Thank you for inviting me to your blog with new release, MM romance, Snowflake Wine.
The story is contemporary gay romance with an edge of fantasy, especially written as a sweet but sexy Christmas treat.
Jamie Snow and Nathan Bloom, my characters are as usual, dear to me.
Jamie has battled all his life with his strange, fantastic gift. His is the character that brings the element of fantasy to the story. The inspiration behind the creation of this character came, weirdly enough, in the summer, when I visited a ruined abbey. In the grounds were flowering shrubs that I’d never encountered before. From a distance, the flowers looked like frost, and as I drew close, into my mind came the idea of Jamie, a sprite who loves cold, ice, frost, and to comfort himself in the warm weather, he decorated the shrubs with frost flowers.
Nathan Bloom is the perfect partner for Jamie—gorgeous, calm, loving and open. He’s looking for love. He’s onto Jamie’s gifts long before he lets Jamie know it. This is a love story—romantic, sexy, hopeful.
Blurb
Hunky Nathan Bloom works late for the company putting up the town Christmas lights and decorations.
Gorgeous, enigmatic, Jamie Snow works late forecasting the weather from his desk in the meteorology office.
Nathan sighs over the prospect of a holiday season with no one to love.
Jamie wonders if he’ll ever find a man to love who will accept his mysterious origins and talents.
One cold night, as Nathan finishes hoisting the wreath lights up the building where Jamie works, they meet.
The brilliant festive lights aren’t the only things to sparkle as the two men connect on a deep level.
Be delighted by a delicious, contemporary, gay romance with an edge of fantasy this season.
On launch special price, all Amazon sites until Dec 14
Read a teaser:
Jamie Snow sat alongside Nathan. He glanced across at the man who stirred his frosty heart. He’s so attractive. Jamie hadn’t loved in a long time. He felt more than ready for it—longed for it on lonely nights. He wasn’t about to give up on the chance that this man might want a lover, that he was gay wasn’t in question. No straight guy looked the way he had at another man.
“My name’s Jamie, Jamie Snow.” He softened his voice as he spoke. The man beside him inspired tenderness and he felt a little prick of guilt. Using the weather to flirt with him had been inspired but maybe a little naughty.
Nathan drove the truck into a wide car lot that Jamie hadn’t known existed behind the furniture store on the end of the main street. “Here we are. The store allows us to leave the bigger rigs here every year. Jamie Snow—that’s an interesting name for a meteorologist—mine’s Nathan Bloom.”
Jamie’s smile infused his tone. “Yes. People tease me sometimes at work, they’ll know we’ve forecast it and as I walk by they’ll say, ‘here comes the snow,’ but I don’t mind. I like this name.”
“You’ve had others?” Nathan asked with a laugh.
Jamie didn’t want to reply. He waited. I won’t be lying to this lovely guy if I don’t answer.
Nathan turned off the truck engine and twisted to talk to Jamie. “It’s a cool name. Where do you live?”
It appeared he’d forgotten his question.
Happiness trickled into Jamie’s soul that the attractive man beside him liked his name, and used the word, cool. Eagerly, Jamie told Nathan his address on the outskirts of the town.
Nathan grinned, his eyes reflecting Jamie’s emotion. “I know it well. I live a couple of streets south from there.”
Copyright Elodie Parkes, 2018, Encompass Ink
About Elodie
I’m a writer who is in love with happy endings, currently based in southern UK. I write for Evernight Publishing, Siren, Hot Ink Press, Encompass Ink, and eXtasy Books.
I love music, art, flowers, trees, the ocean. I work with antiques by day and words by night. Like a vampire, darkness is my friend, that’s when the silence is only broken by an occasional hoot of owls in the woodlands opposite my home, and I write.
A few years ago I went sightseeing in my own backyard and fell in love with a beautiful area just a few hours outside of Toronto called the Kawarthas. It’s the kind of place where I could imagine buying a cottage, or even picture moving to on a more permanent basis one day. You see, it has a vibe. I know – how very woo. But it does. It’s magical, almost otherworldly. And I knew in an instant I was going to create a fictional universe based on this bewitching region in Ontario, Canada.
SHADOWY PINES by L.D. Blakeley Available: November 28, 2018
Paranormal Romance, MM Romance, Magical Realism
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77339-846-4
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer | Editor: CA Clauson
When an over-educated, underemployed millennial is called home to help with the family business, he jumps at the chance to leave his crap job, crappier love life, and the city behind.
But moving to Shadowy Pines isn’t quite the idyllic life change Finn Parks imagined.
How the hell do you cope when you find out magic – actual magic – is real? Or that you also happen to come from a long line of powerful witches? And that handsome man with all the sizzle? Yeah, he might be trying to kill you.
“You’d be surprised how easily swayed I can be by a handsome face.”
Not for nothing, but Finn was fairly certain that was a come on. It had been a while, but he did remember what one sounded like. This one was … nicer, somehow. It still had the promising lilt of innuendo, but it didn’t sound like it had been rehearsed or lifted from bad porn dialogue.
“My aunt says you’re new in town, too. What’re you here for?”
“Business. Boring family business.”
“How vague,” Finn teased.
“Seriously. My father sent me back here to check out a vineyard. He’s interested in adding it to the wine brewing facility we already run, the Sharpe Wine Butler on the outskirts of town. You know it?”
“Can’t say I do, but it sounds more interesting than why I moved here.”
“Why are you in Shadowy Pines?”
“Jude and Poppy needed my help, I had nothing worth holding on to in the city, so—here I am.” Finn shrugged. “Now that’s boring,” he added with what he hoped was a charming smile.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Finn.” Owen pulled his chair closer and placed his hand on Finn’s knee. “Feel that?”
Of course he did. It felt as though a live wire had been placed against his bare skin.
“Yes.” Finn cursed the breathy, needy tone his voice had taken on. “What…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase his question so it wouldn’t offend. “What is that? I mean, I get the concept of electrical attraction, but this? This isn’t normal.”
When Owen didn’t reply right away, Finn prodded, “Right?”
“No, not really.” Owen’s fingers were slowly caressing Finn’s leg and inching their way up his thigh “Not for most people.” Owen leaned forward and took Finn’s face in both hands and brought their lips so close Finn swore he could taste him. Owen’s eyes visibly blazed in a way that barely seemed human. Finn froze, his breath catching in his throat.
When Owen finally pressed their lips together, Finn felt another jolt of electricity arc through his entire body and he gasped at the sensation. Owen’s fingers at his nape trailed delicious sparks across Finn’s skin as he licked at the seam of Finn’s mouth. Finn opened eagerly and nipped at Owen’s bottom lip. Never had a kiss made him so crazy with want. He needed to touch, wanted to crawl inside of Owen and feel him from the inside, out. But as Finn reached out a hand, Owen pulled away, his breathing every bit as labored as Finn’s.
“We’re different, Finn.” Owen licked at his lips and watched Finn’s eyes follow the tip of his tongue. “You’re different. You know that, right?”
Finn had no response. None that made any sense. Right now all he wanted was to tear at Owen’s clothes and taste every last inch of the man. But for some reason, Owen had put on the brakes and wanted to discuss—what, exactly? Finn was at a loss. And his dick could have cut glass.
“The woman in the grocery store. You mentioned that wasn’t the first time you’d seen her, right?”
“Right.” Finn’s voiced faltered slightly. Not sure where Owen was going with this, he gestured for him to continue.
“I think she saw you for what you are.”
“And what exactly is that?” Finn asked, not sure he wanted an answer.
“You’re a witch, Finn.”
Owen’s face was so serious, so earnest, Finn almost believed him for a split second.
Almost.
He threw his head back and laughed uproariously. He laughed so hard, he could feel tears well up in his eyes. Well that’s an effective way to kill an erection.
But Owen’s expression hadn’t changed an iota. He simply sat and stared at Finn.
“Are you—oh, god, you’re serious aren’t you?”
Dammit! He knew there was a reason he’d established his dating embargo. He certainly could attract the crazies.
About the Author:
L.D. Blakeley is a pragmatist with a romantic soul & a dirty mind. She loves horror movies, hot sex, and happily ever afters. She’s easily distracted by shiny things, and is a slightly neurotic, highly ambitious dreamer who enjoys dabbling in photography & pretending she can carry a tune.
In another life, L.D. was a newspaper reporter, an entertainment & music writer, travel writer, website content editor, and a marketing shill. Now she prefers to spend her time writing hot, steamy fiction (with a healthy dose of romance) about intriguing, sexy men. Although she dreams of living some place isolated with an endless supply of wine and an infinite number of titles on her eReader, she currently lives in downtown Toronto with her husband and their rock star cat.
Nic Kristol wants one thing for Christmas — a second chance. Being dead makes second chances hard, but the moment he sees Jon, he’s determined to meet the handsome man.
Jon Ruhle thought he’d given up on romance, but along came Nic. He’s drawn to the mysterious man and would love to spend the holidays together. There’s just one problem — Nic’s a spirit. Will he and Nic find their forever together or apart?
“I’m going to try something new,” Jon said. “Remember me telling you about that bistro, Kim’s Place? That’s the new bar I went to a few times with Brett.”
Willie Gus said nothing — not that Jon expected him to reply. He plopped onto his side and licked his back leg.
Jon marveled at the cat’s dexterity. He swore if he could bend like that, he’d never leave the house. Why have a boyfriend if you could lick your own balls?
He sighed. Why was he telling the cat about his plans for the evening? Because Willie Gus was the only one who listened. Jon had once thought he could see spirits. Hadn’t he spoken to the ghost of his grandmother? Brett swore he was crazy. Maybe so. Jon still believed he’d talked to his MeMaw.
“Anyway, I’m going to see if I can catch the eye of the server, Nic. He’s adorable.” No, adorable didn’t begin to describe Nic. The guy had muscles everywhere, a toned tush, a great sense of style — despite the bland server garb — personality in spades, and those eyes. Jon could get lost in Nic’s deep brown eyes. He focused on the cat. “I love how easygoing Nic can be.” He frowned. “Do you think he’s doing it to get a bigger tip? Or because he’s really interested?” Was he wrong to want to pay for the positive attention? Maybe.
Probably.
His phone rang. The cat growled, then darted from the counter. Jon swiped to check the listing on the screen. The library. What in the hell were they calling him for? He wasn’t on the schedule for that evening and besides, the library closed in half an hour.
He answered, despite his better judgment to leave well enough alone. “Hello?”
“Hi. Are you home?”
He knew that voice. Brett. “No, I’m out.” Liar. He’d be leaving soon, but hadn’t gone yet.
“Why?”
“You sound like I’m being mean,” Brett said. “I wanted to see what you’re doing.”
“I’m out.” He refused to give his ex any details.
“Would you be able to swing by the library and cover for me tonight? I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” Brett said. “I could use your help. You’re always good for a favor.”
“Not tonight.” He kept his voice level, despite wanting to scream. “You’re trying to get out early to meet a guy, and you want me to close so I’ll see you with this guy. It’s your standard operating procedure.”
“I’m hurt.” Brett whimpered. “I don’t do that.”
“It’s seven-thirty and the library closes at eight,” Jon said. “You can cool your heels for thirty minutes. You can handle closing, and I don’t want to leave my date in order to help you. I’m not the boss.”
“Jon.”
The poutiness in Brett’s voice grated on Jon’s nerves. “No.”
“You were more fun when we were together,” Brett said. “You weren’t so angry.”
“Maybe it’s because I didn’t know back then that you were cheating on me,” Jon snapped. “Now I know the truth.”
“I never cheated,” Brett said. “Come to the library and keep me company. It’s cold and snowy. Plus, we can heal old wounds.”
He could stand only so much lying, and Brett had gone over his limit. “I’m out.” He checked his look in the mirror alongside the table. The bistro closed at nine — he wasn’t sure why — but he wanted to try to get a drink with the hottie server. If he was going to go through with his plan, then he needed to get moving.
“Jon.”
“Sorry. You have your job, and you’re scheduled tonight. I’m not. I have places to go after I leave this club.” The excuse didn’t sound great, but who cared?
“Who is he?” Brett asked.
“Nic.” Christ. He wasn’t with the guy, but Nic’s name rolled right off his tongue.
“Do I know him?”
“Maybe.” Jon had seen Nic four times when they’d gone to the bistro, but Brett had paid no attention. Brett had been focused on the other men at the establishment. But that was Brett — he hated to pay Jon much mind.
“Have I dated him?” Brett asked.
“I don’t know, but I doubt it.” Jon stood and finger-combed his hair with his free hand. He wanted to look his best for Nic.
“Let me meet you. I want to check this guy out,” Brett said. “You know, make sure he’s on the level.”
“I’m good.” Jon appraised his reflection in the mirror. He needed all the confidence he could get, but damn, he was cute. Not handsome or drop-dead gorgeous, but cute. “I need to go. Nic’s ready and the bar is boring.”
“Jon.”
He disconnected the call. “Oops.” Once he grabbed his coat and scarf, he stepped into his leather boots. He tucked his phone into his coat pocket, then snagged his keys and wallet from the table. He turned to Willie Gus. “Wish me luck.”
The cat sneezed, then left the kitchen again. So much for the feline’s vote of approval.
“I’m out. Hopefully, it’s a good night.” Jon left the apartment and locked up.
He headed downstairs and the spring returned to his step. Giddiness filled his mind. He was about to ask someone out for the first time in months. Holy shit. Could he do this?
He stepped into the bitter December air and gasped. He tugged his collar and scarf tighter around his throat. Christmas carols played on the loudspeakers along the street. Twinkle lights shimmered from the light poles, illuminating his path. Tinsel Christmas trees rustled on the trash bins, and a dusting of snow added a festive feel to his four-block journey.
Jon loved living in the center of Danielsville. He could walk to the stores, restaurants and even the theater. The library was only five blocks away. The police presence in town ensured anyone downtown would be safe. Why move away from such a wonderful situation?
He ducked into the bistro to find it mostly empty. He’d expected a large crowd, it being a Friday night and not long before Christmas. Where were the throngs of shoppers needing to wet their whistle after strolling downtown? He looked for Nic. Was his favorite server there?
“Hi, you.” Nic sashayed up to him. “I hoped you’d come in tonight. Is it chilly out?”
“Freezing.” Jon swept his gaze over Nic. The burgundy long-sleeve shirt clung to his frame and showcased the strength in his upper body. The long apron covered his lower half. Pity. He loved looking at Nic’s body. He swallowed the whimper in his throat. He’d been cold until now, but the chill evaporated. Heat enveloped him and not because of the fireplace or his coat. “Which section is yours?” he managed. “I want to be in your section.”
“Over here.” Nic grinned. He seemed to shimmer from the inside. Was he wearing glitter? Nic paused and touched Jon’s biceps. “Are you sure you want my section?”
“Of course.” He wished he could lean into Nic. He loved the heat radiating from him. “Lead the way.”
“I’m off once I close out your tab.” Nic gestured to a booth. “But I’m thrilled you came here for me. I’m getting the feeling you like me.”
“I do,” Jon blurted. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to be so blunt. Chalk it up to being bitten by the Christmas spirit.
PLAYLIST
I write to music. Sometimes it’s a movie, but most of the time I need tunes. These are the ones that inspired and were listened to while I wrote Pick Me Up, a Christmas Spirits story.
Eclectic grouping, isn’t it? That’s me, though. I don’t have many set playlists or specific ones for specific books. These are the songs that were on my lists during the writing of this book.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
When she’s not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the boys don’t seem to mind.
When she’s not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet from school.
She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her fancy best.
Jason and Aaron have been together since Aaron was a freshman. Now Aaron is a senior and getting ready to pursue his art career in NYC. But Aaron, growing up poor, can’t quite believe that anyone would want to help him support his talent – not even his lover, Jason. As they near the holidays, Aaron sinks into despair.
Jason believes in Aaron, but his boyfriend’s refusal to let him help is pulling them apart. Will the season of hope bring them together or will it destroy their love forever?
This short story is part of a much longer series tentatively called Year of the Queer. This first installment doesn’t have the series title because it also works great as a stand alone.
Over twenty years ago, I began the series of which Painter’s Pride is the first book. I started these books with a simple idea: what if LGBTQ people from all over a certain geographical area all had one touchstone: a drag queen named Griffin whose own dark past leads her to seek out other broken souls? The series, when complete, will include the following: two full-length novels and five or six novellas. In addition, there will be other “shorts” like Painter’s Pride centered around the holidays in the lives of the characters.
Here’s a little about the one novel and novella that are finished and should be published in 2019:
First story: The Prince and the Painter: This is the story of Jason and Aaron, the couple from Painter’s Pride, and how they find each other during Aaron’s first year of college.
Blurb: Aaron Spencer grew up keeping secrets. The depth of his family’s poverty is the least. When his boyfriend-in-the-closet is murdered and Aaron is raped by one of the murderers, he buries it in the hopes that if he leaves town, he’ll be able to put it all behind him.
Jason Cooper also lost a friend to that murderer. Fully living in the sunlight as a bisexual man, he is taken by Aaron’s grace and androgynous beauty at once. He raws the younger man to him and together they begin a new life.
But the man who raped Aaron still wants him—and this time he means to keep his prize. Can Aaron and Jason triumph over such despotic lust and come to their own love?
Second story: This second story, a novella, is finished but has no title as of yet. (Titles are one of my weaknesses and I may turn the finding of a title into a contest.)
Blurb: Krys is trans, f2m. Krys has cancer, although it is in remission. When he meets an oncologist-to-be who is sexy, passionate, and kind, Krys falls for him immediately.
Daiden enjoys Krys’s company, but Krys’s lingering belief that he’s going to die and leave Daiden as others have left both men in the past makes it impossible for him to truly get close to the person he dreams of day and night.
Jason Cooper slung his satchel over one of the sturdy pegs of the oak coat tree. That piece of furniture had been a gift from his brother, Chris, who ran a carpentry business back in their hometown of Lilacville, New York. It could hold at least three heavy bags without tipping over. Jason and his two roommates had repeatedly tested that claim and never found it false.
“So?” one of his roommates, Daiden, asked as he poked his head out of the bedroom he shared with his husband, Krys. “Was your scouting venture successful?” Tousle-haired and bleary-eyed, he’d clearly just woken up. Considering his usual twelve-hour shifts as one of NYC’s best oncologists, Jason didn’t blame him for sleeping in the middle of the day.
“Where’s Krys?” he countered as he kicked off his sandals and left them beside the coat tree. It was a Saturday; he should be home.
“Last I knew, he was going shopping. He said we needed to make a good impression on your guest.”
Good impression. Yeah, right. Krys and Daiden had done nothing but needle Jason about his two-year, long-distance relationship with Aaron. Not because they didn’t know and like Aaron but because… Well, each had his reasons. Krys thought Aaron would miss living in the country too much to ever settle down in Manhattan. Daiden was of a mind that Aaron was too “proud about being poor” to ever live in a vaulted-ceilinged, hardwood-floored apartment with Jason. “The only way he’ll ever settle in is if he strikes gold with his paintings first thing.”
Jason sort of believed Daiden.
“So, how did it go?” Daiden asked.
“I got the tickets. Are you sure I can borrow your picnic blanket?”
“Absolutely. And the hamper too. There’s nothing like sitting out under the sun in Central Park and enjoying a little al fresco lunch.”
Jason was fully aware of the tension crawling up the back of his neck. Even though the tickets had been free, it was a “donations expected” concert put on by the Philharmonic. All proceeds would go to Manhattan’s underprivileged schools for their music programs. Ninety percent of the public institutions in NYC were disadvantaged. Jason worked at one of these schools. Not only had his choice two years ago given him a trial by fire, but his student loans had been forgiven.
He would simply have to find a way to slip the orchestra money without Aaron knowing how much. Because Aaron would only be able to afford a dollar or two.
Jason went into his bedroom and shoved everything in the closet over to the left. Then he began extracting hangers. Aaron was as much of a neat freak as he was; it simply wouldn’t do for his week’s worth of clothes to be crammed into the suitcase during those seven days.
Aaron didn’t visit often and, because of his school schedule, neither did Jason. But now Aaron had said he was ready to take the plunge. After his final semester of school in the fall, he would be moving in with Jason, Daiden, and Krys.
Jason could hardly be more thrilled by the prospect. Just so long as Aaron’s “I have to pay for everything myself” streak of pride didn’t drive him crazy, he could see them settling down together happily. He’d loved Aaron since nearly their first meeting and he could only see joy in any future they made together.
Once he was done preparing the closet, he triple-checked his nightstand for condoms and lube. For six months after Aaron had been raped, they’d used condoms in case the monster had AIDS. They’d both started to enjoy not having to change the sheets as frequently.
Only when he was ensuring that all the squares in his quilt were perfectly straight and flat did Jason admit he was trying to kill time before Aaron’s bus arrived. The fact that Aaron wasn’t coming until tomorrow underlined Jason’s nervousness. Aaron had seen this room in its summer neatness and its mid-school-year disorder. Yes, but last time he wasn’t getting ready to move in here. I want to show him my best face.
* * *
Jason had always asked him to wait in the bus station. Today especially Aaron didn’t mind since he had luggage and it was ten blocks to Jason’s house. On those occasions when Aaron’s bus got in before sunrise, he understood his boyfriend’s caution.
He really didn’t mind waiting for Jason under normal circumstances. It was just the guy scoping him out from three chairs down. He’d gotten on the bus about an hour before this final stop and he’d sat next to Aaron. There hadn’t been many other open seats so Aaron hadn’t argued. But the guy reeked of cologne and he kept trying to chat Aaron up. Once they’d reached their destination and Aaron hadn’t given the man more than his first name and the news that he was going to visit his boyfriend, he’d assumed that would be the end of the matter. But here the dude was, actually approaching him with a sneaky little grin.
He plopped down right next to Aaron, nudging Aaron’s foot with his boot. “Yeah, you know, your ‘boyfriend’” — Aaron could hear the sarcasm quotes –”isn’t here yet. We could go get a cup of coffee.”
Aaron pulled his suitcase closer. He wasn’t really afraid the reprobate would steal it, that didn’t seem to be what he was after, but having the luggage close made him feel safer. “No thank you. Jason will be here soon.”
“If he really loved you, he would have been waiting.”
Jason usually was waiting. Aaron felt a twinge of unease. Not that he believed Jason didn’t love him but it was so unlike Jason to be late for anything.
The hand on his knee startled him. And when it scooted higher, he stiffened.
“Blow me,” the guy whispered. “We’ll go in an alley — I know one nearby. I’ll pay you $50. How would that be?”
Aaron got up, stumbled over his suitcase, and almost fell. Did he look that poor?
“Whoa.” The man was right after Aaron, catching his arm in an iron grip. “Relax. I can’t be the first guy you’ve blown for cash.”
He did think Aaron was that poor. Or that he looked like a prostitute.
“Aaron!” Jason shoved his way between them, acting like he didn’t even see the jerk, although he did take the time to discreetly break the hold on Aaron’s bicep. “I’m sorry I’m late. My alarm didn’t go off.”
Aaron forced himself not to sag against his lover. He looked at the man — and saw him slinking away. Aaron glanced down and saw his suitcase was still where it belonged.
“Are you okay?”
Aaron nodded. “I just… Some guys don’t know no means no.” He decided not to tell Jason he’d been mistaken for a prostitute. He wasn’t wearing anything revealing, although his jeans were a little tight because he found that style the most comfortable.
He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
He’d seen the inside of Jason’s apartment before, of course, but Aaron couldn’t help seeing it with fresh eyes. In less than six months, he’d be living here. The hardwood floors, the crown moldings, the built-ins… this place was too beautiful for the likes of him.
That’s not quite true. I deserve as much as anyone else. I survived Vance’s attacks and kidnapping as well as Isaiah’s attention. It’s just that I haven’t earned this yet. Maybe I should have tried to become a teacher.
“Aaron!” Daiden appeared, grinning. He was dressed for work already and had his lunch bag in one hand, his briefcase in the other. “Glad you made it safe.”
Krys was just behind him, dressed in a conservative suit. He’d stopped teaching at State University of New York’s Besker College in favor of working for the United Nations full time about a year ago. He looked good. His second bout of cancer must be abating. He grinned at Aaron. “You looked a little peaked.”
Aaron tried to shrug it off. “Getting up at one to catch a bus at two is a little rough,” he admitted.
“Jason has all summer off,” Daiden said as he headed for the door. “You could have taken a later bus.”
Which would have been more expense. “I don’t mind,” he answered.
Krys and Daiden disappeared out the door.
And Jason came to Aaron’s side, taking his hand and kissing it. “Are you really okay?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Emily Carrington has been writing m/m erotic romance (specializing in urban fantasy) since 2010. She is currently branching out into the other letters of the LGBTQ rainbow. She lives in Maryland with her guide dog. For short stories about the main and side characters in her books, please visit her website.
Thank you for inviting me to your blog today with new release MM romance,
String of Pearls
The story is set in the same SciFi fantasy city as last year’s release, The Dreamboat.
Indigo Vaughn, the warlock head of security, features in the story along with a new cast of characters. When I wrote The Dreamboat, I already had the new characters in my head along with their story. Tobias Mars and Dante Pepper, the elite space pilots for the royal court, very nearly made an appearance in The Dreamboat, but because that story is about Indigo at last finding love, I decided they needed their own story.
Once upon a time Dante and Tobias were close to becoming lovers, but Dante met Viridian and fell in love. Tobias has yet to meet his love when String of Pearls, opens. He’s a man of high integrity, handsome, caring, but also longing for love and sex. String of Pearls is his love story.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Handsome, elite space pilot, Tobias Mars is completing a special mission, when on a water planet, recently ravaged by space pirates, he discovers Dreft Hann hiding and injured in the sand dunes.
There’s instant attraction between the two men, but honorable Tobias believes the fact Dreft is in his care precludes him from showing his growing love for the young man. What’s worse is his shocking discovery of Dreft’s real identity. Even so, Tobias can’t deny his feelings for Dreft.
When head of royal security, powerful warlock, Indigo Vaughn discovers Dreft’s secret, he anticipates trouble.
As beautiful Dreft falls in love with Tobias and dreams of joining the elite pilot squad, trouble is brewing from someone in Dreft’s past.
Will love finally win with so many obstacles in Tobias and Dreft’s path?
Warning, the book contains MM sex, MMM sex, gay anal sex, MM oral sex
BUY THE BOOK
On special new release discount price only on the Evernight Publishing website
Tobias Mars gazed at Dreft lying on top of the bed in room ten of the infirmary. Hari’s treatment had worked wonders and not only on Dreft’s wounds. Hari had cleaned Dreft up. His hair, now a dirt-free glossy hazelnut brown was brushed back to show off the handsome planes of his face. Hari had replaced Dreft’s strange boy-like clothes with the infirmary’s grey cotton pants and t-shirt. The man was, as his colleague, Dante, put it, deliciously pretty. For a fleeting moment, Tobias wondered what it would be like to kiss those perfect lips and hold that muscular body to his own. He shook the thought away.
Dreft opened his eyes and a shy smile spread on his mouth. As Tobias neared him, he shuffled up the bed to sit. “Thank you so much for helping me, sir.”
Tobias pulled a chair beside the bed and sat. “My name’s Tobias, Tobias Mars—no need to call me sir. How are you feeling?”
The handsome man’s eyes held gratitude. “I’m so much better. Thank you. I noticed the insignia on your jacket, sir.”
Tobias grinned as his fingers went to trace the gold and blue embroidered crest. “I’m one of the queen’s pilot explorers. I guess you could call us the elite unit. All the same, call me Tobias. I’d like that.”
“I’ve heard that you have to be aristocracy to be chosen for the unit. Is that true?”
A little frown creased between Tobias’s eyes. “Have you? Where’d you hear that?” A spike of worry prevented him from answering with the truth. His intense security training from the warlock, Indigo Vaughn, threw a question into his mind. Could Dreft be a rival court’s spy or even assassin?
“Sorry. I mean no harm. I heard a lot of things during my years as a slave.” Dreft’s voice held anxiety. His blue eyes clouded.
Witnessing Dreft’s unease, a wave of kindness softened Tobias’s look and tone. “How long were you a slave?” He remembered Hari’s description of the scars on Dreft’s back.
Sadness passed in Dreft’s eyes. “Five years—I’ve been a slave since I was stolen from my home when I was eighteen. I, I’d become desperate, hence the leap from the ship when we cruised reasonably low to take water from the lake on the planet where you rescued me.” His voice cracked a little.
Tobias watched fear replace the sadness in the young man’s eyes. He wanted to lighten the mood. “Hey, are you hungry? I bet Hari hasn’t given you breakfast and I’ve not eaten yet. Do you feel up to a little walk? My home isn’t far. I have loads of food—fruit, pancakes, savory pastries, and coffee. What do you say?”
Dreft gave him the most endearing look. “I’m very hungry.”
Tobias stood and pushed the chair away from the bed. He held out his arm for Dreft to take and helped him stand. “Hang on. You have no shoes.” Tobias left Dreft perched on the side of the bed. He went to the closet inset at the end of the wall and brought back a pair of felt slip-ons for Dreft.
Dreft pushed his feet into them. “Thank you. I think the medicA threw away what I was wearing.”
“Hari is the best medicA available. I trust him implicitly, but he’s a hygiene fanatic. He probably burned what you were dressed in.” Tobias laughed. “Can you manage or will you take my arm. It’s a gesture of support.”
Dreft’s gaze raked Tobias’s face and he smiled softly. “I know the clothes you found me in probably gave you the impression I’m a pirate’s plaything. I’d like to explain—”
“You don’t need to—” Tobias hurried to assure Dreft.
“I want to.” He held Tobias’s arm.
“After you’ve eaten, then.” Tobias led the way from the room, along the corridor and out of the infirmary door. His villa was two doors down from Dante’s and he walked slowly favoring Dreft’s halting steps.
“I’m limping but Hari said my legs were only bruised under the abrasions. Sorry. I didn’t expect them to hurt so much. My ribs don’t and they were broken.”
“Hari fixed your ribs and administered slow release pain reliever at the site. He fixed your abrasions somewhat, but it’s good to heal naturally where possible. He wants you to rest.” A smile sprang to Tobias’s lips. “If he sees us, he’ll probably say to me, ‘Sir, you got Dreft Hann up too soon.’”
A psychic vampire, werewolf, foxgod – and a mother-in-law? How can they make time for anything else?
Tangled Up in You: Retired SearchLight agent Jason Campbell finds himself compelled by a fox demigod who gets to him through the magical medium of music. As Jason falls deeply in love with Reynard, he discovers Reynard is slave to a monster. Jason struggles to free both Reynard and the fox-god’s son, but he must do so without weapons, without backup, and without all the facts, which could lead to death’s retirement.
A Very Psychic Vampire Christmas: Charlie and Luis, A werewolf and a psychic vampire, have been mated for two years according to werewolf custom. They’re planning to get married, to comply with psychic vampire tradition, as well. Unfortunately, the psychic vampire matriarch wants her son to stay away from his werewolf lover — and she’ll stop at nothing to break them up.
As commanded, Jason Campbell skipped through the wild flowers that divided his sister’s wheat field from the dirt lane.
No.
He walked. Neither shambling nor plodding, he walked. And although he had been ordered to “go skip in the daises” by his sister, he was only obeying because he wanted to be out of the house. He’d been in Kansas less than three hours, and he already wanted to run back to DC.
But nothing awaited him in Washington. The nation’s capital held nothing for him now that he’d been let go.
Jason stopped, head tilting as he caught the ringing, mournful sound of an acoustic guitar being strummed. He discounted it and kept walking. Any idiot could make the guitar sound what Jason called “surface beautiful,” meaning technically perfect but without a soul. It was a welcoming instrument, almost as easy as a child’s recorder and much more pleasant.
He stopped again, and he felt a slow smile stretch his mouth. The guitarist was plucking the instrument and making music. True and compelling runs of notes, like water over a fall. Jason nodded to the melody carried on the galloping accompaniment. He knew this one, and he began to sing softly.
“Papa, Papa, build me a boat
“That I might on the ocean float.
“To hail all ships as they pass by
“And to enquire for my darling boy.”
It was a griever’s song, full of loss and providing no promise of comfort. Jason loved it and would have, he told himself, even if he hadn’t been smarting from forced retirement.
He left the band of wildflowers and walked beside the dirt lane where only the occasional tractor passed. He would be trespassing in the neighbor’s field by following the music, but he had a hope that trespassing wasn’t as strictly watched and enforced here as in DC.
The melody rang over the broken chords, and the second verse flitted through Jason’s mind. He didn’t sing. It seemed blasphemous to cover the guitar’s voice with his own.
As we were out on the Eastern Isle
We lost four men
And your darling boy.
He entered another field of wheat, passing between the rows like a ghost, unseen and leaving little to no trace of his travels. Children of the Corn. He smirked briefly before letting it fall away. Child of the wheat is more to the point, but who ever heard of a horror story with that title? There were things that lived in corn fields. And wheat fields. Hungry things that called for human blood and were often sustained on birds and bugs while waiting for weary travelers.
Jason had killed some of them.
He shrugged the memories away and fixed his gaze on the single grain silo that lifted its head above the drowsy August world. There was a farmhouse beyond the structure but a good distance off, leaving the gray and cylindrical exclamation point all but alone.
The music seemed to be coming from the tower’s top. And impossible as that surely was — grain silos were places of storage, not sitting — Jason shielded his eyes and squinted, looking up for the first glimpse of the player.
“I’m too far away,” he whispered as the music left off “The Sailor Lad” and went into a skipping tangle of notes he didn’t recognize. “I can’t possibly see him. Or her.”
Still he peered, and much sooner than he would have thought, he’d reached the base of the grain silo. There was a broken ladder on its side, a rusted thing that hung in defiance of the building’s otherwise well-tended look.
He began circling the massive cylinder, searching for another way up. Because the music was definitely coming from above him, and he needed to find the guitarist. He needed to.
And while he sought, the laughing melody went on.
* * *
Reynard sensed the gnat far below, and his heart ached. He fell into a faster rhythm in an attempt to relieve the pain. Go away, he thought at the gnat who was really an innocent of some kind. A human innocent of some kind. Go away. Save yourself. Not that he was dangerous on his own, but he was bound to a ravenous beast.
“Go away, go away,” he chanted against the plucking of his right hand. “Go away, go,” he muttered as his left hand found chord after chord and changed, without Reynard’s conscious desire, to another depressing ballad. This one was without words, and Reynard hated the silence left when he quit speaking.
He purposely changed the music and, unable to keep away from the mildly dirge-like, began making up one of his own.
“Fly, little, fly, little,
“Fly, little bird.
“Far away from me,
“Far away from him,
“Far from your own desires.”
That wasn’t half bad, and Reynard went on:
“Run, little, run, little
“Run, little bear.
“Dangerous parents you have.
“Dangerous you will become,
“But dangerous I am.
“Run. Run. Run.”
But the gnat — the man — was now prodding at the ladder below. If he kept doing that, he would discover the silo’s secret. Then there would be little Reynard could do to keep him away. To keep him safe.
He bent a touch more magic into the song, hoping it would affect the man as his first attempt with small magic had not. And he sang.
“Creep, little, creep, little,
“Creep, little gnat
“Far from me.
“Far from here.
“Far from your death.”
For an instant, this seemed to work. The man hesitated with his hands not quite resting on the invisible rungs of the ladder that only looked rusted.
Then he began to climb.
He did it fast, as if he was afraid he’d rethink his actions. Or maybe, Reynard decided when he caught a glimpse of the man’s briefly upturned face, as if he had climbed invisible ladders before. The act might be completely commonplace.
What sort of man is this? Reynard stepped back from his window as the stranger neared. Why isn’t he affected by my music, by my magic? A frisson of excitement rushed to the ends of all his fingers and curled his toes. There had never been a mere mortal able to resist him. Who was this man?
Maybe he isn’t a mere mortal human. But when Reynard had sent out his magic to stop the stranger, he had felt no answering magic. The immune newcomer was as mundane as sliced bread.
He allowed himself a brief smile as the memory of his childhood, years without sliced bread, years of loaves never precut, flitted through his mind. He’d lived long enough to see something that had once seemed ostentatious become common. This man, too, might become the accepted thing.
But not now, he thought, as the stranger climbed through the window and stood in the same room with Reynard in spite of the “go away” melody. Now he is a miracle.
Reynard bowed, not wondering at his sudden desire to be formal. “Welcome.” That sounded as if he’d expected the man. “You are a surprise.” That sounded rude. Quit analyzing your words and say something that is truly you. “You are welcome here, miraculous stranger.” That at least seemed like him, even if it remained overly formal.
The average-looking man returned his bow. “Thank you. I am Jason Campbell.”
Weren’t names a thing of power? Yes, but this man seemed unafraid of that.
Emily Carrington has been writing m/m erotic romance (specializing in urban fantasy) since 2010. She is currently branching out into the other letters of the LGBTQ rainbow. She lives in Maryland with her guide dog. For short stories about the main and side characters in her books, please visit her website.
Pyk never thought he’d find his destiny deep within the shadows of the dark forest.
Pyk doesn’t fit in with the light Fae, no matter how hard he tries to conform to the ways of his people. He craves things, dark things, that no light Fae should ever think about, much less desire. At four hundred years old, he thinks he should have things figured out by now, not still be feel like he doesn’t belong. Until the day the dark forest calls to him…
Prince Llewellyn was banished from his home long ago, his deformities too much for even the dark Fae to handle. Nearly forgotten, he’s lived in isolation for five thousand years. Stories of the monstrous Fae prince have become fodder for nightmares to scare Fae children into obedience. But Llewellyn lives, and he’s lonely. When a light Fae comes to him, Llewellyn demands that Pyk bow and submit. He only means to keep Pyk long enough to ease the ache of being alone — he doesn’t count on falling in love.
When others want to destroy Pyk and use him to start a war with the light Fae, Llewellyn knows he must do everything he can to protect his mate, even if it means going home. Now that he’s found the perfect Fae to give in to his dark desires, he’s not letting him go.
WARNING: contains bondage, spanking, sex toys, anal sex, and a bit of darkness. If you don’t like over the top hot scenes between two sexy fae males that may melt your e-reader, then this book isn’t for you.
Magick swirled through the air as spells were thrown with arcs of color and light. Pyk scowled at the juvenile behavior as a puff of pink smacked him across the face, the magick settling over his skin leaving tingles in its wake. He shook it off before trudging across the field. Magick pelted him, making his temper spike with every spell. It was wasteful, and was going to draw the wrong kind of attention to their small gathering.
A breeze teased the tall grass and made the leaves rustle. His gaze was drawn to the dark forest, a place where monsters and evil lived. Even the bravest of souls who entered were never seen again. It was said that a beast lived in the forest. Eyes black as pitch, horns the color of brimstone, and a soul that was badly damaged. Young light fae were told to never enter the forest or the monster would eat them, bones and all.
Pyk was too old for such stories, but there was something sinister about the dark forest. Whispers reached his ears, a calling that was hard to ignore, as the voices beckoned him closer. He’d taken three steps toward the forest before he jolted back to awareness. Unease skittered down his spine, a feeling of dread overcoming him, as if he were being watched. Nothing moved from within the forest, and no animals made a sound. It was said that any creature who survived the dark forest became twisted and evil, like the monster who ruled over the territory that lay in shadows and mist.
A glance over his shoulder let him know that no one else was wary of being so close to so much danger. They laughed and played, acting as if they were ten and not two hundred. Part of him envied them. It had been so long since he’d felt carefree. When was the last time he’d played or had fun of any kind? They joked and called him an old man, but Pyk wondered if maybe he had aged before his time. He was only four hundred, still quite young, but being different from the others had given him more of a cynical view of the world. He knew if any of the light fae knew what he really desired, they would shun him.
The whispering grew stronger, drawing his attention back to the forest. Tendrils of black smoke danced and reached for him, pulling him closer. His heart thudded in his chest and his mind screamed for him to back away, and yet his feet carried him closer. The sounds of the laughing fae behind him dimmed as the whispers grew more insistent. The forest was closer than ever before, the darkness luring him in. A scent teased his nose, something rank and rancid. The stench of rotting flesh made him gag and he stumbled back a step.
A black, clawed hand reached from the darkness, wrapped around his wrist, and jerked him into the forest. Pyk stumbled and fell to his knees, the decaying leaves of the forest crumbling under his weight. His gaze lifted, following a pair of black leather boots, pants that molded to strong thighs and an impressive bulge, and a shirt as dark as the endless night sky. Despite the fear he felt, his cock responded to the pure strength in the male standing over him. Looking further up, all he saw was darkness where a face should have been, and the glow of red eyes. Horns curled toward the canopy, tipped with a silver metal.
He should run. Scream. Do something to get away, but there was a pull he couldn’t ignore. His cock throbbed in his pants, and he wondered what sort of spell the creature had cast over him. Other than the horns, claws, and strange face, he had the body of a fae. Stronger than most, broader perhaps. Beautiful. Pyk stared at the expanse of the creature’s chest and he wondered what it looked like under all the black clothing.
The claw-tipped fingers tightened on Pyk’s wrist and the creature began dragging him through the dark forest. Pyk stumbled to his feet and trailed after the figure, his magick sparking then fizzling at his fingertips. Fear pulsed through him combating his growing lust, and he reached down deep, trying to pull from the well of his magick to no avail. Either his fear was too great, or the creature held some sort of power over him.
Darkness closed in around them as twigs and leaves crunched under their feet. The air grew colder, and there was silence around them, as if even the twisted creatures who lived in the forest were afraid of whoever was holding him captive. As much as Pyk wished he was back in the field, he still felt that pull he couldn’t ignore. A mixture of curiosity and desire spiraled through him as he tried to study the figure hauling him through the forest.
A clearing came into view, and with it, a tall castle. Pyk would have frozen in place had the dark figure not been dragging him along. The gray stone structure reached toward the sky, shadows clinging to it, and vines climbing the sides. The massive doors opened as they approached, as if welcoming their master home, and Pyk wondered if his life was about to end. Being led to the evil being’s lair couldn’t be a good thing.
The stones under his feet absorbed the sounds of his boots as he crossed the threshold. As they trudged further into the castle, the doors behind them swung shut, just as soundlessly as they had opened. It was an eerie feeling, and Pyk couldn’t shake the sensation of his skin crawling. Magick swirled through the air, dark and heavy, its hands twisting and reaching for him. The mysterious creature led him further into the castle, the halls seeming to bend and move on their own. Another set of doors opened as they approached, and the creature dragged him further inside, climbing steps to a dais.
Pyk was released and nearly fell face-first onto the floor. He landed on his knees, and waited for his fate. The figure sprawled across a wooden throne, and with a wave of a clawed hand, light illuminated the room they had entered. As the warm glow bathed the creature, the shadows of his face cleared and Pyk was struck dumb by the most handsome fae he’d ever seen. The red eyes changed to a silvery gray, and as more of the creature’s cloaking spell cleared, Pyk realized he was looking at a dark fae.
Long, black hair cascaded over the fae’s shoulders, and slightly pointed ears peeked through the strands. The horns remained, and Pyk realized they weren’t part of the illusion. The fae’s hands really were tipped with claws, even though his fingers looked normal otherwise. Pyk had never heard of a fae surviving in the dark forest, and now instead of being afraid, he was intrigued. His gaze scanned the figure, and he bit his lip at the bulge that still pushed against the male’s pants. It seemed the desire he’d felt wasn’t one-sided.
“Who are you?” Pyk asked.
“Prince Llewellyn.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
With an overactive imagination and a penchant for making up stories, was it any wonder Dulce Dennison decided to be an author? From cowboys to shapeshifters, she has a story for them all, but her passion lies in writing m/m romances. Dulce believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.
Pyk has never fit in with the light fae, no matter how hard he’s tried to conform to the ways of his people. He craves things, dark things, that no light fae should ever even think about, much less desire. At four hundred years old, he should have figured things out, not felt conflicted and like he didn’t belong. Until the day the dark forest calls to him… Lured into the shadows, Pyk never thought he’d find his destiny in the forbidden territory, the place all light fae feared.
Prince Llewellyn was banished from his home long ago, his deformities too much for even the dark fae to handle. He’s lived in isolation for around five thousand years, the stories of the monstrous fae prince nothing more than fodder for nightmares and to scare children into obedience. But Llewellyn lives, and he’s lonely. When a light fae comes to him, Llewellyn demands Pyk bow and submit. He’d only meant to keep him long enough to ease the ache of being alone. Llewellyn never counted on falling in love.
When others want Pyk, want to destroy him and use him to start a war with the light fae, Llewellyn knows he must do everything he can to protect the male he’s claimed as his mate, even if it means going home. Now that he’s found the perfect fae to give in to his dark desires, he’s not letting him go.
WARNING: contains bondage, spanking, sex toys, anal sex, and a bit of darkness. If you don’t like over the top hot scenes between two sexy fae males that may melt your e-reader, then this book isn’t for you.
With an overactive imagination and a penchant for making up stories, was it any wonder Dulce Dennison decided to be an author? From cowboys to shapeshifters, she has a story for them all, but her passion lies in writing m/m fantasy romances. Dulce believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after — even grumpy bear shifters.
Married since 2000 to a man she isn’t sure is quite human, her husband and children (which she fondly calls the demon spawn) keep her busy, but never too busy to write. Is there such a thing as too busy to write? Most mornings you can find Dulce set up with her laptop, a cat curled up next to her, and a steaming cup of coffee just an arm’s reach away.
It’s release day at Changeling Press! Check out the newest books from Echo Ishii, Anne Kane, and Willa Okati! Each of these titles is available now direct from the publisher and are available for pre-order at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo for October 5th.
