It’s time to see who won a paperback copy of Cry Wolf!! Yay!!!
So, the winner of a paperback copy of Cry Wolf is… Continue reading
It’s time to see who won a paperback copy of Cry Wolf!! Yay!!!
So, the winner of a paperback copy of Cry Wolf is… Continue reading
by K.M. Neuhold
“Nobody’s knocked up,” I grumble. “And nobody’s gonna get knocked up because I’m dating Clay.”
Stunned silence is about what I expected, and my brothers don’t disappoint. I chance a look at them and find them both gaping at me like I’ve grown an extra head.
“You’re shitting us,” Tony guesses weakly.
“Nope.” I shake my head and square my shoulders to prepare for the inevitable onslaught that’ll come as soon as they realize what I’m telling them.
“You’re a queer?” Gio asks with quiet confusion.
The word isn’t said with venom, so I keep my own tone even when I answer. “I told you not to use that word, Gio.”
“Okay, but are you?”
“I don’t really know,” I admit. “I still like women, and I like Clay.” I shrug.
“But he’s a guy,” Tony points out, making me chuckle.
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“I don’t get it,” Gio admits.
“Okay, it’s like, imagine if someone gave you a fully restored 1963 Corvette Stingray Split Window Coupe but instead of being red like you always pictured, it was black. Would you send it back?” Gio and Tony both shake their head at the sacrilegious idea. “That’s exactly what this is like. Clay is everything I ever wanted. He’s everything I was missing in every woman I ever dated. Did I expect my soulmate to have a dick? No. But, hell, my own was always fun enough to play with; now, I’ve got a spare.”
Gio cracks a smile, and Tony still looks bewildered, but I can tell my words registered on some level.
“I guess that makes sense,” Gio admits.
I breathe a sigh of relief and pull my brother into a hug. Gio squeezes back and claps me on the back.
When I release him, I turn to Tony, weary of what I might find there.
“As long as you don’t tell me what you two do in bed, I can live with it,” Tony concedes.
I roll my eyes at him. “Dude, like I want to tell you about my sex life anyway. You’re the one who thinks everyone needs a play by play.”
Tony chuckles. “That’s fair,” he agrees, and then he opens his arms for a hug too.
Once the Kumbaya moment is over, the three of us head inside for dinner.
Clay is in the middle of helping my mom put the finishing touches on some sort of chocolate dessert, and he raises an eyebrow in question as soon as he sees me.
With my brothers right behind me, I stride over to Clay and pull him into a kiss, letting my tongue sweep briefly into his mouth.
“Mmm, you taste like chocolate,” I note, bumping my nose against Clay’s in an affectionate gesture.
“You taste like giant, sexy man,” Clay teases.
“Get a room,” Gio complains, and Tony chuckles.
My dad comes over and claps me on the shoulder without comment. I guess my mom decided to take one thing off my plate for me after all. We all sit down around the table and Ma fills our plates.
Hi everyone! I’m excited to be here at The Blogger Girls celebrating my new release Waking Oisin. In Waking Oisin, both characters discover what they once held important is no longer working in their lives. As they face this realization, they struggle to find romance and their happy for now ending.
Interview with Oisin Harrison and Trenton Fisher
Grace Kilian Delany: Hi guys and thanks for answering some questions today.
Oisin Harrison: Always happy to help out.
Trent Fisher: (turns to Oisin) You’re so sweet. (To GKD) Thanks for having us here.
GKD: Oisin, first off, can you tell everyone about your unique name and how it’s pronounced?
Oisin: Sure thing. And no one says it right, so… It’s pronounced kinda like ocean, only Oh-sheen. There’s some funky accent on the second i in Gaelic, which leads to the origin of my name. It comes from the Irish myth of Oisín and the Land of Eternal Youth. Mom liked the name, but the myth? It’s really sad. I won’t spoil it for anyone who wants to read it. It’s on YouTube, too. Such a sad ending.
GKD: Good thing you got your happy ending.
Trent: I’d say he got his happy ending.
Oisin: (blushing) Rude!
GKD: You had to go there? Anyway. Let’s dive into some other questions. Now that you’ve gotten some time together, what are some issues that have come up that you hadn’t expected?
Trent: That’s easy. This man hogs all the blankets.
Oisin: I do not.
Trent: You do too. He pulls them off me and then wraps himself in them like a cocoon. And then the dog! I love Maggie, but she likes to climb in the bed so I’ve got no blanket and a big black lab curled up next to me instead of my sexy boyfriend.
GKD: Sounds like grounds for couple’s therapy. Got anything to say to that Oisin?
Oisin: Nope. Trent is perfect in every way. There’s not anything at all that I (bursts out in laughter) Okay, so that’s not true. He has this weird thing about food. The meat—and don’t get me started on the fact he eats meat—has to go at the bottom of the plate and the carbs and veggie on the top. I guess it’s not a major issue, but just something I hadn’t expected.
GKD: That leads me to my next question. Both are you are animal lovers. Trent, your sisters own a veterinary clinic in Las Vegas, and Oisin you’re an animal activist and studying to become a veterinarian. Do you have any advice for people who are looking to adopt?
Trent: Let me add a disclaimer that none of us, including this wonderful blog site, endorses any particular organization before we get into that answer.
Oisin: Always the lawyer…
Trent: According to ASPCA, over 3.6 million animals enter animal shelters every year in the US. I understand that adopting a shelter animal can be intimidating for some, and if that’s the case, turn to rescue groups. The volunteers at good rescue group will be able to give you a feel for the animal’s disposition and help you determine if you and the animal are a good match.
Oisin: And look into pet insurance when you get your pet. Or if you are having a hard time paying vet bills, there are organizations that help people do that so you can keep your baby healthy.
GKD: Thank you guys and best to the both of you! I’m sure we’ll be chatting again soon. Continue reading
by Gillian St. Kevern
“Why do these things always come in threes? You never win the lottery three times, do you?” Gunn had steeled himself for entering the yoga studio by lighting a cigarette before he went inside. The tobacco and sulfur scent mingled oddly with the herbal notes of the incense lingering in the room, but even that couldn’t mask the smell dominating the studio—death.
Kenzies snorted. “If our perp sticks to only three we’ll be lucky.” She turned to Nate. “You okay, blossom?”
Nate swallowed. The victim’s eyes were open, and she stared at the ceiling. Her short hair was buzzed on one side and spilled into vibrant green-purple-indigo curls on the other, but while she’d obviously gone to a lot of effort to get the cut, she hadn’t maintained it. Her brown roots were showing.
Why am I focused on her haircut and not her death? Nate felt bile at the back of his throat. The woman was dead, the third victim in this ongoing case. She lay on her back on a runic circle that even to Nate’s untrained eyes looked exactly like those the previous victims had been found on. The two fang marks in her neck stood out against the paleness of her skin like a brand. Just like the others she had been entirely drained of blood.
With a start, Nate realized Kenzies was still waiting for an answer. “Yeah. Uh. Fine.”
“There’s something really suspicious about your reactions,” Gunn remarked conversationally. “I can taste shock, but we’ve already established you don’t know the victim. Has this convinced you that Ben’s responsible?”
Nate gulped. That was it, wasn’t it? If Ben was in Saltaire’s custody, he couldn’t have done this. I need to talk to Godfrey ASAP.
“How long has she been here?” Kenzies asked.
Clay stepped forward. He was far, far too cheerful for anyone who worked with Gunn. “The yoga studio closed at six. Sunset was at 7:02 p.m. The corpse was discovered by the cleaner at—when did you say, Tremaine?”
Tremaine looked up from her inspection of the studio’s supply cupboards. “I got the call at 8:17 p.m. I arrived here ten minutes later.”
Nate was relieved to see that she no longer looked ill. She didn’t even look tired. Having a case to work on was clearly more to her liking than crowd control.
Tremaine cocked an eyebrow at him, and Nate realized he was staring. “I see you got your uniform without problem.”
“Yeah, thanks for dropping it off.” Nate tugged the shirt straight. The new shirt didn’t adhere to his skin. “I feel much more comfortable.” He cast around for a way to change the subject. He didn’t want to remember what had followed the delivery of Nate’s new uniform. Ben snarling as he launched himself at Aki in an entirely unprovoked assault.
Am I sure that Ben isn’t guilty? He has all the killing instinct of a vampire… I have to talk to Godfrey. Nate slipped his hand into his pocket, gripping his phone, and took a step backward toward the door.
Gunn spat out smoke. “What are the odds we can’t identify this one either?”
Clay grinned. “Bad news.”
Gunn glared. “Security footage only shows victim?”
“Not even that. It’s a complete blank from the owner leaving to Tremaine arriving. Also, we had the owner in to ID the victim, and she says she’s never seen her before.”
“Do you think they’re doing this just to annoy us?”
Kenzies sniffed. “It would explain the wolfsbane.”
Nate was startled. “You can’t smell anything?”
“I can smell too much. Even despite the best efforts of him”—she jerked her head toward Gunn—“and the goddamn patchouli this place is drowning in, I can barely make out the smell of the rite. And you know how much necromancy stinks!”
Nate did not, but he filed that away for future reference. Evil equals smelly. “And the wolfsbane?”
“Overkill. Then again, the fact they used it at all is a good indication, if one were needed, that our perp is not a wolf.”
“Or a vampire. Don’t they have sensitive noses too?”
Kenzies looked sadly at Nate. Out of respect for Nate’s feelings, she referred to the killer as ‘the perp’ when Nate was in earshot, but he suspected she shared her superior’s views of Ben’s guilt. “I caught a whiff of vampire when we approached the building.”
“We gotta go,” Gunn announced. “Another night, another demonstration scheduled outside the Registry. You’d think people would have better things to do, but there you go. Kenzies, I leave the rest to you.”
Kenzies saluted. “I’m going to sniff around here. Clay, you monitor the Forensics team, and make sure they don’t accidentally set off a necromantic booby trap. Tremaine, take Nate back to the station. I want you to figure out who these victims are.”
by Nora Phoenix
For a week, Denver managed to stay away from Judah, as he had intended to. Sure, they interacted somewhat in the vocal coaching group, but Judah never tried to pair up with him again after that first day. Mercifully not, because Denver wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to turn him down again. The first time had been hard enough. He’d asked the first person he saw to be his partner, which turned out to be that absolute dumbass, Clark. Holy crap, the guy really had shit for brains. He had an amazing voice, though.
The vocal sessions were fun, though not exactly new to him. He knew the stuff DeeDee was teaching already, but it never hurt to brush up. The stylist had offered some interesting suggestions, wanting him to play up his cute preppy look, as she had called it. He’d tried on some of the outfits she had suggested and had to admit they looked good on him. The media trainings were when he paid attention most, because he knew how crucial it was to get that part right.
He enjoyed getting to know the others. They were all staying in the same hotel, and he’d hung out with LaVine and a few others in the evenings. Judah had joined them once. Denver wondered what he did the other evenings. Busking? There was nothing in the contract that prohibited it—Denver had looked it up to be sure—though once the blind auditions had been aired, he would have to stop. They weren’t allowed to do any promotions without the network’s permission, and the producers sure as hell wouldn’t approve busking.
What Denver appreciated most was that he hadn’t seen Cody since he left for LA. He’d contacted his case officer in New York, who had reached out to the LAPD and had set him up with a contact person there. Not that Denver was expecting much of that. Sergeant Williams, his contact on the NYPD, had gone above and beyond for Denver, fueled by a cousin of his who’d fallen prey to a stalker a few years back. She’d been raped by the guy before they had enough evidence to get him off the streets. Williams had vowed nothing would happen to Denver, and he’d done his best to live out that promise.
Of course, now that Denver was in LA, there was little Williams could do. Denver doubted a low-key stalker case like his would warrant much attention from the LAPD, not when they had dozens of celebrities with similar problems. That’s why he had been so happy he hadn’t spotted Cody. Maybe the asshole hadn’t figured out yet where Denver was? He hoped it would stay that way for a long time.
There was a knock on the door. He carefully checked the peephole. What the fuck was Judah doing at his door? Especially this late, since it was almost bedtime. He hesitated.
That voice. Those words. Denver was transported back to that morning, the two of them in his bed. That kiss, that scorching hot, yet clumsy kiss. That thick, pulsing cock in his hand and then Judah coming all over him. Damn, just when he had been more or less successful in pushing those memories away.
He opened the door, left the security chain on. “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
“No. Not until you tell me what you want.”
Judah’s face fell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping. “Never mind.”
He looked so forlorn, that Denver’s heart contracted painfully. Damn, he was such a softie. “What is it, Judah?” he said more kindly.
“No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have come. You warned me you wouldn’t do shit for me if I treated you like crap again.”
Denver involuntarily smiled. “If that’s supposed to be a sales pitch, it needs some work.”
Judah looked up from the floor he’d been studying. “It’s not. It’s me telling you you’re right.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Denver muttered as he slid the chain off and opened the door. “Come in already, would you? I can’t stand to see you standing there like a sad puppy.”
What do you do when your past comes knocking?
Six hundred and ninety-five days. That’s how long it’s been since Jude’s fiancé broke off their engagement. With the help of his brother and his all-encompassing love for music, Jude glued the broken pieces of his heart back together, but when his ex shows up on his doorstep late one evening, Jude fears it will fall apart again.
Two years ago, Vincent made a terrible mistake. He left the love of his life for stupid, ill-advised reasons. It took a traumatic event to bring what was truly important in his life into focus. Older and wiser, he’s now ready to do whatever it takes to win Jude back.
Their chemistry is as explosive as ever, but will they be able to work through the real issues? Can trust once broken be rebuilt?
Available at: Amazon
by DJ Jamison
Beau stared at the notification he’d just received about Wade Ritter: You are now connected on Messenger.
Wade must have added him on Facebook. Beau fully believed that would never happen. Even with their moms encouraging them to connect back when Wade didn’t know anyone in town, he’d ignored Beau’s friend request.
So, what did it mean that he accepted it now?
Wade remained distant at school. Beau had been embarrassed when he’d walked right by without even acknowledging him the week before. Ker had been so pissed she told Beau he should ask out Miles. He’d been chatting with Miles more in class, and he’d joined Beau and his friends for lunch a couple of times. Beau wasn’t confident he was reading him right, but Ker was all for Beau testing the waters.
She knew, just as well as Beau did, that his crush on Wade was unhealthy. He wasn’t sure asking out Miles would make it disappear. It had taken root, even when he didn’t know Wade, and now that they were talking to each other, it grew stronger every day.
When he first met Wade three years ago, he wasn’t immediately a jerk. He was withdrawn. If they were in a room full of people, Wade would be in the farthest corner from everyone else. He didn’t smile or laugh. He wore headphones and stared out the window mostly.
Beau’s little fifteen-year-old heart had been smitten immediately. It had yearned to break through the melancholy that hung over Wade. Maggie, too, had been taken with him. Wade was a cute kid, with shiny blond hair and blue eyes. Neither one of them stood a chance.
But while Beau hung back, watching and waiting after Wade had brushed off his first few attempts at friendship, Maggie charged ahead. She pestered Wade in that way little sisters seem to master at a young age. She asked him questions, and when he shrugged, she asked him more. She ignored his indifference, offering to show him the television, to play a board game, to take him out to the tire swing.
Finally, one day, Wade wasn’t quiet anymore.
“Leave me alone!” he’d exclaimed after she’d followed him onto the back porch, and Beau had watched from a distance. “I’m never going to like you; do you get that? You’re just a stupid little girl who doesn’t know crap about the world. So, let me make it simple for you: I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. So, go play with your dolls or whatever it is you do.”
Maggie had burst into tears and never spoken to him again. Unlike Beau, she was not a glutton for punishment.
Even as Beau walked into that room and stood up to Wade for the first time, he’d been unable to let go of a small sliver of hope that they’d one day be friends.
“You don’t have to be mean,” he’d said.
“Obviously I do. You guys won’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be friends, you know? Not with her and not with you. Not with anybody.”
Beau squashed the disappointment, not wanting Wade to see how the rejection hurt. He’d shrugged. “Your loss.”
All these years later, staring at the friendship Wade had extended via social media, he wasn’t sure that statement had been true. He’d felt the loss keenly, though it was for something he never had. He felt the loss of what might have been. The friendship he could have formed with that beautiful but sad boy.
He clicked Wade’s name on messenger and tapped out a message.
I knew you liked me.
He watched with bated breath, regretting the tease once he’d hit send. What if Wade took it too seriously? What if he thought Beau meant like as in … like? Ugh. So stupid. He should just put his phone away and forget about it.
The phone chimed.
It only took me three years. You must be charming.