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In honor of Father's Day here in the US this coming Sunday, I wanted to showcase stories with strong, influential father figures. Some aren't necessarily a lengthy factor in the story, perhaps it's even just one chapter, or a flashback, a memory, etc. Some are not even fatherly to MCs. The father figure has however, left a lasting impression on the characters, the story, and the reader. For Father's Day 2025, this post features 5 stories I felt had fathers-from-hell, or at the very least is definitely not in the good dad category. I find bad parental figures help shape the characters, intentionally or not, make them stronger and in doing so make the story even more brilliant. If you have any recommendations for bad father figures in the LGBTQIA genre, be sure and comment below or on the social media post that may have brought you here. The purchase links below are current as of the original posting but if they don't work be sure to check the authors' websites for up-to-date information.
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Summary:
Nick Williams Mystery #1
May 11, 1953
Nick Williams, a private investigator in San Francisco, receives a late-night call that his sister is dying following a freak car accident.
After rushing over to the hospital with Carter Jones, a fireman and the love of his life, he arrives just in time to say good-bye to the last member of his Nob Hill family he could stand to be around.
Once the cops get a chance to take a look at the car, it becomes obvious this was no accident.
It was murder.
And, with that, Nick is hot on the trail to bring his sister's killer to justice. And it's a trail that reveals plenty of surprising secrets about his sister and their family.
Will Nick be able to find the murderer and stop them before they can strike again?
Find out in the fast-paced adventures of the case of THE UNEXPECTED HEIRESS!
Original Review June 2024:
If you follow my reviews you'll remember that I first found myself introduced to Nick and Carter a couple of years ago in Butterfields' short story series, Nick & Carter Holidays. With each entry the full length tales inched further up my TBR list and this past March I read book #14, The Pitiful Player for my Oscars week theme. Loved it but it was in the middle so I decided what better time than for Pride should I start from the beginning? Seeing as there are currently 39 entries I'm sure there will still be some jumping about to fit different themes but right now I'm back at square one, The Unexpected Heiress.
The author does an amazing job at keeping things very much, or as close as possible, historically accurate. Yes, Nick's wealth leaves him a bit more leeway in his personal life that Joe Blow would not be given in the day but in his public dispute with Hearst, we see there are limits that even Nick may not be able to overcome. But boy does he try.
Due to the wealth and standing I mentioned above, Nick and Carter tend to collect people, well they don't "collect" them as that's just wrong on so many levels😉 but they do tend to find people who could very much need a friend and then through these new found friendships, N&C open them to opportunities they wouldn't otherwise have. You can imagine their found family grows and grows.
The Unexpected Heiress has so many elements that by themselves are great reading but combined all together and Frank W Butterfield has brought the combo of mystery, romance, drama, humor, and historical setting to a whole new level. Whether you love historicals or not, I highly recommend Unexpected Heiress, and though I've not read them all the Nick and Carter universe is amazing storytelling not to be missed.
Blogger Note for 1-3:
I'm glad I went to the beginning because at least for the first 3 I had opportunity to read now, there is a few things that linger from one story to the next. Would you be lost? Not really as the author does a wonderful job keeping the reader in the know but I'm glad I read it this way and not just because I'm typically a series read-in-order gal. The overall feel just meshed so perfectly.
Lion's Tail by Jordan L Hawk
Summary:The Pride #2
Control the booze. Control the magic. Control Chicago.
Sam Cunningham just wants a quiet life with his lover, the cheetah-shifter Alistair Gatti. But that hope is dashed when a member of Mickey Sullivan’s gang dies inside the Gatti family’s speakeasy.
Sullivan wants Sam to work for him, deciphering long-forgotten hexes as part of his illegal hexworks operation. At the same time, a corrupt prohibition agent demands Sam and Alistair investigate the gang member’s murder. Caught between gangster and agent, they must walk a fine line just to stay alive.
Because the sinister forces behind the killing are still out there, and now they have Sam in their sights…
Original Review September 2024:
I remember reading Blind Tiger when my mom was in the hospital in 2021 and how much de-stressing the story gave me. It blends several of my faves: paranormal, historical(prohibition, 1920s, post-WW1 to be precise), romance, and loads of mayhem. I can't deny that I've been waiting on pins and needles ever since for another story from The Pride but I also know authors can only give us the stories when the characters are ready to tell them. So yes, it's been a bit of a wait but oh so worth every single painstakingly aching second of it😉.
Lion's Tail is one of the best follow-up stories I've read in a long time. Sam and Alistair are just as yummy as I remember. Alistair is a bit overprotective but never in a malicious way so despite a few times of wanting to smack him upside the back of the head and telling him to chill, I loved that he cared so much. Sam is finally finding his place, although at times it seems he is still not quite suited for the mayhem around him but then he says or does something and you realize that perhaps he isn't quite as out of his depth as you might think.
Sam's family plays a part in this entry and boy, talk about characters I wanted to . . . well let's be ladylike here and say they aren't exactly what I call "good stock" and leave it at that😉. Where as the found family that makes up the cast at the Pride speakeasy, they are "good stock" and have Sam and Alistair's back.
As to the mystery element of Lion's Tail? Well no spoilers here but it kept me guessing upto the reveal, not completely on the who but definitely the why and how. I got shivers just thinking about it as I type this, heebiejeebies but perfect for Halloweeny reading.
The Pride is a spinoff of the author's Hexworld series. Even though you need to read Blind Tiger before Lion's Tail you really wouldn't have to read Hexworld first. There are some hex-terminology that might smooth over a bit if you read Hexworld but by no means is it a necessity. I do highly recommend checking out Hexworld for it's brilliant storytelling and world-building but you wouldn't have to do so before Blind and Lion.
However you choose to read them, Jordan L Hawk is a master of paranormal mayhem, so you will definitely enjoy the world they've created.
Dance on Ice by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Summary:Chesterford Coyotes #3
For the figure skater and the hockey player, their sport demands total devotion, but can falling in love come first?
My name is Shaun Stanton, and I’m bisexual.
In hockey-obsessed Chesterford Academy, Shaun Stanton stands out as the star player and captain of the Chesterford Coyotes, and his exceptional skills have already attracted the attention of NHL scouts. He lives and breathes hockey, but there’s more to his story. His father wants Shaun to be the star he never was, and their relationship is a complex mix of guidance and intimidation. Worse, while hockey is Shaun’s sanctuary and a key part of who he is, he harbors a secret his dad can never discover: Shaun is gay He’s caught between the future career he’s destined for, and the truth he has to hide. There’s one bright light in his life, the vibrant figure skater who shares the early morning practice ice, a friend he worries about, but has now become something more—Kenji is everything Shaun wants and can’t have.
My name is Kenji Kelly, and I need to be perfect.
Kenji Kelly is a young man who walks two worlds: his family is a beautiful mix of American and Asian cultures. He loves both figure skating and hockey, and he’s a out and proud pansexual teen. While it seems to the world around him he has it all, deep down Kenji has a secret that’s slowly becoming harder to conceal. His life is the ice and his coach does not believe in failure. The one person who knows his hidden secret is Shaun, the captain of the Coyotes and a friend from youth hockey days. Shaun’s gaze towards Kenji, once filled with concern, now seems to hold something deeper, unsettling Kenji but also igniting similar giddy, burgeoning feelings in him. As their feelings for each other become stronger, the secrets both young men carry grow heavier and more distressing with each passing day.
NB: Trigger warning for mention of an eating disorder.
Original Review April 2024:
I said with the other two entries in Chestorford Coyotes and I'll say it again here: with a few exceptions I generally haven't read YA since I was about 14 years old but as this series is part of the Scott/Locey Hockey Universe there was no way I wouldn't give it a go. And boy was I glad I did!
Dance on Ice is an emotionally charged read that will first break the heart but then repair and warm it too. You can't help but feel immense anger towards both Shaun's dad and Kenji's coach, Ilya. Will either be redeemable? For that you'll have to read Dance for yourself but I will say emotions run very high and not always very favorably.
Watching both Shaun and Kenji become the people they are meant to be is hugely gratifying. The bulk of the story is the now timeframe but through the boys' inner thoughts we get a sense of who they were before their friendship went down the crapper so seeing them move past that is as I said, gratifying but also extremely heartwarming.
Scott and Locey do a magnificent job telling Kenji's eating disorder and how it is always there, no matter how you get a hold on it with therapy and time, it will always be lingering, needing to be cared for. What I really loved was they not only tell Kenji's side but also the side of those who care about them, who want to help, who tend to put their foot in their mouth more times than they intend in their quest to help.
It was nice to see Trent from Deep Edge, book 3 in the authors' Harrisburg Railers, the original series that jumpstarted their hockey universe. I had a feeling he would make an appearance with the figure skating connection and the authors didn't disappoint.
Dance on Ice is a lovely story of hurt, comfort, friendship, young love, but above all healing on multiple levels. As far as I know, Dance is the last entry in this series but I for one would love to see a holiday story to see where our young couples are 5 or 10 years down the road. Dance may take you through an emotional wringer but in all the heart-filled amazing ways.
Enemy Mine by Davidson King
Summary:Westford #1
Imagine heading the entire Irish Mafia…and despising it.
Fred Brennan’s father was a brutal man, both professionally and personally. When the kingpin died a few years ago, Fred welcomed it, but not the brutal role he was thrust into. As a successful doctor, he’s devoted his life to helping people in a career he loves. The last thing he wants is to continue to fill his father’s shoes, but after three years, he’s no closer to offloading his dad’s title onto someone else. As a mafia boss, he’s forced to deal with the elite assassin organization, Lex Talionis…bringing him face to face with the infuriating man who runs it.
As head of Lex Talionis, secrecy is vital to Vincenzo Belini and his organization. Nothing could coax him into the light to reveal himself to Fred. That is until dangerous adversaries emerge from the shadows, all vying for Fred’s life. Vincenzo knows the enemy is closer than Fred realizes. He just has to convince Fred he’s not one of them because for as much of a pain Fred can be, Vincenzo is exactly the right man to keep him focused—both in and out of the bedroom.
Someone is threatening Fred’s throne, power, and all the responsibilities that come with the title. Despite Fred not wanting any of these things, he can’t let them fall into the wrong hands. Can he rely on Vincenzo to help take down the growing enemy and give Fred the happy ending he’s always wanted?
Enemy Mine is a spinoff series within the Haven Hart series. It doesn’t follow the main story arc. Fred was introduced in Secret Simon, Head Rush, and Law of Retaliation. While it is a standalone it’s recommended you read those three books first.
Original Review Book of the Month August 2024:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!! I know that seems to be a common expression in my Davidson King reviews but when she keeps telling stories that grab my attention and have no intention of letting go, well how can anything short of "HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!!" be my response?
When Fred was first introduced to us in Secret Simon, I knew he was a man ill treated and hurting but I never expected to find myself cheering for him in his own story. Here I am though rooting for him and loving every second of it. Fred is a man who overcame so much to be the doctor he dreamed of being but unfortunately he was unable to escape the role he was reluctantly destined for: mob boss. Through yet another tragedy, Fred finds a piece of himself he never wanted to admit was there: ruthlessness needed to exact revenge. I just want to wrap the man in the hardest Mama Bear Hug possible and let him know that Doctor Fred is not lost just stepping back to let Boss Fred do what must be done.
Lets talk Vin for a moment. I know only Fred calls him "Vin" and I know how to spell "Vincenzo" but my fingers type faster than my brain so "Vin" he will forever be here😉. Being the head of the assassin organization Lex Talionis, you know that Vin is dangerous and knowing he does so in secrecy just adds a whole extra layer of "Watch out world!" to his existence. And yet, when it comes to Fred Brennan there is, well I hate to use the word "softness" for him so let's just say Fred brings a certain unexpectedness to the surface and done so with very little actual contact between the two. Perhaps that says more about Fred than Vin but either way I think it gives us an incredible peak into Vin's soul. Don't get me wrong, Vin is mayhem personified but that look at his heart shows just perfectly paired the two men are.
So often characters fall into a bad or good guy category but Davidson King has a special knack at showing the myriad of placement of the grey scale in between. Despite all that must be done both Fred and Vin reside within that grey scale, they don't just reside there, they own it and for me that is what makes them so fun to get to know and to love.
As to the mystery within the pages of Enemy Mine I won't reveal anything other than to say despite being certain of the culprit halfway through, King throws enough curveballs that made me question until shortly before the baddie is exposed. Many authors can weave a web of deceit but the list is much shorter that I feel blend it with romance and detailed world building. Davidson King began her mob world in Haven Hart and now expands to Westford but it's so detailed, so descriptive, so complete that I feel like I'm living in that universe not just observing but totally immersed. Enemy Mine is a definite win win in all around storytelling in practically all columns but sci-fi, paranormal, and rom com(although there is enough humorous moments between Fred and Vin that I can't completely rule out the latter label😉).
Blogger Note: For those who have not read King's Haven Hart universe I highly recommend doing so. Enemy Mine is the author's first entry in her newest HH spinoff, Westford series and focuses on Fred Brennan, reluctant head of the Brennan Family. We first met Fred in HH #8, Secret Simon and then saw even more of him in the next one, Head Rush as well as the HH/Joker's Sin co-series entry Law of Retaliation. I mention this because these 3 HH entries are a different story arc than the original 7, I can't imagine reading Enemy Mine without experiencing HH from the beginning but it is not necessary by any means, I'm just a series-read-in-order kind of gal😉. You won't be lost at all however there are few minor cameos/references to the HH families but I would seriously recommend reading Secret, Head, & Law first. The author does an excellent job on a little backstory to let you know what got Fred to where he is but I think experiencing those 3 books as a whole just gives the reader a deeper and more complete picture of and connection to Fred Brennan.
Into the Fall by RJ Scott
Summary:Whisper Ridge, Wyoming #4
In small-town Wyoming, a tough sheriff and a former Navy SEAL are thrown together by circumstance. Their fiery chemistry leads to constant clashes, but as they work to solve a mystery, they can't ignore the growing feelings between them.
Sheriff Neil Windham has one mission: to protect Whisper Ridge. But when human remains surface at the Lennox Ranch, the town’s past comes back to haunt it. As Neil dives deeper into the investigation, he’s torn between his duty, his father’s declining health, and the fire ignited by the relentless, unpredictable former Navy SEAL, Connor Mason.
Connor didn’t come to Whisper Ridge looking for trouble—or a future. He never intended to fall in love, least of all with someone like Neil. But with every heated encounter, Neil and Connor’s attraction escalates into something undeniable, a force of nature they can’t resist. Now, with an offer to rejoin his old team, Connor must choose between a future in Whisper Ridge or leaving behind the only man who’s ever made him feel like he belongs.
Into the Fall is an opposites-attract, enemies-to-lovers M/M romance featuring a battle-hardened former SEAL and a dedicated sheriff. Duty and desire collide, old ranch secrets come to light, and a hard-earned happily-ever-after awaits.
Original Book of the Month Review September 2024:
Note: I'm going to start my review off with a little personal feelings because I can't think of a better way to put voice to how this book effected me, I understand if that makes you uncomfortable so just scroll down a couple of paragraphs.
Can't believe we've reached the end of Whisper Ridge, Wyoming but truthfully, I can't think of a more emotionally charged and beautiful send off. I rarely cry while reading, the tears well up but rarely fall, mostly due to location and time. As my mom's 24/7 caregiver I tend to read when I can and I don't want her to see my crying when she needs something and I also do a considerable amount of reading in Mayo Clinic waiting rooms.
Back to "rarely crying while reading", Into the Fall was one of those rare times. As mentioned above, I'm my mother's fulltime caregiver so I'm also very aware when it comes to stories with caregiving elements and willing to be critical if the author misrepresents something. Well, RJ Scott does it right and Into the Fall hasn't been her first story to have a caregiver element and her other stories have also been the rare times the tears fell. I have not had any personal experience with dementia or Alzheimer's diagnosis, both of my parents had aunts that were dealt the dementia blow but we didn't have much contact with them(not for the dementia reason just the way it worked out with timing and location) I have however dealt with short term memory issues. My grandmother was diagnosed that although even as her caregiver I was not made aware of that until she was admitted into the hospital for the last time. 85% of the time she was the grandma I grew up knowing and 15% of the time she was the kind of person you crossed the street to avoid, the problem was you spent that 85% walking on eggshells trying not to trigger the 15%. I'm sorry for digressing into personal experience but the point of sharing this is to express how amazingly accurate RJ Scott brings Neil's family heartache to life and to explain why Into the Fall was one of those rare crying books for me because her accuracy tugged at my heart so deeply and though it brought back a few heart-hurt memories it all gave me a chance to release some that I had boxed away these past 13 years since my grandmother passed. So Thank You, RJ Scott for once again going that extra mile to make the emotions real, to respecting the heartache.
Okay let's talk Into the Fall.
I was so hoping we'd get to see more of Conner when he was introduced back in book 2, Summer Drifter and I was not disappointed. Conner is a man who needs to be in control, needs something to do and that puts him in the path of Neil, the town sheriff. Not in a malicious way but because he does a few things that a civilian shouldn't. But as a former SEAL Conner cannot stand by when assistance in required, at least that's how he sees it, Neil on the other hand has other thoughts on the matter.
Neil has his hands full dealing with Conner but he has so much more on his plate, short staffed, Mother Nature, and his family learning to live with his father's aggressive form of dementia. How much can one man take? Perhaps if he lets Conner do his thing Neil won't find himself spread so thin? Mother Nature's plans throw a new hurdle in his path as bones are discovered on the Lennox Ranch after a mudslide and once again Conner jumps in to action, quite literally as the landscape beneath the bones threatens to erode even more. Neil's answer: cuff him and arrest him. So much for lightening the load😉.
I'm not going to spoil further, just know that Conner and Neil find themselves dealing with not only their attraction and chemistry but also family, friends, bones, and potential murder mystery. Now I know I made Into the Fall sound like a highly charged heart-breaking drama and there are those elements of course but there is also plenty of love, humor, romance, and heat to make this an all around enjoyably entertaining read that may hurt the heart at times but always warms and heals too.
If you are new to Whisper Ridge, Wyoming and are wondering about reading order, yes each entry is a new couple but there are story points that carry over as well as characters that play a part. I suppose technically you could call it a standalone series with new couples at the forefront but I can't imagine reading out of order, friendships deepen and characters grow that would seem odd to see said connections go backwards if read differently than released. However you read it, this is a series that will warm your heart and fill you with hope.
The Unexpected Heiress by Frank W Butterfield
Chapter 1
777 Bush Street, Third Floor
San Francisco, Cal.
Monday, May 11, 1953
Half past 10 in the morning
She walked through the door of my private office like she was gliding on air. Her curves were definitely in all the right places. The dress she wore made sure I knew it.
She removed the veil from her face and pinned it back on her hat, which was perched precariously on her upswept hair.
She sat down and leaned in, making sure I could see all the way down her ample cleavage.
As she sat there, I asked, "Would you like a cigarette?"
She smiled and nodded. I offered her one and she took it. I leaned over and lit it for her.
She pulled on it like she was finally getting a drink of water after a forced march in the desert. When she exhaled, she smiled at me and asked, "You work alone?"
I nodded. "How can I help?"
She looked down demurely as if there was one very specific way I could help.
I waited.
Finally, she looked up and said, "It's over between me and Johnny and I need some proof."
I took out a pad and pencil and began to make some notes. We went through the usual questions: her name, his name, how long they'd been married, her address, the hotel she thought he had been habituating of late, and, most importantly, the name of the other woman.
"Oh, but Mr. Williams, it ain't some dame, it's a guy." She spit out the last words like she'd just bit down on a sour pickle and couldn't wait to be rid of it.
I looked up and said, "Yeah?"
She nodded. "If I'd known Johnny was a fairy when I married him..." She looked up and shrugged.
"What? What would you have done?" I asked, keeping my voice level.
"You know. I would have told my pops and he would have had some of the guys down at his bar do a number on Johnny and let him know what's what."
I stood up and put on my coat.
She made an "O" with her mouth. I guessed that was her way of expressing shock or maybe astonishment.
"Wait. How much do I owe you?"
"Not a thin dime, miss."
"Really? You work for free?"
"Oh no," I said as I put on my hat and extended my hand to help her stand up. "I don't work for free."
"I'm confused."
"No, you're not. You're just angry. You thought he loved you but you knew all along he wasn't the right man. Why did you even marry him?"
Now she was angry. She refused my hand and stayed planted in the chair.
"I had to get out of Pop's house, didn't I?"
"Well, they have wonderful residential hotels for women these days. Or so I'm told. You get three squares, a comfortable bed, and bath down the hall all at an affordable price. Daily, weekly or monthly rates offered."
She giggled. "You're funny."
"No miss. What I am is a homosexual and I don't work for clients who aren't polite and can't even talk about their soon-to-be ex-husbands without calling them words like 'fairy' or 'fruit'."
She stood up haughtily. "I should have known you was one of them. There oughta be a law."
"There is one in most states of our great nation. Now, can I walk you to the elevator while I give you a couple of names to call on? These are gentlemen who will be happy to help you. And they won't care what you call your husband as long as you pay up front and cover their daily incidentals."
She stopped at the door and turned on me. "So, what you're sayin' is that since I called Johnny a fairy, you ain't gonna help me?"
"That's right, miss."
"Well, I never!"
"Well, now you have."
We walked into the front office. I saw Marnie shaking her head as I opened the door.
I walked her down the dark, little hallway to the ancient, creaky elevator and gave her the names of some of the cheaper, but still good enough, private detectives I knew who would gladly help her out.
As the door closed, I lifted my hat and heard her giggle.
I walked back to my office and looked at the letters that had been recently been painted on the frosted glass:
Nicholas Williams
Private Detective
Licensed and Bonded
PR-7777
10 a.m. - 4:30 p.m.
And By Appointment
I sighed and thought about all the money I'd spent to get this office, hire Marnie, get that particular phone number, and even have the glass painted.
Not that it really mattered. I didn't need to work. I had what my friend and attorney Jeffery Klein called, "An unbreakable trust." It was left to me by a venerable great-uncle who, from all accounts, put the word "gay" in the "Gay Nineties" that San Francisco was infamous for.
He was a rake of the worst sort and, apparently, saw the tendency in me, and so skipped everyone else and their outstretched hands and landed the whole pile in my lap at the tender age of 21.
I was surprised and shocked by the bequest. I'd only met old Uncle Paul once, but, as I later learned, he'd been keeping a watchful eye on me through the stormy years of my misspent youth before I'd enlisted in the Navy and gone off to fight for freedom, democracy, and the American Way.
My shock turned to unsurprised disgust when every relative, near and far, decided to sue. The California dockets were cluttered for about five years with the details of Uncle Paul's sordid life and the injustice of handing untold millions over to a kid of 21.
Learned judges rebuked Uncle Paul in writing, and at great length, for his lascivious ways. They lectured me about squandering my inheritance in similar fashion. But, in the end, they had all thrown up their hands and declared the trust was valid and the inheritance was mine to do with as I wanted.
When the whole gang of relatives got together and appealed to the California State Supreme Court, the case was thrown back at them, with a vengeance, and they were told to go home and nurse their wounds.
And they did. None of them, my own father included, would now talk to me and, from what I'd heard, my name was never mentioned on Nob Hill or even down in Hillsborough where some of the younger family members were relocating to build their mansions on vast, two-acre spreads.
I opened the door and saw Marnie standing there, hands on her hips. "So, you threw another one out, didn't you?"
I took off my hat and said, "Don't harass me, Marnie. You know I don't need the work."
"Yeah, I know. You don't need the work. But you go a little stir when you ain't got the work and I love working here.
"Oh! The characters that come through that door give Mother and me a chuckle. It's better than anything on the radio or the TV.
"But, lord! I can't sit here, knitting my hands till they bleed, and watch you slowly go crazy."
I smiled at her and said, "You're a real friend, Marnie."
"Well, I ain't the only one you got. That Klein, he wants to talk to you. Seems like he's got a case for you. And it's the Polk Street kind."
I put my hat back on my head, gave Marnie a quick kiss on the cheek, and said, "Thanks doll. See you later."
Lion's Tail by Jordan L Hawk
1
May 1924
Alistair folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes as he stared up at the sky.
Rumrunners used every mode of transportation available to bring hooch down from Canada or up from Mexico…but an airplane? At night?
Airplanes were a bad idea to start with. Avian familiars could already fly; why did ordinary people need to be up there, too? Sure, it might make the mail faster in some cases, but if a letter was that damned urgent, you were better off hiring a falcon courier in the first place.
But here he was, freezing his tail off on an unseasonably cold night in May, in the middle of some farmer’s field north of Chicago, tending a line of fires to signal the airplane where to land in the otherwise dark countryside. Doris waited in the truck—engine running, of course, in case the prohees showed up.
Damn Camille. She’d been their old supplier, but then blown things by acting suspicious, like she was thinking about passing them some bad hooch. Plenty of speakeasies got by serving yack yack bourbon, but that wasn’t The Pride’s style. Alistair had killed enough men with his bare claws in France. Killing more of them with poisonous booze wouldn’t have sat right with him, even if Wanda would have tolerated it.
The silence was broken by the low growl of an engine overhead. Doris switched on the headlights, and he retreated to wait near the truck with Philip.
A few minutes later, the airplane set down, bumping merrily over the uneven ground until coasting to a stop. A middle-aged man flung open the door, grinning from ear to ear.
“Evening, folks!” he yelled as they jogged over. “Sure hope you ain’t the, what do you call ’em, prohees.”
“Not a chance.” Philip took the lead, walking to the man and extending his hand. “Philip Gatti. This is my brother Alistair and my sister Doris.”
The rumrunner did a double-take, since Doris with her bronze skin and Alistair with his olive complexion were clearly not related by blood to either the pale Philip or each other. But he didn’t comment. “Frankie Malone, at your service.”
“You own the distillery that produced this alcohol, correct?” Alistair asked, impatient for the preliminaries to be done with.
Malone grinned proudly. “Sure do. I gotta say, you Americans banning liquor has been a hell of a boon for us over the border. But I guess I don’t need to tell you that, seeing as you’re in the business yourself.”
He wasn’t wrong; the price of a barrel of beer had gone from seven dollars to fifty-five thanks to the Volstead Act. Men like Mickey Sullivan, whose gang controlled a big chunk of Chicago, were making a fortune.
Sullivan would rather they’d bought from him, given The Pride operated within his territory. But his supply consisted of booze made from wood alcohol, often enhanced with gasoline, and Alistair wasn’t about to touch the stuff. Given everyone in the Gatti family could turn into a big cat, Sullivan’s men left them alone.
For now, anyway.
Philip gave Malone his usual charming smile. “I don’t suppose you’d mind us using a hex to check your supply? No offense, but I’m sure you’ve heard the stories, and poisoning our customers is bad for business.”
Malone chuckled. “Not much repeat business to get from a corpse, eh? Go right ahead. I take pride in my product.”
That was a good sign. In Alistair’s mind, anyone balking at the use of a hex to detect impurities was either up to some shady business or thinking hard about it. As Malone and Doris began to unload the crates of bourbon, Philip produced a hex from his wallet. Choosing a random bottle, he held the hex over it and said, “Reveal to me the impure.”
If the booze was diluted with fusel oil or embalming fluid or some other impurity, it would glow yellow. The color of the liquid inside the bottles remained the same, however, which meant Malone was probably as good as his word.
“Told ya,” Malone said with another grin. “This here is pure old Canadian bourbon, good as it comes. Got a flask on my hip if you want to share a drink…?”
“No thank you,” Alistair said, before Philip could agree. “The longer we hang around here, the bigger the chance we’ll be spotted.”
“Good point.” Malone started back for his plane. “I’ll see you next week, then.”
“We could have at least had one drink,” Philip complained, as the airplane turned around and trundled off down the field, taking flight dangerously close to the tree line.
Alistair climbed into the truck. “We’re not here to make friends, Philip.”
Doris snorted from the driver’s seat. “You don’t make friends anywhere.”
“That’s not true,” Alistair said, even though it absolutely was. “Come on, let’s get this back to Chicago and under wraps. The sooner we’re off the road, the better.”
Sam fumed quietly ashe cleared the tables at The Pride speakeasy.
He’d come to work early, because he and Alistair were supposed to go apartment hunting in the afternoon. But when he’d arrived, it was to find Alistair in the process of leaving to meet with a new rumrunner, without a single indication he even remembered their appointment.
Maybe Sam should have said something. But he’d bitten his words back, put on a smile, and mumbled something about getting an early start on his shift. Leaving his hurt feelings to fester, just like always.
Though Alistair still technically had a room at The Pride, they’d been staying in the house that had belonged to Sam’s dead cousin, Eldon. It was convenient, spacious…and didn’t legally belong to either of them. At some point, his aunt and uncle were going to show up and throw him out. Better to clear out beforehand, so he didn’t have to face their recriminations.
Except Alistair didn’t seem to want that.
Sam pressed his lips into a thin line and reminded himself that he loved Alistair. Alistair loved him. They were taking things slow; Alistair’d had a bad experience with his first witch and they’d agreed to put off bonding until he was ready.
But they were meant to have an apartment together by now, something legitimate. Instead, they were squatting amidst a dead man’s things, just waiting for the day they’d be ordered to leave.
It was the uncertainty he hated. Sam wanted stability, and why shouldn’t he? An apartment with a lease in his name, a better job to pay for it—that wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?
Given Alistair’s absence, apparently it was.
He cleared the used silverware and plates from a table just as Zola, the hostess, swooped in with four new patrons. Weaving his way back across the room, he passed the waitress, Teresa, whose yellow-green eyes were the same as in her cougar form. She shot him a cheery wink, a tray laden with oysters on toast balanced on one hand. Her other arm was still in a sling from the bullet she’d recently taken while caught in the crossfire of a gangland war.
Norman Rose, a regular at the speakeasy, lifted his glass in salute when he spotted Sam. Wanda Gatti, The Pride’s owner, let customers in through the steel door, shaking their hands as they entered. Her girlfriend, the robin familiar Holly Savine, drank champagne at the bar, served by Wanda’s witch Joel Hunt. Though Joel had an above-board business as a tailor, he occasionally covered the bar when Philip was out.
They all smiled when they met his eye, and Sam felt his bad mood dissolving. This strange collection of familiars and witches, criminals and artists, were his friends. When Eldon’s death had left him alone in Chicago, they’d stepped in to fill the gap, drawing him into the warmth of their odd little family. For the first time in his life, he had people he could turn to who wouldn’t let him down.
Breaking free of the crowd, Sam escaped through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Though a couple of electric fans valiantly strove to circulate air, the kitchen simmered in the heat from the stove and the humidity from the hot water in the sink.
Reinhold—the cook and Teresa’s witch—slid lobster canapés deftly onto a plate, while Sam emptied his tub into the sink. “Busy night, huh, Sam?” Reinhold asked. One side of his face was creased and distorted from a war wound; according to him, the surgeons had performed a miracle of restoration. “Have you taken your break yet?”
“Haven’t had a chance,” Sam said, brushing sweat off his brow.
“Why don’t you nip outside, get some air?”
The offer was tempting, but he instinctively balked at it. Back when he’d worked at the family pharmacy, Dad had frequently berated him for his laziness, reminding him no one but family would tolerate such slacking. “I’ll do a quick round of the dining room,” Sam hedged, hefting his tub again. “Collect anything that needs collecting.”
Reinhold rolled his eyes good-naturedly and turned back to the stove. A few seconds later, Sam was back out into the chaos. The Pride was bustling tonight, every table jammed with flappers and sheiks. Cocktails bloomed in every color magic could provide: royal purple, peacock blue, bloody red. Over the sound of jazz from the band, there could just be heard the pop of champagne corks, the raucous laughter of drunk women, and the boastful toasts of businessmen. Twisting figures packed the small dance floor, sending the scent of sweat to mingle with perfume, booze, and cigarette smoke.
All of the tables were occupied at the moment, so he threaded between them, snatching up empty glasses and clearing away bare plates as he went. A few of the regular customers greeted him, and he found himself smiling.
He was going to miss all of this when he got another job. If he got another job.
At the far end of the bar from the kitchen was the coat check and front door, where Wanda had taken over Doris’s duty tonight. Her yellow suit contrasted beautifully with her dark skin and matched her golden lion eyes.
As he rounded the last tables, she swung the heavy steel door open to let a new customer in. “Are you all right, Bobby?” she asked. “Maybe you need some coffee.”
The young man who entered seemed vaguely familiar, though Sam couldn’t immediately place him. Dark hair, medium build, with a pleasantly handsome face. His eyes, however, were glassy, and sweat sheened his pale skin.
“Help me,” he mumbled. “I don’t feel good.”
Wanda sniffed the air and frowned. “What’ve you been drinking?”
Bobby didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, he staggered inside, his gait unsteady, as though his knee joints didn’t work properly.
Sam hurried forward and caught him before he could careen into one of the other tables. Bobby clutched at him desperately, like a drowning man. “What was in that drink?” he slurred. “I think…I think he poisoned me. You got to help me!”
Sam cast a desperate glance at Wanda, who sighed and put a hand to Bobby’s shoulder. “Come on. You need to sleep it off.”
Bobby didn’t answer. He seemed to grow heavier on Sam’s shoulders as he went limp. Then, with a final gurgling sigh, he slid to the floor dead.
Dance on Ice by RJ Scott & VL Locey
There was a heated exchange of words, Kenji skating backward and away, almost at center ice. All I needed to do was to push forward on one skate, and glide there, and we could say hello. We’d been best friends once, and if I apologized—if I was honest with him about how I’d messed up—maybe we could go back to being friends. As the argument escalated between my dad and Kenji’s coach, I felt a knot form in my stomach and I was paralyzed by my own insecurities. I watched Kenji and cursed myself for not having the courage to reach out to him.
Dad was becoming more animated, Kenji’s coach just as loud, gesticulating wildly.
I didn’t have the balls to skate to the center ice.
And Kenji didn’t turn to look at me.
Dad returned, as scarlet as me, but where my reaction was shame and confusion, his was temper and hatred.
“You’re sharing the ice,” he snapped.
He was so angry, and I didn’t know how to feel. He’d sacrificed everything for me; worked three jobs to keep me in hockey gear, drove me to every practice and game, and even volunteered as a coach for the team. The thought of letting him down filled me with guilt.
I owed him.
He’d poured his heart and soul into my hockey career, and it all centered on us practicing six days out of seven on this ice, and today we didn’t have the ice.
I should feel territorial, right? It was what Dad wanted me to feel, I was sure. Instead I felt… weird. Then something hit me. Why was I sharing the ice that was for the school? I was somewhere for the Academy teams to practice and play, and it wasn’t open to the public, courtesy of a shit ton of funding from very rich benefactors at our very wealthy campus. Why was someone from outside Chesterford Academy on our ice?
“They’ll let anyone join this damn school, freaking twirly shit getting in our way. Fucking girls out here on our ice.”
“He’s—”
“No!”
I wanted to defend Kenji, to explain that figure skaters were as valid as hockey players, same as I’d done when Kenji had left hockey for the figure skating and begged to be allowed to be friends with him still. But my dad’s hatred had spilled over and scared me.
“Shut your mouth and listen up,” Dad snapped. His reaction stung, his threats left me feeling powerless and defeated, and small.
So small.
“Figure skaters are boys as well,” I word-vomited, thankful the boards were between me and him when Dad stiffened and sent me a stare that would kill other people. Dad had never touched me, apart from fixing my hockey hold, or straightening my back, but his expression was murderous, and that meant the curses would fly and he’d take out his impotent rage on me with words. He leaned over the barrier, and my heart skipped, my chest tightened. I held my position and tilted my chin as he lowered his voice, hate dripping from every word.
Enemy Mine by Davidson King
PROLOGUE
Fred
My life was a series of bad events leading to worse and ending with the most awful thing you could think of. Nothing worked out for me, and the moment it appeared it would, I’d simply say, “Stick around a minute and watch it all burn.”
I sipped my coffee as I looked out onto the garden. Most people couldn’t say they’d died before. I had…a few times. Each time I’d seen no light, no hope, nothing. But I’d always wished that someday I wouldn’t survive death. I had dreams of being a doctor, and I’d fulfilled that. But it was literally all I had to live for…and wasn’t that sad? I’d lost everything that had meant anything to me. It had been shredded and the little I’d held dear, ripped from my grasp.
I stood and walked over to the rosebush. The scent evoked a rare happy memory from my childhood…running through my grandmother’s garden, my Sunday clothes covered in dirt and tiny tears from the thorns. I’d giggle as she chased me, yelling with no threat in her voice. Until I was eight, I’d gone to her house during the spring months when there was no one to watch me, and those had been my favorite times. It was probably why spring was my favorite season. Two birds flew overhead, dancing in a spiral maneuver and I smiled as I thought about my grandmother.
With a sigh, I went to the table and once again took my coffee in hand.
“Your company is here,” Timothy, one of my staff, announced. I turned and smiled when I saw Rush and Simon walking over.
“Thank you guys for coming. Please, sit. Are you thirsty, hungry?”
“We’re good—just curious why you called us here.” Rush sat, and Simon took the seat beside him.
“I haven’t seen you both for a while…since the funeral, anyway, and my life has been sort of a mess for the last year…but also wonderful.”
Their expressions were warm. “We’ve heard some things but honestly, aside from whatever Snow and Pops mention, we aren’t too familiar with everything.” Simon shrugged. “Are you okay?”
“I wasn’t.” I sighed. “I’ve been through a lot in my short life. I’d hoped it was over and I was going to find balance, but every time I did, something would pull the carpet out from under me.”
“We’d like to hear it all from you, Fred.” Rush reached over and patted my leg.
“Well, I suppose to properly tell you this story, I’ll have to start from the end.”
Simon cocked his head. “The end?”
“Yep, because it wasn’t until after I died, that my end became my beginning.”
Rush chuckled. “I have a feeling this will be good.”
I sat back and began.
“Once upon a time…”
“No,” Simon barked. “Be real.”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “This is a story about betrayal, about my enemies, and how in the end what kills you are the things you refuse to see that have been in front of you the whole time.”
Into the Fall by RJ Scott
Chapter One
CONNOR
I braced myself as a gust of wind tried to take my feet from under me. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten talked into heading out into the most dramatic storm I’d witnessed since the team’s last Red Sea deployment. Not when I had a good book waiting in my apartment.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning split the sky, illuminating the town in brief, eerie flashes as the rain hammered the streets of Whisper Ridge, turning them into slick, glistening rivers.
I shouldn’t have been going out tonight.
I should’ve used the weather as a reason to stay in my lovely, cozy apartment, not headed up a damn mountain in this deluge for Quinn’s birthday party.
I locked the diner door, pulled my long coat jacket tight, and headed towards my SUV. The relentless downpour muffled all other sounds as my boots splashed through the puddles.
“Connor Mason!” The furious yell cut through the rain as Sheriff Neil Windham—six feet of sexy, blustering, temper-driven man—blocked my way. His face was a thundercloud matching the sky, and my adrenaline spiked when he bunched his fists. I thought for a moment he was going to slam me to the ground.
I’d been waiting all day for him to challenge me, but the party and the storm had derailed my concentration, and here I was caught on the back foot, in the rain, and there he was, a man filled with rage. This was a definite step up from his typical sarcastic irritation with me, straight to DEFCON 1—the kind of anger that made me brace for impact and reach for a weapon I wasn’t even carrying.
I’d been expecting this visit all day. Still, I was hoping the confrontation would happen when it was dry.
In my apartment.
In my bedroom.
Preferably naked and post-sex.
My pulse quickened, not just from anticipating a confrontation but from something deeper, something hidden where all my secrets lay. I couldn’t explain my visceral reaction to this intense man, but I craved his sharp tongue pulling me up on any and all chaos I had caused. My therapist would have a field day analyzing my brain—if I ever went back to therapy. She’d tell me I craved all his attention, even if it was negative, and probably go deep into why I loved pushing his buttons. Facing Neil head-on was a challenge that sparked something deep inside me. I lived for these moments when Neil was angry and when his presence in my space made me feel something.
Not that I ever told him that. I pushed and pushed, and when he snapped, I soaked up his passionate temper and loved every freaking moment of it because he made me feel…
Alive.
I squared my shoulders, ready to meet whatever he was bringing in the madness of the storm.
“Tell me you didn’t threaten Abraham Wild!” The fury in his tone was like catnip.
Rain dripped from the brim of my cap, and I pulled up the hood of my coat—not that it helped, given it wasn’t completely waterproof. “I didn’t threaten Abraham Wild.”
I did.
“Witnesses tell me you took his gun from him and shoved him to the ground.”
“He had a rifle, yeah, I disarmed him, but he was drunk and about to fall over anyway.”
“You took his gun and assaulted him.”
“He tripped,” I replied, raising my voice to be heard over another rumble of thunder.
“I don’t have time for your shit!” Neil’s eyes blazed with anger; his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You told him that if he didn’t stop waving his gun, then you’d shove the gun up his ass.”
“Yep, that was me. Now, are you mad I said that, that he tripped, or that there were witnesses?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, and I could see him reining in his temper. “He’s accusing you of being armed.”
I tapped my lip in exaggerated thought. “Well, I was armed after I took his rifle.”
“Give me strength.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and swiped away a face full of water.
I snorted a laugh, then spread my hands wide, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. “Anyway, you know I don’t need to carry.”
Neil’s glare was icy. “You took his gun—”
“I emptied the chamber and gave it back to him.”
“You can’t just go around threatening people in my town. If you see something wrong, you call me.”
“I neutralized a threat. What could you have done that was any different?”
I saw the conflict in his eyes, the frustration of understanding his job’s limitations, and the temper riding his ass. We both knew Abraham Wild’s issues, but without a formal report, there was nothing the sheriff could do. Yeah, if I’d called Neil in his official capacity, then maybe there’d be something on record, but what if, in the meantime, Abraham had shot someone? Like his wife or that skinny kid with the braces who worked there after school.
No one dies on my watch.
Neil’s jaw tightened, and then he cursed. “You come to me, Connor. You don’t threaten him.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “So, you can write him a stern letter after the fact? A warning won’t stop him if the posturing and drinking escalates.”
“I know that family.”
“Do you?”
Neil’s eyes flashed with anger and frustration, maybe a hint of agreement that he didn’t know Abraham as well as he thought. Word in town was that Abraham had been fine until he’d lost his job and fell into what his wife called a midlife crisis, which seemed way too soft for the darkness surrounding him. He hadn’t hurt anyone—yet—but he was less likely to hurt someone without bullets.
Logic for the win.
Neil stepped so close I imagined I could feel the heat of his breath despite the chill of the rain. “You’re not the law here, Connor. I am. And you need to let me do my job.” It seemed he wanted to say more, and I waited, but his lips thinned.
I shook my head, exasperated. “People like Abraham need to know there are real consequences to waving a gun around.”
Neil’s expression hardened again, and he stepped back into the rain. “You’re lucky I don’t arrest you.”
Hell, as much as I respected Neil and his dedication to his job, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing when people were being hurt. It must’ve killed him not to be able to take the man down.
“Do it then—”
He swiped a hand between us, cutting the conversation dead. “No more wannabe heroics, no more theatrics, no putting yourself in front of a gun, Connor. No. More.”
A deluge of water spilled from where it had collected in the door canopy above, just about soaking us both, and I grabbed Neil’s arm, pulling him closer under the shelter. Not one forecaster had warned that this storm was going to throw the contents of a damn lake or gusts of wind down the mountain, but its snarling arrival matched the dark and desperate mood I’d been in all day. The scent of the thunderstorm lingered in the air—a heady mix of ozone and rain, earthy and electric, amplifying the tension between us, and the sudden proximity to Neil made my heart race. We were close enough to kiss. And damn it, but I wanted one taste of the irritable, yet sexy, sheriff. The tension between us was tangible, a mix of frustration, admiration, and something deeper that made me want to hold him and silence his shouting.
“Why are you doing this to me?” His eyes flicked to my lips for a split second, and I almost leaned in, tempted to steal that kiss I’d wanted for so long.
The storm raged around us. The rain was a relentless curtain that hid us, and every nerve in my body was alive with the possibility of what could happen next. This was the moment we’d kiss at last, hidden from the town, giving in to the spark of attraction. God, I could nearly taste him already—
Neil stepped away, moving out into the rain. He marched across the road, heading straight for the sheriff’s office, his shoulders stiff with anger.
Disappointment made my stomach swoop, but I couldn’t help but call out, “Night, Sheriff!”
He ignored me, not even a glance back, and as he walked off, I couldn’t shake the feeling this argument was far from over. The tension between us had been thick enough to cut with a knife—unresolved lust on my part, a hefty dose of anger and disgust from him. I knew the tension between us wasn’t volatile frustration because I’d seen it in his expression.
Naked want and need.
The same as mine.
One day, I’d push him too far, and he’d grab me and show me what he wanted to do to me. Punch me, shake me, hurt me…
Kiss me.
One day I’d crack his stoic exterior, but tonight was not that night, and disappointment piled on top of the resentment because I didn’t want to be out in this rain anyway. I went from lustful and snarky to moody and pissed again.
I loved Whisper Ridge, working with Quinn’s foundation and running his security. I lusted after Sheriff Windham—Neil—and I actually loved storms if I was inside with a good book and a coffee.
I wished the high of confrontation and temper stayed, and that I didn’t feel so lost.
Fuck. How far do I need to push him to get what I want?
Frank W Butterfield
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
Jordan L HawkJordan L. Hawk is a trans author from North Carolina. Childhood tales of mountain ghosts and mysterious creatures gave him a life-long love of things that go bump in the night. When he isn’t writing, he brews his own beer and tries to keep the cats from destroying the house. His best-selling Whyborne & Griffin series (beginning with Widdershins) can be found in print, ebook, and audiobook.
If you want to contact Jordan, just click on the links below or send an email.
RJ ScottWriting 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.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Frank W Butterfield
Jordan L Hawk
The Unexpected Heiress by Frank W Butterfield
Lion's Tail by Jordan L Hawk
KOBO / AUDIBLE / SMASHWORDS
Dance on Ice by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Enemy Mine by Davidson King
Into the Fall by RJ Scott
B&N / KOBO / GOOGLE PLAY
