Check out this new release”Don’t Let Me Drown“ by Andy Siege (Other Worlds Ink Tour and excerpt)

Andy Siege has a new queer magical realism romance out (bi male, intersex female): Don’t Let Me Drown.

Traumatised by his experiences as a war photographer, Aaron is drowning in guilt and tranquilisers. On a new assignment to document the civil conflict in the African country of Miberia, he is paralysed by the belief that terrible things only happen so that he can capture them on camera.

When he meets Mary, a young woman in danger because she is intersex, he’s convinced that if he can just save her, it will redeem him for all the other deaths he’s witnessed.

So begins a race to the border, one step ahead of the rebel army. But as love grows between them and the country is submerged in innocent blood, Aaron comes to understand that he’s not saving Mary. She’s saving him.

Amidst the horrors of war, can Aaron rediscover hope?

Warnings: Violence, Drug Abuse, Depression, Explicit Sex

About the Series:

Unusual stories about racially diverse, neurodivergent characters of marginalised orientations and gender alignments. Enter bizarre, thought-provoking new worlds in these speculative novellas that explore deeply relevant themes in an irreverent way.

These are stand-alone novellas and can be read in any order.

Get It On Amazon

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

I’m chilling at the bottom of a swimming pool. Being down here, deep underwater, feels amazing. I can’t hold my breath forever though. I wish I could, or that maybe I would drown. Unfortunately, that’s not how human beings work, and eventually my stupid survival instincts will force me to resurface.

Did you know that crocodiles can hold their breath for up to an hour?

I’m behaving like an idiot and I should be embarrassed. I’m an adult and I need to get out and get dressed. I have responsibilities and a job to do. I’m an award-winning photographer, for fuck’s sake. I worked hard to get where I am.

I haven’t taken a photograph since Greece. The last picture I took was of a drowned toddler in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt, curled up on the beach with shallow waves lapping at his little body. The boy and his entire family tried to come over to Europe by motorboat, but a storm flipped them over and they all died. The toddler’s father, mother, and two sisters lay washed up further down the sandbank, with bloated bellies and wide-open eyes.

The Aegean Sea is beautiful at sunrise. I must have taken a thousand photographs with my most expensive Ceica Camera, but only that one specific picture was broadcast around the world. You’ve probably seen it in a newspaper or on TV. In the photograph, the little boy in the Mickey Mouse shirt looks like he’s sleeping, except that his lips are just a bit too blue, and his face is too relaxed. Also, a child wouldn’t be sleeping right in the surf as the sun rises over the Aegean.

My lungs start to burn and there is a kind of pressure building inside my brain, pushing me to resurface out of the swimming pool. I manage to hold my breath for a few more seconds while I rise, and then I pop my head out of the water and gasp.

Soft reggae tunes float through the air, and I smell curry and wood smoke from the buffet by the bar. I’m alone at the pool, apart from one high-class prostitute who is reclining in a pool chair, sipping water through a straw.

The African country of Miberia is at war, so the Western tourists and professionals have all left the country. The only foreigners still here are diplomats, weapons dealers, and journalists like me. I’m staying at the Crystal Hotel, which is a Chinese style high rise, painted blue and with bluish window glass. Even though it’s almost happy hour, and the buffet is extravagant, there’s no one at the bar. I arrived this morning, and the only other guests I saw at lunch were a pair of sketchy looking Asian businessmen.

I was supposed to take a taxi to the outskirts of the city today, to start photographing refugees, but I didn’t. The problem I have right now is a complex state of artistic paralysis. I haven’t taken a picture in many months. You see, people think that I’m good at taking photographs, but the truth is that every good picture I’ve ever taken mystifies me. When I got that major award for the picture of the drowned toddler, I pretended to know what I did to deserve it. But actually, I don’t know what I did, and I fear that I’ll never take a picture that good ever again.

I swim to the edge of the pool and then hoist myself up and out. I have a towel and a papaya vodka cocktail waiting for me on a rickety iron table. I dry myself off and down the drink, while doing a casual sweep of my surroundings. The walls around the hotel courtyard are tall and topped with razor wire. I wonder if they added the razor wire because of the war outside or if it has always been there. I hear a gunshot off in the distance. Somewhere in the city, someone may have just lost their life, and I wasn’t there to take the picture.

I believe in fate. I believe that things happen for a reason. But that poses an ethical problem. You see, I’m a war photographer, so when I take a picture of something horrible, I ask myself if that horrible thing happened just so that I could take a picture of it. Do you follow? I ask myself if the act of me taking a photograph caused the drowning of that little boy in the Mickey Mouse shirt. The obvious answer is no, but hear me out. That little boy’s death, together with my camera, sparked a global conversation about refugees. Fate?

The high-class prostitute on the other side of the pool just winked at me. I don’t find her particularly sexy. I haven’t found anyone sexy in a long time, actually. My libido seems to have died with that toddler in Greece. I can still appreciate the aesthetics of a beautiful person, healthy skin, good teeth, an outgoing personality, but I just can’t get a boner anymore. I shake my head at the prostitute so that she gets it.

There’s a war going on in Miberia. A complex, brutal, bloody beast of a war, and I’m here to take pictures. So now I ask myself, does my presence here mean that bad things will happen just so that I can photograph them? If that’s true, then it might be better if I just stay at the Crystal Hotel, if I don’t venture out into the city, out into the countryside where entire villages are getting butchered. Maybe my presence out there will cause more atrocities to happen. That’s a crippling thought.

I make my way over to the buffet by the bar. There’s roasted chicken and rice that smells like curry and cinnamon. I load my plate with the exotic food and take a seat at a small table. The chow is delicious, probably because the ingredients are much fresher than anything from the supermarket back in Canada. I feel a little shitty though, because I know that while I’m pigging out, about thirty percent of the population of Miberia is starving. There isn’t anything I can do about that, of course, plus I’m hungry.

The two Asian businessmen who I saw at lunch come in through the gate. They’re tall, with unremarkable haircuts, intelligent eyes, and pot bellies. I wonder what category of war profiteer they fall under. Are they weapons salesmen, diplomats, military advisors, diamond miners? They both nod at me, although they don’t smile. I spent some time in the Ukraine during the Russian invasion and I noticed that men who mean business don’t smile a lot.

I’m actually a quarter black, although I pass as white. Most people think I’m Greek or Italian on account of my black hair and slight natural tan. The truth is, though, that my granddad on my mom’s side was Miberian. That’s one of the reasons why I took this assignment. I wanted to get to know the country that my ancestors are from. I even know the name of my tribe, the Mzuru, who live in the northern jungles of Miberia. I don’t know a lot about them, except that they worship crocodiles and have six fingers on their left hands. So do I.

The medical term for this condition is “polydactyly”, which means “many fingers” in Greek. Most people who have this condition can’t use the extra finger because it doesn’t have bones in it, but mine is fully functional. It’s located on the little finger side of the hand and it even helps me complete some tasks better than normal people can. For example, I can switch the settings on my camera faster than other photographers are able to.

I won’t be able to visit the tribe, of course, because of the war. I would love to hug a long-lost relative right now. When I said earlier that I can’t get a boner, I didn’t mean that I’m completely adverse to affection. I do sometimes wish for physical contact, actually I don’t think any human being can exist without it. They did a study with orphans in Romania who were starved of hugs, cuddles, kisses, etc. Those children became sick and died. So yeah, I too feel like getting a backrub or a peck on the forehead from time to time. Today is one of those days where I wouldn’t mind some affection. Paying a prostitute isn’t my style, and the Asian businessmen at the bar are probably too homophobic to cuddle with me.

Actually, homosexuality is illegal in the government-run parts of Miberia, so I’ve got to be a little careful. If I do meet someone to share warmth with, it has got to be a woman. You can literally go to jail here if you are found to be gay. Horrible? Certainly, and it gets worse… you see, in Miberia, you can go to jail if you support gay rights, even if you are straight. That means that there is practically no way for things to get better, because even allies are too afraid to say anything. Whatever, maybe once the war is over, things will change.

The high-class prostitute by the pool is the only female at the hotel, and I’m not going to pay someone for love. I guess I’ll have to toughen up and be alone tonight. As I’m thinking this I hear a burst of machine gun fire out in the city. Did someone just die for no reason? Was I supposed to be there to photograph what happened? Should I have been there to give meaning to the loss of life? Or did the bullets miss their mark because I wasn’t there? Did I save a life by refusing to engage with the bloodshed?

Author Bio

Andy Siege born as Andreas Madjid Siege in Kenya in 1985 is an award winning film director and author. He is a POC, neurologically diverse, and queer. He has published 11 novels/novellas, and his debut feature film “Beti and Amare” which he wrote and directed was nominated for multiple high profile international film awards. He has a BA in Creative Writing and an MA in Political Science.

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/andreas.siege

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/andysiege/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/25963464.Andy_Siege

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B08P1XL2DV

Check out this new release “Iguana“ by Vincent Traughber Meis (Other Worlds Ink Tour and excerpt )

Vincent Traughber Meis has a new MM romance out: Iguana. And there’s a giveaway!

Dawson Wozniak moved to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico looking for a change after ending a long-term relationship. Returning to the site where his parents honeymooned, immersing himself in the local culture, and meeting new friends was sure to bring adventure and, hopefully, clarity about both his past and his future. His apartment building’s manager, Ivan, throws a wrench in the plan with his handsome looks, occasional flirting, and forced distance. Just as they are about to test their undeniable curiosity and attraction for each other, a tragedy strikes the building, forcing Dawson and Ivan apart.

When it seems there are too many obstacles, Ivan insists they can’t explore their chemistry. Still, he keeps coming back and pulling Dawson in, teasing him with possibility but filling him with doubt. Soon Dawson is consumed with thoughts of Ivan and his mercurial attention, and he can’t help but compare himself to the tragic gay characters in the books he edits. One minute Ivan is playful and laughing, and the next he’s cold and aloof, battling with cultural expectations and familial responsibilities.

Dawson gives into the push and pull of this confusing but exhilarating relationship, trying to convince himself he can handle a no-strings-attached situation with a man who is still coming to terms with his sexuality…even if he knows that he would love nothing more than to have Ivan fully, openly, and all to himself. While this confusing relationship may not be the adventure he was expecting, it may just be the adventure that allows Dawson to decide exactly who and where he wants to be.

Warnings: COVID, death, drug/alcohol use, possible suicide, mention of rape

Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

Vincent is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47326/

Excerpt

A rustling in the dry undergrowth and the crackling of twigs indicated a large-ish animal. It spotted me before I spotted it, but even with its camouflage, it couldn’t hide in the sparse surroundings. The iguana slithered up the embankment to higher ground with its long black and tan striped tail fanning back and forth to aid its escape. It climbed a tree and moved out on a branch that hung over the sidewalk in front of me.

I stopped. It stopped. I took a step forward. It crawled out a little further on the branch as if it was a gatekeeper. I had never been that close to an iguana, just ten feet above me, looking fierce with a torso about three feet long and a dewlap of variegated skin fluttering under its throat. A row of spikes ran down the spine, getting shorter as they reached the long tail. I’d been told they were harmless as long as they weren’t threatened. Some people even took them on as unlikely pets, putting them on leashes and charging tourists to take a picture with them.

But there was something about the way it stared at me that kept me frozen there on the pavement, wondering if it was safe to walk under its perch on the branch. I stared back. For what seemed a long time, we stared at each other. And then, its scaly eyebrow closed over the black marble pupil in a bed of yellow iris. If we had been playing a game of who blinks first, I had won. I didn’t feel like a winner, though, and the iguana didn’t seem to care as it continued to observe me, blinking as if bored with the relative newcomer on the planet. I nodded, acknowledging I was an invader in its land. Not just as a foreigner but as a human carving into the jungle habitat of the animal.

I was in Mexico for a new beginning, walking down the hill to do my shopping, if this beast would let me. Sweat began pooling in the middle of my chest, and I needed to move on. As I passed under the branch, I swear the iguana shrugged and looked away as if it was done with me. I felt dismissed. And then I began to laugh, a laughter of relief and surprise, thrilled with this new experience, one more in a long list that seemed a daily occurrence since I had moved here.

The day had begun with clear skies broadcasting hope, the balcony slightly cooler than inside the house as I lingered over my breakfast, feeling the view of the Bay of Banderas from Punta de Mita to Los Arcos like a physical thing that coddled me. We were in the dog days of summer, with the dog-star, Sirius, rising and setting about the same time as the sun. It was the hottest time of the year, and relief only came, I was told by my neighbors, when afternoon showers again pelted the corrugated roofs of the neighborhood down below. Everyone talked of the rains coming late this year.

Before the heat and humidity became too oppressive, I planned to walk down the hill to the market and buy food for the next few days when the forecasters insisted the heavy rains would come, ushered in by thunder and lightning. I would get back up the hill before the church bells struck ten in the plaza below.

I stepped out of the apartment into the stuffy hall, which smelled of fried onions and spices I couldn’t identify from the apartment across the hall. I summoned the elevator and watched the short countdown from the rooftop to my floor. When the doors opened, Ivan in his company logo polo shirt and jeans stood chewing on one of his fingernails. He dropped his hands and folded them in front of his crotch as he stepped aside and made room. “Buenos días, señor Dawson.”

“Hola, Ivan.” I leaned against the back wall and watched his blurry reflection in the shiny metal of the doors.

On the next floor, he got off, and as the doors closed, I let out the breath I didn’t know I had been holding. The tension I felt when near him made no sense. Ivan had been hired a few months before as the day manager who oversaw daily operations in the twelve-unit building curiously named Paradiso, which sounded both presumptuous and unsettling. He handled everything from delivering packages to residents’ doors to coordinating cleanups to keeping the place secure. Everyone found him friendly and efficient. Everyone loved him. Why did I often see him joking and bantering in English and Spanish with other residents when he was all business and cold with me? Why did my packages sometimes go undelivered when everyone else got theirs the same day?

Author Bio

Vincent Traughber Meis grew up in Decatur, Illinois and graduated from Tulane University in New Orleans. He has also traveled extensively, and as result of his travels and time abroad he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles, but also a few poems and book reviews, in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World in the 1980s and 90s. He has published five novels with Fallen Bros Press: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019).

Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012.Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Deluge won a Rainbow Award in 2016. His sixth novel The Mayor of Oak Street was released in 2021 with NineStar Press and a book of his short stories in 2021. Three more novels have been published with Spectrum Books, First Born Sons (2023), Colton’s Terrible Wonderful year (2023) and The Long Journey to You (2024). His stories have been published in several collections, including WITH: New Gay Fiction, and other collections. He lives in San Leandro, California and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

Author Website: https://www.vincentmeis.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/vincentmeis

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/vincenttraughbermeis

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vincentmeisauthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5755735.Vincent_Meis

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B00J7YZQU4

Review: Spirit Witch (The Lazy Girl’s Guide To Magic Book 3) by Helen Harper

Rating: 5⭐️

Ok I read this at 3am in the morning because I’d just finished Star Witch with its shocking ending and had to rush here to see what happened.

Whew!

What is it with this trend of authors killing their main characters? This is the third book in a row and series where this has been a major element. Not sure my heart is ready for more at this point.

But this sets up Ivy for several new stages in her life. A new romance with Winter, who’s all in now, especially after losing her and getting her back. Because Ivy definitely was dead but was brought back.

And Ivy can now see and communicate with the dead. And a livelier, albeit dead, group has never been seen. Or heard than here.

She’s asked for help to find a missing person, which leads her into a serial killer case involving dead witches and a threat to her friends and lover.

Harper leans into the intimate details of Ivy’s new relationship with Winter, who has resigned from the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, blaming the Order for Ivy’s death, even though she was resurrected. But he’s struggling, and so is she in the new dynamic, a very realistic scenario.

Comedic relief in this story comes in many forms, sometimes it’s with the ghost who demands Ivy’s attention , with an outdated idea of attitudes towards women and the world. Or , in a scene that still has me giggling, it’s Ivy herself, attempting to enter through a second story window. I’ll not spoil it, but needless to say, I’ve reread this scene several times.

The story is harrowing, funny, well executed , full of several layered plot lines that are balanced and compelling. From a tight investigation into various murder mysteries to the intimacy of their personal relationship, the book continuously weaves both together until it reaches a great conclusion.

Spirit Witch (The Lazy Girl’s Guide To Magic Book 3) by Helen Harper is a fantastic book. In many respects it feels like it could be the series finale as it beautifully ties together so many characters storylines and gives them a great ending. I was so happy when I was done.

There is another story, a holiday novella to read, which I’m onto next.

Ivy is a character who I wish there were more of in the books I read. She’s outside of the main character norm and I absolutely adore her. The series is terrific and the characters around her just as compelling.

A must read.

Cover by Yocla Designs. an accurate representation actually . She’s a fantastic character.

The Lazy Girl’s Guide To Magic:

Slouch Witch #1

Star Witch #2

Spirit Witch #3

Sparkle Witch #4 – a holiday novella

Buy link

Spirit Witch (The Lazy Girl’s Guide To Magic Book 3)

Blurb

If anyone appreciates what it means to be dead to the world, it’s Ivy Wilde.

Barely recovered from her brush with necromancy, Ivy is flung once more into a world of intrigue, adventure and potential death and disaster. It’s not her fault – it just so turns out that she’s now the only person in the entire world who can communicate with the dead. And they’re a chatty bunch with a list of demands.

When the ghosts offer information about a witch-hating mass murderer in return for Ivy’s help, she has no choice but to get involved. She might be getting herself into more trouble than she realises though – and that’s even before she’s dragged to Sunday dinner so she can meet Winter’s family…

This is the third book in The Lazy Girl’s Guide To Magic series.

Publication date: August 23, 2017
Language: English
File size: 1.9 MB
Simultaneous device usage: Unlimited
Text-to-Speech: Enabled
Screen Reader: Supported
Enhanced typesetting: Enabled
X-Ray: Enabled
Word Wise: Enabled
Print length: 288 pages

Review: Luckless (Luckless Book One) by Cari Z

Rating: 4.5🌈

Luckless, a fantastic fantasy short story from Cari Z, reads like a much longer novel. It’s got a depth of characters, and its world building surpasses its length in exploration and dimension.

A absolute fan of anything dragon or dragon rider related, the tale of Evan Luck, now called Luckless because he survived the unimaginable. The loss of his dragon and their bond.

The author brings Evan grief and shattered memories vividly, painfully to life, including the hate and fear that comes from the people around him.

It’s a dystopian Earth fighting for survival against monsters and humanity’s only major hope is the dragons who came and fought with them.

Told completely from Evan’s perspective, we see the remnants of the city, the creatures they are fighting, the dragon and rider pairs, and Lee Caldwell, a new important arrival.

Lee and his young son are both great characters. They balance out Evan in multiple ways, and while it’s easy for a reader to understand or guess about Lee’s role, nothing takes away from the story and the journey that these characters have to go through.

While, the end is a bit abrupt, it helps to know that there’s 2 more books ready to read in this series.

I highly recommend this excellent book, with its fantastic characters and terrific story.

Great cover too.

Luckless series:

Luckless #1

Dauntless #2

Reckless #3

Buy link

Luckless (The Luckless Series Book 1)

Blurb

Evan Luck is a dragon rider with no dragon. Five years ago, his dragon gave her life defending the monster-ridden remnants of Marble, and ever since, his ability to connect empathically to another dragon had been as broken as his heart. Now he spends his days dodging his disappointed mayor, crafting arrows, fighting off the not-as-legendary-as-they-should-be beasts that’ve overrun America, and just trying to get by in the city of Forge.

But when he meets newcomer Lee Caldwell, Evan thinks his lonely luck might be changing. Lee is the only person in the city who doesn’t blame Evan for his dragon’s death, and he welcomes Evan into his own little family. There’s more to Lee than meets the eye, though, and between his refusal to talk about himself, pressure from the mayor to split them up, and a monster attacking the city’s foundations, Evan isn’t sure he’ll live long enough to learn the truth. But not learning the truth will almost certainly be fatal, both to Evan and Lee’s budding relationship, and to the entire city.

Publisher: Cari Z. (June 1, 2020)
Publication date: June 1, 2020
Language: English
Print length: 80 pages

Check out the new release “The Great Forest and Other Love Stories“ by Warren Rochelle (tour and excerpt)

Warren Rochelle has a new FF/MM romance fantasy/sci-fi short story collection out: The Great Forest and Other Love Stories. And there’s a giveaway!

“The course of true love never did run smooth” might be a cliché, but for the lovers in these stories, it’s an understatement. Consider: having to rescue your beloved from seven years of service to sentient trees, or your lover wants you to curse an entire town, or your husband is sure aliens are calling to him from a comet. Find out what happens in these and other stories in The Great Forest and Other Love Stories.

Warnings: neglectful parents, end of the world

Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

Warren is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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

Direct link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47324/

Excerpt

Chesapeake Air and Spaceport, North Terminal, Interplanetary Concourse A

The sun shimmered on the water, as the train pulled into the Chesapeake Air and Spaceport RR station. He gathered his things and walked out onto a winding path, into a garden of dwarf sugar maples and ash trees. The path led him over a little bridge and a stream, and lavender star-shaped flowers. He stopped there to collect himself, to remember what his therapists had taught him, Alana on Avalon, and Gavin and Julia, at Blue Ridge. Deep breaths, center and focus on the safe, on the gurgle of the stream below his feet, the star-shaped flowers, blooming by the water. Interrupt his fear-talk looping, be present now. The main building of the spaceport was straight ahead. The building seemed almost made of sunlight and water. Sea turtles, eels, dolphins, and sea horses seemed to be swimming inside its walls.

Inside, the spaceport would be filled with people from all across Terra, from who knew how many HC planets. And aliens. Strangers, all of them. Breathe in for three, hold for four, release for five. Center. Through the sliding glassteel doors, follow the signs to the ticket kiosks. Everybody was busy, going, coming. Edvard was just one more young human.

He could do this, and he had done it. He could do it again. He could hear Luc telling him that, as he touched him, kissed him.

I’m coming.

No answer.

Scattered trees inside, fountains and pools. Whoever designed the spaceport must have wanted it to look as if it was part of the bay itself. Water currents and tree-shapes in the metal and glassteel, the beams, and the afternoon sun visible in a great skylight over the departure lobby. Were those real birds flying overhead? Edvard caught the off-world accents he knew as he walked—Avalonian, Jardinero, New Scandinavian. A trio of enhanced chimpanzees, clearly traveling on business. He tried to stare at the nest of Kalsons traveling together, with their pointed ears, white-gold hair, and skin. Like Luc and his father. There were a few Kalsons like Manon with skin a darker gold, hair, a deep brown. He stepped back, as did everyone around him, at who he saw next coming down the concourse. Even though the Second Interstellar War had ended thirty-three standard years ago, clearly not enough time had passed for any Zoki to walk through the one of the largest spaceports on the North American east coast without armed HC security. No one had forgotten how many thousands of Wertyngeris had either died or were put in hibernacula for years, or how many of the frozen had been thawed and eaten. No one had forgotten how many HC soldiers died in the war. Yes, the war had ended with a palace coup, led by the Zoki crown princess. She had immediately offered reparations for the atrocities on Wertynger, and they had been paid, and were still being paid.

Edvard watched as the reptilian Zoki, all dressed in white, with ashes on their forehead, walked silently through the spaceport, staring at the floor. According to the treaty ending the war, the Zoki had to publicly atone for eating sentient life. The crown princess, now empress, had suggested fifty Terran standard years of shame and public penance. She had acknowledged that not all Zoki had known or participated, but the government she had overthrown had known, and it had had wide popular support.

Never again.

Someone spat on the floor as the Zoki and their guards walked past. He wondered if fifty Terran standard would be enough penance.

Edvard stepped in front of a ticket kiosk beside a family which was clearly emigrating. Everybody seemed to be carrying some sort of luggage, the three kids, the two dads. He inserted his passport and Universal ID into the kiosk, and selected shuttle to the station, star service to Wertynger, Next available ship, leaving Union Station. An option for stasis for the three week trip in hyperspace? Maybe after week one. Micro-cabin, no, too claustrophobic. Single double, Family? Single. It felt like forever for funds verification. Ding! Transaction complete. Please proceed to Concourse B, Gate 29, shuttle already boarding. Proceed to gate, please have ID and passport ready.

He had done it.

Author Bio

Warren Rochelle lives in Crozet, Virginia, with his husband, and their little dog, Gypsy. He retired from teaching English and Creative Writing at the University of Mary Washington in 2020. His short fiction and poetry have been published in such journals and anthologies as Icarus, North Carolina Literary Review, Forbidden Lines, Aboriginal Science Fiction, Collective Fallout, Queer Fish 2, Empty Oaks, Quantum Fairy Tales, Migration, Clarity, Innovation, The Silver Gryphon, Jaelle Her Book, Colonnades, and Graffiti, as well as the Asheville Poetry Review, GW Magazine, Crucible, The Charlotte Poetry Review, and Romance and Beyond. His short story, “The Golden Boy,” was a finalist for the 2004 Spectrum Award for Short Fiction.

Rochelle is the author of five novels, including The Wild Boy (2001), Harvest of Changelings (2007), and The Called (2010), all published by Golden Gryphon Press. The Werewolf and His Boy, originally published by Samhain Publishing in September 2016, was re-released from JMS Books in August 2020. In Light’s Shadow: A Fairy Tale was published by JMS Books in 2022.

Author Website: https://kingdomofjoria.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/warren.rochelle

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/warrenwriter/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/38355.Warren_Rochelle

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/warren-rochelle/

Check out the new release “Resurrecting My Magic“ by Timoteo Tong (tour and excerpt from Other Worlds Ink Tours)

Timoteo Tong has a new MM paranormal fantasy romance out, Magicals Alliance book two: Resurrecting My Magic.

Book one, “Magic, Monsters and Me” is available for just 99¢ January 6th-12th!

In the thrilling sequel to “Magic, Monsters and Me,” Elijah Delomary forges new abilities with new mentors, seeks to reunify with Austin, and faces the terrible truth behind losing his powers. As war rages between Devlina and Zid’dra, Elijah and his family are drawn into the conflict.

Zid’dra grows stronger and brings Elijah to the precipice of destruction. Faced with a terrifying revelation, Elijah is pushed to protect his family, Austin, and the very fabric of existence. The weight of these challenges tests Elijah’s strength, forcing him to confront the darkest forces while proving the unwavering strength of his love to Austin.

As the evil plan comes to light, Elijah forges new abilities with new mentors, seeks to reunify with Austin, and faces the terrible truth behind losing his powers. As war rages between Devlina and Zid’dra, Elijah and his family are drawn into the conflict. Zid’dra grows stronger and brings Elijah to the precipice of destruction. Will he survive? Can he trust himself to do the right thing? Will he believe that love can conquer darkness and save the world?

Warnings: homophobia, racism, bullying, fat phobia, LGBT slurs, fade to black sex

About the Series:

The Magicals’ Alliance series revolves around the influential Delomary family, known for their massive corporation, philanthropy, and charity work. But unbeknownst to the public, they’re also the secret defenders against dark forces, facing off against monsters like Vampires and Werewolves in an age-old battle between good and evil. “Magic, Monsters and Me” is the thrilling first installment in this epic saga. Join them in their mission to protect humanity from perilous extinction.

Universal Buy Link

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Giveaway

Timoteo is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

“One night, I sat in the window seat in my room, watching the rain falling outside my window, when I heard a cry for help.

“Someone help me!”

I glanced at the clock: 3:00 AM. I padded to the door, peering outside to the long hallway stretching from Aunt Christine’s suite on one end to Mom’s on the other. The darkness was punctuated every few feet from the dim chandeliers overhead. Silence. The house and everyone in it were asleep except me. I returned to the window.

“Help!” a voice shouted, weaker this time.

“Shit,” I complained. I returned to my room, walked over to the closet, then jammed my feet in my running shoes and headed downstairs. I grabbed my raincoat from the front hall closet and stepped outside.

Where was security? They usually patrolled the grounds at night. Maybe there was a shift change. Rain thundered down on the roof of the veranda and on the brick walkway winding down the front lawn to the main gates. I stepped onto the stairs and into the rain. I hurried to the wrought iron fence separating our property from the street. I paused, noticing a strange pink light illuminating the jacaranda trees lining the street. I turned to see where it was coming from. I gasped. The house glowed with a fluorescent pink light from the runes Mom had recently cast over the house in the Jotomoarlo Sangrancto. The ancient characters appeared as if projected on the house moving up along the façade and disappearing on the mansard roof.

“Please, help little old me!” a voice called. I looked back at the house. The house was actively fighting some evil force itself. I turned and made my way to the empty street. A half block away, I spotted a figure, shrouded in shadows between the streetlights, waving to me.

“Help! Monsters!”

“I can help you!” I called, patting my pajama pockets for my PlasmX. Puxhàredo! I left it on the dresser in my closet. I stretched out my arm and raised my hand on the off chance my PlasmX would levitate out of my room and into my hands. Nothing happened. Crap. Máurso had drilled it in my head to never be without my PlasmX. And I had forgotten that rule already. I grumbled. Okay, I would just use my fists and body to battle any monster. My Xem Sen Ou improved every week. I was a walking weapon, I told myself.

I closed in on the figure.

“Come and help me.”

The stench of ashes and sulfur wafted into my nose. I gagged. Okay, a chain smoker needed my help. Mom had drilled it into my head to never smoke.

“You want yellow teeth? Wrinkles when you’re eighteen? Smell like cigarettes?”

“No?”

“Good, don’t smoke, ever!”

I could do this. I paused in front of a shadowy figure.

“Elijah Delomary, Bane of the Gloom, here to help..uh..ma’am, sir, they?”

The figure reached up to their hood with their hands, only the skin was blistered and black and oozing. My eyes widened, seeing rotting flesh on their arms. I stopped in my tracks. I began to back away.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you remember me?” A raspy voice called as the hood fell off the head of the figure. The face of an old woman with wrinkled skin and washed-out blue eyes peered at me. Fungus crusted half the woman’s face.

“Come here, honey. It’s me, your great-great aunt Mady!”

I turned and began to run. That couldn’t be Aunt Mady. She had died when I was eight years old at the ripe old age of 102. My foot hit a rut in the sidewalk, sending me tumbling forward. I crashed onto the lawn of my friend Letitia’s house. I sprawled on my back, rain beating down on my face. My heart lodged in my throat. I wanted to cry out for help. I wanted to run, but for some reason, every muscle in my body was paralyzed. I heard the sound of Aunt Mady’s walker clacking on the sidewalk.

“Come and give me a hug, honey!”

I closed my eyes. I should have woken Barn, called Sunny. Security. No, I— Stop, Elijah. You didn’t know any better. You meant well. The path to hell is lined with good intentions. No, stop. Stop. Stop beating yourself up.

The clacking stopped. Aunt Mady, or whoever she was, stood over me. I was helpless. Thunder rumbled. Our twelfth atmospheric river of the rainy season. The vernal equinox passed weeks ago. Springtime. It never rained this much in Southern California. Something was wrong, someone was trying to drown the land of milk and honey. Drown La La Land and wash California into the sea.

Wheezing filled the air. I pressed my eyes closed as a hand reached for me. A vision bloomed in my head. Two pinpoints of red light that grew and grew and grew filled my mind.

“You proved yourself quite capable,” the voice said. “I was hoping you’d run yourself ragged, trying to prove to yourself you’re not some piece of crap like your father. I hoped to watch you collapse and die. You didn’t. Then I was sure you would give up. You surprised me. So now I am here to destroy you, so Devlina is weakened, and I can grow stronger!”

Author Bio

Timoteo Tong’s imagination has always run wild, growing up in Burbank, CA, dreaming of battling vampires, werewolves, and witches in a Victorian mansion. Inspired by literary giants like L. Frank Baum, CS Lewis, and JRR Tolkien, he wrote his first book at eight, featuring his stuffed cocker spaniel marrying a playful duck. Now living in San Francisco with his husband, Timoteo surrounds himself with plants and books, enjoying cheese pizza, donuts, and long naps. He balances his creative pursuits with a healthy lifestyle, working out regularly. Timoteo dreams of flying one day and aims to enchant readers with his storytelling, just as his favorite authors did for him.

Author Website: https://www.magicalsalliance.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/timoteo.tong

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/timoteoktong/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/34837913.Timoteo_Tong

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Timoteo-Tong/author/B0C7JVD1H7

Review: Cats Never Fly (Willow Lake Supernaturals Book 4) by Lori Ames

Rating: 4.5🌈

“Where there is magic, anything is possible!

They’d always suspected there might be something special about Willow Lake, and now there isn’t just magic in the air, but love too!

If only all the jerks in the world would leave them alone, everything would be perfect… “

Cats Never Fly is the fourth book in Lori Ames Willow Lake Supernatural series, where fated mates find each other, but not before they’re involved in the series (and town’s) ongoing conflicts, mysteries, and magical criminal investigations.

I never know who Ames is focusing on next at the end of the last book. All threads lead to a certain individual but that doesn’t seem to be the one who “spoke” to her. So it’s Simon, the cat shifter who made minor appearances that’s getting his story and fated mate here.

Honestly it turns out to be a wonderful choice and a great story in terms of character development, new intriguing elements introduced, and a overall expansion of the series thread and arc mystery.

Simon is a particularly interesting being. When Simon showed up in other books, he wasn’t an appealing figure. A timid creature who looked out for himself. Here where we can hear his voice, its different. Simon’s actions are now hard to determine if he’s being overly cautious, truly fearful, or if something undefined is actually determining the course of his activities. He doesn’t seem cowardly, but his personality maybe stem from ingrained patterns of his family’s beliefs, ones that drive him away from the direction he often knows or feels is the right one to take. It’s frustrating at the beginning but deeply satisfying to be invested in as Simon grows and strengthens as a person and part of a relationship.

Simon is the strongest character here and makes the greatest strides in development. Dragon Ogden Walsh, a singing, passionate, albeit ancient , fated mate is a fascinating character but has less of an emotional journey here. I wished we had more of him with regard to his abilities and personal experiences, especially given the trauma he has to go through. Ames does a really great twist in making Simon, a cat shifter, the physically larger of the two people in human form, while Ogden, the ancient powerful dragon, is the smaller, colorfully dressed man. Yet shifted, it’s the opposite that’s true. That dichotomy impacts their dynamic in interesting ways throughout their relationship and their storyline.

The ongoing supernatural trafficking investigation and storyline introduces several new elements and characters in Cats Never Fly while expanding further into the series arc and villainy. It potentially opens up a new dimension and pairing who I hoped would come next.

Unfortunately, per the author’s note, yet another one has spoken out first. Hayden, the would be Alpha looks to be next.

Either way, I’ll be there to grab up the book. I’m absolutely invested in Willow Lake, its inhabitants, the magic and its fated mates storylines.

Add this to your TBR list! It’s a winner!

Willow Lake Supernaturals :

Hellhounds Never Lie #1

Wolves Always Bite #2

Oracles Always Win #3

Cats Never Fly #4

Buy link

Cats Never Fly (Willow Lake Supernaturals Book 4)

Blurb:

Protect his nine lives. Check. Find a pretty treasure. Check. Summon a dragon. Ch– Wait, what?

Cat shifter Simon refuses to jeopardize any of his nine lives, thank you very much. That saying “curiosity killed the cat” won’t ever apply to him. No way, no how.

Except…

When he’s out hunting for field mice one night, he finds the most wonderful whistle. It’s magical and intriguing and so very, very pretty. He knows he should return it, but what’s the worst that could happen if he blew on it first? Just once.

Months later, he finally has the courage to do just that, and when he does, the craziest thing happens. He summons a dragon, of all things.

Now what is he supposed to do? Particularly when Simon would rather keep the gorgeous dragon shifter than send him back to where he came from…

Tags: MM Fated Mates Paranormal Romance, a scaredy cat who needs to find his inner lion, a flirtatious dragon, more caged supes, gray sweatpants, shiny magical whistles do amazing things, cats don’t fly, having nine lives is the best, are ‘50s songs better than ‘80s songs?

Note: This book will be best enjoyed if you’ve read the first books in the series.

Willow Lake Supernaturals Series

Book 1: Hellhounds Never Lie (Ash and Dillon)

Book 2: Wolves Always Bite (Jeremy and Adrian)

Book 3: Oracles Always Win (Jake and Gage)

Book 4: Cats Never Fly (Simon and Ogden)

• Publication date: August 1, 2024

• Language: English

• File size: 2435 KB

• Print length: 384 pages

Join us for the tour and giveaway for Down the Line by AG Meiers (Other World Ink)

AG Meiers has a new MM romantic suspense book out: Down the Line. And there’s a giveaway.

Revenge is a Dangerous Obsession.

Dean Hunt needs the story of a lifetime—Since his uncompromising attitude got him fired, the investigative journalist is hell-bent to expose the powerful and corrupt Conway family. It’s a career move, and absolutely not a vendetta against the oldest son Noel, who ghosted Dean after a mind-blowing weekend together.

Noel Conway needs a new start—After years away, Noel has come home to rebuild the bridges he’s burned. Too bad his past caused a ripple effect he can’t outrun. Now, he’s asked to save his family from the one man he never expected to see again but can’t forget.

Dean is chasing front-page news, and Noel is trying to protect the ones he loves. But the line between enemies and lovers gets blurred when a dangerous criminal from Noel’s past resurfaces. Will the truth shatter their tentative trust? Or do they have a shot at happily ever after?

But none of that matters when suddenly Noel disappears…

Down the Line, the final book in the award-winning Jake’s Bar series, is a spicy, M/M romantic suspense featuring a rainbow-colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle. So, download today, and get ready to fall in love with Jake’s Bar.

Warnings: smoking cigarettes and weed in the hot tub, kidnapping (on page scenes restrained), verbally abusive father

About the Series:

The award-winning Jake’s Bar series is a set of steamy, M/M romantic suspense novels, featuring a rainbow- colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle.

Universal Buy Link | Amazon

Giveaway

AG is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47310/?

Excerpt

As Dean reached the top of the staircase, a man stepped out of the shadows in front of his door. Dean straightened his shoulders. “Detective Conway.”

“Hunt.”

In a parallel universe, they might have been friends. They were fighting the same fight. Had the same enemies. In this world, they weren’t brothers in arms. In this world, Dean had been cast as the villain.

“How can I help you this fine morning?”

“Open the door. We gotta talk.”

“Look, it’s been a long night—”

“Just open the damn door.” Conway snarled, pushing into Dean’s personal space.

Dean stood his ground. “Are you here in an official capacity? Because then, the answer is no, I won’t let you in. You have no warrant, no permission to search my property. I don’t consent—”

“Just shut the fuck up. None of us wants this shitshow to be on the record,” Con growled.

Dean, curious, took a step back and raised his empty hand, palm up. “Okay.”

He fished for his key, pushed open the door, and quickly disarmed his alarm system. Conway didn’t wait to be invited in, just crossed the living room, dropped his shearling coat onto the sofa, then walked over to the large window overlooking the river.

The view was the only redeeming feature of Dean’s otherwise-generic apartment. The mess didn’t help. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink, a pizza box on the breakfast counter separating the cramped kitchen from the living room, and an unmade bed in the other corner of the room.

“For a guy who anxiously waited at my doorstep, you’re awfully quiet.” Dean smirked. “Coffee?”

“No.” Conway turned his back, now studying the row of framed newspaper front pages Dean had hung on the apartment’s interior wall. His personal collection of historic headlines—headlines that changed the world.

The oldest was from July 6, 1776. The Pennsylvania Evening Post, printing the Declaration of Independence on its front page. Next to it, the Daily Telegram, declaring the end of the Second World War. The two most recent, the New York Times’ “OBAMA: Racial barrier falls in heavy turnout” and, of course, the front page the day after 9/11.

Dean had added a few more personal favorites, like Moneta J. Sleet’s photography of Coretta Scott King at MLK’s funeral. The first Black man to win the Pulitzer for journalism.

Conway took his time examining each framed newspaper. Dean already regretted allowing the intrusion into his space. He felt exposed—vulnerable—under silent scrutiny.

Irritated, he started banging around the kitchen. He was in no mood to explain that looking at those headlines every day fueled his ambitions and inspired his dreams. Dean believed with every fiber of his being in the power of a free and independent press.

He turned on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter. As if Conway felt Dean’s angry glare across the room, he finally turned and stared right back. For a moment, they engaged in a silent standoff.

Unease flittered through Dean. Camille had been right. Her brother was seething with anger. And Dean had no fucking idea what he’d done to piss him off. He sighed and shook his head, then took two mugs out of the cabinet and put them onto the island. “Miguel, have a damn coffee. You look like you need it.”

“Says the man who clearly slept in his party clothes and crept home at sunup.”

“Guilty as charged.” Dean shrugged.

Conway curled his lip. “I do not know what my sister sees in you.”

It wasn’t a question, so Dean didn’t bother with an answer. “You wanted to talk? So, talk.”

Instead of talking, though, Conway pulled out a stack of papers. Pushing aside the coffee cups to make room, he spread them out over the counter.

Dean froze. The first blurry photograph featured Dean in another man’s arms. In the next, the same man was pressing Dean against a white porch railing, his own hands tangled in the man’s messy curls. Conway fanned the stack, revealing nearly a dozen more.

Dean and Noel Conway, kissing.

Suddenly, he was there again, the ocean breeze tugging on his clothes. Noel’s warm skin, tasting like sunshine and a hint of salt, his eyes blown with desire. Goddamn, so fucking beautiful, with that shy smile, whispered promises—

Dean’s throat was desert dry. His ragged breath and the hissing of the coffee machine came together like a fucking symphony. “I—”

“Save it. My sister thinks you’re this hotshot journalist. Full of passion. Braving adversity. Motivated by a noble cause. Yeah, fuck that. You’re after my family because Noel pounded your ass, then dropped you like he does everybody else. Your pride—your precious ego—is hurt because you’re just another notch in my brother’s carved-up bedpost.”

Conway grabbed his jacket and walked to the door. He turned and added, “Watch it, Hunt. You got no job. No friends. No prospects. But if you think you’ve reached rock bottom, think again.”

Dean contained himself until he heard his door close with a soft click. Only then did he allow himself to swipe papers, cups, and the fucking photos off his counter. The cups shattered

on the tile floor.

Author Bio

Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her husband and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends and family, and writing.

When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people and amazing locations.

Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict and heartbreak, before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.

Author Website: https://www.agmeiers.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/ag.meiers.1/

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/agmeiers/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/AG-Meiers/author/B07MCHQH5B

Review: Curio by C.S. Poe

Rating: 4.5🌈

I simply don’t read enough stories by this remarkable author. Curio by C.S. Poe is an excellent way to find your way to this wonderful storyteller.

This short story really resonated with me as I just had someone drop off a dilapidated cardboard box full of old photographs, mostly mine, from the past. No dates, and haphazardly thrown in there, saved from the trash.

So a story that tackles the possibilities that lie behind forgotten old discarded photos hits home.

Poe’s characters, so vividly real and grounded in a place the author calls home, brings the humor and emotional layers so important to this. Llewellyn “Lew” Cooper with his aunt Julia run Curio Cabinet in New York City’s West Village. It’s a hodgepodge of Julia’s interests and antiques, including old photographs.

Then a handsome man comes, buying the photographs on a regular basis. Why? Who is he?

Poe beautifully builds this quietly emotional story of buried history revealed and love in all its forms. Curio comes to a happy ending leading forward for Henry and Lew that makes sense and leaves me absolutely satisfied.

This is a terrific read and the author is one you should have on your auto buy list.

Buy link:

PURCHASE

Blurb:

Llewellyn Cooper and his aunt Julia run Curio Cabinet in New York City’s West Village, where the clientele is as strange as the junk being amassed in their secondhand shop. Llewellyn and Julia have been as thick as thieves his entire life, and Llewellyn can’t imagine being anywhere else six days a week—even if Julia’s bizarre habits and inappropriate conversations drive him crazy. That’s family, though, right?

When Llewellyn drums up the nerve to chat with a routine customer—in part due to curiosity, as Henry McLaughlin returns time and again to purchase nothing but old photographs, but also because the bearded and bow tie–wearing man is the finest thing to ever step foot inside Curio—it seems like Llewellyn will finally have a plus-one for future RSVPs. But just when things start looking up in the romance department, it turns out Henry might be too strange for the Cooper family.

And that’s saying something

Emporium Press
February 05, 2024
Cover art: Reese Dante
Genre: Contemporary romance

60 pages

Review: Little Pest (Once Upon A Bite Book 1) by Charity Parkerson

Rating: 4.5 🌈

If you’re in the mood for a cute kinky adult bedtime story, I’ve got a new trilogy for you! Author Charity Parkerson is offering up a trio of short adult paranormal tales, a mixture of fang, kink, and love done weird vampire style.

Little Pest’s unique bag of elements include BDSM Daddy play, amorous tiny bats fielded by a fly swatter, a lonely ancient vampire who loves Vegas, and a sad young man who picked the wrong night to be brave and find a Daddy.

As odd a group as this sounds, as a short story, it comes marvelously together. Even if Daddy play or BDSM isn’t a trope you read, the way it’s written is done well and easy for a reader to understand why it fills such an emotional need for Tate.

The ancient vampire? Draco, lonely in Las Vegas and unaware of how his long undead life is about to change. A terrifyingly good vampire and terrific character. I always suspected magicians were vampires anyway.

Tate is, uh was a vulnerable young man with a short unhappy life behind him. Parkerson creates in Tate a character of such bravery, self knowledge, and honesty that it’s impossible not to root for him and love him. Onesie and all.

And turns out he’s actually perfect for Draco, if only he can get past the ancient fears.

Little Pest is a quick fun Paranormal romance. It’s quirky, gives the reader a new slant on types of vampires (pesky young things), and mild kinky romance.

I’m looking forward to the remaining two tales. They look to be equally weird , different, and daffy while fangy and romantic. Gotta love that!

Once Upon A Bite:

✓ Little Pest #1

◦ Cosmic Cardio #2 – April 25,2023

◦ Must be Clowning Me #3 – May 8, 2023

Note: love these covers!

Buy Link:

Little Pest (Once Upon a Bite Book 1)

Description:

Draco is the oldest vamp around. Tate is the newest and possibly the most annoying. They’re the perfect pair.

As one of the oldest living vampires, Draco has seen a lot of history. He’s also extremely powerful. With that power comes an allure that draws younger supernaturals to him like flies, hoping for a taste of his… expertise. Draco wants none of that. He lives a quiet life as a magician at a casino in Vegas. It’s a fun gig for a retired vamp with no real responsibilities left to his name. Then Tate flies into his life. Now nothing is the same.

Tate is a little hapless. He’s a little everything, actually. In fact, that pretty much sums up his personality. He’s a Little. At least, he was before some dude bit him in a nightclub and now Tate is stronger than ten men, can control minds, and turn into a bat. He has no clue how he’s doing any of that. No one taught him how to be a vampire. In fact, he doesn’t know how to survive. Without Draco’s help, he won’t. If it means Tate has to make a pest of himself to get Draco to notice him and teach him the how-tos of his new life, then so be it. Falling in love, that was just another one of Tate’s little mistakes, but it might be his best one yet.

Little Pest is the first book in Charity Parkerson’s Once Upon a Bite series. These books are meant to be short, fun paranormal romps to brighten your day.

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