Tinker's Apprentice by Jordan Castillo Price
Conrad has a special talentâone for overthinking even the simplest of decisions. As a tinkerâs apprentice, he should have mastered at least some magichanics by now. Unfortunately, he hasnât even picked out his starting tool. Itâs not a choice to be taken lightly, though, and Conrad is certain that all he needs is a little more time to weigh the pros and cons.
But when a new Magimart comes to town, it threatens to wipe out all the mom-and-pop magic shops in Three Corners, including the one where he works. The pressure doesnât help. A glimpse of an intriguing young man at the auxiliar shop makes him wonder if maybe a magical mascot can help him level upâbut how would he ever pick the right one?
Conrad has never considered teaming up beforeâbut if Magimart does drive all the small shops out of business, this might be his last chance. Or maybe itâs all an excuse to flirt with the man with the secret smile.
Can Conrad settle on a magical assistant, or should he just grab a random tool and hope for the best? Either wayâŠitâs now or never.
Original Review May 2023:
A delightfully fun, creative, and unique novella that made me smile. The Tinker's Apprentice is a contemporary setting of a world openly filled with magic that has a steampunky-like quality about it. I've not read many but enough steampunk to know the Victorian era is key so no Tinker is not steampunk but the magichanicals(hope I got that right) remind me a bit of that genre. Made me think that perhaps this is where the world would be if a steampunk timeline were to naturally progress into present day.
As for the concept of Auxiliars, I was reminded of what familiars are to witches, and was fascinated how the author highlighted how they make things easier but they aren't there to do everything for you. A concept that we should apply to many new-fangled contraptions in the real world todayđ.
Conrad and Rune are adorable, together and individually. I want to wrap Conrad up in bubblewrap for protection one minute and smack him the next screaming "make a decision!" Some might label Conrad as "wishy washy" but me? I think of him more as needing that one thing to jumpstart his focus. As for Rune, well he's just all kinds of lovely and when introduced to You Tube(and other websites) to brush up on a few things that loveliness is taken up a notch or two. Together they seem to be the other half of each other.
No ideas if the author plans to do more with these characters and the magicanichal world she's created but I know I'd be ready to follow along with the adventures. Some might be a bit confused as there's a lot of world building for this fantasy short but for me The Tinker's Apprentice is simply put: delightful, smile-inducing fun.
Summary:
Critter Catchers #2
A struggling small business. An odd job opportunity. Two friends figuring out they may be something more.
Demetrius and Cody stopped a murderous wolf man months ago, but that hasnât done much to bring in jobs for their Critter Catchers business. Now, as the two best friends struggle to make ends meet, Demetrius also tries to find time to date Oliver, the new reporter at the Parsonâs Hollow Herald, and Cody canât help nitpicking about them. When veterinary student Agatha Tisdale approaches them with an odd case, they jump at the opportunity despite their misgivings. While Cody flirts with Agatha, Demetrius finds himself distracted by handsome farmer Reed Wilkes whose goats are being bled dry by something living in the woods around his farm.
While working to identify the blood-drinking critter, however, Demetrius discovers heâs having to remind himself more and more often to keep Cody in the friend category of his mind and heart. And for his part, Cody is realizing he might be more than a little jealous of the relationship developing between Demmy and Oliver. But all of that must be set aside when farmer Wilkes goes missing and Cody, Demetrius, Oliver, and Agatha follow a bloody trail into the woods and come face-to-face with something as dangerous as the wolf man!
Summary:
Monsters Hollow #1
Welcome to Monsters Hollow, where love knows no boundsâeven in a town full of monsters!
Targan Wildethorne
A confirmed bachelor, and a historian by training, I havenât the faintest clue how to care for twin orclings when I unexpectedly become their guardian. Iâd love to retreat into the comforting sanctuary of my study, surrounded by my books and papers, but first I need to hire someone to help me with the children. Someone who can teach me the ropes of this new role.
Thank the Light for the All-Species Specialized Employment Services! In my most dire hour of need, they find the perfect nannyâahem, mannyâto help me look after my young wards. Now I can finally get back to writing my history of orc folklore for a few hours a day.
Or so I thought.
Instead I find the captivating new man in my home far too distracting. Max is so much more than I had expected. Iâve never fallen for a human before, but I canât get him out of my mind. Could he ever feel the same about an orc? Humans are usually too intimidated by our large size and outer appearance. Can Max look past my green skin and tusks to see a man with a heart that yearns for him? And if he does, when he learns the truth about the children will the danger on the horizon send him running?
Max MacLeod
Working with kids is totally my jam and Iâm damn good at what I do. Just call me Maxy Frickinâ Poppins! When a new job prospect comes my way, Iâm intrigued. A chance to move to Mystic Hollow (aka Monsters Hollow) to be a well-paid manny for two adorable orclings? Talk about a dream position. Sold! But when I lock eyes with the seriously sexy orc whoâs their guardianâand my new de facto bossâfor the first time, Iâm a goner. Big, muscular, and green all overâheâs giving me full-on Hulk meets stern professor vibesâand I like it.
As I get to know him, over meals with the kids during the day and soft-spoken conversations about history at night, I soon realize thereâs so much more to Targan than the gorgeous orc who keeps starring in all my naughtiest dreams. Heâs quite possibly the kindest, gentlest man Iâve ever met. And he accepts and appreciates every part of me and my flamboyant, full-figured fabulousness. I just want to feed and take care of himâand find out if heâs so deliciously big everywhere. Before I know it, Iâm dreaming of being part of a forever family with him and his adorable twins. But an unexpected threat looms in the shadows that could threaten the safety of us allâŠ
The Orc and the Manny is a (94k words) cozy small town M/M monster romance featuring a Hulkalicious silver fox orc professor who's better with books than kids, a flamboyant human manny with ALL the skills (think Nathan Lane in The Birdcage meets Mary Poppins), an age gap, a size difference, a three-headed hellhound and a feisty rescue Chihuahua, two adorable orcling twins, and copious amounts of orcâŠjoy!
Summary:
Medium Trouble #1
Hiro
Though I was born with the ability to see the dead, I struggled with it until my brother was killed and his ghost was left behind. Now, Iâm determined to figure out who is responsible for his death⊠the problem is that Detective Maddox Booker, the one working the case, is a grumpy and stubborn man who wants nothing to do with me and definitely doesnât believe in ghosts. It doesnât help that I keep finding myself looking ridiculous in front of the detective, thanks to interfering ghosts who enjoy laughing at my expense. Still, the more Iâm around Maddox, the more I realize that beneath that surly exterior is a kind and caring man who will do anything to help.
Maddox
When another man dies, I know we have a serial killer on our handsâthe same murderer who has remained elusive for a year and a half. To add to my frustration, I keep running into Hiro at crime scenes only to hear him claim that he can talk to ghosts. The words of the dead could lead us to the serial killer and even tell us who is next, but ghosts? Thereâs no such thing as ghosts. Hiro is determined and charming, and no matter what I do, I canât stop letting him get involved. He's definitely snagged my attention, but when he nearly winds up dead, I know he's getting closer to the truthâand if I donât do something soon, he might be next.
Ghost of Lies is full of action, mystery, humor, and romance. Though more is planned for this couple, the mystery is solved and there is a happy ending.
Offbeat Shifters #4
Charlie taught me I deserved to be loved. Will I be brave enough to claim him as mine?
Temporarily separated while heâs on tour, my love for him grows. He is my futureâor he will be, once weâve made our relationship public.
Charlie has been patientâprobably too patientâwhile Iâve been struggling to get over my fear that history will repeat itself. An unforgiving media destroyed my career, I donât want the same thing to happen to the man I love.
Telling the world is one of many obstacles we have to navigate. The only thing Iâm sure of is that weâll find our way together.
Unashamedly Us is the forth book in Offbeat Shifters, an m/m paranormal romance series with a continuing storyline. The series is best read in order, however Charlie and Austinâs story begins in book 3, Unapologetically Me. This book includes a monkey shifter who has to face his fears, an arctic fox shifter who will always stand up for himself, extended families, steadfast friends, lots of children, and a HEA ending for the main characters. There are pregnancy and birth scenes in this book.
Tinker's Apprentice by Jordan Castillo Price
1
Conrad
Back when Sputnik first launched and Chubby Checker was doing the Twist, household items stopped rolling off the assembly line at Apex Magichanical Parts and Fittings, and their factory doors closed for good.
No one knows what happened to the Apex founders, and the blueprints have been lost to time. Fortunately, there are shops that specialize in repairing magichanical goods.
Shops like Arti-fix.
The smell of dubious bacon and overcooked egg tickled my senses as my hand hovered above the breakfast biscuits. They stood on the cart in an orderly row wrapped in wax paper, waiting to be snatched up by someone indiscriminate in taste and short on time.
And Iâd been standing there so long, unable to decide, the crowd had changed over three times as annoyed commuters grabbed around me.
Ham. Sausage. Egg. Cheese. It wasnât as if there were all that many options.
And yet, I already knew that whichever sandwich I picked, Iâd end up disappointed.
My friend Jeff had chosen our breakfast spot todayâthe food cart at the edge of Three Corners (come on, Conrad, itâs not so bad)âand of course heâd picked the one cart where the sandwiches were either rubbery around the edges from the microwave or vaguely moist from a steam tray. Why? Because the cashier was a pretty girl with tattoos on her fingers and a violet streak in her hairâŠthe type of girl who wouldnât in a million years give Jeff the time of day. In other words, the type of girl he couldnât resist.
Despite the fact that weâve never once had a good sandwich from that particular cart, when Jeff had challenged me to pick somewhere else instead, Iâd caved right in and agreed.
âDid you hear the latest rumor about the new building project on the edge of the city?â Jeff said. I hadnât, but of course he wasnât talking to me. Not with that flirtatious lilt. The girl with the finger tattoos answered with a bored shrug as she made change for her current customer. Unlike me, Jeff was undeterred by a show of disinterest, and he only took her non-answer as a challenge. âI hear a new Magimart is coming to town,â he said dramatically.
That did pique the cool girlâs interest. She deigned to raise a thin, penciled eyebrow. But I wasnât so sure how I felt about this new development. Sure, their selection was amazing and their prices were low, but⊠âIf a Magimart opens up here, what will that mean for Three Corners?â
âWhat it always means,â Jeff declared. âNo more status quo. Survival of the fittest. All the mom-and-pop magic shops will either have to find a way to stay relevantâŠor close their doors.â
Given that both Jeff and I worked for mom-and-pop magic shops, youâd think he wouldnât be quite so blasĂ© about the whole thing. But I guess he didnât want to look fretful in front of his favorite cashier.
I settled on a sausage and cheese biscuit while Jeff speculated about all the wonderful things heâd heard you could buy at Magimart. Pens that wrote in any color, even ones you couldnât quite name. Electric toothbrushes people actually wanted to use. Candles that smelled like rainy mornings, or playing hooky, or days at the beachâand never burned down. âAffordable, too,â he said. âSo cheap that even Conrad could shop there.â
I rolled my eyes, pulled out a crumpled five, and handed it to the girl. At leastâŠI tried to. But before tattooed fingers could close around the bill, a scaly creature the size of a pineapple waddled out from behind a coffee urn and snatched it from my hand.
I winced. The cashierâs auxiliar made me phenomenally uncomfortableâmainly because I could never quite tell exactly what it was supposed to be.
Auxiliars donât have a âtrueâ form of their own. In terms of appearance, they ran the gamut from naturalistic animals to completely fantastic creatures. The way they appeared to human eyes all depended on the preference of their ownersâŠand apparently this owner wanted an auxiliar that looked like a cross between a giant bat and a constipated pug. Jeff thought it was supposed to be a gargoyle, but every time I saw that squashed-in face, I couldnât help but think of the local dog park.
Unsettling as I might find the thing, I didnât want to be rude. I kept my face perfectly neutral as the gargoyle pug made change. The coins looked like Frisbees in its miniature human-like hands, but it counted them out quickly enough and handed them over. I made sure to angle my body so it couldnât see me wiping the coins on my pant leg before I pocketed my change.
I turned away from the food cart, doing my best not to wonder if the auxiliar was involved in making more than just change. Regardless of whether or not my food was prepared by its creepy little hands, I felt buyerâs remorse the moment I peeled back the wax paper wrapper. The cheese had slid all to one side and congealed into the paper, while a big hunk of stale biscuit crumbled off and rolled down my jacket, only to be snatched up by an aggressive pigeon whose pinfeathers nearly took out my eye. The sausage, now exposed, gleamed grayly beneath a sheen of grease. It smelled like the bottom of an old Tupperware.
Iâd forced down most of my bad sandwich by the time Jeff finally strode away from the food cart. Once we were out of earshot, he shot me a smug grin and whispered, âAnd you predicted she wouldnât say more than three words to me.â
âAre you gonna buy that? doesnât count.â
âItâs only a matter of time before I wear her down.â
I have no idea where Jeff gets his confidence. Not only is he pudgy and pale with incredibly thick glasses, but because he works at an ephemeral agents apothecary, odd smells tend to waft off him at inopportune times.
âNothing ventured, nothing gained,â Jeff went on. âWhen was the last time you strode up to someone and gave them your phone number?â
âHow is this suddenly about me?â
âYou should really capitalize on the fact that you dig sausage. Iâd always thought it would be more straightforward if I was into that kind of thing. More insight into the thought process of the potential hook-up.â Belatedly, I realized we were no longer talking about breakfast. âIf I were you, Iâd be out playing the field, hitting up guys left and right.â
That was the thing, though. I didnât want âguys.â I wanted someone special. It just so happened that I hadnât met that someoneâŠyet.
We crossed the street and found ourselves approaching a jumble of small, colorful storefronts and oddball bits of statuary and signage affectionately known as Three Corners.
The Y-shaped intersection was one-third parking lot. But a hodgepodge of old businesses lined the stem of the Y, storefronts that smelled like dried flowers and old paper with the occasional whiff of vinegar and paraffin. Its businesses catered to very specific clientele: the sorts of folks willing to spend lots of time and energy on a magical hobby that was mercurial, at best. Simply put, old magic was expensive, and not everyone was willing to scrimp and save, sift and study, for the ability to change the color of an old pair of socks or predict where the closest parking spot might be. Not nowadays, when science and technology had much quicker solutions.
As we passed the Tome Repository, the vintage manuals in the window display beckoned seductively with their yellowed pages. But Jeff and I passed them every day, and we knew better than to get looped into reading a primer on magically inking your mimeograph machine. Any book you might pick up in Three Corners would be more of a curiosity than a tool. Entertaining, maybe. But not particularly relevant, not anymore. Not when you could just whip out your phone and Google anything you might need to know.
A page fluttered plaintivelyâŠor maybe I was just projecting. Because the Tome Repository had no way of making itself ârelevant.â And if Magimart really did set up shop in town, those books might as well be waving goodbye.
I was feeling nostalgic for the old neighborhood already, but Jeff was far more pragmatic. âItâs time to update our rĂ©sumĂ©s.â
âWhat?â I stopped dead in my tracks in front of the auxiliar store. The repair shop where I worked, Arti-fix, was just across the street. Not that I was worried it could hear us. At least, I hoped it couldnât.
âThink about it, Conrad. Youâve been slaving away in that dusty old tinker shop for how longâmonths?â Actually, we were coming up on a yearâŠbut I could tell it wasnât to my advantage to point that out. âHow many floors have you swept?â
âJust the one.â
âAnd how many ephemeral agents have you restocked? How many shelves have you dusted? And how many sorry, thankless customers have you dealt with, day in, day out, with their broken doodads and ding dongs?â
âPeople get touchy when their magichanical stuff breaks down. Itâs not like you can just toss it out and buy a new one.â Even as I said it, though, I had to wonder. Apex products were marvels of magical technology, back in the day. But even the ones we managed to repair still showed their age. There just wasnât as much call for a pipe-cleaner cleaner or a bouffant fluffer. Not like there was in 1955. But something new like a magichanical keyboard or cell phone case or GPS? People would go nuts for things like that, and not just the folks who liked magichanics for magicâs sake. I eyed the Arti-fix storefront cautiously, wondering how it might be possible to stay relevant after all if enchanted household items started rolling off the assembly line again.
The storeâs prospects did not look good.
Jeff said, âWhy the long face? Itâs not as if you actually enjoy working there.â
âHey, thatâs pretty harsh.â
âIs it? I thought the whole reason you even applied was that you were hoping to get your hands dirty. Crack open some of those dusty old relics and see how they tick.â
Not gonna lie. The mere thought of opening up an old Apex salad refresher, weightless bowling bag or silent radio had me itching to scuttle inside the shop and get to work. Unfortunately....
âOlâ Hester still hasnât let you touch anything,â Jeff said, as if he could read my mind. âNothing important, anyhow. Has she?â
I knew it was small of me to let Hester bear the blame for my lack of advancement, but it wasnât as if sheâd care what Jeff thought of her. I just wasnât up for the razzing Iâd get if he found out that in all this time, I wasnât able to begin my formal training because I hadnât picked out my primary tool.
Chasing the Chupacabra by Hank Edwards
âFirst goat we found was probably a week ago, and we found him right about here. There was two that first time, and the other one was just about fifty feet away, over there.â
Cody leaned on the railing of the goat pen and looked down at the mud. Reed Wilkes might not be as tall as Cody, but he was more muscular, with a jaw just a touch more square, eyes the brilliant blue of a Photoshopped Caribbean Ocean travel brochure, and shoulders almost as broad as Codyâs. Almost.
Reed Wilkes was about four times younger than Cody had expected, and eighty-seven times more handsome. When Agatha had given them the farmerâs nameâand the fact that the man was a farmer, in and of itselfâCody had conjured up a mental image of a grumpy, set-in-his-ways old man. But, instead, here they were talking with a menâs fitness magazine model. And one that was mean to his dog, to boot.
âSix goats altogether, right?â Demetrius asked, leaning on the railing on the other side of Farmer Wilkes. He stared up at the man, his blue eyes wide and his expression intent, as if heâd never heard anything so fascinating as goats found dead from blood loss.
âRight,â Reed replied, but then glanced down to where Agatha was making notes as she knelt beside the most recent victim. âAnd my wonderful Sophia is gone now.â
âGoat fucker?â Cody grumbled to himself.
âDid you say something?â Agatha asked, looking up from her notebook.
âNope. Not a word.â Cody forced himself to listen as Reed went through each night a goat had been slain.
âEach time I was inside the house, reading by the fireââ
Cody had to restrain himself from an eye roll, the force of which would have surely made him black out. Farmer Wilkes was just a little too picture-perfect with his amazing body, handsome face, flannel and denim, and salt-of-the-earth act.
ââand I didnât hear a goddamn thing. Just found them bled and dead the next morning.â
Well, Cody had to be impressed by Farmer Wilkesâs poetic rhyming when describing his slaughtered goats.
âI looked out the window,â Farmer Wilkes continued, âbut from the kitchen, I can only see the front section of the pen, not the back area here. Never saw anything unusual.â
âThe goats were found in the back of the pen each time, right?â Demetrius asked.
âYeah, thatâs right,â Reed replied with a nod at Demetrius.
Cody could have sworn he saw Demmyâs chest puff out a little bit with pride, and his irritation bubbled up too much to be contained.
âDo you always leave your goats out in the pen unattended at night?â Cody asked, hearing the sharp tone to his voice, but not able, or interested, in adjusting it. Something about Farmer Wilkes just rubbed him the wrong way. It could have been that Farmer Wilkes was so muscular, or so handsome, or mean to his dog, or flirting with either Agatha or Demmy, Cody couldnât quite tell. Whatever the reason was, Farmer Wilkes was absolutely getting under Codyâs skin.
âOh, well, yeah, sure,â Farmer Wilkes replied, and gave Cody an assessing look. âI mean, they have a shelter to go under if it rains, and if it gets too cold, I put them inside the barn. But the weather wasnât bad this week, so I left them out.â He turned to look at Demmy. âI mean, Iâve always done it. Iâve never had a problem with losing my livestock.â
Demmy gave the farmer a sympathetic nod as he gazed up at him. What the hell was wrong with Demmy? Wasnât Ollie the cub reporter punching all of Demmyâs buttons these days?
The Orc and the Manny by Chloe Archer
âWell, Princess Peach, this is it.â
My sweet baby, a feisty rescue Chihuahua, gives a little yip of agreement and I scratch under her chin. She nuzzles me back with pleasure. Today sheâs wearing a cute little pink shirt with the words âIâm a princessâ spelled out in silver sequins.
Princess Peach had a hard life before I rescued her. I donât know all the details, but the shelter found evidence that sheâd likely been used for breeding purposes in a far from humane situation. They believe she was abandoned on the streets when she was no longer able to provide new litters of puppies for whatever illegal operation had been going on.
After her tough life on the streets, I decided she deserves to always look as fabulous as she is. She may have a torn ear and be missing half of her teeth, but sheâs beautiful through and through. Iâve matched our color scheme today by wearing a darling pink blouse with flowy pirate sleeves under my rainbow chiffon duster vest. The outfit is finished with a pair of shiny black leggings that hug my ample thighs and a sweet pair of purple ankle boots.
My foster mom would have been proud. Iâm totally channeling my inner Stevie Nicks.
Adjusting my oversized purseâwith everything a manny could ever need in a pinchâhigher on my shoulder, I tuck Princess Peach gently under my arm and climb the steps to the front door of the enormous three-story Victorian. Painted gray with white and blue gingerbread lattice work, the home looks a bit tame for me, but I suppose I can see the classic appeal. Itâs still an impressive old house even with the bland exterior and I canât wait to get a peek inside.
After all, this is going to be our new home for the next little while, provided all goes well.
Pressing the doorbell button, I admire my freshly painted sparkly purple nails in the process. The fading twilight of evening starts to turn to darkness around me as I wait. It took me longer than I had planned to get here.
I hear the bell chime loudly within but get no response.
After several long moments, I ring it again. They are expecting me after all. Right?
Just when Iâm about to press the bell a third time, the door slowly creaks open to reveal an orc with wispy white hair and stooped with age. Heâs wearing a butlerâs livery and shuffles to the side as if to bid me enter. I have a fraction of a moment to stare into the large entryway of the house before my brain has to process a whole lot of chaos all at once.
Two young orclings, presumably my charges, are headed my way as they chase each other. One of them is holdingâis that an axe? Off to my left, I spy the intimidating but gorgeous gargoyle who interviewed me for the jobâhello, sexyâbut I stop breathing when I lay eyes on the man beside him.
This orc is not old and heâs hot like fire.
Heâs rocking full-on Hulk meets stern professor vibes and I am so here for it.
Unfortunately, I also suspect heâs my new boss.
I donât have more than that flicker of an instant to admire him because an enormous three-headed creature comes barreling straight toward me as the two little orclings itâs chasing deftly feint one direction and then swerve out of the way at the last second, leaving me to face my fate.
Talk about a trial by fire in my first few seconds on the job.
Also, why the heck did no one tell me there was a motherfreaking hellhound in this house!
On instinct, I tuck Princess Peachâs head carefully in my armpit so I can cover both her ears. She settles in, trusting me implicitly, as always. Then I lift the whistle around my neck and give it a sharp blow, bringing the hellhound to a whining, screeching halt a few inches in front of me.
Phew! That was a close call.
As tall as the enormous front entrance, the gigantic beast towers over me, tongues lolling out of its three heads, momentarily dazed and confused by the dog whistle I always carry with me. Youâd be surprised how handy it is when my baby and I go on walks. There are too many idiots out there with no control over their unleashed dogs, and I sometimes have to protect my precious little angel.
I reposition Princess Peach in the crook of my arm where she settles happily and kiss the top of her soft little head, getting a lick of appreciation in return before I take a deep breath and call forth my most dominant voice to utter the order, âSitz!â
The hellhound cocks its three heads and looks at me confused.
Maybe he hasnât learned German commands? Thatâs what my dog trainer taught me. HmmâŠ
Princess Peach snarls at him.
He immediately drops his rump to the floor with a ground-shaking thump.
I beam. âPlatz!â I order next.
The hellhound cocks his three heads in the other direction, acting clueless.
My precious fur baby lets out a guttural growl and snaps out a warning.
The enormous beast lies in the down position, ears on each head flat, but all three tails wagging hopefully.
âGut,â I praise as I reach into my purseâso much classier than Mary Poppinsâs carpet bagâto pull out a plastic baggie with my stash of dog biscuits, then pluck out a handful. Iâm fairly certain theyâre fine for a hellhound if my dog can eat them.
After all, I baked them myself.
Ghost of Lies by Alice Winters
Chapter One
HIRO
The body is lying feet from me.
I can hear the sound of sirens filling the air as if frantically attempting to find and save the woman. But itâs too late, and now that sheâs dead, I canât let them find her yet.
The issue is, with the sirens growing closer every minute, Iâm running out of time before they find me standing here in the woods, smack-dab in the middle of a crime scene, looming over a body theyâre struggling to find.
Looks a wee bit suspicious.
But I canât leave yet because just beyond the womanâs body, where she likely died before being dragged a foot or two, sits a young woman wearing the exact same clothes as the body on the ground. Thereâs a peculiar glow around her, but besides that, she looks the same as the body.
âCan you hear me?â I ask the woman.
Sheâs sobbing as she sits on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest as she rocks, and the sound is heart-wrenching, but if she wonât talk to me, thereâs little I can do for her, so I have to keep trying.
As the darkness of the woods surrounds me, I walk over to her before kneeling down, knowing slow, steady movements are best when theyâre in this state of mind. I reach out to touch her face, but she isnât old enough for me to be able to feel. Instead, my hand passes through her.
âCan you hear me?â I ask again, voice gentle in hopes of reaching her.
She doesnât act as if she can, even though I know my words can find her. The issue is that the ghost of the woman is too new. After a person dies, if their ghost is left behind, itâs generally inconsolable, unreachable, and fixated on their recent death. I know that better than damn near anyone, but I also know that right now, I need her to snap out of it because if she wants me to find who killed her, she needs to start helping me.
The sirens havenât gotten any closer, telling me theyâre probably on foot by now, searching the thick trees for the woman theyâll be unable to save.
âMaâam, I need you to talk to me,â I urge.
She slowly looks up at me. âDid you kill me?â
I shake my head. âI didnât kill you.â
âYou killed me,â she says, sounding convinced.
Itâs still too early for her to even comprehend whatâs going on, so I donât blame her for the wild accusations.
âYou killed me, you killed me, you killed me.â Sheâs growing hysterical as she shakes her head and then begins to scream. The noise is tearing into my ears, making it hard to hear much else.
Shit.
âYou better start running,â another voice cuts in.
I turn to look behind me and catch a different woman watching me. The glow around her is similar to the woman Iâm kneeling in front of, but she looks more real and far more familiar. And I know if I reached out to her, I could touch her, even though no one else can.
âI canât leave yet, Natalie,â I tell her. âShe just died.â
âI didnât want to die,â the wailing woman says.
I turn my attention back to her now that sheâs stopped screaming. âI know. Where did he go?â
Her hollow eyes lock on to mine. âWhyâd you kill me?â
Theyâre getting close now. Were they able to track her phone? Do they know the exact location? Think, think, think. âAfter I killed you, where did I go?â I ask, having found that sometimes if I just give the dead what they want, theyâre more likely to work with me.
The ghost is quiet for a moment before pointing to her left, away from the noises, and deeper into the woods.
Quickly, Iâm on my feet and running. I might be leaving prints behind, but if I can find the location of the killer before they get away, her ghost could pass on. She could be at peace and not stuck roaming the area where she died, begging to move on.
âHiro, heâs here,â Natalie says, and I turn just as a man slips out from behind a tree and pummels into me. He drives a knife toward my face that I quickly dodge, but his weight is enough to throw me back, causing me to hit my head on the ground. He drops down onto me, planning to use his weight to keep me down.
Shit, shit, shit.
This wasnât part of the plan. My plan was to find the location the guy went to, tip off the police, and send them over to do the dirty work. My plan wasnât to be stabbed in the middle of the woods by a guy who smells like he basked in a barrel of alcohol and has a mullet. I turn my head fast, trying to pull away, but I feel the blade of the knife whiz by me.
I always knew being nosy was going to get me killed one dayâŠ
I really didnât think today would be that day.
Twisting hard, I try to get my leg up and knee him in the back, but heâs using his weight to hold me down.
âI didnât mean to kill her,â he says, which really seems like a weak statement as heâs trying to cut my face off.
âThen why are you trying to murder me?â I pant, trying my hardest to protect myself from his knife. âIf you didnât mean to hurt her, you can fix this. We can figure out what happened.â
He shakes his head vehemently. âI canât!â he yells, which I think is a bit of a lie, telling me that maybe it wasnât such an accident after all. I mean⊠who accidentally stabs someone to death?
He swings the knife hard as I duck down and throw my arm up to protect my face. It catches on my jacket as I hear a noise to my left.
âPolice, drop the weapon and put your hands up!â
I turn to look at my savior and immediately sour.
Heâs not really the man I was hoping would come save me, but this is how fate works⊠especially for me. I guess if my options are between being stabbed by the killer or being saved by Detective Stick-Up-His-Ass, I find myself slightlyâever so slightlyâleaning toward the detective.
âNo! Please!â the man says as he chucks the weapon, like he can suddenly become innocent by flinging the murder weapon where he thinks they might not see. He puts his hands up and I shimmy out from under him.
If all goes right, the detective will be horribly preoccupied with the guy, and I will just waltz on out of here and run as fast as my legs can carry me back to my car and pretend that I had never set foot in this patch of trees in my life. I crawl a few feet before slowly rising up, like the slower I move, the sneakier I might be. I can simply slip behind a tree until the detective forgets about me.
âMr. Moore, you are also under arrest,â the detective says as someone else handles the killer.
Now that startles me. âWait, what?â I ask as he comes toward me.
âOoh snap,â Natalie says, the ghost equivalent of the least helpful person around. Thankfully, no one else can see or hear her.
Detective Maddox Booker comes around the tree to face me. âYouâre not supposed to be here.â
âI think he just wants to see you in handcuffs,â Natalie says, and at this very moment, Iâm thrilled Detective Booker canât hear her.
âI think youâre confused,â I decide as I give him a warm smile that does nothing to lighten the expression on his handsome scowling face. âI was helping you, see?â
âNo, you were destroying the crime scene again,â he growls.
I⊠might have fucked up.
Detective Booker and I have run into each other more than once, but we rarely share words as Iâm usually running as fast as I can back to my car and refusing to answer what I was truthfully doing. The last time he arrived at a crime scene that Iâd beaten him to, heâd taken it upon himself to decide that I was the enemy and became a royal pain in my ass. Okay⊠maybe Iâm also a pain in his ass by disrupting his crime scene, but Iâm trying to help.
I keep smiling, even though it feels quite awkward at this point.
âWhyâs your face look like that?â Natalie asks. âYou look constipated. You never want to look constipated in front of sexy Booker.â
I ignore her but also drop the look, which makes her grin. âI was helping find the guy because you guys werenât here yet,â I explain. âAnd arenât you homicide? Why are you here? How did you know there was going to be a body?â I try to glance beyond him to what theyâre doing with the killer, but Booker body blocks me before I can do anything.
âWhatâs it matter to you?â he asks as he sets a hand on my back and starts directing me away from the scene.
I can hear Natalie giggle, like she thinks this is hilarious. âIf youâre lucky, heâll handcuff you. I wouldnât mind if he slapped some handcuffs on me,â she says.
I ignore her, as I usually do in the presence of others. When youâre facing the possibility of being arrested, the last thing you want to do is start talking to dead people that no one else can see. âI was helping.â
Detective Booker marches me into the clearing where I see his brother Ben, a police officer who is much nicer, arresting the guy. That must be why someone from homicide was here. Were they together when his brother got the call?
âMaddox, what are you doing?â Ben asks as backup begins to flood the scene.
âIsnât it clear?â Booker says, like heâs rather proud of what heâs done as he orders me to stay right there for a moment as he turns to the other officers. As he talks to them, Ben walks up to me and smiles.
âHiro, right?â
I nod, feeling more than a little defeated. âYeah. I think Iâm getting arrested.â
Ben shakes his head. âMaddox isnât going to arrest you. He just shouted it in the heat of the moment. Youâre fine.â
I eye him suspiciously. I know Maddox probably shouldnât arrest me but Iâm pretty sure his pettiness alone will spur him to do it anyway.
âWhat the hell are you doing here?â Ben asks with a quizzical look. Heâs always been rather nice to me whenever I run into him, unlike his brother who thinks Iâve crawled out of hell just to irritate him.
The shrug I give is the least convincing thing Iâve ever done. âJust⊠you knowâŠâ Iâm not sure how to explain this when the truth rarely does me any good. People donât react well to being told that you were trying to deal with ghosts.
Speaking of which, I look around until I see the ghost watching them deal with her killer. Sheâs calmed down, already at peace, telling me sheâll be able to move on as soon as the scene quiets down. So arrested or not, Iâm happy to have been able to help her with that.
Booker, seeing that Iâm daring to open my mouth, rushes over to make sure I shut it. âBen, donât talk to him,â he growls and jerks his head in the direction of the car. I know I need to follow or I really will get arrested.
Ghost Natalie walks beside me for a moment before saying, âI feel like youâre enjoying this. I mean⊠how could you not be enjoying this?â
I give her a glance because itâs never a good time for that level of stupidity. The looks I get from the other officers as Iâm marched over to the police car make me want to announce to everyone that I am not, in fact, the killer, because Iâm kind of being treated like I am and see why they might be momentarily confused.
I question whether a plea attempt will work. âDetective, I really⊠Iâm sorry I was here, and Iâm sorry that Iââ
âTrampled all over the crime scene, ran after a man who had a weapon, put yourself and possibly others in danger, and for what? Just some kicks? Do you watch too many superhero movies?â he asks.
âMy name is Hiro,â I joke.
Clearly, I shouldnât have joked.
The joke falls as flat as I did when the guy pummeled me.
The walk at that point turns awkward for everyone besides Natalie who is ridiculously amused by the whole thing.
âTell him you did it because you were hoping to see his charming face,â Natalie says. âThatâll help. I know thatâll help.â
I decide that if I donât want to spend the rest of my years in jail, itâd be best to not do that.
Assuming that he was just trying to scare me turns out to be quite wrong as he opens the back door to the police cruiser. I assume this means âGet in or youâll be even more arrested,â so I quickly get inside. And without a word, he returns to the scene, leaving me to awkwardly sit there alone. I mean⊠if it was a real arrest, heâd have frisked me, right? Read me my rights? Done something. Heâd have⊠I donât know! Iâve never been arrested.
âDonât say it,â I tell Natalie now that Iâm alone with her.
âYou realize you literally just jumped in the car to be with him a bit longer,â she says, then giggles. âHe didnât even tell you to get in and you jumped in.â
âYouâre not funny,â I grumble as I lean back on the hard seat. âHe was going to arrest me if I didnât comply.â
âWas he?â Natalie sits beside me, able to sort of interact with things or at least appear to since sheâs an older ghost. Sheâs haunted me the longest, and when sheâs around me, it seems like she can do more things than when sheâs alone.
I know most people wouldnât use negative words like âhauntedâ when talking about one of their closest friends, but I sure as hell am going to say haunted when it comes to Natalie. Sheâs followed me around for most of my life, harassing and judging me and swearing like a sailor, even when I was a child. And still, I put up with it because thereâs really nothing else I can do.
When Detective Booker and his brother head over, I realize that maybe now theyâll let me go. Theyâll be like âHa ha, just a joke. Donât do it again,â and Iâll give them some finger guns or something and run off⊠maybe you shouldnât finger gun an officer⊠thumbs up it is.
âAre you really taking him in to get his statement? You know we could do that right here?â Ben asks as he gets into the driverâs seat.
âYeah,â Booker says. âHe wants to go to the station, donât you, Hiro?â
âYes?â I ask, uncertain what the right answer to this is.
âHe said he wanted a good tour of the station for his birthday,â Maddox says. âIsnât that right, Hiro?â
âUm, sure?â What the hell is this? Why am I just agreeing with him?
Ben looks back at me. âIs today your birthday?â
âIt is,â I say grudgingly.
He gives his brother a look of pure shock. âYou literally looked into him, saw it was his birthday, and still decided that you were going to do this?â
âI sure did,â Booker says, looking awfully smug.
Ben whistles. âJeezus, Maddox, youâre in a mood today.â
Which is funny when I thought Maddox was born âin a mood.â
Maddox gives no shits as Ben starts driving back to the police station while I awkwardly sit there with Natalie who is now blowing in Bookerâs ear. Of course, he doesnât see it and he definitely doesnât notice when she climbs onto his lap.
She keeps looking back at me, like she thinks she could get me to say something or laugh. âCome on! Itâs funny! Itâs like a little lap dance for your birthday, but instead of you getting the sexy guy, I do.â The only way to solve anything here is to flip her off. Of course, thatâs the very moment Maddox turns his head to look at me. His eyes narrow as I give him a sheepish smile.
âI wasnât flipping you off. My finger⊠is sore. I jammed it. When I fell. Just stretching it.â
âUh-huh, sure,â he says.
I glare at Natalie who gives me her best look of innocence as she climbs into the back seat with me.
âMaddox, are you going to Dadâs this weekend?â Ben asks.
âI donât want to. I have that case Iâm busy with, and all he wants to do is go fishing.â
âLast time you went out, you vomited all over, didnât you?â Ben asks with a grin and a playful elbow nudge.
The best way to describe Ben and Maddox is to say that all of the happiness was drained out of Maddoxâs body and shoved into Ben, probably sometime during childhood if I have to guess. Iâm just glad Iâve only ever had the pleasure of seeing them, mostly Maddox, for a few minutes at a time. I think Ben is older than Maddox, so maybe their mother used up all the kind traits on Ben.
âIâve never gone fishing before,â I helpfully add to the conversation.
Ben looks back at me in the rearview mirror. âHavenât you?â
âDonât engage with the prisoner,â Maddox says.
âHiro, youâre not a prisoner. Youâre a witness,â Ben adds.
I ignore Maddox but give Ben a soft smile. âNo. My grandpa wasnât really into any of that outdoorsy stuff. He tried taking me camping once when I was young, got drunk and fell down a hill. I spent three hours looking for him, only to find him curled up in the tent next to ours with some strangers because he thought it was our tent. We never went back.â
Ben laughs but Maddox just glances back at me. Ben says, âYour grandpa sounds like a hoot.â
âHe was,â I say as we pull up to the station. Maddox immediately gets out and opens the door for me. As soon as Iâm out he power walks off, leaving me to assume Iâm to follow him into the station before he takes me straight back to a plain white room with a single table and two chairs.
âStay here. Youâll need to give your statement when I get back,â he says.
âOkayâŠâ
At this point, I decide heâs probably not actually going to arrest me and Ben was telling the truth. If he was, wouldnât he take down my information and like⊠check me in somehow or something? Or read me my rights? Honestly, I have no idea; my knowledge of being arrested is extremely limited and based on movies. This is just to scare me.
Right?
âŠ
Right?
Fuck, please be right. What if he really does arrest me? What am I going to do to get out of that? My claim that I was tipped off by a dead person does very little to help my credibility when Iâm the only one who can see and talk to the dead person.
I canât tell him that as Iâd been driving toward home, a ghost came shooting out into the middle of the street, terrifying the ever-living shit out of me. While ghosts meander across the street, thereâs still a part of my brain that is convinced itâs a person before it sets in that I can drive straight through them. I had slammed on the brakes hard enough my car was left squealing, and heâd seemed to take note of me. He alerted Natalie who alerted me, before fucking off as ghosts are known to do. Whenever a death is imminent, they seem to lose their focus and become fixated on the death. Thankfully, the woods didnât have too many ghosts lingering, or Iâd have had trouble even getting near her body.
Natalie told me that the ghost had allegedly seen a man chasing a woman while holding a knife. Quickly, Iâd pulled my car off to the side of the road, jumped out, and run in the direction heâd come from. Which is how I found the crime scene and the body.
But confessing all of this to the detective sounds like a bad idea, leaving me to sit here on the hard chair contemplating my choices.
Unashamedly Us by Colette Davison
âIâm feeling needy.â I walked up to him, pulling him close and kissing him while savouring his touch and taste.
âMe too.â Charlie smiled and then leant against my body. He stroked my back and breathed in deeply, his chest expanding against mine.
âWhat are you doing?â
âMemorising your scent.â
I kissed his hair and then inhaled so I could do the same. Charlieâs scent was very distinctiveâtoffee apples and crisp autumn mornings. My heart squeezed tight at the realisation that I wouldnât get to hold, kiss, or be in the same room as Charlie for three months.
Staying behind and keeping our relationship secret, for now, was the right decision. Charlie didnât need any stress on top of the rigours of touring. It didnât matter that his schedule was more relaxed than most singers enjoyed; the demands of performing two-hour sets were exhausting. Worrying about the media gossiping about us was the last thing he needed. Or maybe it was the last thing I needed, and Charlie was an easy scapegoat for my fear.
But the media and Charlieâs fans would gossip the moment they found out we were a couple. I was nineteen years older than him, and we were both omegas.
Charlie slipped his hands underneath my shirt and started to walk me backwards, kissing me.
âThis is nice,â I said during a brief break between kisses.
âIâm saying goodbye,â Charlie whispered as he tipped us both onto the sofa.
âDidnât we do that this morning?â
âUh-huh.â He pushed my shirt up and pressed kisses to my chest.
âAnd last night?â
âYes, but I want to say it again.â He looked up at me. âIâm really gonna miss you.â He undid my belt. âI need to feel your skin against mine one last time before I go.â
Author and artist Jordan Castillo Price is the owner of JCP Books LLC. Her paranormal thrillers are colored by her time in the midwest, from inner city Chicago, to small town Wisconsin, to liberal Madison.
Jordan is best known as the author of the PsyCop series, an unfolding tale of paranormal mystery and suspense starring Victor Bayne, a gay medium who's plagued by ghostly visitations. Also check out her new series, Mnevermind, where memories are made...one client at a time.
With her education in fine arts and practical experience as a graphic designer, Jordan set out to create high quality ebooks with lavish cover art, quality editing and gripping content. The result is JCP Books, offering stories you'll want to read again and again.
Hank Edwards has been writing gay romantic fiction for more than twenty years. He has published over thirty novels and dozens of short stories. His writing crosses many sub-genres, including romantic comedy, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy.
He has written a number of series such as the funny and spooky Critter Catchers, Old West historical horror Venom Valley Series, suspenseful Up to Trouble series, and the very erotic and very funny Fluffers, Inc., He is also part of the shared universe Williamsville Inn series of contemporary gay romance books that feature stories by Brigham Vaughn as well. He's written a YA urban fantasy gay romance series called The Town of Superstition, which is published under the pen name R. G. Thomas.
No matter what genre he writes, Hank likes to keep things steamy, kind of sassy, and heartfelt. He was born and still lives in a northwest suburb of the Motor City, Detroit, Michigan.
Chloe Archer currently calls the arctic wilds of Minnesota home but has spent much of her life abroad in places like Montreal, Edinburgh, and Tokyo. One day she hopes to live somewhere sunny and warm. She loves to travel, eat spicy food, and geek out about her fandoms. In her spare time (Ha! Whatâs that?) sheâs an avid reader with far too many books and not enough bookcases, a wannabe tea and coffee connoisseur, and a karaoke fanatic. When sheâs not making herself laugh out loud while writing adorkable gay rom-coms, she can be found walking her two Yorkies (Teddy and Jasper,) trying to finish that blanket sheâs been knitting for five years or spending time with friends and family.
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
Colette's personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. Several years later, sheâs enjoying her own âhappy ever afterâ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
Ever since she could hold a pen, Colette has been writing stories. Always an avid reader and lover of the arts, Colette graduated in Theatre Studies from Lancaster University in 1999, and in English Literature from the Open University in 2010. After studying for a P.G.C.E. in secondary education, and subsequently teaching english and drama for six years, Colette chose to become a stay at home mum and to focus on her writing.
Colette's first M/M romance, Why I Left You, was published in November 2017. Since then she has continued to write books that are sweet, sexy, and heartwarming.
Jordan Castillo Price
Hank Edwards
Chloe Archer
EMAIL: chloe@chloearcher.com
Alice Winters
Tinker's Apprentice by Jordan Castillo Price
Chasing the Chupacabra by Hank Edwards
B&N / KOBO / iTUNES AUDIO
The Orc and the Manny by Chloe Archer
Ghost of Lies by Alice Winters
Unashamedly Us by Colette Davison
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