This past year has been a trying time to say the least and personally 2020 really screwed with my reading mojo, instead of finding solace in reading I found myself looking to visual forms of entertainment, we all need to use whatever we can to keep going. So I was only able to read 160 books and many were re-reads. This year's Best of series may not feature as many new releases but they are just as brilliant in my opinion, the old adage of "oldie but a goodie" was a prominent theme in this year's readings. Course, just because they are "oldies" doesn't mean everyone has read them so I hope my Best of list helps you to find a new read, be it new-new or new-to-you or maybe it will help you to rediscover a forgotten favorite. Happy Reading and my heartfelt wish for everyone is that 2021 will be a year of recovery, growth, and in the world of reading a year of discovering a new favorite.
To Die For by Davidson King
Summary:Joker's Sin #2
Managing the bar at Joker’s Sin, a gay nightclub, is Max’s dream job. Where many seek fame or fortune, he’s living his best life, surrounded by family and friends. The only thing he doesn’t have is the guy to complete him.
Lane, AKA Sparkles, sees too much of the person he used to be when he looks at Max, and none of it is good. But the stubborn man won’t let up, and when Sparkles’s past threatens to unravel his whole life, it’s Max who steps in to save him.
Can these two opposites push past their differences to see just how right they are for each other? Will they get a chance before it all falls down around them? Or is their love one to die for?
👀While it is book 2 in the Joker’s Sin Series, it can be read as a standalone👀
August 2020 Book of the Month Review:
Once again Davidson King has stomped on my heart, kicked me in the gut, Mama Bear Hugged me into submission, and all around bedazzled the beejeesus out of me.
From Max deciding whether or not to apply a little self-love before his sister walks in to the satisfying ending to Sparkles' past hiccup(and yes it's far, far worse and heartwrenching than a hiccup but I don't want to give any details away so let's go with "past hiccup"), To Die For is certainly worthy of the Joker's Sin tag, the Haven Hart Universe, and the storytelling stamp of the incredibly talented Davidson King. Just Yummy!
When we met Max in book 1, My Whole World, I'll admit I was less than impressed with him but I also knew there was more to the man than bedding anyone and everyone on two legs so I held back any permanent judgement. Boy was I right to do so. So much more to him. Again, I won't give anything away but just know that if you are familiar with Miss King's work than you know nothing is as it seems at first glance but getting to watch what makes her characters tick is an absolute dream.
As for Sparkles(Or Lane as he is known in his day job)? He is the kind of character you really need to experience for yourself to grasp. He too is more than what many see: club patron and dancer, I don't like to label people too much but I will say he has this aura around him that make some see only the outside and not the inside, see his moves but not what makes him move. I said "aura" well that may seem a bit flowery, but it certainly understandable why they call him Sparkles, when he's dancing he literally sparkles, he shines, because that is where he can "be free". Will he let people see(and yes by people I mainly mean Max) that aura, that sparkle goes far deeper than appearance and moves, it's just part of who he is.
Together Max and Sparkles have the potential to exude brilliance but will they live up to what each thinks the other needs? You know the answer to that: read to find out. You won't regret it. Do I want to say they evolve before my eyes once they found "the one"? No, but they certainly grow, they seem to find their spot in this world, not because they had to have someone to make themselves special or complete but because once they find each other there's this desire within to be what the other needs and in turn it gives them a focus to see other things around them and inside themselves clearer too.
Once again, we see that Joker's Sin is not just a place of employment, a club to let go, it is a family and as it should be, family looks out for each other. As in My Whole World, this family comes together to help Max and Sparkles with the previously mentioned "hiccup", to keep them safe. I don't do spoilers and I don't really think I am spoiling anything with these vague mentions because Davidson King always has heart, a HEA in her stories but it's the journey that is the where it all comes together and I'll never spoil that.
Is To Die For as brilliant as My Whole World? Definitely. Did I love Max and Sparkles as much as Atlas and Toby? Probably not quite. Is the difference even worth rating? Hell no. The men who work and play at Joker's Sin will grab you until you can't let go, they are characters that remain long after you've swiped/turned that last page. If you haven't read Davidson King before, don't wait another minute! She is definitely on my Top 10 All-Time Favorite Authors list, if there was an All Star game for authors she would be a shoe-in. Truth is(and I know I've said it before but I just can't stress this point enough) she is a genuine storyteller. What is the difference you ask? For me, an author spins a good yarn, entertains you, makes you see other aspects of life but a storyteller will create a world you not only read but you find yourself living within the covers of the book, you become part of the story, your senses come alive and in the case of her Joker's Sin series, you are sitting at the next table, you are standing on the street corner waiting for the light to change so you aren't late to get in the doors, so much so that there is a level of grief when you reach the last page and have to say goodbye(for now) to the people and the places.
RATING:
Lane, AKA Sparkles, sees too much of the person he used to be when he looks at Max, and none of it is good. But the stubborn man won’t let up, and when Sparkles’s past threatens to unravel his whole life, it’s Max who steps in to save him.
Can these two opposites push past their differences to see just how right they are for each other? Will they get a chance before it all falls down around them? Or is their love one to die for?
👀While it is book 2 in the Joker’s Sin Series, it can be read as a standalone👀
Once again Davidson King has stomped on my heart, kicked me in the gut, Mama Bear Hugged me into submission, and all around bedazzled the beejeesus out of me.
From Max deciding whether or not to apply a little self-love before his sister walks in to the satisfying ending to Sparkles' past hiccup(and yes it's far, far worse and heartwrenching than a hiccup but I don't want to give any details away so let's go with "past hiccup"), To Die For is certainly worthy of the Joker's Sin tag, the Haven Hart Universe, and the storytelling stamp of the incredibly talented Davidson King. Just Yummy!
When we met Max in book 1, My Whole World, I'll admit I was less than impressed with him but I also knew there was more to the man than bedding anyone and everyone on two legs so I held back any permanent judgement. Boy was I right to do so. So much more to him. Again, I won't give anything away but just know that if you are familiar with Miss King's work than you know nothing is as it seems at first glance but getting to watch what makes her characters tick is an absolute dream.
As for Sparkles(Or Lane as he is known in his day job)? He is the kind of character you really need to experience for yourself to grasp. He too is more than what many see: club patron and dancer, I don't like to label people too much but I will say he has this aura around him that make some see only the outside and not the inside, see his moves but not what makes him move. I said "aura" well that may seem a bit flowery, but it certainly understandable why they call him Sparkles, when he's dancing he literally sparkles, he shines, because that is where he can "be free". Will he let people see(and yes by people I mainly mean Max) that aura, that sparkle goes far deeper than appearance and moves, it's just part of who he is.
Together Max and Sparkles have the potential to exude brilliance but will they live up to what each thinks the other needs? You know the answer to that: read to find out. You won't regret it. Do I want to say they evolve before my eyes once they found "the one"? No, but they certainly grow, they seem to find their spot in this world, not because they had to have someone to make themselves special or complete but because once they find each other there's this desire within to be what the other needs and in turn it gives them a focus to see other things around them and inside themselves clearer too.
Once again, we see that Joker's Sin is not just a place of employment, a club to let go, it is a family and as it should be, family looks out for each other. As in My Whole World, this family comes together to help Max and Sparkles with the previously mentioned "hiccup", to keep them safe. I don't do spoilers and I don't really think I am spoiling anything with these vague mentions because Davidson King always has heart, a HEA in her stories but it's the journey that is the where it all comes together and I'll never spoil that.
Is To Die For as brilliant as My Whole World? Definitely. Did I love Max and Sparkles as much as Atlas and Toby? Probably not quite. Is the difference even worth rating? Hell no. The men who work and play at Joker's Sin will grab you until you can't let go, they are characters that remain long after you've swiped/turned that last page. If you haven't read Davidson King before, don't wait another minute! She is definitely on my Top 10 All-Time Favorite Authors list, if there was an All Star game for authors she would be a shoe-in. Truth is(and I know I've said it before but I just can't stress this point enough) she is a genuine storyteller. What is the difference you ask? For me, an author spins a good yarn, entertains you, makes you see other aspects of life but a storyteller will create a world you not only read but you find yourself living within the covers of the book, you become part of the story, your senses come alive and in the case of her Joker's Sin series, you are sitting at the next table, you are standing on the street corner waiting for the light to change so you aren't late to get in the doors, so much so that there is a level of grief when you reach the last page and have to say goodbye(for now) to the people and the places.
RATING:
The Dishevelled Duke by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead
Summary:From the A Little Bit Cupid collection
It’s Valentine’s Day and it’s Billy last shift at The Chelsea Bunn. His photography career never took off, so it’s time to leave London, parcel up the leftover heart-shaped cakes and head back home to Hampshire.
Rumpled Charlie and his two mischievous dogs are Billy’s favourite customers, so when Charlie turns up at closing time with a mysterious wrapped gift and the offer of a whirlwind trip on the London Eye, Billy can’t say no. But Charlie is keeping a secret that could turn Billy’s world happily upside down.
As the snow falls over London and the big wheel grinds to a halt, Billy discovers that wishes aren’t just for Christmas.
So this has been sitting in my kindle for a few months and unfortunately sinking on my TBR list with all the adds I make to it on a nearly daily basis but the color and sparkle of the cover caught my eye yesterday and thought "Valentine's Day in August? Perfect!" Who doesn't like to be reminded that love on the most romantic day of the year is super-duper-uber special? So open it I did and read it in one sitting. YUMMY!
Followers of my blog and reviews probably notice that when I say "Yummy" I refer to the heat level but more times than not and especially in The Dishevelled Duke I'm referring to the sheer chemistry between our would-be lovers. Billy having to give up his dream and his crush sounds like a cruel joke for a romantic Valentine's Day novella, but those familiar with Curzon and Harkstead, know that there will always be a HEA. How Billy and Charlie get there is something you'll have to read for yourself but trust me, it's fantabulous!
As for Billy and Charlie, how can one not root for them, not cheer them on? They are adorable together and when one phone call creates the possibility to change everything, you just know Cupid must have been lurking around somewhere near.
Would I have loved to see more of Billy and Charlie? Of course but sometimes, short is the best way to bring out the greatness of a pair, showing that one point in time can be the catalyst to happiness. The Dishevelled Duke may be short on quantity but it's overflowing on quality, a delightful gem balanced between realism, romance, and fairytale.
RATING:
A Glimpse of Heaven by Olivier Bosman
Summary:John Billings Mystery #1
The year is 1895.
A disgruntled detective is looking for meaning in his life.
A psychotic young man wants to make his darkest fantasies come true.
A secretive society searches for hidden wisdom in ancient manuscripts.
When these three meet, a series of events is set in motion which leads to a horrific crime.
A Glimpse of Heaven is a thrilling, page-turning mystery about spiritualism, the occult... and the quest for magic.
Original Review August 2020:
Once again we return to Victorian England but this time DS Billings is just John Billings, private investigator. This is such a great series and so full of suspense, tension, and all around mayhem. What I love best about this series is the mystery is truly the main focus but that doesn't mean we don't get to see inside the mind of the detective, John Billings. Despite the time frame being wrong for noir, there is still something very reminiscent of the genre within the pages of this Victorian world.
As I said the mystery is the main bulk of the story but we get to see a little more of Billings' mind toward accepting who he is, his sexuality is brought in a little more each time. Personally I think he explored that side of himself more in the last entry of the DS Billings Victorian Mystery series, Anarchy, and yet we see him accept himself a bit more in A Glimpse of Heaven. With his new employee, intern, partner, whichever term you like, Trotter is just as enjoyable as Billings himself. I can't wait to watch Trotter grow just as we have seen Billings do throughout his journey. The potential to be a Victorian-non-superhero Batman and Robin is definitely there and I look forward to their working/friendship evolve.
John's friendship with his former partner, Sergeant Clarkson, is carried over into this spin-off series, which I loved. If you've been reading Billings' exploits from the beginning you know where his feelings tend to go when Clarkson is involved and now we get to see Clarkson's thoughts on Billings' inclinations. I won't go into more detail there because I feel like I've already said too much for those who have yet to start these stories but it's a wonderful and realistic progression.
As for the mystery itself, there is so many interesting and intriguing moments that I don't want to touch on because it truly is something you have to experience for yourself and as so often, every little detail is another twisted corner you have to wrap your mind around. Trust me, it will keep you on the edge of your seat from beginning to end.
I don't know if the author thinks of John Billings Mystery as a "spin-off" of the DS Billings Victorian Mysteries or just the next leg in the main character's journey but I call it a spin-off as it's just simpler😉. Do you need to read DS Billings first? Probably not but I know I wouldn't want to start with A Glimpse of Heaven, I'd want to see how and where John's story began and grew. I have a feeling that John Billings Mystery is more of an ongoing series than DS Billings, those mysteries all have a beginning and end but again I recommend reading from the beginning, if for no other reason than to see his evolution towards accepting himself as well as the friendship with Clarkson. However you read it, they are brilliant tales of murder, menace, and mayhem.
RATING:
A disgruntled detective is looking for meaning in his life.
A psychotic young man wants to make his darkest fantasies come true.
A secretive society searches for hidden wisdom in ancient manuscripts.
When these three meet, a series of events is set in motion which leads to a horrific crime.
A Glimpse of Heaven is a thrilling, page-turning mystery about spiritualism, the occult... and the quest for magic.
Once again we return to Victorian England but this time DS Billings is just John Billings, private investigator. This is such a great series and so full of suspense, tension, and all around mayhem. What I love best about this series is the mystery is truly the main focus but that doesn't mean we don't get to see inside the mind of the detective, John Billings. Despite the time frame being wrong for noir, there is still something very reminiscent of the genre within the pages of this Victorian world.
As I said the mystery is the main bulk of the story but we get to see a little more of Billings' mind toward accepting who he is, his sexuality is brought in a little more each time. Personally I think he explored that side of himself more in the last entry of the DS Billings Victorian Mystery series, Anarchy, and yet we see him accept himself a bit more in A Glimpse of Heaven. With his new employee, intern, partner, whichever term you like, Trotter is just as enjoyable as Billings himself. I can't wait to watch Trotter grow just as we have seen Billings do throughout his journey. The potential to be a Victorian-non-superhero Batman and Robin is definitely there and I look forward to their working/friendship evolve.
John's friendship with his former partner, Sergeant Clarkson, is carried over into this spin-off series, which I loved. If you've been reading Billings' exploits from the beginning you know where his feelings tend to go when Clarkson is involved and now we get to see Clarkson's thoughts on Billings' inclinations. I won't go into more detail there because I feel like I've already said too much for those who have yet to start these stories but it's a wonderful and realistic progression.
As for the mystery itself, there is so many interesting and intriguing moments that I don't want to touch on because it truly is something you have to experience for yourself and as so often, every little detail is another twisted corner you have to wrap your mind around. Trust me, it will keep you on the edge of your seat from beginning to end.
I don't know if the author thinks of John Billings Mystery as a "spin-off" of the DS Billings Victorian Mysteries or just the next leg in the main character's journey but I call it a spin-off as it's just simpler😉. Do you need to read DS Billings first? Probably not but I know I wouldn't want to start with A Glimpse of Heaven, I'd want to see how and where John's story began and grew. I have a feeling that John Billings Mystery is more of an ongoing series than DS Billings, those mysteries all have a beginning and end but again I recommend reading from the beginning, if for no other reason than to see his evolution towards accepting himself as well as the friendship with Clarkson. However you read it, they are brilliant tales of murder, menace, and mayhem.
RATING:
Deosil by Jordan L Hawk
Summary:Whyborne & Griffin #11
Whyborne, Griffin, and their friends have faced down cultists, monsters, and sorcerers. But their greatest challenge is now upon them.
On the return voyage from Balefire Manor, Whyborne receives the worst news possible: Widdershins has fallen before the onslaught of the Fideles and their servants. There’s still time to stop the return of the Masters, but that window grows shorter by the hour.
Together with Christine and Iskander, Whyborne and Griffin must reach Widdershins to face the ultimate test—and decide the fate of the world, once and for all.
September 2020 Book of the Month:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!
I hated to see the end of Whyborne & Griffin so I prolonged opening Deosil as long as I could until finally I just could not put off the experience any longer.
WOWWWWWWW!!!!!
OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!
And once again: HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!!!!
Okay, I got that out of the way so on to the review😉. I will flat out say it right away: I will not touch on the specifics of the story. Even though the book has been out there in the reading universe for nearly a year I know there are others like me that haven't wanted to see the end yet so they're holding off even longer than I did and there are those who have yet to discover this amazing series. So, NO SPOILERS!
What I will say is the emotional gauntlet I ran while experiencing Deosil(and it is an experience not just a read) was mindboggling, heartwrenching, breathtaking, and truthfully just good old fashioned plain edge-of-your-seat mayhem. Just when I thought I knew what Whyborne, Griffin, Christine, Iskander, and so many characters that we've come to know, love, and well not-so-love, were going to face around the next corner, Jordan L Hawk in all the author's storytelling glory sent me spiraling into unknown levels of "Holy Crap!" . . . just between you and me: I LOVED IT!
Warring between needing to know and savoring the moment is the top box I look to ticking when sitting down to write a review, to me that is the ultimate natural high when it comes to experiencing art. And boy did I tick that box a hundred times.
Were there elements I saw coming? A few. Were there elements that completely gobsmacked me? Many. Frankly, the author could have written our characters doing anything and it would have been wonderful and entertaining, that's how incredible the world building and character creations are. Having finished Deosil, the course the author took is brilliant and fitting. As it's so often said throughout the series, "Widdershins knows its own" well I think Widdershins knew one more and that was Jordan L Hawk.
If you are new to the world of Whyborne and Griffin and are wondering about reading order, it is most certainly a read in order journey. You won't be sorry. True storytelling genius is at work here. I can't think of a better way to sum up my thoughts other than how I started:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!
RATING:
On the return voyage from Balefire Manor, Whyborne receives the worst news possible: Widdershins has fallen before the onslaught of the Fideles and their servants. There’s still time to stop the return of the Masters, but that window grows shorter by the hour.
Together with Christine and Iskander, Whyborne and Griffin must reach Widdershins to face the ultimate test—and decide the fate of the world, once and for all.
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!
I hated to see the end of Whyborne & Griffin so I prolonged opening Deosil as long as I could until finally I just could not put off the experience any longer.
WOWWWWWWW!!!!!
OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!
And once again: HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!!!!
Okay, I got that out of the way so on to the review😉. I will flat out say it right away: I will not touch on the specifics of the story. Even though the book has been out there in the reading universe for nearly a year I know there are others like me that haven't wanted to see the end yet so they're holding off even longer than I did and there are those who have yet to discover this amazing series. So, NO SPOILERS!
What I will say is the emotional gauntlet I ran while experiencing Deosil(and it is an experience not just a read) was mindboggling, heartwrenching, breathtaking, and truthfully just good old fashioned plain edge-of-your-seat mayhem. Just when I thought I knew what Whyborne, Griffin, Christine, Iskander, and so many characters that we've come to know, love, and well not-so-love, were going to face around the next corner, Jordan L Hawk in all the author's storytelling glory sent me spiraling into unknown levels of "Holy Crap!" . . . just between you and me: I LOVED IT!
Warring between needing to know and savoring the moment is the top box I look to ticking when sitting down to write a review, to me that is the ultimate natural high when it comes to experiencing art. And boy did I tick that box a hundred times.
Were there elements I saw coming? A few. Were there elements that completely gobsmacked me? Many. Frankly, the author could have written our characters doing anything and it would have been wonderful and entertaining, that's how incredible the world building and character creations are. Having finished Deosil, the course the author took is brilliant and fitting. As it's so often said throughout the series, "Widdershins knows its own" well I think Widdershins knew one more and that was Jordan L Hawk.
If you are new to the world of Whyborne and Griffin and are wondering about reading order, it is most certainly a read in order journey. You won't be sorry. True storytelling genius is at work here. I can't think of a better way to sum up my thoughts other than how I started:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!
RATING:
Now or Never by Helena Stone
Summary:
Blowhole #3
Blowhole #3
When the past intrudes, can two lost souls forge a future together?
Karl’s carefully erected walls are crumbling. Giving up sex and relationships made perfect sense when he was eighteen. For a decade, he poured all his time and effort into his flourishing career. Doubts crept in the first time Karl met Leo and now, after two years of avoiding him, Karl is in charge of training Leo.
Leo loves his life in The Blowhole. Entertaining the guests during explicit shows under Roger’s guidance meets Leo’s needs and keeps his demons at bay. When Roger leaves, Leo’s job expands but he’s assigned to work with Karl, the General Manager who appears to detest him, and Leo’s anxiety blossoms. It wouldn’t be so bad if Leo hadn’t been attracted to Karl from the first moment he saw him.
Two men. A truck-load of insecurities and an attraction that can’t be denied. When the full horror of Leo’s past comes to light, will their fledgling connection be strong enough to weather the storm?
Karl’s carefully erected walls are crumbling. Giving up sex and relationships made perfect sense when he was eighteen. For a decade, he poured all his time and effort into his flourishing career. Doubts crept in the first time Karl met Leo and now, after two years of avoiding him, Karl is in charge of training Leo.
Leo loves his life in The Blowhole. Entertaining the guests during explicit shows under Roger’s guidance meets Leo’s needs and keeps his demons at bay. When Roger leaves, Leo’s job expands but he’s assigned to work with Karl, the General Manager who appears to detest him, and Leo’s anxiety blossoms. It wouldn’t be so bad if Leo hadn’t been attracted to Karl from the first moment he saw him.
Two men. A truck-load of insecurities and an attraction that can’t be denied. When the full horror of Leo’s past comes to light, will their fledgling connection be strong enough to weather the storm?
I should start off by saying I have not read the first 2 entries in The Blowhole series, I have nothing against M/F pairings, I love any & all well written pairings but over the past 7 years I have primarily read only LGBT genres/pairings. Now as this is a standalone series, I don't feel I was lost or missing something having started with Now or Never. I can also honestly add that knowing and loving Helena Stone's work, one day I will go back and read All or Nothing & Little Rainbows.
On to Now or Never. Karl and Leo are, well simply put: brilliant! Their chemistry smolders off the page/screen, there is no denying that there is a connection between the two men. Whether they let that connection be explored is really not in doubt as Helena Stone enjoys her HEA but the journey they have getting to the end is where the real story is told. Did I want to knock their heads together a few times? Definitely. Did I want to wrap them up in Mama Bear hugs as well? Of course. It's those mutual moments of screaming "Take a chance!" and "It's going to be alright." that really told me I was reading a winner. In my head I have a list that helps me decide where on the "It's a pleasant read to HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!" a book falls and one of those boxes is that kind of warring emotions the characters invoke in me, so when I can tick that box as I did in Now or Never, I knew I had a gem burning up my kindle.
I'll just add that considering the place and type of business Karl manages at The Blowhole club, Now or Never is actually quite mild in the kink department. Even though the kink levels are relatively mild there is never any mistaking the heat between the two leads.
Now or Never is a journey of discovery or perhaps a better word would be acceptance, opening oneself up to the whole you that desires to be free. There is heat, romance, chemistry, drama, angst . . . truth is Karl and Leo's journey is beautifully told running the gauntlet of feels that makes you route for them as a pair but also as individuals from the get go. Wonderful read.
School and Rock by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Summary:Arizona Raptors #5
When Colorado Penn finds an unexpected package on his front step, his life will be changed forever.
Colorado Penn is living the dream. Starting goalie for the Arizona Raptors when in season, lead singer for a hard rock band when summer rolls around. He’s the quintessential free spirit who’s making sure he enjoys all the carnal blessings of his athleticism, and gritty singing voice. Now the Raptors are moving into their first playoff appearance in years, but the arrival of an unexpected package means that hockey may have to take a backseat to something way more important. Instead of the usual undergarments from adoring fans, he finds a newborn baby with a small note tucked under her carrier, naming him as the father. He refuses to give up his daughter and is determined to be the kind of father he’d dreamed of having. But to keep Madeline, he’ll need help, and he’ll need it fast. Enter handsome emergency manny, Joseph. They may be opposites, but Colorado starts to see that Joseph’s stable, calm influence makes his chaotic lifestyle choices seem less appealing. There’s something about the man that soothes not only his infant daughter but also the wild child inside Colorado.
Joseph is one year away from getting his degree in planetary science, working cover shifts at the planetarium, and pulling in income with short term manny gigs. Stars collide as he provides emergency childcare for the wild man of hockey, a man who moves so fast through life that he doesn’t know how to stop. Homeless, and caring for his niece, Emma, fate brings Joseph into Colorado and baby Madeline’s life. Madeline is a sweetheart, and Colorado is trying his hardest to make the best decision for his baby girl. He offers his home and an indecent salary, to keep Joseph in his life until summer’s end. Colorado brings mysticism and metal to Joseph’s sanctuary of science, but somehow Joseph needs to tame this shooting star and create a family. Nothing in the contract said Joseph had to fall in love to make that happen, but when it’s time for him to leave, will the void in his heart ever heal, or will it remain as cold as space itself?
October 2020 Book of the Month:
WOW!
Who knew you could still create amazing couples after so many books in this hockey universe the authors created? Okay, any fan of RJ Scott & VL Locey knew they could do it but to actually read the latest one and watch it unfold is, well, it's something special.
School and Rock is amazing, no simpler basic term that says it all than "amazing". I knew Colorado's story would be fun, he just has that way about him that makes you think he looks at life as one big smorgasbord where everything is up for whatever he desires. Let's be honest, it probably was and then one day a package arrives at his door. Little Madeline Celeste, or Maddie Boo as the big carefree goalie calls her. I think the minute he picks her up he knows his whole world has just slipped it's axis and is headed on a completely different course, he just doesn't know what that course will look like but he knows it's different than before he opened that door.
I'm going to take a minute to talk about Joseph. I'm not a sciencey kind of gal, if there was one subject in school I had to put in the hate column it would have been science, I trust it but I don't need to know the why or how. HOWEVER, though the subject matter would have been different I can certainly understand the predicament he finds himself in when we are introduced to the character. A subject you've spent your life loving and learning about and someone who should know it too gets something wrong and refuses to accept being corrected? Yeah, I would not only call them on it but I probably would have been even less tactful than Joseph was. Unfortunately, his boss sides with the other guy. That's okay because it puts him in an opportunity to meet Colorado.
I'm not going to go into much more than that, I don't want to spoil the pairs' journey that gets them from chaos to HEA. If you've been reading Scott & Locey's hockey universe(not sure what the universe name would be, perhaps Harris-tonna-ptors😉😉) you are well aware that a HEA is in the cards but the path that gets Colorado & Joseph there is where all the fun, all the meat and potatoes happens. Now if you are new to this world, I highly recommend going back and starting from the beginning with Changing Lines(Harrisburg Railers #1) if only for supporting/cameo character continuity, you won't be lost if you don't I just think you will have a helluva lot more fun experiencing it all.
One last note, I want to mention the supporting cast, the new members to this eclectic world: Simon, Colorado's bodyguard/problem-solver/keeping-things-in-line-minder and Natalie and Emma, Joseph's sister and niece. They each not only bring a bit of themselves to the story but they help to tell the boys' tale as well. Through them and their interactions with Colorado and Joseph we see sides of the men they maybe wouldn't let otherwise shine.
I guess what I'm saying is Scott and Locey have made everyone and everything play a part in School and Rock, none of it is page filler and that is what makes this story, this hockey universe so fun and delightful reading.
RATING:
Lonewolf by JL Merrow
Summary:Sex with a stranger can be riskier than you know… particularly if that stranger turns out to be a werewolf. A companion to — or appetiser for — my novel Camwolf.
Two years ago a casual encounter in Stuttgart left Carl changed forever. He thought he could handle being a werewolf—until he passed the curse on to his English lover, Nick Sewell.
Now Carl's come back to Germany to look for answers from the man who made him a monster. But Stefan's disappeared, and in his place Carl finds Christian, who may have as much to hide as Carl does—or even more.
This is a short story in the same universe as Camwolf, but with different main characters. If you've read the novel you may recall that Nick Sewell was turned into a werewolf three years before the start of Camwolf by his then lover, Carl Fisher. This is Carl's story, and it's a dark little tale.
Lonewolf is a companion piece to the author's Camwolf, having not yet read Camwolf, I was hesitant to read this unsure if Lonewolf would effect the novel but having gotten the rec from a FB M/M book rec group, I was told it wouldn't so I went ahead. So glad I did. Lonewolf is a short intriguing look at how one man becomes a wolf and the anguish he feels when he himself turns Nick(the main character from Camwolf). There really is quite a bit packed into this short story, though it may seem a bit disjointed at times I can't help but wonder if the author didn't intend that to help the reader connect with Carl's emotional state dealing with being a wolf. Wonderful little gem that entertained and definitely intrigued me to add Nick's story, Camwolf to my TBR List.
RATING:
To Die For by Davidson King
“Excuse me, can I have a strawberry martini?” I looked up from making a mojito and locked eyes with Sparkles himself. He generally went to other bartenders, but he knew if he asked me, I’d get his drink to him right away. He knew how much I wanted him, and I suspected he used that to his advantage.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me get this one out, and I’ll get you yours.” I winked and was met with an eye roll.
After passing the mojito off to the customer, they handed me their number. I slipped the piece of paper into my back pocket and quickly went over to Sparkles. He stood, eyes wandering over the place while I made his drink. He wore an emerald-green shirt that shimmered when he moved. I couldn’t see his pants, but I had no doubt they matched. His fingers were painted black and he tapped them along the bar. His always hot-pink hair stood out like nothing else, and his face was done up to compliment it all. I had no idea how he did it, but he was a work of art.
“Here you go.”
He dropped a ten on the bar and said to keep it. “Hang on.” I couldn’t hear him huff when I stopped him, but I knew he did. “How is this outfit disco?” I gestured to his garb.
“This masterpiece is the epitome of disco. Look at these pants.” He lifted his leg so gracefully, it was as if he’d done it a million times. Large pieces of what I assumed were sequins were sewn onto the seams of the pants. They were some sort of fancy bell bottoms. “And this top? Are you even being serious right now?” He had a martini in one hand, the other on his hip. “I’m disco inferno up in this shit.”
Holding my hands up in surrender, I smiled and answered, “My apologies. I can clearly see you’re all about funky town.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me get this one out, and I’ll get you yours.” I winked and was met with an eye roll.
After passing the mojito off to the customer, they handed me their number. I slipped the piece of paper into my back pocket and quickly went over to Sparkles. He stood, eyes wandering over the place while I made his drink. He wore an emerald-green shirt that shimmered when he moved. I couldn’t see his pants, but I had no doubt they matched. His fingers were painted black and he tapped them along the bar. His always hot-pink hair stood out like nothing else, and his face was done up to compliment it all. I had no idea how he did it, but he was a work of art.
“Here you go.”
He dropped a ten on the bar and said to keep it. “Hang on.” I couldn’t hear him huff when I stopped him, but I knew he did. “How is this outfit disco?” I gestured to his garb.
“This masterpiece is the epitome of disco. Look at these pants.” He lifted his leg so gracefully, it was as if he’d done it a million times. Large pieces of what I assumed were sequins were sewn onto the seams of the pants. They were some sort of fancy bell bottoms. “And this top? Are you even being serious right now?” He had a martini in one hand, the other on his hip. “I’m disco inferno up in this shit.”
Holding my hands up in surrender, I smiled and answered, “My apologies. I can clearly see you’re all about funky town.”
The Dishevelled Duke by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead
All the champagne cupcakes had gone. Only a few slices of red velvet cake remained, sharing a plate with the last three heart-shaped cookies. Imogen had said that Billy could take them home with him. What a way to arrive. Ten years in London and Billy would appear on his parents’ doorstep with leftover Valentine’s Day cake and hundreds of unsold photographs.
At least I tried.
For the last time, Billy loaded the café’s dishwasher. In a couple of minutes he would turn the sign to closed for the last time, shut the blinds for the last time and leave The Chelsea Bunn forever. He would lug his case through the crowds, clamber onto a packed train and say goodbye to London.
But he wouldn’t say goodbye to Charlie-who-has-no-surname, who came in five times a week for a cup of tea and a bun for the two wolfhounds that dragged him around like slightly undersized donkeys. Charlie with the peppery hair and laughing eyes and the lines that crinkled around them when he smiled. And he smiled a lot.
Billy wouldn’t say goodbye to Charlie because for the last two weeks, his shifts had changed to fit around the shop’s new hours and he hadn’t seen him since. For the Bunn to be busy enough for extended hours was great, but it meant no more Charlie. Charlie didn’t come in late, it seemed, only for that mid-morning tea and cake.
Not having seen Charlie for a fortnight had made Billy realise how much he would miss the friends he had made in London. People from art school, and Imogen, who had given Billy enough shifts to eke out his life in London for just a few more months, even a place to sleep when his love life had turned sour. And most of all Charlie, who always had a smile for him, who always found the time to speak to him.
Billy’s favourite customer.
Not that Charlie would have missed him. Billy was only a server in a café, a barista if he wanted to make his job sound fancy. But he already missed Charlie, and as he wiped down the counter one last time, his gaze fell on the table where Charlie usually sat with his dogs beside him. He’d read the newspaper or fill in a crossword with his silver-barrelled pen, but more than anything he’d just chat to Billy or fuss the dogs that so clearly adored him. The table was empty now and the next time Charlie and the dogs came in, Billy would be long gone. And we never got a chance to say a proper goodbye. Billy drew in a deep breath then crossed to the door and turned the sign to closed.
He buttoned up his coat and, looping his scarf around his neck, he glanced outside.
A light snow had begun to fall, bringing a romantic sparkle to Valentine’s Day that Billy’s life was completely devoid of. He’d enjoyed nothing but romantic failures in his time in London, and spending his last day in the city in a café filled with every kind of Valentine’s-themed cake imaginable had merely reminded him of how little success he’d had in the big city.
It was time to go home.
He pressed the light switches and the shop fell into darkness, only the bulbs in the kitchen illuminated now. With a last look back at the street he flipped the lock down and shut out the world, then turned away and walked back towards the counter. It seemed right that his last night in the city was spent clearing up the mess of other peoples’ Valentine’s Day whilst the rest of the world had fun. Hadn’t that pretty much been the story of his failed adventure in the metropolis?
He jumped at the sound of a sharp knock on the glass door. Someone rattled it, someone who was too late for coffee. Don’t I deserve an evening off too?
“We’re closed!” Billy called.
He saw a figure still there at the door and felt immediately guilty. A slightly shambolic figure. If it was a rough sleeper, Billy would give them the leftover cake. He took the bag from the counter but as he headed to the door, he realised that it was Charlie.
He didn’t have the dogs with him tonight, but carried something large and flat under one arm. With one more knock at the door Charlie turned away, about to be swallowed into that ceaseless tide of Londoners that coursed along the pavement.
Billy nearly snapped the lock off in his haste to open the door. He hoped Charlie would hear him over the noise of the street.
“Charlie!”
At least I tried.
For the last time, Billy loaded the café’s dishwasher. In a couple of minutes he would turn the sign to closed for the last time, shut the blinds for the last time and leave The Chelsea Bunn forever. He would lug his case through the crowds, clamber onto a packed train and say goodbye to London.
But he wouldn’t say goodbye to Charlie-who-has-no-surname, who came in five times a week for a cup of tea and a bun for the two wolfhounds that dragged him around like slightly undersized donkeys. Charlie with the peppery hair and laughing eyes and the lines that crinkled around them when he smiled. And he smiled a lot.
Billy wouldn’t say goodbye to Charlie because for the last two weeks, his shifts had changed to fit around the shop’s new hours and he hadn’t seen him since. For the Bunn to be busy enough for extended hours was great, but it meant no more Charlie. Charlie didn’t come in late, it seemed, only for that mid-morning tea and cake.
Not having seen Charlie for a fortnight had made Billy realise how much he would miss the friends he had made in London. People from art school, and Imogen, who had given Billy enough shifts to eke out his life in London for just a few more months, even a place to sleep when his love life had turned sour. And most of all Charlie, who always had a smile for him, who always found the time to speak to him.
Billy’s favourite customer.
Not that Charlie would have missed him. Billy was only a server in a café, a barista if he wanted to make his job sound fancy. But he already missed Charlie, and as he wiped down the counter one last time, his gaze fell on the table where Charlie usually sat with his dogs beside him. He’d read the newspaper or fill in a crossword with his silver-barrelled pen, but more than anything he’d just chat to Billy or fuss the dogs that so clearly adored him. The table was empty now and the next time Charlie and the dogs came in, Billy would be long gone. And we never got a chance to say a proper goodbye. Billy drew in a deep breath then crossed to the door and turned the sign to closed.
He buttoned up his coat and, looping his scarf around his neck, he glanced outside.
A light snow had begun to fall, bringing a romantic sparkle to Valentine’s Day that Billy’s life was completely devoid of. He’d enjoyed nothing but romantic failures in his time in London, and spending his last day in the city in a café filled with every kind of Valentine’s-themed cake imaginable had merely reminded him of how little success he’d had in the big city.
It was time to go home.
He pressed the light switches and the shop fell into darkness, only the bulbs in the kitchen illuminated now. With a last look back at the street he flipped the lock down and shut out the world, then turned away and walked back towards the counter. It seemed right that his last night in the city was spent clearing up the mess of other peoples’ Valentine’s Day whilst the rest of the world had fun. Hadn’t that pretty much been the story of his failed adventure in the metropolis?
He jumped at the sound of a sharp knock on the glass door. Someone rattled it, someone who was too late for coffee. Don’t I deserve an evening off too?
“We’re closed!” Billy called.
He saw a figure still there at the door and felt immediately guilty. A slightly shambolic figure. If it was a rough sleeper, Billy would give them the leftover cake. He took the bag from the counter but as he headed to the door, he realised that it was Charlie.
He didn’t have the dogs with him tonight, but carried something large and flat under one arm. With one more knock at the door Charlie turned away, about to be swallowed into that ceaseless tide of Londoners that coursed along the pavement.
Billy nearly snapped the lock off in his haste to open the door. He hoped Charlie would hear him over the noise of the street.
“Charlie!”
A Glimpse of Heaven by Olivier Bosman
Prelude
Extract from Alick Lourie’s diary, February 20th, 1895
Well, I’ve gone and done it now. I got kicked out of the house today. First Cambridge, now my own home. Although, in reality, Cambridge was not my fault. The trollop gave me syphilis, not the other way round. She’s the one who should’ve been kicked out of town.
But now I’m on the streets. Homeless. Destitute, with just an allowance of five thousand pounds a year to live on. How will I ever survive?
My mother called me the Beast. Not a beast, but the beast. The one from Revelations. I like that. When it comes to writing my memoir, I think I’ll call it Life of the Beast.
So, how did all this come about? How did I end up sitting in a hotel room in London, chewing on a dried peyote button, scribbling in this journal?
Well, I shall tell you. It all started with the aforementioned drug. The dried peyote which I brought back with me from Mexico. It opened my mind and allowed me to hear the voice of the spirits (I can’t remember exactly which one it was that spoke to me last night. Was it the angel Enoch? Or was it Baphomet? Or Beelzebub?) Anyway, it was the spirit which made me do it. It was the spirit which compelled me to commit this preposterous act, which was both shocking and beautifully poignant at the same time.
Perversion was its goal. To turn things upside down. To shock this dead, stale home back into life. To free myself and the rest of the household from the morals and conventions which have stifled us for so many years.
My mother had gone to church as usual, and Lucy was upstairs, sweeping the hallway. I was drawn by the spirit to go into my mother’s bedroom. This was the place in which I was conceived and born. The place where my pitiful life started. A suitable place, therefore, to witness my rebirth.
I opened the windows wide and let in the cold winter air. The draft seeped through my shirt and stiffened my nipples.
I could hear the ticking of the clock on the dresser. My mother would be back in thirty minutes, and Lucy would come in to tidy up in five. I remained by the window and took off all my clothes. The cool air caressed my body. Goosebumps rose on my skin. I caught my reflection in the mirror. Smooth white skin wrapped tightly over slim, rippling muscles.
The door handle turned. Lucy, punctual as ever, came in to make my mother’s bed. I turned around just as she opened the door. She gasped and put her hands to her mouth. But she didn’t run away. Nor did she stop staring. Lucy had been besotted with me for months. I’d noticed her blushes and coy glances every time I stepped into the kitchen or walked past her in the corridor.
I walked slowly towards her, grabbed her hand and pulled it away from her mouth.
“Oh, Master Alick,” was all that she could say.
I pressed her hand to my chest. Then I pushed it slowly towards my stomach, round my back and onto my arse. I squeezed her fingers around my buttock.
Her face blushed crimson. Her nostrils flared. Her heart pounded beneath her apron.
That’s it, girl, I thought. Let your will be free. Let your passions run loose. There is nothing more damaging to the body than restraint.
I glanced at the clock. Ten more minutes before my mother came home. I pushed her onto the bed.
“Oh, no, Master Alick,” she called. “Not here.”
But it had to be here. On my mother’s unmade bed. On top of the very sheets she slept on. This was a deathbed. This mattress had known no love, no intimacy, no life ever since my father died. I climbed on top of her and pulled up her skirts.
“Oh no, no, no,” Lucy protested, but she didn’t put up any resistance. Her eyes were closed, her breasts heaving.
She moaned as I thrust my cock inside her.
The headboard banged against the wall, shaking the crucifix on the wall above it. I looked up. Jesus’ woeful face stared back at me.
The front door opened. Lucy was too engrossed in her ecstasy to notice, but I listened carefully to my mother’s footsteps. Down the hallway, up the wooden steps and along the creaking floorboards.
I turned my face just as the door handle turned. She stepped into the room, and our eyes met.
She gasped but did not say anything.
I continued to stare at her while I pounded the moaning maid.
Lucy turned her head and saw my mother standing over us. She shrieked. She pushed and scratched and begged me to get off her. But I continued thrusting my pelvis against her, all the while staring into my mother’s eyes.
She remained rooted to the spot. Shocked into paralysis.
Only when I came inside Lucy did I stop. Only after the elixir of my new life had been released did I relent.
Alick Lourie was now officially dead, and in his place had risen the Beast.
Deosil by Jordan L Hawk
Chapter One
Whyborne
I was precisely on time for my meeting. I needed no alarm. At the proper time, I simply awoke. I dressed, combed my hair, and straightened my freshly starched collar. Every motion was practiced, without either haste or slowness.
Perfect.
I departed Whyborne House just as the trolley came to a halt outside. No one spoke when I climbed aboard. I took my place among the other riders, all of us silent, save for the whisper of clothing and tap of shoes when taking or leaving our seats.
The trolley passed smoothly through Widdershins, drawn by some force I couldn’t see. It wasn’t my place to wonder about such things, however, so I didn’t.
“Come to me,” a voice whispered in my ear.
I tensed, and on instinct I glanced to the left, where the voice had come from. No one sat there, and my view out the window was unobstructed. People—or things very much like people, or that had once been people—walked up and down the street, avoiding one another as skillfully and silently as ants in a nest. Their clothing consisted of drab browns and grays, with plain suits for the men and unadorned dresses for the women. A cannery worker might wear a heavy apron, or a fisherman an oilskin coat, but otherwise they were variations on a theme.
I returned my attention to the fore and let the momentary tension slip from me. There was no need for concern.
The trolley halted in front of what had been the Nathaniel R. Ladysmith Museum, and now was…something else. Exactly what eluded my mind, like a fish slipping from my grasp in a murky pond.
No matter. I disembarked the trolley and walked up the steps, merging with the flow of people or things. Some of them looked familiar: the woman with her dark hair, who walked a few feet away from the bronze-skinned man, neither glancing the other’s way. I did not speak to them, nor they to me, and soon I lost sight of them amidst the throng.
“Come to me,” the voice whispered again.
This time, I stopped and looked around for the source of the anomaly. A man with chestnut hair and green eyes barely avoided bumping into me. I felt a strange twinge in my chest at the sight of the spray of freckles across his tanned skin. He passed by, continuing on whatever business he had, without so much as a glance in my direction.
Unease awoke deep in my belly. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Yes—and that something was me. Standing here, blocking the way so everyone else had to divert around me. I was in danger of becoming the grain of sand in the oyster shell—an irritant to be walled away for the good of the host.
I forced myself to move. To go where I was appointed. Through the museum that was no longer a museum. Through shadowy corridors that grew impossibly larger as I walked, until the architecture towered over me. Carved murals covered the walls, the writing on them in strange clusters of dots I could not understand. Something that was like an umbra, but not, slipped past me without acknowledgement.
At last I came to a hexagonal room. A column of blinding light pierced the center. Before it stood a ketoi man. Arcane fire spilled through his skin, and the dark markings along his back and arms writhed. I froze, unreasonably afraid he’d turn toward me, and I’d have to see his face.
“Come to me,” he said. “Before it’s too late.”
I woke with a gasp.
For a wild moment, I didn’t know where I was, the room around me taking on unfamiliar dimensions. The floor heaved beneath me, and I clawed instinctively at the bedsheets.
Bedsheets. The roll of the sea.
I was in my stateroom aboard the Melusine, making my way home to Widdershins with the remaining Endicotts in tow. Cool, salty air flowed in through the open skylight, a welcome break from the summer heat, which had plagued us since leaving the Isles of Scilly in our wake. I breathed deep, willing my thundering heart to settle.
Griffin stirred in the bed beside me. “Is everything all right, my dear?” he asked sleepily.
“Just a dream. A nightmare.”
At one time, those words would have been a comfort. Now, they only roused Griffin further. “Are you certain that’s all it was?”
We’d both had nightmares that were anything but. I when the dweller in the deeps reached out to my mind, and Griffin after his encounter with an umbra in Egypt. “It wasn’t a sending of the dweller,” I said. “That much I’m certain of, at least.” I related what I could recall of the dream to him; even as I spoke, parts of it began to fragment.
“You didn’t know me,” I finished. “Christine, Iskander, we were all there, but we walked past one another as if we were strangers.”
He rubbed my bare arm comfortingly. “It sounds disturbing.”
“It was.”
Griffin wound his arms and legs around me, hugging me tight. “I could never forget you, Ival. Or Christine, or Iskander. You’ve had a great deal on your mind. It’s no wonder you’d dream such troubling things.”
He was right, of course. It had just been a fancy of my anxious mind, nothing more.
“We’re almost home,” he went on. “Hopefully, being on dry land once again will ease your mind.”
We’d put in to Widdershins by sunset tomorrow. Or rather, today, given the hour. Once there, Griffin would take on the task of settling the Endicotts on the old Somerby estate. I’d already begun decoding the Wisborg Codex, using the fragment saved from Balefire’s vault. Back in Widdershins, I’d have the museum’s complete copy of the Codex to work on. Hopefully, it would tell us what we’d need to either keep the masters from returning, or to defeat them if that was our only option.
And hopefully, Persephone and I wouldn’t die in the process.
I sat up and reached for the clothing I’d hung over a chair when we put out the lights. “I’m going up to the deck for a bit.”
“Do you want company?”
I did. I had the sense of our time together slipping away, the grains of the hourglass running out. I wanted to spend every possible second with him, just in case Nyarlathotep hadn’t lied. In case my sister and I really were doomed.
But I couldn’t say that to him. So I just leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Try and get some more sleep. I’ll rejoin you soon.”
I stood for a time near the prow of the ship, watching lightning dance on the horizon. The storm hadn’t reached us yet, and hopefully wouldn’t, but there was something about seeing those distant sparks of light amidst the utter blackness of the sea. Thick clouds covered the stars, and the moon was waning fast.
Lanterns glowed from the other ships in the flotilla. After the destruction of Balefire, the Endicotts needed somewhere new to settle, and for better or worse I’d invited them to relocate in Widdershins. Whether they would stay after we faced the masters’ return remained unclear. At least I now felt relatively certain they wouldn’t try to murder me, whatever else they decided.
I hoped they wouldn’t, anyway.
I preferred this sort of night at sea, if only because the darkness hid the vastness of the water all around me. A youthful accident had instilled in me the fear of drowning, and even though it had been eroded somewhat by various sea voyages—not to mention several dunkings in the ocean at Balefire—it would never truly leave me.
The salty air filled my lungs, and I clasped my hands behind my back. I hadn’t told anyone about the prophecy Nyarlathotep had made to me upon the heights of Carn Moreth, with Morgen’s Needle looming over us both. It claimed the maelstrom created Persephone and me to die, presumably as some sort of necessary sacrifices. That the only way to survive was to turn against the maelstrom and side with the masters.
Which of course was out of the question. Neither of us would even consider such a thing, no matter the personal cost. Besides, Nyarlathotep likely had been lying, just as it had lied to Justinian Endicott and so many others. It had been a thing of chaos, the first servant created by the masters, bound utterly to their will and their existence. Why wouldn’t it have lied?
I only wished I knew for certain whether there was any hope for survival. Or if my time on this earth—my time with Griffin—was truly winding down. If I might hope to see Christine’s child born.
Persephone’s failure to propose to Miss Parkhurst had annoyed me. But perhaps she’d made the right decision after all. Would Miss Parkhurst’s grief be less, than if she lost a wife?
I let out a long breath. There was no profit in such thoughts. If I could not sleep, I could at least work on decoding the fragment of the Wisborg Codex in my possession, rather than wallow in self-pity.
Though I would have preferred to stay in the fresh air, the lighting below was better at this hour, so I retired to the room that served us as parlor, library, and dining area. My notes and the tattered fragment of the Codex were secured behind a brass bar on one of the shelves, and I settled myself with them at the table.
The Wisborg Codex had been written—or perhaps copied from some older text, for all I knew—in the fifteenth century, and every replica I’d seen dated from that time. To preserve its secrets, the unknown scribe had used a complicated system of symbols, impossible to decode unless possessed of the correct key. Once decoded, the tome proved to be written in Aklo, the language used by sorcerers from medieval times on.
I lost myself in decoding and translating. Time passed without meaning, my focus entirely on the aged pages in front of me.
“What do you think, Whyborne?” Christine demanded.
I started, pencil scrawling a mark across the paper. The gray light of dawn struggled through the portholes, and my neck ached from hours spent in the same strained position. Christine and Iskander had emerged from their stateroom at some point, but I’d not even noticed their presence until she spoke.
“Think about what?” I sat back and rubbed at my neck. My eyes felt gritty, and I longed for a cup of coffee rather than tea.
Christine dropped into a chair across from me. “Narmer if the baby is a boy, and Sobekneferu if it’s a girl.”
“Er…”
“I’m not entirely certain about naming our child after one of the pharaohs,” Iskander said as he seated himself beside her. “I thought perhaps, if it’s a boy, we might honor my paternal grandfather, Murgatroyd. What do you think, Whyborne?”
Dear God. The poor child was doomed before it was even out of the womb.
Rupert Endicott chose that moment to put in his appearance, saving me from answering. “Ah, good,” he said, spotting the partial Codex and my scribblings on the table. “You’re making progress, I take it?”
“I am.”
“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together. “Then you can enlighten us all over breakfast.”
Now or Never by Helena Stone
“Well?” The humor in Leo’s voice suggested he knew exactly what dilemma Karl faced.
“Half past seven,” Karl said before dropping his phone on the bedside table.
“So we have time.” Leo continued to squeeze and stroke Karl’s arse. “Good. That gives me a chance to appreciate the view.”
“Not that much time,” Karl muttered. “I’ll have to get showered and changed before going to the office.” Not that there were rules against him wearing casual clothes while on duty, but he preferred not to. Still, he could take thirty minutes without leaving himself with a mad rush to get ready. Which was just as well, since Leo’s ministrations had turned Karl’s morning wood into a rock-hard erection.
“Spoilsport,” Leo muttered.
“I’ll give you spoilsport.”
In one flowing move, Karl turned around, captured Leo by the middle, turned him over, and gave him a slap to his backside. He fully expected his action to result in a playful fight and was surprised when Leo stilled. Leo’s arse cheek had a subtle red glow, and Karl couldn’t take his eyes off it. Moments passed while the mark faded, and Leo remained motionless. Had Karl gone too far? He wished he knew how all this worked. Unable to come up with answers and not sure how to frame the question, Karl moved until he could press his lips against the now almost invisible glow.
“That’s nice too.” Leo’s muttered words were barely audible since his mouth was pressed against the pillow.
Too? Maybe his impulsive action hadn’t been wrong. He’d have to think about what, if anything, that meant, but not now. He turned Leo onto his back and was happily surprised to see his erect cock rest heavily on Leo’s belly. Karl’s mouth watered.
“My face is here, you know.” Amusement was clear in Leo’s voice.
“Pretty as you are,” Karl said without changing his focus, “I like what I’m looking at right now.” He saw a drop of precum emerge and licked his lips.
“So I see.” Leo’s voice was filled with heat. “Just looking, are you?”
Karl recognized a challenge when he heard one. Not that he needed the encouragement. He’d been thinking about this ever since Leo had given him a blow job. He closed the distance between his mouth and Leo’s dick and lapped up the glistening pearl. The taste was…unlike anything he’d ever had in his mouth before. Definitely not unpleasant, although Karl wasn’t sure he’d call it tasty.
Curiosity pushed his musings to the back of his mind. Karl took Leo’s cock into his mouth, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around the head, just because he remembered how much he’d enjoyed it when Leo did the same to him.
“Ohhhh.” The sound Leo made was a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Move.” Leo shifted on the bed, maneuvering both of them until Leo could get his mouth on Karl’s dick.
When Leo swallowed most of his erection down, the lust coursing through Karl’s veins made him forget to suck on Leo’s cock. Then he tried to copy the move but had to pull back when he almost choked.
“Half past seven,” Karl said before dropping his phone on the bedside table.
“So we have time.” Leo continued to squeeze and stroke Karl’s arse. “Good. That gives me a chance to appreciate the view.”
“Not that much time,” Karl muttered. “I’ll have to get showered and changed before going to the office.” Not that there were rules against him wearing casual clothes while on duty, but he preferred not to. Still, he could take thirty minutes without leaving himself with a mad rush to get ready. Which was just as well, since Leo’s ministrations had turned Karl’s morning wood into a rock-hard erection.
“Spoilsport,” Leo muttered.
“I’ll give you spoilsport.”
In one flowing move, Karl turned around, captured Leo by the middle, turned him over, and gave him a slap to his backside. He fully expected his action to result in a playful fight and was surprised when Leo stilled. Leo’s arse cheek had a subtle red glow, and Karl couldn’t take his eyes off it. Moments passed while the mark faded, and Leo remained motionless. Had Karl gone too far? He wished he knew how all this worked. Unable to come up with answers and not sure how to frame the question, Karl moved until he could press his lips against the now almost invisible glow.
“That’s nice too.” Leo’s muttered words were barely audible since his mouth was pressed against the pillow.
Too? Maybe his impulsive action hadn’t been wrong. He’d have to think about what, if anything, that meant, but not now. He turned Leo onto his back and was happily surprised to see his erect cock rest heavily on Leo’s belly. Karl’s mouth watered.
“My face is here, you know.” Amusement was clear in Leo’s voice.
“Pretty as you are,” Karl said without changing his focus, “I like what I’m looking at right now.” He saw a drop of precum emerge and licked his lips.
“So I see.” Leo’s voice was filled with heat. “Just looking, are you?”
Karl recognized a challenge when he heard one. Not that he needed the encouragement. He’d been thinking about this ever since Leo had given him a blow job. He closed the distance between his mouth and Leo’s dick and lapped up the glistening pearl. The taste was…unlike anything he’d ever had in his mouth before. Definitely not unpleasant, although Karl wasn’t sure he’d call it tasty.
Curiosity pushed his musings to the back of his mind. Karl took Leo’s cock into his mouth, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around the head, just because he remembered how much he’d enjoyed it when Leo did the same to him.
“Ohhhh.” The sound Leo made was a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Move.” Leo shifted on the bed, maneuvering both of them until Leo could get his mouth on Karl’s dick.
When Leo swallowed most of his erection down, the lust coursing through Karl’s veins made him forget to suck on Leo’s cock. Then he tried to copy the move but had to pull back when he almost choked.
School and Rock by RJ Scott & VL Locey
One
Colorado
There were quite a few ways to wake up that ensured a day would be a good one.
Not being able to roll over due to the hot, nude bodies sharing a bed was one of my favorites, hands down. Speaking of hands…
I touched a thick leg, a thigh, quite hairy. Tossing my left hand outward, the back of my fingers rested on a substantial breast. I breathed in the smells of warm skin and sex, and rubbed my whiskery cheek against the firm belly my head was pillowed on. A little purr bubbled out of me when my nose bumped a soft cock. Shifting one leg back, I found a hard, muscular body with a meaty calf. I smiled as my eyes remained shut to block out the blazing Arizona sun. Three to one. Yeah, that sounded about right. Even though I was pan I did tend to prefer dudes. That didn’t make my orientation any less valid though. My bed and heart were open to all.
Taking a moment to center and listen to the gentle sounds of so many sleeping lovers, I let my mind wander to the party last night. It had been one hell of a blowout. My place had been packed with fans, groupies, my fellow musicians, and even a couple of the Raptors. The braver ones. A lot of the team shied away from the rock parties.
Which I respected. I didn’t do drugs and drink. Ever. I had few rules in my life but drugs and booze were totally off limits. If others wanted to toke up, snort a line, or dive into a bottle of Jack that was on them. Live and let live. My days were all about pleasure, penning songs, and playing hockey. Oh yeah, and the occasional party like last night’s…
The Chaotic Furballs had signed a record deal with Black Crack Records after the rep, Dilly Andrews, had wooed us fucking hard. And we were more than pumped to sign on the dotted line. Black Crack was one of the biggest and hottest recording companies on the metal scene. They’d risen from obscurity over the past two years by signing new hard rock bands that the other companies were scared to take on. While most places were lusting after K-Pop bands and anyone who sounded like Taylor Swift, Black Crack was all about the metal. They were my kind of people. The band was looking at a massive influx of cash and prestige, something we had worked our asses off for. Now that we’d signed, we’d have to produce. But all that had to wait for hockey to end after we’d just clinched a wild card slot in the playoffs. It was hard balancing two great loves. I’d have been hard-pressed to pick which I adored more, hockey or rock. Both were fundamental to my soul. Both were the most important things in my life. I wasn’t going to turn my back on my band or my team. A real man didn’t walk away from responsibility.
Whoever was playing my pillow was hungry. His belly rumbled in my ear. I kissed his navel, opened my eyes, and snickered to see it was Dilly whose stomach was making so much noise. Right, the record exec had wooed us hard and I’d fucked him twice as hard. And the pink-haired dude, and the blonde chick with the nice tits, and the big roadie who’d been carting drums for us over the past few months. Love was meant to be shared. I should’ve gotten that inked on my ass cheek.
“Rock and roll,” I mumbled, wiggling free of the arms and legs, knotted blankets, and stuffed emu tangled around a skinny dude with pink hair and the lone female in my bed. Pouting when I saw my stuffed Kricker— I missed my fucking emu, stupid wildlife laws— I stumbled around my bedroom naked. A warm wind blew through the open sliding doors carrying the heady scent of desert lavender. Nice.
I found my jeans, a retro pair with huge bell bottoms, and pulled them up over my bare ass. Then I spied the sheer zebra-print kimono the busty blonde sleeping under the roadie had worn last night. I pulled it on then padded out of my room on bare feet. The satiny robe rubbed my neck and I winced. Stopping by a mirror on the wall, I tipped my head to the right. The new ink I’d gotten last night was tender. The redness had gone down and the musical notes were fucking intense. My gaze fell to the tattoo of Kricker wearing a bowler hat on my pectoral.
“Always in my heart, bruh,” I mumbled then patted my chest.
As I ambled through my airy desert home I stopped to check on people, my bandmates in particular, who were all curled around a woman, or two, sleeping off their well-deserved celebrations. I was the only Furball who liked cock, or at least the only one who would freely admit it. Yawning and scratching my belly, I stopped to use the bathroom and stepped over a dude in a kilt sleeping with a red bong in one hand and a green dildo in the other.
“Looks like you had a good night,” I said then relieved myself, flushed, and washed my hands. I took a closer look at myself in the mirror, smiled at the man I saw, and then pattered downstairs, taking care to avoid the empty bottles of booze, a few random kegs, and assorted people I knew and didn’t know. Not to mention there was a drum set in the living room that someone had filled with water and the four fat koi from the cement pond out back. Sniggering at The Beverly Hillbillies reference, I cruised into the kitchen, blinked at the brightness, and glanced around for the electric tea kettle as I wondered where my phone had gone. I found the kettle in the fridge filled with prawns. My phone was sandwiched between the massive cookstove that I never used, and the counter.
“Dudes,” I sighed then washed out the kettle and turned it on.
I always started my day with two cups of ginseng tea sweetened with honey. It was one of a dozen things that my grandmother Alchemy did every morning that I’d incorporated into my routines. Most of my grandmother’s habits were pretty righteous and aimed at taming the beast inside my breast. I missed her company but she was living in Vermont now, heading a co-op of hippie seniors. Soon as hockey was over and the band had laid down some tracks, I was heading to Vermont— the land of Ben & Jerry’s.
While the kettle heated, I dropped my phone into the charger and whispered, “Alexa, play ‘Dude (Looks Like a Lady) by Aerosmith’ on the whole house system. Volume setting concert level.”
I threw my head back, spun in a circle, and started belting along with my idol Steven Tyler. My voice was similar to his, and my stage screams were close. Not that anyone could possibly recreate the majesty of his voice, of course. Shaking my ass through Joe Perry’s guitar solo— if I had a fucking buck for every time I spanked my meat to the fantasy of being wedged between Tyler and Perry I’d own the motherfucking Grand Canyon— I sang along as I filled a mug with hot water, dunked my tea bag, and stirred in some clover honey that Alchemy had sent me last week.
I got a sip in when I thought I heard the doorbell ring. Hard to tell with Aerosmith rocking so loud the windows were humming, but it sounded like the bell. I jumped over two half-naked Asian dudes sleeping on the Italian marble in the foyer curled around each other like a couple of cats. Dio’s “Holy Diver” fired up next. I dropped to my knees, silky kimono fluttering out like wings, and offered up a rock prayer to the dearly departed legend.
The guys behind me giggled. I gave them a wink and then passed my tea along to them to warm themselves before getting to my bare feet and yanking the door open. I expected to see a dude with a brown truck asking me to sign for a delivery. Furball fans and Raptors backers were always mailing me shit. I looked out at the sweeping driveway but there was nothing to be seen but cactus, a roadrunner, and a well-tended flower garden that I never paid any attention to. Gardeners took care of it, just like a cleaning service would come in after I was on the plane to tidy up the house. My agent took care of all that. Who had time?
“Colorado, we’re cold,” one of the dudes— they might have been twins— behind me called in a sing-song voice.
Assuming someone from the party had pranked my ass, I was about to slam the heavy front door shut and warm up the two chilly groupies when a small little mewl, like that of a kitten, drew my attention downward. Thank all the fucking gods I’d passed along that scalding cup of tea to those guys. My whole mental state went blank as I gaped at the tiny baby staring up at me from within its carrier-tote thing. It had a big head with soft, dark peach fuzz and blue eyes. It was all in pink so I figured it was a girl, but why not be more gender-neutral? Come on people. The edge of an envelope stuck out from the base of the carrier, so I wiggled it free.
“Yo,” I said to the baby. It gurgled. “Where’s your mother, little person? Is she around back sleeping it off with Buick? He’s into MILF’s.” Drummers were horn dogs. Proven fact. Just like goalies are weird. I totally owned my shit.
Ripping open the wrinkled letter as a breeze ruffled my stolen kimono and the baby’s soft fuzz, I sat down cross-legged beside the infant and shook open the incredibly short missive.
Colorado,This baby is yours. I named her after my grandmothers Madeline and Celeste.
My gaze flicked to the kid chewing on her fingers. “Grandmothers are cool,” I told her and she gabbled around her fist. I gave her a lopsided smile then the first line of the note sank in and my gut flipped. I focused back to the note written in purple pen.
Raise her well. You can afford her, I can’t. Next time use a condom you slutty man whore.One of a thousand
“Shit,” I whispered, the note fluttering off in the morning wind. Madeline Celeste and I started at each other for a millisecond. Then I dove into what could only be described as a major freak-out. Like I lost it biblically. Snapping up the carrier with the baby I then raced back into the house, a banging tune by Tenacious D blaring throughout the sixty-seven thousand square foot Mediterranean-style mansion. The baby, Madeline, began wailing, which really didn’t do a damn thing for my mental state or Jack Black’s ripping vocals. The twins took one look at me and the screaming infant and melted into the shadows.
I raced into the kitchen, placed the baby on the counter, barked at Alexa to shut the hell up, and then pounced on my phone. There was no way to be sure Madeline was mine without a blood test, but she had some impressive pipes so maybe she was my kid. Although she had blue eyes and mine were a greenish-brown hazel so maybe she wasn’t?
I called Alchemy but her answering machine— honestly, who the hell used an answering machine anymore other than hippie octogenarians— informed me she was on a spirit quest and would not return to this realm until Friday so please leave a message.
In lieu of saying anything, I held out my phone so she could hear my kid… the kid… screaming bloody murder. Allegedly my kid. Right. Allegedly. No proof. Just a letter from someone who thought they were a member of the Borg collective. One of a thousand. Did she hang out with Seven of Nine?
Colorado, stop with the Star Trek shit and focus on the problem before I kick your fucking ass.
“So yeah, this is happening. Can you please call me when you’ve returned to your mortal shell?!” I shouted at my grandmother then immediately felt terrible. “Sorry, just a bit stressed. Please call me, okay. I really need to talk to you. Love. Peace out. Oh my shit, she’s like red in the face!”
I hung up, unfastened the little belt holding the raging baby in the carrier, and slid a hand under her. Recalling holding a teammate’s new baby at a social function last month, I cradled Madeline’s head and placed her against my chest. She quieted instantly. Snot and drool coated my shoulder. Not that I was freaked out by that. Life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have some sort of bodily fluid on your skin.
“Okay, yeah good,” I mumbled, rocking side to side as I made another frantic call. “Yeah, that’s a good girl. Not everyone can relate to Tenacious D in the bright and early. Come on, Vlad, pick up the mother… loving phone before I— Vlad! Oh man, I have a small issue here. Like, really small. Maybe seven pounds and… no, dude, it is not a baby emu. It’s a baby.” Madeline nuzzled my collarbone, sucking madly. Shit. Was she hungry? When had she eaten last? What kind of person dropped a kid off at the door of a notorious asshole rock and roll goalie without some grub? “What do you feed a baby? What? No, dude, I told you it’s not a baby animal. Seriously? Why would I buy a tiger cub? Okay, yeah, it would be cool and does kind of sound like something I’d do. I’ll grant you that one. Vlad, listen, some chick dropped a baby off at my front door and— Yes! A real baby. A human baby. Note said it’s mine.”
My whiskery cheek rested on her soft head as we waltzed around the kitchen. She smelled good, like sunshine and warm kitten fur. A rush of Russian flowed into the room from Vlad. I rolled my eyes as we danced around my phone lying on the counter. All I’d wanted was some tea, some food, maybe one quick round with the four people still snoozing in my bed, and a shower before I left for the airport. Was that asking too—?
“Stay there. I will be over quickly,” Vlad said then hung up.
The panic attack backed off a bit, just enough to jar me into motion. Someone in this mansion had to know what to do for a baby. Every chick I woke up to feed Madeline got super pissy and called me a sexist asshole for asking only women how to care for a baby. Who was I going to ask? Buick? My best buddy in the band could barely feed himself let alone an infant. A mewling, whining baby cleared out the house fast. I suspected she may have shit herself as well if the stench I was smelling was coming from her and not my unwashed skanky man whore ass. I was never so happy to see the arrival of my team captain in my whole life. I was less happy to see Coach Carmichael and his boyfriend.
“Dude, why the hell did you call them?” I barked at Vlad as soon as they entered the house.
“He called because I’m your head coach,” Coach C snapped.
Mark, one of the owners of the Raptors, slid between us with bags of stuff dangling from his fingers. “Take these,” he said and reached to take Madeline from me. I jerked to the side, holding her little body tightly to my chest. Mark gave me a look that screamed irritation. “Take the bags. There’s formula, bottles, and diapers for her.”
I glanced from Vlad to Coach to Westman-Reid while my… Madeline nuzzled my clavicle.
“Thanks.” I hooked the shopping bags on my fingers then carried Madeline into the white living room. There were two. One was white and the other was… sort of an off-white.
“What the hell happened in here?” Coach asked as I laid the baby on a loveseat and sat there staring at her. She really stank.
“We signed a record deal and got a wild card slot,” I replied as Madeline stared holes into my soul.
“Ah, did you party all night?” Mark asked in a tone that immediately sent his comment to my mental trash bin. The owners had never liked me. There were days I wasn’t sure Coach did, but he’d headhunted me, so here I was, in all my Penn family glory.
“I’m clean. I’ll go piss in a jar when we arrive in Vegas, but right now the band and the team kind of take a back seat, yeah?” They all nodded sheepishly. Vlad muttered something about calling Child Services just as I’d worked up the courage to unsnap the tiny pink sleeper Madeline was wearing to check for a diaper disaster. The stench that rolled up from inside her sleeper made us all choke. “No,” I said as my eyes watered and Coach took a step back. “We are not sending my kid to foster care.”
“Colorado, you don’t know she’s yours,” Coach pointed out. I gagged a bit. How could a person so small make such a massive stink? “We’re due in Nevada in five hours for the first round of the playoffs. You cannot travel with that baby. The wise thing to do would be to call Child Services, have the blood test, and if you’re determined to be the father then you can search for the mother. Don’t shake your head, there are legalities that need to be—”
“No. I am not turning my back on her. She’s mine until it’s proven otherwise. Good parents do not leave their kids for other people to raise!” I yelled.
Coach glowered but he didn’t call me out. Mark and Vlad stood in the distance like golems for several seconds until Westman-Reid said something that was actually useful.
“My sisters-in-law use nannies all the time. They might be able to help us out.” Mark glanced around. I nodded. Coach nodded. Vlad nodded. “Okay, so change that diaper and we’ll figure out the formula so she can eat.”
Mark turned his back on us while he rang up a sister-in-law. I peeled open the diaper, just one side, and drew back in total horror. Coach and Vlad left the room like Satan was nipping at their balls. Madeline kicked and giggled.
“Yeah, you think it’s funny but it ain’t,” I mumbled as my eyes watered. “I got you though, baby girl.”
Lonewolf by JL Merrow
Carl’s enquiries at Ingolfs, the dingy bar on the edge of Stuttgart’s Altstadt, had got him nowhere. No one could remember seeing Stefan for well over a year—or at least, no one was willing to admit to it. The barman had known something. He’d looked at Carl with narrowed eyes and flared nostrils, and smirked when he’d mentioned Stefan. As if the man could see inside him, see the beast barely contained within.
Carl downed the dregs of his Weissbier and slammed the glass back down on the scarred oak table. Time to go home. Or what passed for it while he was chasing ghosts here in Stuttgart. His jaw tightened. ‘Home’ was a meaningless concept anyway these days. Leaving the bar, he turned his steps south, towards the river, and stopped to look out upon the lights of the city reflected in its inky waters. He’d once thought Stuttgart beautiful, and no doubt it still was—to anyone whose memories of the city weren’t tainted by violence and horror.
He should never have left Germany—not without getting the answers he’d come back here, two years later, to seek. But at the time... At the time, all he’d wanted was to get away. Away from this place with its nightmares-made-flesh. Away from the lover who’d proved to be a monster.
Away from the terror that he’d become one himself.
Sometimes, though, there’s just nowhere far enough to run.
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.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. 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.
Catherine Curzon is an author and royal historian of the 18th century.
In addition to several non-fiction books on Georgian royalty, available from Pen & Sword, she has written extensively for a number of internationally-published publications, and has spoken at venues and events across the United Kingdom. Her first play, Being Mr Wickham, premiered to sell-out audiences in September 2019.
Catherine holds a Master’s degree in Film and when not dodging the furies of the guillotine can often be found cheering for the mighty Huddersfield Town. She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill with a rakish colonial gentleman, a long-suffering cat and a lively dog.
Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She knows rather a lot about poisons, and can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens, and has a huge collection of vintage hats. She is the winner of the Best Dressed Sixth Former award and came third in the under-11s race at the Colchester Fire Swim.
Originally from the south-east of England, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.
Born to Dutch parents and raised in Colombia and England, I am a rootless wanderer with itchy feet. I've spent the last few years living and working in The Netherlands, Czech Republic, Sudan and Bulgaria, but I have every confidence that I will now finally be able to settle down among the olive groves of Andalucia.
I'm an avid reader and film fan and I have an MA in creative writing for film and television.
Jordan L Hawk
Jordan 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 the handy-dandy icons up there in the menu bar, or send an email.
Helena Stone can’t remember a life before words and reading. After growing up in a household where no holiday or festivity was complete without at least one new book, it’s hardly surprising she now owns more books than shelf space while her Kindle is about to explode.
The urge to write came as a surprise. The realisation that people might enjoy her words was a shock to say the least. Now that the writing bug has well and truly taken hold, Helena can no longer imagine not sharing the characters in her head and heart with the rest of the world.
Having left the hustle and bustle of Amsterdam for the peace and quiet of the Irish Country side she divides her time between reading, writing, long and often wet walks with the dog, her part-time job in a library, a grown-up daughter and her ever loving and patient husband.
RJ Scott
RJ Scott is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over 140 romance and suspense novels. From bodyguards to hockey stars, princes to millionaires, cowboys to military heroes to every-day heroes, she believes that love is love and every man deserves a happy ending.
USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, 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 pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two 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 one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.
JL Merrow is that rare beast, an English person who refuses to drink tea. She read Natural Sciences at Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab ever again. Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.
She writes (mostly) contemporary gay romance and mysteries, and is frequently accused of humour. Her novel Slam! won the 2013 Rainbow Award for Best LGBT Romantic Comedy, and several of her books have been EPIC Awards finalists, including Muscling Through, Relief Valve (the Plumber's Mate Mysteries) and To Love a Traitor.
JL Merrow is a member of the Romantic Novelists' Association, International Thriller Writers, Verulam Writers and the UK GLBTQ Fiction Meet organising team.
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Catherine Curzon
Eleanor Harkstead
FACEBOOK / TWITTER / WEBSITE
INSTAGRAM / B&N / BOOKBUB
GOOGLE PLAY / PRIDE PUBLISHING
KOBO / AMAZON / GOODREADS
INSTAGRAM / B&N / BOOKBUB
GOOGLE PLAY / PRIDE PUBLISHING
KOBO / AMAZON / GOODREADS
EMAIL: contact@eleanorharkstead.co.uk
Olivier Bosman
Jordan L Hawk
EMAIL: jordanlhawk@gmail.com
Helena Stone
EMAIL: helenastoneauthor@gmail.com
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
VL Locey
JL Merrow
To Die For by Davidson King
The Dishevelled Duke by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead
A Glimpse of Heaven by Olivier Bosman
Deosil by Jordan L Hawk
Now or Never by Helena Stone
School and Rock by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Lonewolf by JL Merrow
