Tag Archives: transgender

RELEASE BLITZ: The Heart’s Retreat by Shannon Blair

Posted on by

Title: The Heart’s Retreat

Series: Hearts’ Domain, Book One

Author: Shannon Blair

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/06/2026

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 395

Genre: Fantasy, voyeurism, fantasy, elves, gods, werewolves, wolves, menage, polyamory, reconciliation, trans, pansexual, demisexual, neurodivergent, romantasy, magic

Add to Goodreads

Description

Centuries ago, Aspen, the woodlands’ divine Heart Tree, disappeared, twisting His lands into a corrupted shadow of their former glory and sending rage-filled werewolves to hunt His elven children. Now His punishment has passed beyond the woodlands’ borders. If its spread cannot be stopped, all the world will suffer.

Gar has served his native swamplands as a soldier for almost half his life. Chosen to lead one last attempt to locate Aspen, he fears the dangers lurking in the woodlands’ corrupted depths will claim his life—and those of the soldiers under his command. But abandoning the mission means watching an entire forest burn. Bolstered by his faith in the swamplands’ divine Heart, Cypress, his conscience demands he carry on.

Sage, a magically gifted healer charged with holding Aspen’s corruption at bay from his village, is no stranger to the horrors of his Heart. Neither is his estranged husband, Thorn. A seasoned hunter with the uncanny ability to sense werewolves before they attack, Thorn puts his skills to the test and his life on the line to support the search for Aspen. Sage, choosing love over loyalty to his village, lends his strength as a latecomer to the expedition, lighting the way when hope seems lost. Reunited after a separation stemming from the loss of their stillborn daughter, their shared journey to save their homeland just might lead to reconciliation—if death doesn’t part them first.

As they traverse the corrupted forest’s treacherous terrain, Sage and Thorn forge a bond with Gar that transcends simple friendship. Seeking solace from their troubled pasts and uncertain futures, their boundaries break down and the dividing lines between them blur. But with bloodthirsty werewolves watching every move, their budding romance threatens to become a fatal distraction.

Excerpt

The Heart’s Retreat
Shannon Blair © 2026
All Rights Reserved

Commander Gar stood on the barge’s deck, leaning against the railing as they sailed into the river port of Taproot, capital city of Cypress’s Domain. If he had to guess, he’d put the hour well past midnight, but the docks and their neighboring fish market bustled with activity. Weathered lantern posts standing along the dock’s edge illuminated the port and its workers. Dockhands—mostly his fellow swamp elves, with thick, water-repellent hair in shades of bright teal to dark green and skin tones ranging from light bronze to burnt umber—rushed back and forth, overseeing the departures and arrivals of fishing boats, trading vessels, and now one very delayed passenger barge.

The barge had gotten stuck on a sandbar somewhere upstream and only fallen further behind schedule with each passing stop. The early morning embarkation Gar and his unit had planned had been pushed back to late afternoon—frustrating for everyone involved, but at least they hadn’t been stuck aboard as long as some of the other passengers. Under normal circumstances, the delay would’ve been a minor inconvenience, but a soldier under Gar’s command had gotten their leg crushed in the jaws of a magically mutated alligator and needed specialized healing soon, or they risked losing the limb.

Gar leaned farther over the railing as the barge pulled into its berth, dockhands and crew working in tandem to make the landing as gentle as possible. Despite the late hour, a small crowd had begun to gather on the dock—friends and family waiting to greet their loved ones. He scanned the faces and clothes of those gathered, searching for someone with medical or military training among the civilians. Normally, no one waited for Gar, but he’d sent a messenger bird ahead at the first sign of delay—technically an unauthorized use of military funds, but he’d foot the bill himself if his superiors objected—so someone should be there to meet him.

Beside him, his second-in-command, Bluegill, sighed. “We better not have beaten the fucking bird here.” Nearly a head shorter than Gar, she stood at her full height to survey the crowd, turquoise eyes narrowed in an appraising squint. “Mallow’s waited long enough. If we’re expected to carry them all the way through the city—”

“Give it time, Blue. Gangway’s not even down yet.” Gar straightened and stretched, fighting back a yawn. Just because it wasn’t obvious at a glance didn’t mean no one was there for them. And worst-case scenario, he and his unit could carry Mallow. It would simply be awkward and uncomfortable.

Bluegill let out a discontented hum, impatiently running her umber fingers through her chin-length teal hair. But she didn’t argue. Under the complaints and sharp remarks, she cared for the rest of Gar’s unit as deeply as he did. Even non-lethal casualties hit her hard. He could let her have this one.

As the gangway dropped into place, a masculine elf wearing the crisp, white linens of a temple acolyte—not a priest, his eyes and hands were elven—pushed his way to the front of the crowd. Before the barge’s passengers could begin to disembark, he crossed onto the deck, offering a polite but disinterested nod to those he passed. His distracted gaze sharpened when it landed on Gar and Bluegill. Gar wondered why they’d caught his attention. They stood out among the other passengers in their long-sleeved field uniforms and boiled leather armor, but that couldn’t be the only reason.

“Commander Gar?” The acolyte called out, eyes flickering between Gar and Bluegill.

Gar raised a hand. “Over here.” He understood the acolyte’s confusion. Cypress’s Domain was a matriarchy; outside the military, it was rare to see a man in a position of authority. In any other career, Gar would be Bluegill’s subordinate.

The acolyte responded with a grateful nod and continued weaving through the crowd toward Gar.

While he waited, Gar exchanged a confused glance with Bluegill, trying to figure out why a temple acolyte, of all people, had come here looking for him. The messenger bird must have arrived ahead of the barge, or no one would’ve known to expect him, but he didn’t understand how military correspondence could’ve ended up at a temple. Maybe someone had misread his message and thought he needed funeral services instead of a healer?

The acolyte came to an abrupt stop a few paces away from Gar, the corners of his mouth slowly turning downward as he looked Gar over. “Hardly presentable, but it’ll have to do,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, but what will I ‘have to do’ for?” Gar and his unit were fresh from a monster-hunting expedition, and he hadn’t bathed in days. He wasn’t going to impress anyone in this condition, but he didn’t know why he’d need to.

“High Priest Azalea has need of you. You are to meet her in her sanctum beneath Mother Cypress.”

Gar blinked at him, certain he’d heard wrong. “The high priest…needs me?”

“Yes.” The acolyte’s expression softened. “I realize how strange this must seem, but there are…extenuating circumstances.”

“When’s the meeting?”

“Hours ago, ideally. But now will have to suffice. She’s been waiting for you.”

Gar tried not to gape. High priests didn’t wait for anyone, especially a field commander like him. If she’d planned to meet with Gar without even knowing when to expect him, something earth-shaking must have happened, but no one on the docks seemed any the wiser. He guessed he’d find out more when he got there.

“Then I’ll go now,” Gar replied. “But I have an injured soldier belowdecks. Their leg’s hurt bad, and they need—”

Bluegill cut him off with a bump of her elbow. “I’ll take it from here, Commander. Just get to the Heart.”

The acolyte nodded and turned his attention to Bluegill. “Whatever you require, I’m happy to assist.”

Gar left them to it, heart racing as he jostled through the crowd of passengers making their way off the barge.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Shannon Blair (they/he) is a fantasy author with a fondness for elves, goblins, and general otherworldly goodness. Their love of fiction and storytelling inspired them to pursue an MFA in Creative Writing, which they are now putting to very productive use, writing romance novels. When they aren’t writing books about queer elves or engaged in workday shenanigans at their day job, Shannon can be found baking, crocheting, and persisting, despite the horrors. They live on the outskirts of the Denver metroplex with their partner and two spoiled-rotten cats.

Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Blog Button 2

Release Blitz: All the Wrong Reasons by Sebastian Hansen #LGBTQ #fantasy #BDSM @ninestarpress @GoIndiMarketing

Posted on by

Title: All the Wrong Reasons

Author: Sebastian Hansen

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/28/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 111700

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Romance, urban fantasy, action, family-drama, superheroes, gay, nonbinary, trans, BDSM, secret identity, billionaire, Dom/sub relationship

Add to Goodreads

Description

The day after telekinetic supervillain (and billionaire philanthropist), Stetson Nadenheimer dies, he wakes up on the autopsy table and falls in lust with the man hired to cut his cold, dead corpse open. The problem is that the forensic pathologist is Doctor Julian Dandridge, the part-time superhero, Scatter. It’s probably a bad idea for a supervillain to get into bed with a superhero. Probably.

Not that it stops him, but trying to start a relationship with a reluctant hero without getting caught turns out to be easier said than done. Between midnight meetings over games of checkers and kinky secrets, Stetson and Julian begin a tremulous romance. Unfortunately for them, there’s an actual villain watching from the shadows, waiting for Stetson to stumble.

Excerpt

All the Wrong Reasons
Sebastian Hansen © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
STETSON

The last thing I remember seeing before I died was the garish gold and orange spandex-clad fist of Major Bigstuff flying at my face at something like a million miles an hour. I lost my telekinetic grip on the wall I was holding. The debris came down on my head, which the masonry squished like a rotten melon. Brains all over the place. Bones shattered. Totally dead.

Not my finest hour.

A day later, I woke up on the medical examiner’s slab. Nobody knows why this happens. It’s a super-thing. Superheroes come back from the dead all the time. It’s practically a requirement for the job. Like when you go to get your physical at the Hall of Good Guys Forever and they stab you in the heart to make sure you’ve got what it takes to come back. I’m not entirely sure this is true, but you hear rumors.

What’s odd about me waking up is that I wasn’t a superhero. I was kind of the opposite. The anti-superhero.

My name is Stetson Nadenheimer (it’s not my fault), and before my timely death, I was a supervillain. They call me Jester. Nice to meet you.

It’s not that supervillains don’t come back from the dead. We do, but it’s usually the big-time ones. The “build a death ray and hold the world to ransom for all the money” ones. I’m not even Major Bigstuff’s main rival. He just happened to be flying past the bank I was robbing on his way home from Denny’s.

That’s what I did, by the way—rob banks. No building death rays, no kidnapping or killing people. I’d never even held anyone hostage. My Fortress of Evil is more like a Penthouse Belonging to That Mildly Irritating Villain.

But I liked robbing banks. Since most super-people are what you’d call physical (strength, size, agility, speed—you know, that kind), they don’t know what to do when someone’s power is mental. Mental powers aren’t common—and they’re not popular. Telepathy isn’t as flashy as super strength and doesn’t play well on camera. Hence, nobody’s figured out anti-telekinetic security.

Besides, I liked to flirt with the tellers. They had no idea how to handle a tall, handsome man in a sleek (cheap) black tux and white masquerade mask. I’ve got some killer green eyes too. Alas, while my black hair is long enough for a ponytail (tellers love ponytails), I kept it bound up and hidden in a hat. I’ve never wanted to take over the world, but I’m damned charming. It drives superheroes up the wall.

Anyway, back to the ME’s slab. Right. So. After knowing for a fact that my brains are all over the floor of the First United Citizens Bank on Twenty-second Street, I open my eyes. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to? In my case, it was a whirring bone saw in the general vicinity of my head.

I screamed. Well, wouldn’t you?

The bone saw immediately stopped, and I quickly became aware of someone laughing. A glance to my left confirmed that I wasn’t alone. A young man in green scrubs with tousled blond hair was turned away, covering his mouth to hide his grin.

“Works every time,” he said and set the saw down on a table just out of my reach. Then he turned to look at me, and I stopped breathing again.

In addition to the adorable hair, the man was indeed young with deep-blue eyes, dimples, and the prettiest smile I’d ever seen.

The smile faded quickly. “Welcome back.” He narrowed his eyes and watched me carefully.

My mouth opened to say something, but my brain hadn’t caught up. It was still trying to imagine what the man would look like in my bed. I’m an uncomplicated person like that. It might not have been love at first sight, but lust? Certainly. The problem currently facing me was this: I was obviously in a morgue of some kind, half-naked, drenched in my own blood, and sitting on a frigidly cold metal table. The place smelled of chemicals—formalin (I found out later) and bleach.

Forget flirting. This man had seen me dead, which is so much worse than naked.

Eventually, I managed a strangled, “Hello.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, and the smile came back slightly. He nodded and walked away from me toward the far wall, where he dug a clear bottle of water out of a cooler. He held it up for my inspection. “Thirsty?”

I nodded. My voice was still on the fritz, and he thought it was because my throat was dry instead of…oh…any other reason. I was thankful for it. Anyway, my mouth was parched. I took the bottle gratefully and drank half in one go before finding my voice again.

“Do you often wake people up in the morgue with a bone saw?”

He smiled. I wanted to melt. God. I can’t describe that smile and do it justice. Accept for a moment that it was stunning, will you? If it helps, compare it to rainbows on sunny spring mornings. Like the sun rising at dawn. The light of his smile forgave all sins, watered all crops, and brokered world peace.

The hyperbole is necessary. Everything that happened after that night started with his smile wrapping me up and turning my world on its head.

“Only people like you.” The smile didn’t budge.

“People like…me.”

“Dead people who aren’t dead anymore.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “So, you do it to heroes, too, then?”

He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes thoughtfully. “Mm-hm. They don’t like it either—Mistress Tidal broke one on me, but there’s something about the sound. It tends to bring people around quickly.”

“The alternative is getting our heads cut into.”

He laughed. Please insert a description of silvery bells and songbirds here. He had a pleasant voice. “I wasn’t going to cut you open. You were already breathing.”

“I…was?” I glanced around, certain I knew where I was now. I looked down at my blood-stained hand. “Tell me, were you able to get fingerprints off my corpse? I’ve never been arrested before, so I doubt they’d do you any good.”

“No.” He shook his head. “And no DNA either.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Ah. And now we’re just waiting for reinforcements to arrive, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” He smiled again, and my reply stuck in my throat. “It’s nearly ten o’clock on a Thursday night. Nobody’s around.”

“Ah…and you’re alone here with a formerly dead supervillain because you’re, what? Confident in your medical plan?” I asked with a snort.

He laughed again. “I don’t think you’re going to hurt me. I’m pretty durable. My name is Dr. Julian Dandridge. I’m a part-time superhero. They call me Scatter.”

Ah, Scatter. I’d heard of him, but never run up against him. He belonged to the Guild, which was Kinsley City’s very own organization of superheroes. A sort of Hall of Self-Righteousness. Major Bigstuff ran the show over there.

Well, that put a wrench in my dream of having him tie me to my bed.

I frowned. The revelation that Dr. Julian was a lost cause stung more than it should have, considering we’d just met. Still, he was in the Guild, and that wasn’t good for me by any means.

The Guild didn’t typically bother about me. I was small-time and didn’t offer much in the way of a challenge. When I did run into one of their members, I tended to extract myself from the situation as quickly as possible. I can fly—and over my months-long bank robbing spree, I’d gotten good at evading the Guild’s fliers.

I glanced around, getting my bearings. A few pencils on the desk behind Julian rolled on my command, and I breathed a little easier. My telekinesis was up and ready to go.

I smiled. “You know what they call me, I’m assuming.”

“Jester.” He shrugged. “So, here’s what’s going to happen—”

I held up a hand to forestall him and started talking. It was important to prattle on so his attention focused on me and my mouth. That way, he wouldn’t notice me telekinetically prying the window out of its frame until it was too late.

“There’re a couple ways this could go. The first is dull and causes more of a mess than its worth. You call your Guild. They show up, we have a spirited scrap, and maybe I end up dead again. If not, and you manage to throw me in SuperMax, I call my astronomically overpriced lawyer and make bail in under an hour. Then we spend weeks wading through red tape, and in the end, I get a slap on the wrist, some community service, and maybe a fine. I’m not the kind of supervillain who makes headlines, Scatter, and you lot have bigger things to worry about than someone like me. Death rays and such.”

He crossed his arms.

“Of course, there’s option number two.” Grinning, I simultaneously lifted myself off the table and out of Julian’s reach and crooked my finger at the window, popping it out of its frame and setting it gently aside. “Which involves me escaping. You can’t fly, can you?”

“If I could, I’d have you down already.” He shrugged. Then he did something I did not expect.

He winked.

I paused near the ceiling. “You’re letting me go?” I asked, incredulously.

“Letting you go? Oh no. No. What kind of superhero would I be if I let a villain escape?”

“A very bad one.” I pressed my hands against the ceiling and stared down at him in disbelief.

He frowned. “Do you want me to stop you?” The tone of his voice implied that he could. I believed him.

“Not particularly.”

He looked away, thinking, arms crossed, then glanced back at me. “Then do me a favor and knock over some tables on your way out.”

“So it looks like we got into the aforementioned tussle?” I asked.

“Plausible deniability.”

I blinked.

“Look, either go or don’t. Let’s just say I’ve seen some things, Jester. Supervillain?” He smirked. “Sure.”

“You’ve seen some—”

He waved me away. “Get out of here. If I see you near a bank in the future, you can be sure I won’t be so nice next time.”

I stared at him for a few more seconds, but his expression suggested that his patience was wearing thin and the invitation to escape wouldn’t last indefinitely.

So, stunned and unsure if what had happened was real, I flew out of the window. But I made sure to knock over two sets of shelves and a table on my way out.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Sebastian Hansen (she/her) is a non-binary mess of a person. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and herd of opinionated cats, where she spends most of her time playing video games, reading comic books, and writing about superheroes. She likes strawberries and is easily frightened by the Internet.

Website | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Blog Button 2

Release Blitz: Witch, Catch, and Cobb by J.K. Pendragon #LGBTQ #Fantasy @JKPendragon

Posted on by

Title: Witch, Cat, and Cobb

Author: J.K. Pendragon

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 14, 2020

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 21700

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Fae/fey/fairies/faeries, Fairy tales, Humorous, Magic/ Magic users, Mythical creatures, Witch, Arranged marriage, Royalty, Transgender, Transspecies, #ownvoices

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Destined for an arranged marriage she wants nothing to do with, Princess Breanwynne decides her only option for escape is to run away. After announcing this plan to her trusted cat, Fen, she’s shocked when he asks that she take him along.

Following his suggestion to venture into the lair of the Swamp Witch begins a life-altering adventure and reveals shocking information that will lead to more than one happily ever after—if she and Fen survive.

Excerpt

Witch, Cat, and Cobb
J.K. Pendragon © 2020
All Rights Reserved

I was not accustomed to swamps.

I had been warned about the dangers of swamps, of course, as all children were, and knew the likelihood of traversing the swamp without grave peril befalling me was dismally low. But somehow, in the course of plotting my grand escape, I hadn’t given that fact as much thought as I should have. And to pay for it, I was knee-deep in muck with a cat’s claws digging painfully into my shoulders.

“Don’t make any sudden movements!” said Fen, digging his claws even deeper into my shoulder until I was certain he had latched onto my bone. “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Make it worse?” I screeched at him. “How could this possibly be worse?”

Fen released his front claws from my neck and placed them gently on my head, “I’ve heard about this sort of ground. If I’m right, it’ll be a few hours before it’s swallowed you whole. Whoops!” He had jumped up onto my head, his back legs scrambling over my ear and causing me to shout in pain as his claws grazed me.

“Ouch!”

“Shh, I’m balancing.” He turned delicately on my head and crouched, wiggling his backside for good measure. “Anyway, you don’t know what sort of creatures you’re likely to attract, making so much noise.” He jumped, shoving me deeper into the muck as he did so, and caught a branch, scrambling up and then perching deftly to look down at me. His normally tawny fur was black in silhouette against the full moon, his eyes a green glint in the otherwise dark swamp.

“I should never have trusted you,” I said, glaring up at him. “You’ve led me to my death!”

“I haven’t!” called Fen, sounding offended. “Anyway, you agreed the swamp was the best choice because no one would come looking for us!”

“And no one will find us even if they do!” I squeaked.

“Hush.” Fen took a step forward, and the tree shifted as he arched his back, swaths of witch’s hair dipped into the muck next to me. He took another step forward, and the branch swayed and bowed downwards. “There, see? Grab that.”

I did so, tangling my fingers in the greasy mats. My shoulders shook as I pulled hand over hand to drag the lower half of my body out of the muck. I was glad I had thought to change into my riding breeches before leaving the castle. Fen made a very un-catlike screech and raced up the tree as it buckled further under my weight.

At last I managed to pull myself up and crawl over to where I hoped the ground was more solid. I let go, falling to the forest floor with a whump and sat, collecting myself. Fen landed lightly on my shoulder, and I hissed at him, causing him to scuttle away and behind the tree.

“Don’t do that,” he said presently, his voice muffled by the leaves and bracken. “Show some gratitude.”

“Right,” I said, standing and attempting to brush myself off as best I could. I was also not accustomed to being quite so dirty. “Thank you for saving me from the peril you yourself put me in.”

“You are the one who wanted to run away, Princess, if I might remind you.” Fen emerged from behind the tree and trotted up to me, jumping deftly back onto my shoulder. “I simply agreed to help you out.”

“You think I don’t know that you’ve got some sort of ulterior motive?” I asked him as I began to walk again, keeping a wary eye out for more of the muck I’d sunken into.

“What ulterior motive could I possibly have?” said Fen. “I’m a cat.”

“A talking cat, I might add. Who waited for how many years, twenty? To decide to reveal that fact to me, and not until I had mentioned I might be thinking of running away to the swamp. Why?”

“I liked the sound of it.”

“You liked the sound of this?” I gestured to the seething wet darkness around us and stopped walking. “No, tell me immediately.”

“Hmph,” said Fen. “If you must know, I’m not really a cat.”

“Fen, I’ve been undressed in front of you!”

“Oh, don’t be so full of yourself, Princess.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

J.K. Pendragon is a Canadian author with a love of all things romantic and fantastical. They first came to the queer fiction community through m/m romance, but soon began to branch off into writing all kinds of queer fiction. As a bisexual and genderqueer person, J.K. is dedicated to producing diverse, entertaining fiction that showcases characters across the rainbow spectrum, and provides queer characters with the happy endings they are so often denied.

J.K. currently resides in British Columbia, Canada with a boyfriend, a cat, and a large collection of artisanal teas that they really need to get around to drinking. They are always happy to chat, and can be reached at jes.k.pendragon@gmail.com.

Twitter | eMail | Instagram

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway
https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js
Blog Button 2