Summary:
Princes of Mayhem
The tree knocked on the front door, begging to be let in…
It was Sky and Nolan’s first Christmas together.
Nolan was hoping to make lots of cozy memories with his new family.
But nothing goes quite how you might expect when you date a necromancer.
A “Christmas” tree shows up on their doorstep—a gift from the king of the underworld—and it turns their holidays upside down.
Can Nolan and Sky make it through the holiday season with their unexpected guest?
Fall in love with sunshine-y necromancer Sky and his grumpy boyfriend Nolan as they tackle the holidays with a sprinkle of magic and lots of chaos.
Summary:
Dial M For Mates #2
Sometimes the wrong number is the exact one you need.
I never answer my phone, especially not when the caller’s number is “private.” Today is no exception, only unlike normal, they leave me a message, and for the first time, I’m kicking myself for not answering. The man on the other end is choking up, telling me there’s been a terrible accident and his son is in surgery, begging the person they thought they reached to come to the hospital waiting room so he isn’t alone.
If I could call the man and tell him about the wrong number, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. So I do the only thing I can think of. I rush to the hospital. Only when I walk into the emergency department waiting room, my dragon doesn’t want me to find the mystery man. He scents our mate, and that becomes his only mission in life.
My beast discovers we’re both there for the same man. The one who left me the voicemail is the father of the injured child, and there’s no one by his side.
Wrong Number, Right Dragon is a sweet with knotty heat MM Mpreg romance featuring a single father who gets the worst call of his life, the dragon he accidentally calls for help, true love, fated mates, adorable babies, and a happy ever after. If you love your alphas hot, your omegas strong, and your mpreg with heart, download your copy today.
Summary:
Critter Catchers #6
A wedding on a budget. A honeymoon booked last minute. An urban legend that rises to the surface.
After dealing with a sneaky otter and an expanding guest list, Cody and Demetrius manage to get married without a single monster crashing the event. Afterwards, Cody whisks Demmy away on the honeymoon trip he planned all on his own… after putting it off until the last minute and booking it all online, sight unseen.
To their happy surprise, the cabin Cody reserved is quite comfortable and very secluded, situated on an island in the middle of the deep Heaversford Lake, and accessible only by boat. But as usually happens to the guys, trouble has a way of finding them. For not only is the lake home to Esther, a monster similar to the one in Loch Ness, but shortly after they arrive a storm knocks out the power and a local resident drowns under mysterious circumstances. The clues all point to Esther being somehow involved, and Demetrius and Cody quickly realize they’re going to have to do their own style of investigation.
Before they realize it, their peaceful honeymoon is shattered and they find themselves fighting for their lives in the cold, dark waters of Heaversford Lake.
Summary:
Fortune Favors the Fae
Who needs love when getting justice sounds so much sweeter…?
Shae Silverstorm
Freedom is all I’ve dreamed about for the last fifteen years.
When I see my chance to escape captivity, I have to take the risk. And for once, luck is on my side.
However, I have no doubt my captors are looking for me.
When I get approached by an eccentric group of misfits called MEOW Squad (don’t even ask) offering to keep me safe and help me get justice, I don’t have much choice but to accept.
The only problem? One of them has the bonkers notion that I’m his fated mate.
Fine. I’ll admit, Wolf Boy has a seriously hot surfer bod, not to mention unfairly cute furry ears and a tail. Talk about a deadly combo.
But love is for suckers and fated mates aren't to be trusted. I've got proof of that. Taking down my evil father, wicked stepmonster, and cruel stepsister has to be my top priority.
But damn if Griffin isn’t starting to break through my strongest defenses though, with his puppy-dog eyes, sunshiny personality, and dog-like (pun intended) devotion to me.
Griffin McIntyre
When I find a magical gold coin straight out of Tolkien (sweet!), it tells me it’s my “Lucky Day.”
And that’s proven the moment I meet Shae because he’s my fated mate.
As a Wolfkin with empathic magic abilities, I was a disappointment to my old pack. Now, as a member of MEOW Squad, I use my powers to help those in need. And I’ve never met anyone who needs me more than Shae.
All I want is to help him heal and get the justice he deserves. Oh, and have him accept our mate bond. If I can conquer a ten-foot wave, then I can do this!
I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just like ice cream and apple pie, we’re meant to be.
Siren in the Rain is about a gorgeous but grumpy siren Cinderfella with the voice of an angel and a mouth full of sass and the golden retriever of a Wolfkin who’s his fated mate. It features more grumpy/ sunshine vibes than one can shake a stick at, all the swoon-worthy hurt/comfort feels, a found family made up of lovable weirdos, and a guaranteed HEA. It’s the first book in a new spin-off series set in the Monsters Hollow universe.
************
Siren in the Rain is a part of the multi-author series, Fortune Favors the Fae. From spicy to sweet, zany romps to epic adventures, there’s something for everyone in this mystical series. Discover destiny and true love and follow the coin on its fickle journey to the next world and a new magical adventure.
TIN #1
Codename: Chaos.
Former THIRDS agent turned TIN operative Dexter J. Daley is a legend. Just ask him, he’ll tell you. Chaos isn’t so much a codename as it is Dex’s state of being. As a spy for the Therian Intelligence Network, Dex has spent the last four years bringing down the bad guys. Hell, his middle name is literally Justice. But a new mission brings him face-to-face with a different kind of monster, one with a weapon that can alter the course of history. Failure is not an option, but as the mission goes from dangerous to deadly, Dex finds himself up against a far more terrifying force, and this time, there’s no escape.
Codename: Atlas
As former team leader for Destructive Delta and now a TIN operative, Sloane Daley knows what it feels like to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. But no matter the challenge, Sloane knows that together, he and his husband, Dex, can overcome anything. When their latest mission takes a personal turn, Sloane is forced to confront the very thing that created him. Looking back to a past he thought he’d left behind is the least of Sloane’s problems, because the greatest threat he’s about to encounter… is his own husband.
Original Audiobook Review October 2026:
I just reread my original review and I honestly can't think of anything to add to this audio review. I love Dex and Sloane now just as much as I did when I first discovered Charlie Cochet's therian/human series, THIRDS, so many years ago. Dex may have found himself become something more than his early human years but he is still the same trouble magnate, he just has a few extra elements to deal with them, course those elements also happen to heighten the things he gets into.
As for the audio, Gary Furlong does a wonderful job bringing the characters to life. The combination of Furlong's narration and Cochet's writing, Gone But Not Forgotten is the allaround entertaining package and still the perfect lead to the spinoff series, TIN.
Original Review August 2024:
How? Oh how did I let this sit on my Kindle for nearly 3 years?!?!?!?! Okay so 2021 wasn't the best year in our house and that September saw my mother get out of the hospital after 108 days and as her 24/7 caregiver things were busy. But 3 years?!?!?!?!?! I listen to at least one if not 2 THIRDS books every October so it isn't as if I forgot how brilliant Charlie Cochet's therian/human universe is. Well, 3 years or not, I finally got to the initial entry in the THIRDS sequel series TIN, Gone But Not Forgotten and boy did it justify the adrenaline rush I knew would come.
Dexter J Daley is just as quirky, loveable, and dare I say dangerous as he always has been, more so perhaps. Frankly, I couldn't think of a more fitting code name than Chaos because that is literally what follows in his wake. Meaning to or not, Dex always finds a way to turn his danger magnate personality up a notch. The man is an enigma. Even after all these years and all the tests no one, including his husband Sloane who knows him best and even Dex himself, fully understands or knows just who or what Dex is or capable of. I won't spoil anything but boy are you about to find out.
Speaking of Sloane Daley, his code name Atlas is also 100% fitting. He is carrying so much weight on his shoulders it's hard to imagine just how he stands tall anymore but I guess that goes to show just the kind of man and therian he is. Course, as Dex for a partner both on and off the job, I don't know how he's still sane. Dex would have me going every which way that I wouldn't know my left from my right but I guess that's why they are perfectly suited: they balance each other.
As for Gone But Not Forgotten's case the men and their team find themselves facing might just be one of the hardest yet. They may have had past cases with more mystery, with more who did it questions to solve but I can't think of any that is more physically and emotionally taxing for the pair. There is definitely danger of course but they are trained for that, it's the emotional side that really pulls at both partners. I'm going to stop there before I spoil too much for anyone who is like me and arrived late to the party. Just know that you will be put through the emotional wringer but boy is it worth it!
Dex and Sloane may be the stars of this TIN beginning but we see old and new faces, friends and enemies, humor and suspense, drama and action, and of course lots of heart, warmth and ache. Gone But Not Forgotten is definitely the whole package and I'm not sure when book 2 will be released but I can tell you it won't take 3 years for me to dive in.
RATING:
The Necromancer's Christmas Tree of Terror by Jocelyn Drake
Chapter 1
December 1
An icy wind howled through the streets, rattling limbs and tearing the last of the autumn leaves from the trees. Darkness blanketed the city, and thick clouds rolled across the night sky, blocking out the stars and the thin, delicate curve of the moon. Fall was withering away, and winter was slipping its claws deep into the world. The residents of this sleepy street remained huddled safely in their homes, protected from the cold and the scary things creeping in the shadows.
In fact, necromancer and general cinnamon roll Skylar had a different kind of creeping in mind as his hand slipped under the hem of his boyfriend’s sweat shirt. The BL romantic comedy they were watching was good, but he’d watched it a million times before and at that moment, he was more interested in exploring the contents of Nolan’s sweat pants.
“You realize that we’ve tried three times to watch this episode, and we never get past this part because someone has Wandering Hands Syndrome,” Nolan said suddenly, his eyes not moving from the TV.
“I know. I know,” Sky mumbled. His hand stopped inching forward and rested on Nolan’s flat stomach. Sky placed his head on Nolan’s shoulder and jutted out his bottom lip.
“I thought you said you liked this show.”
“I do. It’s just that this one also has the evil, manipulative sister trope, and that one gets old, fast. Why can’t they have more of the supportive, helpful fujoshi sister who tries to get the two main characters together? There’s never enough of that in BL shows.” As he complained, Sky’s fingers began moving of their own accord again, plucking at the waistband of Nolan’s pants.
Nolan reached over and picked up the remote resting on the cushion opposite Sky. “I can find something else to watch. Viki just started posting episodes of a new Chinese costume drama that’s gotten excellent reviews.”
“Or…” Sky drawled while tipping his face up to kiss along the underside of Nolan’s jaw, working his way to his earlobe—Nolan’s greatest weakness. His wicked fingers finally dipped below the waistband of Nolan’s sweats, continuing their wicked trek toward his boyfriend’s cock.
A sharp, brisk knock on the front door caused them to flinch. Sky whined at the sudden intrusion into their happy cocoon as Nolan tossed aside the blanket they’d been cuddled under and walked to the foyer.
“If it’s Red or Mad, tell them to go away. I’m about to get laid!” Sky called.
“You sure about that?” Nolan teased.
Sky snorted. “Yeah, like I can’t see the tent forming in those sweat pants.”
He wasn’t wrong. Nolan jerked on his baggy sweat shirt, trying to get it to stretch down to cover the front of his pants.
Sky heard Nolan open the door, scream, and slam it shut again. That was not normal!
“What happened?” Sky shouted as he raced from the couch to where Nolan had his back pressed to the wood, his face pale and lined with fear. “What’s out there?”
“A tree!”
Sky blinked slowly at him and repeated, “A tree?”
“Yes!”
“Let me see,” Sky said, motioning for his boyfriend to move aside. Humans did tend to overreact.
“No! It’s trying to come in.”
“How?”
“It has legs,” Nolan hissed. “Like…like crab legs. And it made noises.”
“Oh. Like my roses?”
“Your roses don’t scuttle around. They stay in their bed!”
Okay, Nolan had a point.
Sky walked slowly up to Nolan and laid a hand on his cheek. “Baby, it’ll be okay. Let me check. I’m sure it won’t be hard to send it away.”
He nodded and moved from the door on shaky legs. Sky grinned at Nolan, happy to wait until he was a comfortable distance away before slowly opening the door.
The “tree” was more of a teardrop-shaped shrub, standing about three feet tall on a set of curled roots that did resemble twisted crab legs. The creature chittered at him and took a step forward as if it were an overgrown cat trying to dart inside where it was warm.
“Huh. Wow. That’s nice,” Sky murmured to himself.
“What? What’s nice? What is it?” Nolan demanded from deeper in the foyer.
“It’s a witch’s Yule tree. No one has ever sent me one,” Sky replied.
“A what?”
“A witch’s Yule tree. Earth witches will sometimes bespell a tree, giving it some small level of sentience so that it can walk into a house on its own. They’re used to celebrate Yule and the winter solstice. I think they’re supposed to have about the same intelligence as a golden retriever.” He glanced over his shoulder at Nolan and flashed him an encouraging smile. “They’re seen as protectors of the hearth and home. It’s not going to hurt you.”
“Uh-huh,” Nolan said in a disbelieving tone as he inched a little higher up the nearby staircase. “And can we talk about how it makes noises? It’s a tree, Sky.”
Sky resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Poor human. Sometimes, his boyfriend was too adorable for words. “Magic. Obviously.”
Nolan narrowed his eyes at Sky, sending him a warning look. His very smart and patient boyfriend also knew when he was being placated. “Can you send it back?”
Sky’s warm expression fell away, and he stared down at the tree again. That didn’t seem like a good idea. The magic emanating from the tree didn’t have the same tingle as Redstone’s or Maddox’s magic. This wasn’t from an earth witch. And it went without saying that it couldn’t possibly have been sent by Moon. The former blood witch turned vampire with the occasional toe dipped into necromancy had a grumpy vampire boyfriend who didn’t want him casting spells at all.
If anything, the magic felt vaguely familiar, which meant the tree could have come from only one place—the Underworld.
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure this is from Zalramon.”
“Sky! It’s creepy!”
“Nolan! The king of the underworld sent me a gift. I don’t want to piss him off by rejecting it.”
Nolan’s pale face twisted up as if he were in pain. “But it can stay outside, right?”
“I don’t think so. It seems like it really wants to come inside.” Sky made the mistake of looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. The Yule tree darted forward, brushing past Sky to squeeze into the house. Nolan screeched, and Sky jumped aside in surprise.
“Fast little bugger,” he mumbled, watching it thump and scuttle through the house. It moved from room to room on the first floor as if it were searching for something. The thing was stunningly nimble, lurching here and there without knocking into anything or breaking a single knickknack.
“What’s it doing?” Nolan whispered. He’d edged closer to Sky to watch the tree from a distance.
“I think it’s searching for a place to settle.”
“And then what?”
Sky shrugged. “Nothing.”
“What? That’s it? The thing just lives in the house now?” Panic was creeping into his voice again.
“No, think of it as a live Christmas tree. We’ll put out a pan of water for it, decorate it with ornaments and tiny white lights, and on January first, it’ll scuttle off to where it lives.” Sky paused and cocked his head to the side. “However, I wouldn’t mind if it decided to live in my backyard.”
“Sky!” Nolan gasped.
“What? It would be damned convenient. It would scamper into the house on December first and scamper out to the yard on January first. Think of all the time and money we’d save on cutting down trees or putting up a fake one.”
“You’re insane.”
Sky laughed and gave his boyfriend a shove toward the kitchen. “Go fill the big blue roasting pan with distilled water from the fridge. I’m going to the basement to find a box of Christmas decorations.”
“I’m not going near it without you in the room!” Nolan shouted as he walked to the kitchen.
Sky snickered. “It’s a tree. They don’t have teeth.”
“Sky…don’t!”
Naturally, the necromancer completely ignored Nolan’s warning tone. “Come on! You know it’s all bark, no bite!”
“There’s a special place in Hell for people like you,” Nolan muttered.
“Yes, yes, and we’ll all be sipping mai tais and having a wonderful time, I’m sure,” Sky replied.
While Nolan was preparing the water for the Yule tree, Sky dug out a box of lights and another box of ornaments. It was too late in the evening to decorate the entire house—that job took at least six hours to do properly—but they could at least get the tree decorated. Maybe if it were twinkling with white fairy lights and shining with pretty red and gold ornaments, Nolan wouldn’t be so scared of it.
When he returned, Sky coaxed Nolan into helping him move some of the furniture so they could set up a nice open area for the Yule tree by the front window. As soon as the spot was open, the tree scrambled over and put several of its roots into the pan of water. The tree shuddered once, as if shaking out its weary limbs, and sank a few inches, settling in.
Since it wasn’t a typical pine tree, it wasn’t easy to cover in lights or hang ornaments from its limbs, but after nearly an hour of steady work, Sky got it decorated and glowing nicely. Nolan refused to touch the tree, but he was willing to at least hold the lights and hand Sky decorations.
Exhaustion sank into their bones as they finally finished getting the tree decorated and settled in its corner of the living room. The BL show they’d been attempting to watch was forgotten, and the only thing that sounded good was bed.
“I’m heading up. You coming?” Nolan said as he retreated from the tree, refusing to turn his back on it.
“Yes!” Sky bounced to Nolan and wrapped his arms around his waist. “We can pick up where we left off.”
“If you think you’re getting lucky with that thing in the house, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
“Oh, Mr. Banks, I think you’re underestimating my powers of seduction.”
“And I think you’re underestimating how creepy that tree is.”
Sky pulled his boyfriend toward the stairs. “It’s fine. We’ve got the tree plugged into the wall, and there’s a cover for the water pan. It’s not going to cause any trouble. What is there to worry about?”
Wrong Number, Right Dragon by Colbie Dunbar & Lorelei M Hart
1
NICHOLAS
“Yes, the campaign will be ready by the end of the week.”
I was video chatting to a client while my dragon was creating havoc inside my head.
Shift, please!
Soon. Just be patient!
The client, Mr. Hernandez, paused and chuckled.
“Something wrong?” The campaign we’d designed was centered around recycling, and I didn’t see the humor in it.
“You’ve got a battle on your hands.”
Huh? What’s he talking about?My beast calmed and took an interest in what the man was saying.
I had an idea but didn’t say anything.
“Your beast wants to shift?”
What?My dragon did what many dogs do; he went around and around trying to catch his tail. Can he see me?
I doubt it.
“You’ve got the expression shifters get when their beast wants out.”
He didn’t use the word “constipated,” but I was sure that was how I appeared.
“You’re right,” I agreed.
“I’ll let you go.”
We signed off, and I leaned back in my chair, pleased the client was happy with the project and that the workday was done.
My dragon was bored, as he often was, when I was in my office. Lucky for him—and me—I wasn’t a cubicle worker but was my own boss. I ran a small IT firm that did PR and created social media campaigns for sustainable firms. Protecting the environment was something I did without thinking because our planet was in trouble.
Not that I had far to go to my office. I walked out of my bungalow and into the backyard of the acreage I owned and into the converted shipping container that was the office.
I’d chosen this location, outside of town, so we didn’t have to wait to shift until the middle of the night. People in town hadn’t discovered this location, so I had no nearby neighbors. It would happen, which was why I’d planted trees and a hedge around the perimeter of my estate to give my beast some privacy.
My phone was on mute because I hated that damned ringtone—any ringtone—and I refused to answer calls. Clients messaged me and we arranged to chat or they texted or emailed. The staff were used to my idiosyncrasies and did the same. My friends laughed at my quirks, but they never tried to phone, knowing I wouldn’t pick up.
But as I strode into the house and tossed the device on the couch, it vibrated and fell face down onto the wooden floor. I picked it up, making sure it wasn’t broken and shoved it under a sofa cushion, irritated that it had interrupted the silence in my home.
Hurry. My dragon needed to spread his wings and hunt.
Okay. Okay. I opened the sliding glass doors that gave a perfect view of the distant mountains and strode outside. I gave my beast his skin, and my dragon erupted out of me, all scaly wings, fire, smoke, and sharp fangs. He soared upward and circled the house before taking off toward the hills.
His huge wings, lined with veins and green and yellow scales, flapped slowly, scaring birds and animals on the ground below. My beast ignored them, preferring to perch on a cliff and eye his prize far below. He would sit, unmoving, waiting for a deer, and when ready, he would swoop. I imagined the fear his prey experienced when his wingspan created a shadow overhead. The violent flapping of his wings as he swooped toward the ground and the darkness that followed him sinking his teeth into them.
But like most animals and unlike humans, he only took what he needed and he never hunted “for sport.”
My dragon crouched on the edge of the mountain, his keen eyes searching the hillside for prey, and when he took off and pounced on a deer, he retreated to a cave he was fond of and ate his catch. Smaller animals were caught and consumed before he was satisfied and we headed home. He glided into the back yard, saying he was ready for a sleep.
I ignored my phone, hoping whoever had phoned earlier didn’t call again. A quick shower and dinner and I settled in to read my latest book as the light faded from the sky and the horizon was ringed in orange and pink. Sipping my tea, I lay on the couch rather than sit, but something was bleating under the cushion.
That damned phone. If it was my friends trying to mess with my head, seeing if I really would pick up, I’d get my dragon to singe their hair. That’d serve them right for teasing me. But it kept vibrating, and I grabbed it, ready to throw it against the wall. I checked the display, wanting to know who the fool was who was toying with a dragon shifter.
But the number was private, and they’d tried three times to get a hold of me, the first being just before I shifted. Maybe some telemarketer who refused to take an unanswered call as a sign they should stop.
I got up to make tea, and the phone beeped again, but this time it was a voice message. I wandered back, expecting to be told I had to buy gold as it was a safe haven in times of trouble or to follow some newfangled diet that would see me living for longer than any human. Newsflash, I wasn’t human.
But when I replayed it, a breathless voice stumbled over words before choking out a message.
“Sandy… it’s D-Damon. If… you’re there, p-please pick up.”
He paused, and the rest of the message sounded as though it was being shot out of a machine gun.
“George was playing with his friends and climbing a fence he shouldn’t have. He didn’t make it over and became impaled on the spike.”
He took a breath and whimpered, the sound of which had the blood in my veins turning to ice. My body was so brittle, I expected my dragon would have to unleash his fire to bring me back to a normal temperature.
“He’s in surgery, Sandy, and I’m just sitting here alone waiting to hear if he’s okay.”
Damon sobbed, and I clutched my heart. My dragon wanted to go be with the guy, but I had no idea who he was other than his first name.
But he continued saying he was at the Regis University Hospital, and he pleaded with Sandy to be with him.
I’ll fly there, my beast insisted.
But there’d be a small problem of having no clothes when I arrived. The hospital was in the city. It’d take thirty minutes to get there. I had my phone and keys and was out the door and in the car in under a minute, not bothering to turn off the lights or lock the doors.
I broke the speed limit getting to town but had to slow down when I reached the city limits. If I was stopped for speeding, my dragon might lose it and shift in the car. That would not be pretty, and it’d create chaos with humans who witnessed it.
The hospital parking lot was almost full, and I drove around a few times before finding a spot. At my beast’s urging, I raced to the elevator and pressed the button too many damned times waiting for it to arrive. I finally gave up and took the stairs.
There was a line of people at the information desk, so I checked the directory and found the children’s ward. Or should it be surgical. I wasn’t sure. Once again, I flung myself up the stairs, arriving panting and sweaty before being directed to the correct floor.
I charged up to the nurse’s desk, asking for George, but in my panic, I’d forgotten about privacy laws. The nurse glared at me as I didn’t even know the kid’s family name, which in their eyes, probably made me suspicious.
“Father is Damon?” I tried one last time. “He called me, terrified about his son injuring himself and being in surgery.”
“Usually family members, friends, or colleagues know the person’s family name.” She sniffed as I leaned forward trying to catch a glimpse of the computer. “And if you don’t leave, I’ll call security.”
She stood, one hand on the phone, and I pictured some burly guy hefting me in the elevator and tossing me out the front door. My face would go on a list and I’d be banned from the hospital.
Forget that guy. My dragon was peeking over my shoulder and behind me, sniffing.
Are you kidding me?No way was I taking no for an answer. I’d go downstairs, away from the nurse, and regroup. I had to come up with a plan. Stealing a doctor’s uniform was one option.
There’s someone else here.
There are tons of people on this floor alone. My beast was annoying me with his people watching.
There’s one very special person here in the hospital.
Yes, and we came to find him. I didn’t usually snap at my beast, but he deserved it when a man was in pain.
Our mate is here. I scent him.
What?No, we’re here for Damon. Mate or no mate, we had a duty to ease Damon’s pain. A mate can wait.
Horror at Hideaway Cove by Hank Edwards
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Series
The Necromancer's Christmas Tree of Terror by Jocelyn Drake
Wrong Number, Right Dragon by Colbie Dunbar & Lorelei M Hart
Horror at Hideaway Cove by Hank Edwards
Sire of the Rain by Chloe Archer
Gone but Not Forgotten by Charlie Cochet
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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/211490831-wrong-number-right-dragon
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0CXDB2JPM
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0CXDB2JPM
https://www.colbiedunbar.com/2024/06/23/wrong-number-right-dragon-dial-m-for-mates-out-now/
https://www.bookbub.com/books/wrong-number-right-dragon-an-mpreg-shifter-romance-dial-m-for-mates-book-2-by-colbie-dunbar-and-lorelei-m-hart
Wrong Number, Right Dragon by Colbie Dunbar & Lorelei M Hart
Summary:
Dial M For Mates #2
Sometimes the wrong number is the exact one you need.
I never answer my phone, especially not when the caller’s number is “private.” Today is no exception, only unlike normal, they leave me a message, and for the first time, I’m kicking myself for not answering. The man on the other end is choking up, telling me there’s been a terrible accident and his son is in surgery, begging the person they thought they reached to come to the hospital waiting room so he isn’t alone.
If I could call the man and tell him about the wrong number, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. So I do the only thing I can think of. I rush to the hospital. Only when I walk into the emergency department waiting room, my dragon doesn’t want me to find the mystery man. He scents our mate, and that becomes his only mission in life.
My beast discovers we’re both there for the same man. The one who left me the voicemail is the father of the injured child, and there’s no one by his side.
Wrong Number, Right Dragon is a sweet with knotty heat MM Mpreg romance featuring a single father who gets the worst call of his life, the dragon he accidentally calls for help, true love, fated mates, adorable babies, and a happy ever after. If you love your alphas hot, your omegas strong, and your mpreg with heart, download your copy today.
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Excerpt:
1
NICHOLAS
“Yes, the campaign will be ready by the end of the week.”
I was video chatting to a client while my dragon was creating havoc inside my head.
Shift, please!
Soon. Just be patient!
The client, Mr. Hernandez, paused and chuckled.
“Something wrong?” The campaign we’d designed was centered around recycling, and I didn’t see the humor in it.
“You’ve got a battle on your hands.”
Huh? What’s he talking about?My beast calmed and took an interest in what the man was saying.
I had an idea but didn’t say anything.
“Your beast wants to shift?”
What?My dragon did what many dogs do; he went around and around trying to catch his tail. Can he see me?
I doubt it.
“You’ve got the expression shifters get when their beast wants out.”
He didn’t use the word “constipated,” but I was sure that was how I appeared.
“You’re right,” I agreed.
“I’ll let you go.”
We signed off, and I leaned back in my chair, pleased the client was happy with the project and that the workday was done.
My dragon was bored, as he often was, when I was in my office. Lucky for him—and me—I wasn’t a cubicle worker but was my own boss. I ran a small IT firm that did PR and created social media campaigns for sustainable firms. Protecting the environment was something I did without thinking because our planet was in trouble.
Not that I had far to go to my office. I walked out of my bungalow and into the backyard of the acreage I owned and into the converted shipping container that was the office.
I’d chosen this location, outside of town, so we didn’t have to wait to shift until the middle of the night. People in town hadn’t discovered this location, so I had no nearby neighbors. It would happen, which was why I’d planted trees and a hedge around the perimeter of my estate to give my beast some privacy.
My phone was on mute because I hated that damned ringtone—any ringtone—and I refused to answer calls. Clients messaged me and we arranged to chat or they texted or emailed. The staff were used to my idiosyncrasies and did the same. My friends laughed at my quirks, but they never tried to phone, knowing I wouldn’t pick up.
But as I strode into the house and tossed the device on the couch, it vibrated and fell face down onto the wooden floor. I picked it up, making sure it wasn’t broken and shoved it under a sofa cushion, irritated that it had interrupted the silence in my home.
Hurry. My dragon needed to spread his wings and hunt.
Okay. Okay. I opened the sliding glass doors that gave a perfect view of the distant mountains and strode outside. I gave my beast his skin, and my dragon erupted out of me, all scaly wings, fire, smoke, and sharp fangs. He soared upward and circled the house before taking off toward the hills.
His huge wings, lined with veins and green and yellow scales, flapped slowly, scaring birds and animals on the ground below. My beast ignored them, preferring to perch on a cliff and eye his prize far below. He would sit, unmoving, waiting for a deer, and when ready, he would swoop. I imagined the fear his prey experienced when his wingspan created a shadow overhead. The violent flapping of his wings as he swooped toward the ground and the darkness that followed him sinking his teeth into them.
But like most animals and unlike humans, he only took what he needed and he never hunted “for sport.”
My dragon crouched on the edge of the mountain, his keen eyes searching the hillside for prey, and when he took off and pounced on a deer, he retreated to a cave he was fond of and ate his catch. Smaller animals were caught and consumed before he was satisfied and we headed home. He glided into the back yard, saying he was ready for a sleep.
I ignored my phone, hoping whoever had phoned earlier didn’t call again. A quick shower and dinner and I settled in to read my latest book as the light faded from the sky and the horizon was ringed in orange and pink. Sipping my tea, I lay on the couch rather than sit, but something was bleating under the cushion.
That damned phone. If it was my friends trying to mess with my head, seeing if I really would pick up, I’d get my dragon to singe their hair. That’d serve them right for teasing me. But it kept vibrating, and I grabbed it, ready to throw it against the wall. I checked the display, wanting to know who the fool was who was toying with a dragon shifter.
But the number was private, and they’d tried three times to get a hold of me, the first being just before I shifted. Maybe some telemarketer who refused to take an unanswered call as a sign they should stop.
I got up to make tea, and the phone beeped again, but this time it was a voice message. I wandered back, expecting to be told I had to buy gold as it was a safe haven in times of trouble or to follow some newfangled diet that would see me living for longer than any human. Newsflash, I wasn’t human.
But when I replayed it, a breathless voice stumbled over words before choking out a message.
“Sandy… it’s D-Damon. If… you’re there, p-please pick up.”
He paused, and the rest of the message sounded as though it was being shot out of a machine gun.
“George was playing with his friends and climbing a fence he shouldn’t have. He didn’t make it over and became impaled on the spike.”
He took a breath and whimpered, the sound of which had the blood in my veins turning to ice. My body was so brittle, I expected my dragon would have to unleash his fire to bring me back to a normal temperature.
“He’s in surgery, Sandy, and I’m just sitting here alone waiting to hear if he’s okay.”
Damon sobbed, and I clutched my heart. My dragon wanted to go be with the guy, but I had no idea who he was other than his first name.
But he continued saying he was at the Regis University Hospital, and he pleaded with Sandy to be with him.
I’ll fly there, my beast insisted.
But there’d be a small problem of having no clothes when I arrived. The hospital was in the city. It’d take thirty minutes to get there. I had my phone and keys and was out the door and in the car in under a minute, not bothering to turn off the lights or lock the doors.
I broke the speed limit getting to town but had to slow down when I reached the city limits. If I was stopped for speeding, my dragon might lose it and shift in the car. That would not be pretty, and it’d create chaos with humans who witnessed it.
The hospital parking lot was almost full, and I drove around a few times before finding a spot. At my beast’s urging, I raced to the elevator and pressed the button too many damned times waiting for it to arrive. I finally gave up and took the stairs.
There was a line of people at the information desk, so I checked the directory and found the children’s ward. Or should it be surgical. I wasn’t sure. Once again, I flung myself up the stairs, arriving panting and sweaty before being directed to the correct floor.
I charged up to the nurse’s desk, asking for George, but in my panic, I’d forgotten about privacy laws. The nurse glared at me as I didn’t even know the kid’s family name, which in their eyes, probably made me suspicious.
“Father is Damon?” I tried one last time. “He called me, terrified about his son injuring himself and being in surgery.”
“Usually family members, friends, or colleagues know the person’s family name.” She sniffed as I leaned forward trying to catch a glimpse of the computer. “And if you don’t leave, I’ll call security.”
She stood, one hand on the phone, and I pictured some burly guy hefting me in the elevator and tossing me out the front door. My face would go on a list and I’d be banned from the hospital.
Forget that guy. My dragon was peeking over my shoulder and behind me, sniffing.
Are you kidding me?No way was I taking no for an answer. I’d go downstairs, away from the nurse, and regroup. I had to come up with a plan. Stealing a doctor’s uniform was one option.
There’s someone else here.
There are tons of people on this floor alone. My beast was annoying me with his people watching.
There’s one very special person here in the hospital.
Yes, and we came to find him. I didn’t usually snap at my beast, but he deserved it when a man was in pain.
Our mate is here. I scent him.
What?No, we’re here for Damon. Mate or no mate, we had a duty to ease Damon’s pain. A mate can wait.
==========
Author
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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/255835901-horror-at-hideaway-cove
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07FN9PFMY
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B07FN9PFMY
https://www.audible.com/pd/Horror-at-Hideaway-Cove-Audiobook/B09KMC4HXJ
https://books.apple.com/us/audiobook/horror-at-hideaway-cove-mm-paranormal-romance-critter/id1593680742
https://www.hankedwardsbooks.com/book/horror-at-hideaway-cove/
https://books2read.com/crittercatchers6
https://www.bookbub.com/books/horror-at-hideaway-cove-critter-catchers-6-by-hank-edwards
Horror at Hideaway Cove by Hank Edwards
Summary:
Critter Catchers #6
A wedding on a budget. A honeymoon booked last minute. An urban legend that rises to the surface.
After dealing with a sneaky otter and an expanding guest list, Cody and Demetrius manage to get married without a single monster crashing the event. Afterwards, Cody whisks Demmy away on the honeymoon trip he planned all on his own… after putting it off until the last minute and booking it all online, sight unseen.
To their happy surprise, the cabin Cody reserved is quite comfortable and very secluded, situated on an island in the middle of the deep Heaversford Lake, and accessible only by boat. But as usually happens to the guys, trouble has a way of finding them. For not only is the lake home to Esther, a monster similar to the one in Loch Ness, but shortly after they arrive a storm knocks out the power and a local resident drowns under mysterious circumstances. The clues all point to Esther being somehow involved, and Demetrius and Cody quickly realize they’re going to have to do their own style of investigation.
Before they realize it, their peaceful honeymoon is shattered and they find themselves fighting for their lives in the cold, dark waters of Heaversford Lake.
===
Series
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Excerpt:
The butterflies in Cody's belly had mutated into a flock of pterodactyls. He shifted his weight and cracked his knuckles, then tugged at the collar of his heavily starched white shirt. Sweat had slicked the skin of his back. How fucking hot was it inside this building? Did someone crank up the heater?
"You okay?"
Cody looked at the man standing to his right. He knew it was one of his brothers, but for a few terrifying seconds he couldn't think of his name.
Dave. It was Dave, his younger brother and best man. And he was keeping Cody company while he waited to walk down the center aisle of the chairs filled with their friends and family inside the Parson's Pines Optimum Life Community Center. The ceremony was being held in the Wickersham Room, while the reception would be across the hall in the Langley Room.
"Huh? Me? Yeah. I'm fine."
"You're a little pale."
"It's the tuxedo. It's washing out my complexion."
Dave chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think a white tuxedo is going to make you look quite this pale. You look like you're going to throw up."
Cody shook his head. "No. Just a little nervous."
"About getting married?"
Cody held his hand up and waggled it back and forth. "Sort of. Mostly just talking in front of everyone."
"Dude, you talk with all of us all the time."
"Yeah, with all of you, not in front of all of you."
"You'll do great. Just focus on Demetrius."
Cody glanced toward the black screen Amelia had asked Otis to put together. It blocked his view of Demetrius who stood at the opposite side of the room. Because they didn't want to assign any kind of gender roles, they had discussed with Amelia how to handle the wedding processional. After some long conversation, she had finally suggested Cody and Demmy enter from opposite sides of the space, to the left and right of the guests. The wedding party would walk down the center aisle, but a screen would be set up to keep Cody and Demmy from seeing each other until it was time. They would walk in at the same time and come down the far aisles, turn at the front and approach each other until they stood together before Amelia.
It had all sounded great and easy and swell when they had been talking about it, but now that it was almost time, Cody was afraid he was going to trip or stumble or fart or belch or throw up or pass out, or any number of other embarrassing things.
The low and calming music faded out, and Cody's heart pounded. His mouth felt dry, and his tongue seemed to have grown to the size of his forearm, complete with hair.
Dave pulled him into a tight hug. "I love you, big brother. And I'm really, really happy for you. You're my best friend, and I wish you and Demetrius every happiness."
"Gark," Cody managed to say in reply.
Dave stepped back, winked, then turned away and lined up behind Jugs and Demetrius's roommate from college, Trent Warburton, who had agreed to be his groomsman. All four men wore black tuxedos, including Demmy's best man, Oliver, who also happened to be his ex-boyfriend. Cody had only griped a little bit when Demmy had told him who he'd wanted to ask to be his best man. The truth was, Cody had gotten to like Ollie over the years, even though he pretended he wasn't very fond of him.
Still, he didn't think he'd want Demmy and Ollie running off on a road trip any time soon.
Now that the music had faded out, Cody could hear the quiet whispering and shifting of their guests. There weren't that many people, he tried to comfort himself. Just everyone they knew.
Siren of the Rain by Chloe Archer
CHAPTER ONE
Shae’s List of Life Goals
1. Escape or die trying. All other goals are impossible until this one is achieved.
Shae
As the lastnotes of the final encore fade, my legs give out as I stop singing and collapse on the ground in a trembling heap.
Black spots flit across my vision while the massive crowd filling The Forum roars with applause and raucous cheers that ring in my ears. I can’t see the crowd from my hidden position behind the stage curtain, but that doesn’t matter.
I gave them one hell of a show. A once-in-a-lifetime event. I made sure of it, pushed myself to my limits and beyond.
What no one else knows is that it will also be my last performance.
“Master Shae! Master Shae! You okay?” Haku’s anxious voice trills in my ear.
Weakly, I lift a feeble hand to stroke between the ridges on his small scaly head. “I’ll… be all right. Just give me a minute.”
If only I could have a few moments of peace to recover myself.
Of course, as usual, I’m not that lucky.
“Get up, you pathetic loser.”
My evil stepmonster, Margaret, looms over my prone form. As usual, she’s dressed to the nines, this time in an expensive pink Gucci pantsuit paired with black designer heels and a matching purse.
The fact that she no doubt bought all of her ensemble with money I made—but have never seen a dime of—is only one of myriad ways she tries to punish me for simply existing.
She has her own money from her multimillion-dollar beauty empire, aka Divine Beauty, but she hoards all of that for herself. Her brand sells outrageously expensive holistic wellness and lifestyle products aimed at preserving the illusion of eternal youth for as long as possible.
In her midforties, Margaret looks a good ten years younger. I’m not entirely sure how she manages it, although I suspect it’s thanks to work she’s had done and her expertly applied makeup that she never goes anywhere without. In all the years I’ve been under her sadistic control, I’ve never seen her face bare. But I’ve come to realize that she’s used her looks all her life to get what she wants.
In accordance with her current style, her angular face is framed by a sleek, shoulder-length, blonde bob. In her youth, as she’s all too happy to tell anyone who’ll listen, Margaret had been a reigning beauty queen pageant winner and, from what I can gather, used her looks to move from one wealthy man to the next once she started to age out of that circuit. She certainly knows how to manipulate idiotic straight men who fall for her ego-stroking charm and trophy-wife looks, that’s for sure. Her wiles certainly worked on my father.
If I didn’t loathe her with my entire being, I’d almost be impressed by her cunning level of daring.
Disney villainesses haven’t got anything on her.
The general public also falls for her act. She’s built Divine Beauty into an incredibly lucrative business with the endorsements of attractive celebrities, including Margaret’s own daughter. Everyone loves the mother-daughter duo taking the world by storm.
Except for me.
Perhaps it was the fact that I didn’t succumb to Margaret’s phony facade that made her start hating me the moment we met. Whatever she was selling, I wasn’t buying, even at ten years old.
I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for that.
Although, had I fallen under her spell, she still never would have loved me. As a half-siren, I’m a disgusting freak in her mind—but one she nevertheless is happy to make a fortune from.
Her cold, calculating green eyes narrow at me and the permanent sneer etched on her face whenever I’m around is on full display.
I could ignore her verbal abuse; after all, it’s an all-too-common occurrence.
But I refuse to let her walk all over me.
With what little strength I possess, I hold up my hand and flip her the bird. My accompanying grin turns the look on her face downright poisonous.
Out on stage, I can hear my equally vile stepsister, the top-of-the-charts pop princess Bella Divine, doing her usual show-closing spiel with the audience.
Taking credit for my hard work, as always, and acting the part of America’s sweetheart with the golden voice.
What a crock of shit.
Margaret smiles down at me in a way that portends pain. I knew my little act of rebellion wouldn’t go unpunished, but I won’t grovel for her.
She pulls out the dreaded fob connected to the enchanted iron collar around my neck and presses one of the buttons.
A sharp inhale of breath is the only sound I make as my body seizes from the magical current coursing through me, the iron of the collar acting as a conductor that makes everything even more painful. The agonizing sensation is akin to being electrocuted from the inside out, but I’m used to it. Margaret watches me with a gleam of sadistic glee in her cold, dead eyes. However, I no longer give her the satisfaction of my screams and tears as I did when this torture started.
I’m no longer a helpless child.
Once she stops pressing the fob, the worst of the pain recedes and my body stops seizing, only giving the occasional involuntarily twitch, and I glare at Margaret in defiance.
“F-fuck you,” I manage to croak.
Haku, nestled protectively in my hair, hisses at her in solidarity, releasing angry puffs of smoke from his nostrils.
My stepmonster smirks and snaps her perfectly manicured fingers.
Two of my latest guards—big, beefy men who could pummel me into next week with the greatest of ease—appear behind her, silent and stoic figures who hoist me to my feet.
They hold me with about as much care as they probably would a sack of potatoes. So I make them work for their pay and don’t bother to help at all.
Although I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to.
Slumped between them, I manage to lift my head when Bitchface Bella skips backstage, all smiles. “Did you hear them, Mummy? They love me!”
With big green eyes like her mother’s and her long blonde hair done up in pigtails, Bella has cultivated her pop-princess persona around an illusion of eroticized angelic innocence. Tonight her outfit is a short, form-fitting dress that reveals long legs clad in lacy thigh-high stockings, all of it in white. The look is finished with a pair of glittering white organza angel wings attached to her shoulders.
Margaret beams back. “Of course they do, darling. You’re my beautiful, brilliant daughter and the biggest rising star in the music industry. I’m already in talks to line up a world tour when your next album comes out.”
Keep dreaming, gruesome twosome. I’ll be long gone by then. You won’t be getting another album out of me, no matter what.
My breathing finally returns to normal and my body stops twitching, but I can’t move it much just yet. Still, I’ve got to take my wins where I can get them.
Bella glances in my direction, her face twisting with disgust. “What is he still doing here?”
“What? No thanks for my hard work tonight, sister dear?” I grit out between clenched teeth, my body aching and sore now that the worst of the pain has passed. “I doubt your fans would still love you if they knew that you’re a big, fat fake, a conniving little liar who lip-syncs to my voice and claims all the credit.” I may not have power over most of my body still, but as usual, my sarcastic mouth works just fine. Generally, it’s the only weapon I have to fight back with.
The murderous glare she directs at me is far from the innocent image she projects on stage.
Bella steps in front of me and backhands me across the face with enough force that I see stars.
The familiar sensation of my bottom lip splitting barely registers until a warm gush of blood drips into my mouth and down my chin, its coppery flavor sharp on my tongue. The guards holding me don’t budge an inch, nor do they show any sign of being disturbed about my treatment.
Heartless bastards.
Bella grabs a handful of my long hair and yanks my head back with a hiss. “No one’s ever going to know the truth, brother dear.” She taps the cursed collar around my neck, a small action that sends a jolt of white-hot pain radiating through me.
Iron is deadly to a full fae and agonizing to half-fae beings like me. The collar hurts all the time—a never-ending torment that’s been my constant companion since Margaret put the device around my neck seven years ago, right before I came into my full powers.
I shudder and my mind shies away from that traumatic memory.
“We own you, forever and always, you pathetic fool,” Bella snarls. “You’ll do what we want, whenever we want, until you die.” She taps the collar again for good measure.
That isn’t as bad as the fob, but it’s like poking at a raw open wound. Not pleasant, at all. I focus on regulating my breathing as I wait for the worst of it to pass.
Trapped in the arms of Margaret’s goons, I have no way to escape and that’s almost worse than the pain. Haku comes to the rescue though, snarling in outrage and breathing a thin stream of fire from his mouth that makes Bella yelp and retreat several steps.
Good boy.
The effect of her touch doesn’t last long, but the wild and barely restrained rage that lives inside me claws at my guts. There is no end to the number of ways I’ve envisioned killing these two women.
Don’t let them win, I remind myself.
After all, I’m used to their tactics by now. I’ve been their slave for most of my life.
I can endure a few more hours. Just a few more hours.
More than anything, I can’t lose my focus now. Not when I have my chance at freedom tonight.
Bella laughs, all cruel condescension, then waves an imperious hand at the hired guards holding my limp body upright. “Get this trash out of here.” She skips back over to her mother, all sunshine and smiles again. “Mummy and I have a big after-party to head to after all.”
“Take him back to the house and make sure he’s securely confined in his cell,” Margaret adds before walking off with her hellspawn.
I have a blanket unceremoniously tossed over my head before I’m hustled covertly out of the back entrance of the concert venue and shoved inside an SUV, my hands and feet tied so I can’t attempt something foolish like throwing myself out of the moving vehicle.
If only.
The drive from Inglewood to the Hollywood Hills feels endless while I lie strapped down in the back seat, helpless and aching from the oh-so-loving attentions of my captors. I take what comfort I can from Haku’s soothing presence. He rubs his small head against my cheek and makes the chirruping noise that means he’s worried and wants to make me feel better. I’d convinced him long ago not to bother trying to stop Margaret or Bella when they wanted to inflict pain on me. It just made things worse. Eventually, Haku realized I was right, but I know it’s been hard for him to fight his instincts to retaliate. After all, he’s just as trapped as I am.
I tried to set him free once, to let him escape this horrible life even if I couldn’t. But Haku refused. He loves me too much to leave me behind—and our bond wouldn’t easily allow it even if he wanted to reclaim his freedom. Haku is the one lucky part of my life and I’m so glad he’s stayed with me. I would have lost my mind long ago if not for him.
At long last, I hear the gates to our driveway open, and the SUV pulls behind the main house to the fortified outbuilding hidden there. It’s where I’m confined when my services are not being used.
As I’m being pulled out of the vehicle and untied, I spy my father, clad in an expensive Armani suit, walking toward his waiting black Corvette convertible parked a short distance away. He’s probably heading out to join Margaret and Bella at the party they mentioned.
My father looks nothing like me, although we’re about the same height. Now in his late forties, his short dark hair is starting to go gray. His square-jawed face is somewhat handsome, I suppose, but his pale blue eyes are as cold and dead as his soul.
Noticing me, he pauses midstride, a look of supreme distaste flashing across his face.
I know it’s foolish, but I decide to try one final time.
“Dad, please let me go,” I whisper. “I’ll leave here and never show my face to you again. If you ever cared for me, please, help me.”
My heart sinks when he sneers in response. Even though I knew in my heart of hearts such an appeal was futile, it still hurts.
Haku hisses loudly.
“Take him away,” my father tells the guards, not bothering to respond to me. As if I’m not even worth the effort.
I’m dragged into the building and down a hall to the entrance of my prison—a windowless room with a cage in the center of the mostly bare space and a basic en suite bath. Margaret and my father had this designed to make escape nearly impossible. My prison has an alarm system to rival a nuclear attack warning, so one of the guards carefully uses a key card to open the magnetically sealed door before shoving me inside. Once back in the awful sterile space, I’m allowed to use the bathroom, while one of the guards stays inside and watches me the whole time.
Heaven forbid I try to off myself by choking on a bar of soap.
In the past, I tried seducing guards in the hopes of escaping, but it never worked. Then, once my captors got wise to my tactics, they hired ones that couldn’t succumb to my siren allure. Not that I can even really use my powers much with this damn collar dulling my magic.
Finally able to stand upright on my own, albeit shakily, I take a fast shower and tend to my lip.
Once I’m clean, I dress in a pair of loose sweats and an oversized hoodie. I get cold easily, especially when I’m magically depleted.
I don’t bother to fight it when the guards lead me out of the bathroom and finally force me into my cage.
Nope, I’m not exaggerating.
A monstrosity of iron bars, the cage is tall enough for me to stand up in and big enough for a narrow cot and small dresser but not much else. I’m locked inside and then the guards exit the room, securing the door before taking their positions outside it.
Gingerly, I lie down on the cot and close my eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.
Haku trills with worry and his wings flap in agitation. “Are you sure you’re up for what we have planned tonight?”
I pet his tiny body, trying to reassure him.
Drakes, winged reptiles about the size of a human hand, are distant relatives of dragons. They’re immensely loyal to whoever they bond with. In retrospect, I should have known he’d never leave me even if it meant escaping this nightmare.
Haku and I have been together for as long as I can remember. He was a gift from my birth mother before she died.
Just thinking of her makes my heart ache. Regardless of what we’re all led to believe, time doesn’t heal all wounds. It’s been fifteen years since I lost her.
Although I never really had the chance to overcome that loss because when she died, my life became a living hell.
The one saving grace of the whole situation has always been Haku. My mother placed a spell on him that ties him to me. Anyone who attempts to hurt Haku or separate him from me against his will suffers a terrible magical rebound. Sadly, my mother’s spell doesn’t protect me from harm in the same way. Perhaps she never anticipated me needing it? I’ll never know.
But at least Margaret and Bella can’t take away my one and only companion.
I sigh. “I need to sleep for an hour or two to recharge my magic as much as possible. The sadistic trio won’t be back until dawn.”
If I’m ever going to have a perfect window of opportunity, this is it.
“Sure, Master Shae. Our ride won’t be here until three in the morning anyway. You rest. I’ll watch over you and wake you when it’s time,” Haku whispers.
I try not to fixate on all that could go wrong.
If my plan fails—
No, I won’t think about it.
Haku begins to sing softly in an ancient language I don’t understand, a lullaby of sorts that is both soothing and familiar. I’m far too old for such things now, but I don’t protest and fall into an exhausted slumber.
Later, I jolt awake to Haku whispering in my ear. “It’s time, Master Shae.”
Sitting up slowly, I assess my body. I’m still aching and tired, but I am recovered enough to do what needs to be done.
I don’t have another choice anyway. It’s tonight or never.
I pull on some tennis shoes from my dresser, ready to enact our long-prepared plan.
Haku coughs up puffs of smoke before he manages to regurgitate a copy of the key to my cage. It hadn’t been easy to get this, and he’s been hiding it for me for a while.
I pet his head. “Good work.”
He preens.
Carefully, I wind my arm through the bars and maneuver the key to unlock the enclosure. I bite my already injured lip, making it bleed again, as my skin makes unavoidable contact with the iron bars. Gritting my teeth, I fight through the agonizing sensation akin to my skin being burned off in strips.
I nearly sob with relief when I finally hear the familiar click and the cage door swings open.
We hurry out and a glance at the clock on the wall tells me it’s almost time. This is the one shift where there are only two guards on duty watching me and our best shot at enacting our escape plan.
“Wait for the signal,” I remind Haku, who shifts from foot to foot on my shoulder, eager and anxious.
Long, agonizing minutes go by and then a perimeter alarm goes off.
I press my ear against the solid metal door of the room and hear the guards curse and hurry off to investigate.
The moment of truth is upon us.
I only hope that Haku and I can make this work.
Puffing himself up, my trusted companion begins to blow out a thin stream of fire aimed straight at the door.
Drawing on what little of my sirensong power I can, I sing as if my life depends on it.
I invoke a wordless song my mother taught me to share magical energy with another, and I channel Haku everything I can, strengthening the intensity of his fire as it slowly but surely melts a widening hole in the door.
Just when I’m about to black out, we see light on the other side and I want to weep with relief.
But we don’t have a second to spare.
I pull the swipe card our accomplice was able to get to me out of its hiding place in my pants and pass it to Haku. He manages to squeeze his small body, and the card, through the hole.
My heart pounds in my ears as I wait. Then I hear the familiar click and beep as the door is unlocked from the other side.
What happens next is a blur.
Once in the hallway of the annex, we move as fast as we can because out here there are plenty of security cameras we can’t avoid. As we anticipated, another loud, blaring alarm sounds and we pick up our pace as I hear shouts and sounds of pursuit. Speed is our only option.
I barrel through the back exit door, triggering yet another alarm, and race toward the high cement wall that surrounds the rear side of the property. With Haku’s help and a dose of sheer desperation, I manage to scrabble my way up and over the imposing wall.
The fall down the other side is longer and more painful than I expected.
I land awkwardly and twist my right ankle, which gives out on me. I bite back a whimper and manage not to make a sound.
By now, I’m hearing a lot of angry shouts behind us.
The game is up and we have to get out of here—fast.
Through sheer force of will, I push myself to my feet and limp down the hill toward the street, where I’m praying our getaway ride is waiting as promised.
When I get to the bottom, I’m basically dragging my right leg and am a breath away from puking or passing out. Maybe both.
For a moment, all I see is darkness. The streetlight is dead and it’s eerily silent along this stretch of road.
I’m momentarily blinded when two headlights pointed directly at me turn on.
My heart lurches with sudden fear until the voice of my salvation echoes through the night.
“Get in!” Emma cries.
I stumble over and she gets out to help me into the back seat, quickly tossing a blanket over me, then hops back in the driver’s seat and guns it.
As we speed away, I wait, trying not to have a panic attack. Part of me is still convinced we won’t make it. But soon, we’ve left the Hollywood Hills behind and merged onto the freeway, heading far away.
I’m not entirely sure if I pass out or simply fall asleep, but sometime later the car has stopped moving and Emma is gently shaking me awake. “Shae, honey. Please wake up. You’re freaking me out.”
I moan and struggle to sit up, a woozy sensation washing over me as if my whole body is being tossed about on rough open water. My right ankle throbs and feels about twice its normal size.
“He used too much magic earlier! Help!” Haku cries, his wings flapping with concern.
Vaguely, I realize Haku’s right. When I channeled what limited magic I could to him, I used up the last of my pathetic reserves. That, combined with the collar’s effect, puts my magic vitals in a very dangerous range.
“Son of a bitch,” Emma curses.
Quickly, she roots around in her purse and pulls out a slim vial containing a glittering, swirling liquid.
Thank fuck she has a replenishing potion.
My hands are shaking too much so she has to help me drink the lifesaving draught, but I stabilize within seconds. I’m steady enough to help as she wraps one of my arms around her shoulders and pulls me out of the car.
When the movement inadvertently jostles my injured ankle, I focus on not vomiting up the potion I just drank. Once the nausea fades and the threat of passing out again is over, Emma supports me as I slowly and painfully limp toward a nondescript brick building.
A side door opens and I freeze.
“It’s okay! They’re here to help,” Emma reassures me.
Two more people help carry me inside, where they lay me down on a soft couch and gingerly prop my leg up on some pillows.
I bite my lip but don’t make a sound. I’m used to far worse than this trifling injury.
“You’re safe now,” a gentle voice says. “This is a shelter for endangered Otherkind. The place is warded from magical attacks.”
All of a sudden, my bravado is shattered when a wave of exhaustion slams into me from out of nowhere.
“Collar,” I mutter feebly. I try to open my eyes but it’s too hard. The potion pulled me back from the edge of danger, but my body is shutting down to conserve my limited energy. “They’ll… find…”
“Fucking bastards,” another voice whispers.
“I can place an obfuscation spell over it for now, but that’ll only be a temporary measure. We need someone to deactivate it safely,” the first voice says. “That’ll be tricky.”
“We should call those guys you mentioned,” Emma suggests. “I’m sure they can help us.”
I want to say something, but I’m falling down a deep, dark well where everything has disappeared—even me.
I can only hope against hope that I’m finally free.
Gone but Not Forgotten by Charlie Cochet
[Location: Redacted, Spain]
Warrior. Weapon. Hunter.
The names were many, but none changed who he was or what he was inside. Trained in the art of invisibility, master of the hunt, a terrifying force to be reckoned with. His expertise in various forms of lethal combat made him an agent of destruction. By the time his prey discovered his presence, it would be too late.
Silence engulfed him as he lay in wait beneath the water’s surface, his mind and body a study in absolute control, his heartbeat a steady rhythm as he counted the seconds.
It was time.
Slowly he emerged, water sluicing over his bare chest, his muscled body toned and sculpted from years of intense training. Knife between his teeth, he waded through infested waters, aware of the beast floating nearby, eyeing him, hoping to make him its next meal. Gingerly he approached the water’s edge and took his knife in hand, his breath controlled as he crouched low, eyes locked on his quarry.
You’re mine now.
One step closer. Two. Three.
His prey lay motionless, completely unaware.
Four. Five.
“What are you doing?”
He stilled.
“I know you can hear me.”
At the low grumble, Dex straightened, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You’re ruining the moment.”
“Which is?” his quarry murmured, not so much as glancing in Dex’s direction from where he lay, long legs crossed at the ankles and fingers laced on his flat, muscular abdomen. The giant beach umbrella provided shade from the intense heat and glaring sun, his eyes undoubtedly closed behind the dark sunglasses.
“Hunting.”
Blue-green waves crashed gently against the shore, the sand beneath Dex’s feet hot as he crossed the short distance to the sexy Therian stretched out on the blue beach towel.
“Is that what that was? Because from here, it looked like you were swimming around with a cocktail umbrella between your teeth.”
Dex sniffed and lifted his chin. “It’s a knife.”
“And the giant donut float?”
“An alligator ready to attack.”
“You’re adorable.”
Dex chuckled as he dropped to his knees beside Sloane, then straddled his lap. He leaned in for a kiss. “Must be why you married me.”
Sloane slid his hands up Dex’s thighs to rest on his hips. “Someone had to keep you out of trouble.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” Dex teased, smiling against Sloane’s lips.
A laugh rumbled up from Sloane’s expansive chest as he wrapped his strong arms around Dex and brought him in for a deeper kiss. The scent of saltwater, coconut sunscreen, and Sloane made Dex moan. At times he still couldn’t believe he was married to this amazing man. How had it been almost four years already? And how was it possible his husband seemed to get even more handsome with age? Sloane’s pitch-black hair had white strands interspersed, the same white that connected to a neatly trimmed beard on his chiseled jaw. Dex had a few silver strands of his own, but they were harder to see in his dirty-blond hair. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they’d first met.
Dex savored Sloane’s kiss, melting against his sinfully gorgeous body. He was everything to Dex—his partner in crime, his mate, a sleek black jaguar Therian with amber eyes that could reach into the depths of Dex’s soul. They shared a bond most couldn’t fathom, one only those closest to them knew of.
“No, really, what were you doing?” Sloane asked with a hum as Dex trailed kisses down his jawline, ignoring the feel of eyes on them. The beach might be Therian-friendly, but that didn’t mean everyone occupying it was.
“Remember last night when you were galivanting about the city?”
Sloane’s lips lifted at the corners in a smirk. “You mean when I was out working and you stayed in our hotel suite binge-watching old eighties TV shows and eating your weight in desserts?”
“I think what you meant to say was while I was fueling this weapon of mass destruction”—Dex motioned to himself—“and researching undercover techniques.”
“From an old eighties spy show.”
“Hey, that show was based on real spy craft.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“But it could have been.”
“It could have,” Sloane said, then popped a kiss on Dex’s lips. “But it wasn’t.” He smiled at Dex’s pout and tapped his flank. “As much as I love debating the factual validity of your eighties movies and TV shows, I’m thirsty. How about you get me a frosty drink?”
“Already on it, amor de mi vida.”
Sloane hummed.
“Te amo, cariño.” “Te amo, mi conejito.”
“Little bunny? Really?”
Dex booped the tip of Sloane’s nose. “Because you’re so cute and fluffy.”
“Ah, yes. That must be why that guy jumped out of the moving bus we were on last week. Clearly, my fluffy cuteness overwhelmed him.”
Dex laughed as he sat up. “Sit tight, Daddy, while I get you that drink.”
“I’ll just stay here and look pretty, then,” Sloane drawled. “And don’t call me Daddy.”
With a chuckle, Dex stood. He tugged his slip-ons onto his feet and grabbed the button-down flamingo-patterned shirt off his towel, the fabric heavier than it should have been, thanks to the lightweight holster sewn into it and the Sig P365 with suppressor discreetly tucked inside. Shirt on and unbuttoned, he removed his sunglasses from the front breast pocket and slipped those on, then pressed the metal center bridge as he pushed them up his nose. He headed for the plaza and the giant metal sculpture of—he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Modern art was not his thing. Something to do with swimming.
A cougar Therian pushed a drink cart over to the base of one of the sculpture’s legs. Joining the small line that formed, Dex pulled a couple of Euros out of his pocket, aware of the small tourist group of Therian college kids who stopped to ogle him. They murmured and giggled among themselves. One of the young Therians, a wolf, playfully waved at Dex, who smiled and waved back. The wolf Therian licked his full bottom lip and motioned Dex over.
Dex put his left hand to his heart in apology while showing his wedding ring. The young wolf Therian pouted before the group moved on, laughing and teasing their friend. With a chuckle, Dex stepped forward in line. He finally reached the vendor and smiled.
“Tienes refresco de cereza?”
The cougar Therian shook his head. “No cherry, solo limón.”
“Esta bien. Dos refrescos de limón, por favor.”
The guy reached into a separate compartment on his cart and pulled out two frosty cans of fizzy lemon soda.
“Thanks.” Dex paid and took the cans. He popped open the can that was slightly lighter in color and took a long gulp of the lemon drink as he headed back toward the beach. A quick scan of the ingredients revealed the intel he’d been waiting for. He tossed the can into the trash as the chemicals started melting the aluminum.
A shrill scream pierced the air, and on instinct, Dex ducked and turned while tourists and locals scrambled in panic, several removing their phones—whether to call the authorities or take video was anyone’s guess. The vendor lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath his head.
Dex’s earpiece came to life, Sloane’s growl on the other end. “What the hell’s going on?”
New York Times Bestselling author Jocelynn Drake loves a good story, whether she is reading it or writing one of her own. Over the years, her stories have allowed her to explore space, talk to dragons, dodge bullets with assassins, hang with vampires, and fall in love again and again.
This former Kentucky girl has moved up, down, and across the U.S. with her husband. Recently, they’ve settled near the Rockies.
When she is not hammering away at her keyboard or curled up with a book, she can be found walking her dog Ace, or playing video games. She loves Bruce Wayne, Ezio Auditore, travel, tattoos, explosions, and fast cars.
She is the author of the urban fantasy series: The Dark Days series and the Asylum Tales. She has recently completed a gay romantic suspense series called The Exit Strategy about two assassins falling in love and trying to create a life together, as well as a MM paranormal romance series featuring a family of vampires.
She has co-authored with Rinda Elliot the following series: Unbreakable Bonds, Ward Security, Pineapple Grove, and the Weavers Circle. She has also co-authored with AJ Sherwood the Scales 'N Spells dragon series.
My characters are sexy, hot, adorable—and often filthy—alphas and omegas. Feudal lords with dark secrets, lonely omegas running away from their past, and alphas who refuse to commit.
Lurking in the background are kings, mafia dons, undercover agents and highwaymen with a naughty gleam in their eye.
As for me? I dictate my steamy stories with a glass of champagne in one hand. Because why not?
Lorelei M HartLorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming. Friends for years, the duo decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).
Hank EdwardsHank 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 writes queer sci-fi and paranormal rom coms with laugh out loud humor because she’s all about bringing the funny-sexy back. Oh, yeah!
She currently call Minnesota home, but has lived abroad in places like Montreal, Edinburgh, and Tokyo. She’s hoping to relocate to Scotland permanently in the next few years if the stars align.
Chloe is a fur mama to two adorable Yorkies, Jasper and Teddy, and she loves them in a crazy dog mama kind of way. When she isn’t busy writing, she enjoys visiting friends and family, traveling, reading, binge watching movies and TV shows, and practicing her karaoke skills. She does a mean cover of Pat Benatar and Cher, or so she’s been told.
Charlie Cochet is the international bestselling author of the THIRDS series. Born in Cuba and raised in the US, Charlie enjoys the best of both worlds, from her daily Cuban latte to her passion for classic rock.
Currently residing in Central Florida, Charlie is at the beck and call of a rascally Doxiepoo bent on world domination. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found devouring a book, releasing her creativity through art, or binge watching a new TV series. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.
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Jocelyn Drake
Colbie Dunbar
Lorelei M Hart
Hank Edwards
Chloe Archer
EMAIL: chloe@chloearcher.com
Charlie Cochet
Gary Furlong(Narrator)
The Necromancer's Christmas Tree of Terror by Jocelyn Drake
Wrong Number, Right Dragon by Colbie Dunbar & Lorelei M Hart
Horror at Hideaway Cove by Hank Edwards
Siren of the Rain by Chloe Archer
Gone but Not Forgotten by Charlie Cochet
