentioned an exorbitant amount for the monthly rent to attempt to deter the vampire.
Bob released Sam, and then walked through the living room and down the hall. There were two bedrooms and a small kitchen, though Sam doubted Bob would need a kitchen. Vampires didn’t eat real food. Right? But wouldn’t he need a fridge or something for all the blood? Or would he be one of those vampires with a live donor?
What did Sam know? He had thought vampires could only come out at night.
Sam pushed aside thoughts of blood.
Bob returned to Sam’s side in long, confident strides. “I’ll take it.”
Shit!
The Case of the Wicked Wolf #2
Sam Enderson sat back in his desk chair and looked at his notes with annoyance. The strip of ribbon Hunter had sent him sat in the corner. As long as he didn’t touch it he couldn’t hear the girl crying. Despite what Bob said he knew it was the missing werewolf girl. Who else would be crying out in pain? Unless the abductor who sent the ribbon knew Hunter’s daughter Shelby had vanished and was taking advantage of that fact. The only thing that made Sam question his judgement was Bob’s statement that he didn’t sense any shifter scent on the ribbon.
"It’s a puzzle."
"Yes it is," Sam replied to Smudge, the black cat familiar, curled on the pillow beside his chair.
Smudge flicked his long tail as he groomed his black fur in long, languid strokes. When he spread his legs to lick his privates Sam turned away. "Can’t you do that elsewhere?"
"You’re just jealous because I’m bendy." Smudge taunted.
Searching for a distraction he turned his attention back to his sparse notes. Nothing made sense. Where had Shelby gone? Bob had talked to his contacts and the witch was still complaining to everyone she could find that Sam hadn’t lived up to his uncle’s promise. Since word had also travelled that she’d cursed Sam and he’d recovered the missing fae, his name was beginning to become rather well known among people he’d rather avoid.
Sam wished he could interrogate the werewolves and especially, Constance, Shelby’s ex-wife. From the little Hartman told Sam about her she seemed a prime suspect. Hartman kept insisting none of the shifters would do that to a little girl but Sam had his doubts. Shelby’s mother had two sons from a previous marriage both old enough to challenge for Alpha. Even Hartman admitted she was power hungry. What better way to bring down the Alpha than to crush his spirit? Even if Hartman denied his pack had anything to do with Shelby’s disappearance Sam noticed the Alpha didn’t ask for his pack’s help in locating his lost girl.
He sighed as he looked at the miniscule amount of information he had to work with. If the case hadn’t involved a little girl Sam would’ve passed on it, however, he couldn’t refuse to help out an obviously broken-hearted person even if he was a werewolf.
Unfortunately this new job didn’t do anything to help foster a good reputation among the human population. So far paranormals were the only ones interested in Sam’s services.
A knock on the door drew Sam’s attention away from his futile endeavour.
"Yes?" Sam called out.
A large hulking man with hair popping out of every visible crevice stomped into Sam’s office. He wore a surprisingly stylish suit but Sam figured if you were that large everything was probably custom made.
"Are you Sam Enderson?" he asked in a voice so deep Sam thought he felt the floor vibrate beneath his chair.
"Yes." Sam stood up to greet his guest. The man-creature-being whatever the hell it was towered over him even when standing. Sam’s confidence raised a few notches when he realised he could probably flee the building before the visitor reached him. "Can I help you with something?"
Smudge hissed from his perch.
"Troll."
Sam had never met a troll before. Fascinated, he watched his visitor with open curiosity. He hadn’t known trolls ever left their bridges. Of course what he knew about trolls could be stuffed in a brownie’s pocket.
"I need something removed." The troll spoke in slow drawn out syllables as if each word had to be dredged from his soul.
Merrick by Claire Cray
God’s sakes.
I wasn’t even fighting it anymore.
When he touched me like that, even with just his gloved fingers on my head, it felt like every molecule in my body was drawn to the point of contact.
Was it loneliness? Was I lonely? Was that made me want to press against his broad chest and breathe in the warm, male scent of him? Was it loneliness that made me dream of his lips on my skin?
Merrick turned back to me, and I realized I’d fallen several paces behind. “Are you all right, William?”
“Yes, sir. Pardon me.”
He waited for me to catch up. “Are you unwell? You’re flushed.”
“No, sir.” Lord, I could feel it. I was flaming red. “It must be the air I’m unaccustomed to.”
His dark hood stayed fixed on me for a moment.
I fumbled. “Don’t you suppose that um…living in the city all that time, the lack of fresh air and all…maybe when a man gets out into nature, he feels so much more for the first time, say…that is, his body might experience a whole new spectrum of…”
Oh, for the love of... That wasn’t where I’d meant to head. “That is,” I tried again. “Of taste, and scent…senses, little parts of his body he’s never used, suddenly waking up, now that there’s something to stimulate them…”
I cursed myself silently.
“I think you’re right,” Merrick said simply, and turned away to continue on.
I grabbed my own face, scowling fiercely before I shook my limbs out and rushed to catch up to him.
Inked in Blood by K Evan Coles & Brigham Vaughn
“I cannot offer you any coffee or tea, I’m afraid, but would you like some water or a soda?” Santiago asked a few minutes later. “I keep some in the break room.”
“No, thank you. I had a drink earlier.” Jeff grinned at him.
“Oh? Anything good?” Santiago seated himself on a rolling stool nearby.
“Quite. It was a red. My favorite.”
“Mmm.” Santiago nodded. “Reds are my preference as well. A good Tempranillo or Valpolicella is nice.”
“This was more of a blend. Great body though.”
“You know wine fairly well?”
“No,” Jeff said truthfully. “Just what I’ve picked up from other people.”
Puzzlement flickered across Santiago’s face, and he tipped his head toward Jeff. “You said you had some ink?”
“I do.” Jeff pulled up the hem of his hoodie and T-shirt and showed off the tattoos on his side and chest.
Santiago stood. There was no mistaking the heat in the gaze that moved along the skin from the top of Jeff’s low-slung jeans and across his abs, but a surprised laugh burst from his lips as he went higher.
“Is that … is that Sonic the Hedgehog?”
Jeff grinned. “It is.”
“God, I haven’t thought about that for at least twenty years now. No, probably longer. That would have been the mid-nineties, right? You weren’t even born yet.”
Oh, you might be surprised, Jeff thought. He had, in fact, been born in 1974. And turned into a vampire at twenty-five. Nineteen years ago. If he’d continued aging, he would have been forty-four this year. Not so far off from Santiago’s current age, he guessed.
“You are in your mid-twenties or so, right?” Santiago asked. “How on earth did someone your age end up with a Sonic the Hedgehog tattoo?”
Halloween is Murder by Josh Lanyon
In a way, it was Mike’s fault.
It was his big idea to go out of town. Who the hell went fishing on Halloween? But Barry would have gone along with it. Partly because he’d started thinking he wouldn’t mind some time alone with Mike—and if he had the wrong idea about things, well, it would be better to find out in the middle of nowhere where nobody would notice a black eye. Or two.
He didn’t think he had the wrong idea, though.
Partly he’d have gone fishing with Mike because he knew this was a bad time of year for him. Nobody knew better. Barry was the one who’d pulled Mike off the railings of Suicide Bridge three Halloweens earlier.
They didn’t talk about it. Hadn’t talked about it since the night they’d met. If “met” was the word. More like collided.
Barry had been driving back to the office after a demoralizing interview with the Grand Duchess of Hillcrest Avenue AKA Mrs. Andrew Millar. There was the matter of a missing pearl necklace. Barry had traced that necklace to young Andrew Millar the Second who was in hock up to his shell-like ears to a certain bookie by the name of Griggs Malone. Instead of being pleased to have her missing necklace located, Mrs. Millar had been royally irate at the implication her weedy offspring was a crook. Not only had she not paid Barry, she’d threatened to sue him for defamation of character.
That’s the way it went sometimes.
Anyway, it had been a real witches brew of a night. Not fit for man nor beast, as the poets—or maybe it was the weatherman—said. The rain had been coming down in buckets, buckets of glinting needles—stinging, biting, blinding rain—and he’d had been hunched over the steering wheel of his Ford Crestline, trying to peer through the fogged-up windscreen, when all of a sudden, he’d seen a vision straight out of Central Casting: a man—at first glance he’d looked like a gargoyle—hunched over and poised to jump from the Colorado Street Bridge. White-faced, wild-eyed, soaked to the skin...
Barry had yanked the wheel, car brakes screeching as he pulled to the side of the road. He’d jumped out, and raced back in time to stop Joe Doe from going over—and been socked in the nose for his trouble. Mike was a big guy and that wallop had nearly set Barry on his heels, but Barry had been Glendale College’s lightweight boxing champ for two years running, and he knew his way around a difference of opinion. Besides which, Mike was very drunk. Soused. A hard shove would probably have done the trick, but Barry had piled into him and then dragged a stunned and stumbling Mike to his car and taken him for coffee, eggs and bacon at Bob’s Big Boy on Riverside Drive.
“Why’d you do it, buddy?” Barry had asked when Mike had dried out a little. Dried out physically and figuratively. Barry watched him mop up the last bit of fried egg with a corner of toast. Mike’s fingers were white with the cold, nails ragged—but clean. “What drives a guy like you to pull such a dumbass stunt?”
Mike had stared at him for a long moment. “Demons,” he’d said briefly, bluntly. The way Mike said everything, as Barry was eventually to learn.
That night he’d been willing to accept Mike’s answer since it was demonstrably true. Every man had his demons and Mike Cathan’s had driven him to the edge. Anyone could see that.
Some things you could fix for a guy. Some things you couldn’t. Mike needed a job, and Barry had been able to throw him some work. When Mike came through for him, Barry had put more work his way. To say that a friendship sprang to life that night would sound corny, but yeah, they had grown to be…well, it was hard to say.
Close was maybe not exactly the word. Barry was pretty sure no one was close to Mike. What did that really mean anyway? He liked Mike though, and Mike had saved his life once or twice (three times, according to Mike—but really you couldn’t count the time Vince Mezza pushed Barry out the window of the Astoria Hotel Apartment since he’d mostly landed on the fire escape) so Mike probably liked him back. Or just found it hard to line up a real job.
Barry liked Mike so much that he’d even considered bringing him on as a partner at the agency. At the moment that would be more like asking him to buy shares in the Keely Motor Company. But maybe one day.
Or maybe not.
Being inclined the same way, he’d recognized the truth about Mike pretty quick—he often wondered if that was what had driven Mike to climb up on that rain-slick railing Halloween night. If Mike had ever broached the subject, Barry would have been happy to give him pointers on how to squelch such feelings—he considered himself an expert, having had the devil of a fight to get his own impulses under control. (Mike didn’t even have the excuse of a Catholic school education.) But Mike had never broached the subject, though he must surely have recognized what was in Barry too.
Nor was he a guy you could offer advice to. Even Barry, who was prone to offering unsolicited words of wisdom, knew better than to try to tell Mike what to do. For one thing, Mike was older than Barry. Not so much in years. Mike had been with the Marines on Iwo Jima. He didn’t talk much about it, but that first night he’d admitted to Barry that he’d enlisted when he was only fourteen years old. Because he was tall, had a muscular build, and even back then weighed 180 pounds, he’d managed to convince the Marine Corps Reserve at Norfolk he was seventeen. He’d forged his mother’s consent and was sent to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, South Carolina, where he qualified as a sharpshooter.
Barry was a little jealous of Mike’s military service. It would never have occurred to him to try and lie his way into any branch of the service, and he’d been too small and skinny to have succeeded anyway. He’d been with the Army National Guard, the “Sunshine Division” when Korea started, and had been deployed to Japan for training. But his tour of duty had ended before his division shipped out to Korea. He’d come home safe and sound and enrolled in college while a lot of his friends had ended up dying at Heartbreak Ridge.
College had not worked out for Barry. He didn’t miss the army, but civilian life was a little too tame. He’d quit school to become an “apprentice” to Sam Bell at Bell, Book and Cannon Investigations. Cannon was long dead by then, there had never been any partner named Book—Sam just thought it sounded classy. Anyway, Sam died two years later leaving the business to Barry.
Barry had been working overtime to keep things afloat ever since, but still, he’d have taken time off for Mike, if Mike had come up with a good reason—or any reason—why they should suddenly leave town.
“It seems kind of sudden,” Barry had said, when Mike proposed a three-day weekend trout fishing at Crowley Lake. “We’re still in the middle of the Rothman case. And the Ciciarelli case.”
Mike had shrugged.
“Any special reason it’s got to be this weekend?”
“It’s a good time to get out of town,” Mike said.
“Sure. But the Rothman dame will be at that Halloween party Saturday night, and we’ll get the goods on her then.”
Mike made a face. He did not like adultery cases. Well, who did? But beggars couldn’t be choosers. He liked getting a paycheck, didn’t he? He sure as hell liked eating.
The expression of haughty distaste on Mike’s rough-hewn features should have been funny, but it stung Barry.
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to clear the decks here first and then take off? The fish aren’t going anywhere, are they?”
Mike said grimly (which didn’t mean anything, because he said everything grimly), “This is not a healthy time of year. Not for me. Not for you.”
“What does that mean?” Mike was being even more cryptic than usual.
Mike shrugged.
Barry wanted to go with him. It was the first time Mike had ever asked him to come along on one of his fishing trips, and Barry couldn’t help thinking—hoping—that maybe it signaled a kind of turning point in their friendship. Over the past few months he had started thinking of Mike differently—he wasn’t even sure when or how that unsettling change in feelings had crept over him—but he wanted to believe it was something to do with sensing a change in Mike. Because with Mike…well, everything would be probably okay. At least, that’s how he’d been thinking lately.
“Do you have something in mind?” Barry asked. “Something specific?”
Mike looked at him like he was trying to make his mind up.
Barry said tentatively, feeling kind of silly putting it into words, “Is it to do with what happened…that other Halloween?”
Right then he’d seen Mike’s face close up like a slammed door.
Mike rose. “I’m taking some time. You’re welcome to come,” he said. “Or not.”
The take-it-or-leave-it tone naturally put Barry’s back up.
“So you said. And like I said, I can’t just flit. I’ve got responsibilities. Clients. Cases.” Few enough of ‘em that he couldn’t walk out on the handful he still had.
“It’s your funeral,” Mike said, which seemed a little somber given they were only talking about fishing.
Weren’t they?
The door had closed softly after Mike.
That was how Barry Fitzgerald (that’s right, wise guy, his mam had a fondness for “the flickers”) came to be sitting in his office at Bell, Book and Cannon Investigations the Saturday night before Halloween. He was drinking bourbon and feeling a little sorry for himself when Margaret Mary O’ Flaherty showed up.
The wrong place at the wrong time.
Miss O’Flaherty said she was looking for a shamus.
Maybe she meant shaman.
It was his big idea to go out of town. Who the hell went fishing on Halloween? But Barry would have gone along with it. Partly because he’d started thinking he wouldn’t mind some time alone with Mike—and if he had the wrong idea about things, well, it would be better to find out in the middle of nowhere where nobody would notice a black eye. Or two.
He didn’t think he had the wrong idea, though.
Partly he’d have gone fishing with Mike because he knew this was a bad time of year for him. Nobody knew better. Barry was the one who’d pulled Mike off the railings of Suicide Bridge three Halloweens earlier.
They didn’t talk about it. Hadn’t talked about it since the night they’d met. If “met” was the word. More like collided.
Barry had been driving back to the office after a demoralizing interview with the Grand Duchess of Hillcrest Avenue AKA Mrs. Andrew Millar. There was the matter of a missing pearl necklace. Barry had traced that necklace to young Andrew Millar the Second who was in hock up to his shell-like ears to a certain bookie by the name of Griggs Malone. Instead of being pleased to have her missing necklace located, Mrs. Millar had been royally irate at the implication her weedy offspring was a crook. Not only had she not paid Barry, she’d threatened to sue him for defamation of character.
That’s the way it went sometimes.
Anyway, it had been a real witches brew of a night. Not fit for man nor beast, as the poets—or maybe it was the weatherman—said. The rain had been coming down in buckets, buckets of glinting needles—stinging, biting, blinding rain—and he’d had been hunched over the steering wheel of his Ford Crestline, trying to peer through the fogged-up windscreen, when all of a sudden, he’d seen a vision straight out of Central Casting: a man—at first glance he’d looked like a gargoyle—hunched over and poised to jump from the Colorado Street Bridge. White-faced, wild-eyed, soaked to the skin...
Barry had yanked the wheel, car brakes screeching as he pulled to the side of the road. He’d jumped out, and raced back in time to stop Joe Doe from going over—and been socked in the nose for his trouble. Mike was a big guy and that wallop had nearly set Barry on his heels, but Barry had been Glendale College’s lightweight boxing champ for two years running, and he knew his way around a difference of opinion. Besides which, Mike was very drunk. Soused. A hard shove would probably have done the trick, but Barry had piled into him and then dragged a stunned and stumbling Mike to his car and taken him for coffee, eggs and bacon at Bob’s Big Boy on Riverside Drive.
“Why’d you do it, buddy?” Barry had asked when Mike had dried out a little. Dried out physically and figuratively. Barry watched him mop up the last bit of fried egg with a corner of toast. Mike’s fingers were white with the cold, nails ragged—but clean. “What drives a guy like you to pull such a dumbass stunt?”
Mike had stared at him for a long moment. “Demons,” he’d said briefly, bluntly. The way Mike said everything, as Barry was eventually to learn.
That night he’d been willing to accept Mike’s answer since it was demonstrably true. Every man had his demons and Mike Cathan’s had driven him to the edge. Anyone could see that.
Some things you could fix for a guy. Some things you couldn’t. Mike needed a job, and Barry had been able to throw him some work. When Mike came through for him, Barry had put more work his way. To say that a friendship sprang to life that night would sound corny, but yeah, they had grown to be…well, it was hard to say.
Close was maybe not exactly the word. Barry was pretty sure no one was close to Mike. What did that really mean anyway? He liked Mike though, and Mike had saved his life once or twice (three times, according to Mike—but really you couldn’t count the time Vince Mezza pushed Barry out the window of the Astoria Hotel Apartment since he’d mostly landed on the fire escape) so Mike probably liked him back. Or just found it hard to line up a real job.
Barry liked Mike so much that he’d even considered bringing him on as a partner at the agency. At the moment that would be more like asking him to buy shares in the Keely Motor Company. But maybe one day.
Or maybe not.
Being inclined the same way, he’d recognized the truth about Mike pretty quick—he often wondered if that was what had driven Mike to climb up on that rain-slick railing Halloween night. If Mike had ever broached the subject, Barry would have been happy to give him pointers on how to squelch such feelings—he considered himself an expert, having had the devil of a fight to get his own impulses under control. (Mike didn’t even have the excuse of a Catholic school education.) But Mike had never broached the subject, though he must surely have recognized what was in Barry too.
Nor was he a guy you could offer advice to. Even Barry, who was prone to offering unsolicited words of wisdom, knew better than to try to tell Mike what to do. For one thing, Mike was older than Barry. Not so much in years. Mike had been with the Marines on Iwo Jima. He didn’t talk much about it, but that first night he’d admitted to Barry that he’d enlisted when he was only fourteen years old. Because he was tall, had a muscular build, and even back then weighed 180 pounds, he’d managed to convince the Marine Corps Reserve at Norfolk he was seventeen. He’d forged his mother’s consent and was sent to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, South Carolina, where he qualified as a sharpshooter.
Barry was a little jealous of Mike’s military service. It would never have occurred to him to try and lie his way into any branch of the service, and he’d been too small and skinny to have succeeded anyway. He’d been with the Army National Guard, the “Sunshine Division” when Korea started, and had been deployed to Japan for training. But his tour of duty had ended before his division shipped out to Korea. He’d come home safe and sound and enrolled in college while a lot of his friends had ended up dying at Heartbreak Ridge.
College had not worked out for Barry. He didn’t miss the army, but civilian life was a little too tame. He’d quit school to become an “apprentice” to Sam Bell at Bell, Book and Cannon Investigations. Cannon was long dead by then, there had never been any partner named Book—Sam just thought it sounded classy. Anyway, Sam died two years later leaving the business to Barry.
Barry had been working overtime to keep things afloat ever since, but still, he’d have taken time off for Mike, if Mike had come up with a good reason—or any reason—why they should suddenly leave town.
“It seems kind of sudden,” Barry had said, when Mike proposed a three-day weekend trout fishing at Crowley Lake. “We’re still in the middle of the Rothman case. And the Ciciarelli case.”
Mike had shrugged.
“Any special reason it’s got to be this weekend?”
“It’s a good time to get out of town,” Mike said.
“Sure. But the Rothman dame will be at that Halloween party Saturday night, and we’ll get the goods on her then.”
Mike made a face. He did not like adultery cases. Well, who did? But beggars couldn’t be choosers. He liked getting a paycheck, didn’t he? He sure as hell liked eating.
The expression of haughty distaste on Mike’s rough-hewn features should have been funny, but it stung Barry.
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to clear the decks here first and then take off? The fish aren’t going anywhere, are they?”
Mike said grimly (which didn’t mean anything, because he said everything grimly), “This is not a healthy time of year. Not for me. Not for you.”
“What does that mean?” Mike was being even more cryptic than usual.
Mike shrugged.
Barry wanted to go with him. It was the first time Mike had ever asked him to come along on one of his fishing trips, and Barry couldn’t help thinking—hoping—that maybe it signaled a kind of turning point in their friendship. Over the past few months he had started thinking of Mike differently—he wasn’t even sure when or how that unsettling change in feelings had crept over him—but he wanted to believe it was something to do with sensing a change in Mike. Because with Mike…well, everything would be probably okay. At least, that’s how he’d been thinking lately.
“Do you have something in mind?” Barry asked. “Something specific?”
Mike looked at him like he was trying to make his mind up.
Barry said tentatively, feeling kind of silly putting it into words, “Is it to do with what happened…that other Halloween?”
Right then he’d seen Mike’s face close up like a slammed door.
Mike rose. “I’m taking some time. You’re welcome to come,” he said. “Or not.”
The take-it-or-leave-it tone naturally put Barry’s back up.
“So you said. And like I said, I can’t just flit. I’ve got responsibilities. Clients. Cases.” Few enough of ‘em that he couldn’t walk out on the handful he still had.
“It’s your funeral,” Mike said, which seemed a little somber given they were only talking about fishing.
Weren’t they?
The door had closed softly after Mike.
That was how Barry Fitzgerald (that’s right, wise guy, his mam had a fondness for “the flickers”) came to be sitting in his office at Bell, Book and Cannon Investigations the Saturday night before Halloween. He was drinking bourbon and feeling a little sorry for himself when Margaret Mary O’ Flaherty showed up.
The wrong place at the wrong time.
Miss O’Flaherty said she was looking for a shamus.
Maybe she meant shaman.
Kingdom Volume 1 by RJ Scott
The Vampire Contract #1
“How’s your arm?” Micah finally asked.
Connor glanced down at his arm. He remembered bones snapping and stabbing through his skin, but there was nothing there except faint marks and an ache in his muscles. He stalked towards the vampire and Micah scrambled to stand.
“I’m taking you back,” Connor growled. His claws curved viciously from the tips of his fingers and he flexed his hand. He stepped over the dying fire and then suddenly he stopped. He didn’t mean to. He attempted to force his legs to move in some semblance of walking, but there was nothing. His wolf snarled inside him, forcing its way up and in control and stopping him from moving an inch. His wolf stopped the angry push, forcing him to step back from Micah. Startled, Connor stopped exactly where he was.
“What did you do?” he snarled.
“Nothing.” Micah held out his hands palm up and he looked so damn innocent. “I promise you I didn’t do a thing.”
Connor attempted to move forward again, but the muscles in his legs locked into place like he had walked into a brick wall as his wolf yanked him to a standstill.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Pretty sure your wolf scented me and loved me last night,” Micah teased.
“What?”
“You don’t remember?” Micah asked. “I’m losing my touch.”
Connor lifted a hand and ran it through his unruly shaggy hair and then tugged on it sharply to check he wasn’t dreaming. The prick of pain was enough to convince that instead of working with him, his wolf side was somehow making decisions his conscious human form couldn’t cash.
“I remember…” What did he recall? The fight, the tree, his arm snapping like a twig. That wasn’t right. He peered at his arm, which was break free. Fuck, he must have hit his head damn hard to have blocked out shifting in his sleep. “Nothing,” he said. “I don’t remember anything after the tree.”
Micah nodded. “You hit it pretty hard.” He looked guilty and suddenly couldn’t look Connor in the eye. Tapping his own head, he added, “Head first.”
The tension in Connor’s muscles as he leaned into the press-back from the wolf was getting tiring, and with a curse of exasperation he returned to the place he had woken up with the stones and ash of a fire between them and Micah still unable to look him in the eye.
This was the first time he’d really seen what Micah looked like close-up. Shorter than Connor by a small amount with jet-black hair, he looked young.
“I’m sorry I did that,” Micah offered softly. He lifted his chin and looked at Connor directly.
“How did you do it?” Connor asked. He needed to know how for the first time in ten years of retrieval he had been bested. And by a vampire no less.
“Luck,” Micah said quickly.
“You’re lying,” Connor snapped. His wolf agreed. At least this was one thing that could be settled in this unwelcome war of control inside him.
Micah moved quickly into a couple of practiced smooth moves. “There. You see. I know moves.”
Connor watched with amazement at the vampire throwing some kind of half-hearted chop through the air followed up by a stumble and kick.
“Clearly you do,” he said dryly. “But what part of that includes being able to throw me against a tree?”
Micah looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. Evidently he had to decide on what to tell Connor.
“You were hurt. You wouldn’t have known what happened to you,” he finally offered. He shrugged and then looked at Connor directly. “You shifted, you healed.”
Connor sighed. He attempted to move again, but there was no way his wolf was letting him move anything but backwards. Frustrated, he threw his hands up and summarized exactly what he wanted. “Make this easy and come back to Glitnir with me?”
“Yeah, because every vampire wants his head removed from his body with a sharp axe. Forgive me if I’m not seeing the benefits of giving in and going back.”
“You’re a murderer,” Connor spat. “I read you the rules. We’ll never stop hunting you until you’re dead by Court hands or ours.”
“Then you’ll have to kill me,” Micah snapped back. “I didn’t kill Ethan. I wouldn’t kill Ethan.”
The Guilty Werewolf #2
Declan wanted to be out front and ready to track Phin and it sounded like they were saying their goodbyes. He scented the air and made sure he could get enough of Phin’s smell to mean he could halfway track the little guy. Then he shuffled back as quietly as he could, but stopped when he came up against a warm body. Glancing behind him, Levi was right there and Declan glared at him. Without words he declared his irritability with the Fae. Levi merely stared back with stony focus. Declan leaned in to encourage the damn man to move just as a blade passed through the space his head had been. That slight move forward had been enough to save his life.
The knife, small but deadly, embedded itself in the oven unit opposite that he had been using as a mirror. Immediately in defence mode Declan ducked lower and used the mirrored metal to ascertain what the hell was happening. The barman, Abb, stared at the space they were hidden in. No sign of Phin. This was not the optimum place to be holed up in and he glanced behind him to communicate that to his shadow, but there was no sign of Levi.
Great. Declan was pretty exposed here and the freaking incubus had abandoned him. He should have known. All that talk about fighting for tradition and Levi was the first to run when things went south.
Another knife flew too close for comfort, parting his hair and, by the feel of it, drawing blood. Looking at the beautiful, intricate knives told him one thing; the barman was no mild mannered bear shifter who plied you with alcohol, then took your money. He evidently had mad knife throwing skills. Not a good start for Declan in this whole escaping-with-his-life-intact situation.
He heard a thud and cautiously leaned so he could look in the mirrored surface. What he saw had him scrambling to stand. The barman was felled like a tree, dead straight on the floor with his eyes shut and his breathing shallow. Levi loomed over him like some kind of ghostly apparition with wisps of scarlet lingering around him.
“What did you do?” Declan asked.
“Took him out.”
“He’s dead? Did you suck him?”
“I wish you’d stop calling it that.”
“Well, did you?”
“No. Okay? I didn’t take any of his emotions, although I couldn’t help some of the anger that trickled into me.”
Declan blinked at what Levi was saying. Like it didn’t matter the incubus had accidentally taken something from someone.
“Will he get it back?” Declan snapped.
“What?”
“His anger.”
“His anger?” Levi looked confused, then realisation cross his features. “You think when I… That I… It’s not permanent, Declan. Don’t they teach you anything in Fae 101?”
Declan crouched and felt for a pulse, then looked up at Levi. “No killing,” he said. “Not on my watch.”
“Says the animal with teeth and claws,” Levi said dryly.
The Warlock's Secret #3
Phin watched Micah and Connor from the cover of the trees for some time. That was, until Connor sniffed the air and turned his way, then he knew he had to step out.
“What do you want?” he snapped irritably. “I’ve had Declan and Levi tracking me to the west and you two here. I’m not going back to listen to Joseph’s crap anymore.” He exhaled heavily. Why he was being so careful not to use his magic to evade this childish hunting game escaped him. He should just port out of here and find a place where the resistance, the hunters, and most of all Joseph, didn’t get up in his face. It was bad enough he’d had to explain himself to his father after he’d sent Asher home near death.
“It’s Joseph,” Micah said. “He’s missing.”
“He’s probably up a mountain communing with nature,” Phin dismissed. Despite hearing something off in Micah’s voice, he wasn’t getting involved. Joseph had this way of finding trouble, then evading it at the last minute. He’d be fine.
“Tell him,” Connor said firmly.
Phin crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like Connor’s tone. It suggested Micah was reluctant to tell him something.
“Tell me what?” he asked suspiciously.
Micah sighed. “We need your help. Joseph used magic to create a portal to get inside Glitnir.”
Phin dropped his stance of stubbornness and allowed his shock to come to the forefront. He stepped closer to Micah who, to his credit, didn’t move. “What the hell?” Phin shouted. “You know he shouldn’t…we shouldn’t…” He was lost for words. There was a reason they didn’t use their powers near anything to do with Glitnir. Supernaturals with magic were sought after and placed in hiding for their own protection. No one with the kind of skills inside them that he and Joseph had, would be allowed to be free of Glitnir interference.
“We were in the old library,” Micah said, “and he stayed behind and closed the portal.”
“Why would he do that?” Phin demanded. “Did he want to be trapped? Is he suicidal? Hell Micah. Why didn’t you stop him?” Very real fear built inside him. Joseph was inside Glitnir—and he’d used magic? He wouldn’t wish that combination on anyone if anyone had found out. Why hadn’t Joseph just got out? Where was he? None of this could be good.
“I couldn’t stop him,” Micah snapped. “We were discovered. We barricaded the door, he opened the portal, I went through with Levi, and he shut the connection down so no one could follow us.”
“Why did you even let him go there in the first place?” Phin stood right up in front of Micah and, despite having to look up at the vampire, he had Micah backing a step away.
“No one lets Joseph do anything,” Connor defended. He moved to stand between Phin and Micah and his tone and body language stopped Phin’s growing anger in its tracks.
Micah shook his head. “What’s done is done,” he said. “We need to get him out.”
Phin shook his head. “We can’t. He’s on his own.” Phin watched as Micah and Connor exchanged glances. What now? He knew he should have spent more time wandering the forest and less time leaving trails for Connor and Declan to follow. He’d been having fun playing with the two wolf shifters, but evidently Micah wanted him to get serious.
“We found something,” Micah started.
“A journal,” Connor interrupted.
Micah nodded. “A vampire journal. The one mentioned in the prophesies that say it will come to the twins from the royal line of the Sinclairs—”
Connor interrupted. “The prophesy about how one of them will have magic and that twin will lead an army for change.”
Phin felt like he was watching Micah and Joseph when they were together. Connor and Micah were evidently in synch given they kept finishing each other’s sentences. He held up a hand to stop them doing that back and forth in the explanation.
“Connor, you’d best go and find Declan. I left him circling a chalk pit last I saw him. Bring him and Levi here.”
Connor opened his mouth to protest, but a gentle touch from Micah’s hand on his arm had him stripping, shifting, and running the direction Phin indicated. Suddenly tired and needing to sit, Phin walked to the nearest fallen tree and perched himself on one end. He crossed his legs, then with a wave of his hand, indicated Micah should sit opposite.
Micah didn’t argue and the vampire began to talk as soon as he sat down. “The Journal Of Days was what Joseph was looking for at the Vampire Clan’s Council house. It wasn’t there, but he tracked it to Glitnir.”
“Why do you think this journal is so important?” Phin knew a little about vampire society, and he’d heard the prophesies, otherwise he wouldn’t be here alongside Joseph and Micah in this Underground they’d set up. He just hadn’t thought the journal mentioned in the prophesy would ever be found. Just the mention of Joseph again had fear curling inside him. What the hell made the idiot think going into Glitnir was a good thing.
Micah sighed heavily. “When Glitnir was first created and the vamps, werewolves, and the fae all held council, no one wanted the vampires to be part of it.”
“I recall reading that somewhere.”
“What most supernaturals don’t know is that this journal was a way of the vampires placating the others. The wolves and fae were concerned about the vampires creating a whole race of blood demons tied to them as donors, and about the fact they killed indiscriminately. The Vampire Clans Council agreed to have a book that contained, in detail, the workings of the council. It would automatically mark every action by a vampire and be proof in case the fae and the wolves suspected the vamps were planning to overthrow them and take Glitnir as theirs.”
“Every vampire action?”
Micah sighed. “Anything deemed important. The journal was spelled and locked and it was never to be removed from the vault. In fact it could only be opened by these mythical twins from the prophesies and only at the time of real need. Together.”
Amber Kell has made a career out of daydreaming. It has been a lifelong habit she practices diligently as shown by her complete lack of focus on anything not related to her fantasy world building.
Despite her husband's insistence she doesn't drink enough to be a true literary genius, she continues to spin stories of people falling happily in love and staying that way.
She is thwarted during the day by a traffic jam of cats on the stairway and a puppy who insists on walks, but she bravely perseveres.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
Claire Cray writes M/M Romance featuring hot, complicated men in weird situations. Offbeat and character-driven with a Gothic bent, her work is often described as atmospheric and a little strange.
Born and raised in the rural Pacific Northwest, Claire takes inspiration from its wild, moody vibes. Her stories often combine vivid natural settings with steamy sensuality and psychological drama.
Claire lives, writes, and independently publishes in Portland, Oregon, USA.
K. Evan Coles is a mother and tech pirate by day and a writer by night. She is a dreamer who, with a little hard work and a lot of good coffee, coaxes words out of her head and onto paper.
K. lives in the northeast United States, where she complains bitterly about the winters, but truly loves the region and its diverse, tenacious and deceptively compassionate people. You’ll usually find K. nerding out over books, movies and television with friends and family. She’s especially proud to be raising her son as part of a new generation of unabashed geeks.
K.’s books explore LGBTQ+ romance in contemporary settings.
Brigham Vaughn
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
To stay up to date on her latest releases, sign up for the Coles & Vaughn Newsletter.
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.
Amber Kell
GOOGLE PLAY / iTUNES / KOBO
EMAIL: amberkellwrites@gmail.com
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Claire Cray
NEWSLETTER / KOBO / B&N
EMAIL: clairecray@gmail.com
K Evan Coles
GOOGLE PLAY / BOOKBUB / B&N
EMAIL: coles.k.evan@gmail.com
End Street Volume 1 by Amber Kell & RJ Scott
Inked in Blood by K Evan Coles & Brigham Vaughn
Halloween is Murder by Josh Lanyon
Kingdom Volume 1 by RJ Scott
B&N / KOBO / BOOKS2READ
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