Title:  Riding the Track

Author: Kara Ripley

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: May 28, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 28600

Genre: Contemporary, Australia, bisexual, lesbian, outback, trail ride, vacation

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Synopsis

Herding cattle and drinking Australian beer aren’t pastimes that particularly appeal to an ‘indoor girl’ like Clara, but she’d be damned if she’d let her cheating ex-boyfriend have the vacation they were meant to share. So, to salvage some piece of her self-respect after a bad break-up, she finds herself riding a horse along the Oodnadatta Track for five days. When Clara arrives, she can’t help but feel an intense attraction to Evelyn, the drover who guides their group through the immensely unique landscape between Coober Pedy and the Anna Creek Station. Clara’s never been one for a no-strings-attached fling, but cowgirl Evie becomes increasingly difficult to resist. In combination with the exquisite outback, soulful horses, and overly cheerful tourists, Evie may just be exactly what Clara needs to escape her own pessimism.

Excerpt

Riding the Track Kara Ripley © 2018 All Rights Reserved A week traipsing around the ass-end of Australia was not my idea of a good time. As I exited the airplane, all I could think was: what the fuck am I doing here? Rather than at home in Sacramento, curled up with my sociopathic cat on my favorite sofa, drinking away my sorrows with my favorite wine, and obsessively rewatching my favorite episodes of Gilmore Girls. Instead, I was on my own—yes, traveling alone is a thing people do—waiting to be picked up by a tour guide who would probably smile too broadly, laugh too loudly, and abbreviate every other word to the point where I wouldn’t be able to understand a damn thing. Regardless, it was still worth taking the trip, because it meant Austin (otherwise known as my idiot ex-boyfriend) had to stay home. Standing in line, another international zombie waiting to get my passport stamped, the thought made me smile. “What brings you to the land down under?” The customs officer’s words might’ve suggested he was interested, but his monotone made it obvious he’d already asked at least fifty other people the same thing. But he was making an effort. I hadn’t realized how utterly terrifying the officials were in the airports back home. Contrast was sobering. “Here for one of those outdoor adventure vacations,” I told him. I left out the part about taking the trip as a way to say “screw you” to my moronic, cheating ex-boyfriend, the one who’d actually wanted to go to South Australia. “It’s a cattle drive.” My voice was scratchy, my throat dry. I hadn’t actually spoken to anybody for hours. I didn’t have reason for complaint, though, since I managed to get an empty seat next to me and the flight attendant didn’t push too hard for conversation. “Wonderful. Well—” He returned my passport. “—have a fantastic time, Clara Adler.” It always sounded strange to me when a stranger used my full name. I tucked the passport into my back pocket and nodded politely before moving on. A few hours and two way-too-strong cappuccinos later, I was on yet another flight. This time, though, a small crowd of us were crammed into the world’s smallest cabin. The guy in the window seat next to me had serious need of some mouthwash or a mint. I had to keep my face turned away from him to avoid breathing in his noxious cigarette breath. It was a shame because, from what I saw through the window across the aisle, the landscape became increasingly orange as we put more distance between us and the capital city. It wasn’t quite the same color as the Nevada desert I’d visited with my parents. Nor did it seem as stagnant. Even with brief glances, the scorched land below us asserted itself as a living entity—a bear reaching the end of its hibernation period. Still and seemingly peaceful, yet hungry. From the sky, the low-lying rectangular building in Coober Pedy reminded me of a roller-skating rink more than an airport, as though I could reach through the window and pick the whole thing up. When they finally opened the hatch and let us out, I wanted to guzzle the fresh air like a dehydrated alcoholic with their lips wrapped around a beer tap. I hadn’t been all that excited about the whole idea of being outdoors, but after such a suffocating trip, I wondered if there was something to be gained from this whole affair after all. The tour guide waited on the tarmac, holding a sign that read “Clara, Louise, and Michael. Let’s round ’em up!” I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. To be fair, she was probably trying to be welcoming. Ordinarily, I might have even appreciated the effort. Reflecting on how hostile I’d been lately made me remember the-idiot-named-Austin again. It irritated me that my loser ex-boyfriend had made me so moody. The woman holding the sign noticed me staring and waved, lifting up onto her toes, even though there wasn’t anyone between us. Her dark eyes widened beneath a charcoal-colored hat as she smiled at me, gesturing for me to join her. The hat fascinated me. It looked like something a cowboy would wear, except the crown didn’t reach so high, and the brim had a less severe curl than I would have expected. I suddenly remembered mention of them in a magazine I’d skimmed on the flight over. An Akubra. I took a deep breath to prepare for extended social interaction and walked over. Two others fell into step with me. Louise and Michael? “Welcome to Oz!” The shine of the sign-holder’s white teeth was intensified by the dark tones of her face. “I’m guessing you two are Louise and Michael,” she said, offering a handshake. “You guess right! You maybe ought to be a fortune-teller,” Louise replied enthusiastically, her Southern accent asserting itself. It was clear that Louise was going to get under my skin for the next few days. She was too cheerful. It just wasn’t natural to be that excited to meet new people. “G’day. Good to meet ya,” the Australian replied. “My name’s Evelyn. But you can call me Evie, yeah?” I’d always assumed films and television programs exaggerated the Aussie accent and vernacular. If the woman was any indication, the stereotypes were more than fair. My guess, though, was that she probably had to speak that way to appease the tourists. “That leaves Clara,” she said as she held out her hand. Her grip was strong as she gave my arm one quick up-and-down before releasing it. I wanted to rub the back of my hand like a child but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to offend the one who’d be guiding us. I needed another coffee. Or maybe a cider. Was the early afternoon a reasonable time to start drinking in Australia? “Right.” Evie clapped her hands together. “You lot are the last ones to arrive. A few hours and we’ll be at base camp. You can get some good bush tucker, have a few drinks, enjoy a few songs, meet your horses, and get a solid night’s sleep before the real adventure starts.” Horses. Fuck. I was so busy avoiding Mr. Stink-Mouth on the plane that I’d forgotten the horses, even though it was one of the main reasons Austin had wanted to come on this vacation. The fifteen hours of travel before that probably hadn’t helped my memory either. Five days wandering through the South Australian outback. Sure, I could handle that. Probably. But on a horse? Jesus H Christ. I hadn’t been atop a horse since the seventh grade. Summer camp. A ripped seam in my jeans. Jonas Egan laughing at me from his saddle. God, Jonas was such an asshole. I imagined him as an adult, living in some overcrowded apartment building with his eight illegitimate children and underage girlfriend, still scratching his balls when he thought no one was watching. I was going to have to actually ride a horse. For five days. Shit. My crotch and thighs were practically aching already. Fuck you and your cowboy obsession, Austin. If I kept my bad track record up, I was going to need an asshole display cabinet for my growing collection. As the four of us walked through the small building toward the baggage claim, I couldn’t help but notice the jeans Evelyn—Evie the Drover—was wearing. Dark blue. Bootleg. Tight. Did my eyes just linger on her butt? I had to admit, it was a damned impressive butt. I wanted to ask her if she had a regular routine of squats or if the muscle tone came from all the riding. Either way, I didn’t think too much of my little rear-end inspection at the time. It’s not as though it was the first time I’d checked out a woman, and there wasn’t anything else to see at the Coober Pedy airport. The car was a well-traveled pickup truck, the kind with two rows of seats. It was probably white, but under all the orange dust, it was difficult to be sure. “I’ll take that for ya,” Evie said as she made for my duffel bag. Her fingers grazed against mine as she wrapped her hand around the handle and gently pulled it out of my grip. Though we both had dark hair and eyes, my skin was pale against hers, almost sickly. “Thanks.” I redirected my gaze to a rather exciting rock a few inches away from the rear tire. It was the safer option, given my brain seemed to want me to inspect the front of Evie the drover in much the same way I had the back.

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Meet the Author

Kara Ripley is the romance-writing alter ego of Australian sci-fi and fantasy author, Rebecca Langham. Even though she’s named after two iconic sci-fi characters, Kara reflects Rebecca’s inner romantic, that part of her secretly wanting to leave the aliens, magic, and spaceships behind every now and then.

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Title:  A Touch of Magic

Series: Fae-Touched, Book One

Author: Isabelle Adler

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: May 28, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 28800

Genre: Paranormal, contemporary, paranormal, criminals/mafioso, gambling, abduction, abuse, magician/magic users, violence

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Synopsis

After returning to the straight and narrow, Cary Westfield hopes to rebuild his life as a stage magician. Only thing is, the success of his new show is entirely dependent on a strange medallion inherited from his late grandfather—an amulet that holds a rare and inexplicable power to captivate the wearer’s audience. Ty prides himself on his ability to obtain any item of magical significance—for the right price. When a mysterious client hires him to steal a magical amulet from a neophyte illusionist, he’s sure it will be a quick and easy job, earning him a nice chunk of cash. As it turns out, nothing is sure when greed and powerful magic are at play. When a mob boss with far-reaching aspirations beats Ty to the snatch, Cary and Ty form an unlikely partnership to get the amulet back. The unexpected spark of attraction between them is a welcome perk, but each man has his own plan for the prize. All bets are off, however, when it is revealed the magical amulet holds a darker secret than either of them had bargained for.

Excerpt

A Touch of Magic Isabelle Adler © 2018 All Rights Reserved Chapter One Cary Westfield wasn’t a terribly catchy name for a magician, so the playbill read The Incredible Mr. Mars. Ty studied the vintage style poster near the theater’s entrance, which depicted said Mr. Mars pulling a bewildered-looking white rabbit out of a hat. Despite the old-fashioned font and style, the poster was brand new. Mr. Mars was a relative newcomer to the live entertainment scene and had only been performing at the Garland Magic Theater for two weeks, but the shows had been consistently sold out. Granted, this wasn’t the largest or the most prestigious venue in San Francisco; however, considering the act in question wasn’t at all original or shocking, consisting of run-of-the-mill stage illusions and a bit of mind reading, it was quite a feat. The mass appeal would have been something of a mystery had Ty not known exactly what was behind it. That was too bad for poor Cary Westfield—sudden and unwarranted success tended to draw the wrong kind of attention. Ty followed the line inside. The usher took a look at his ticket and directed him to the back row. Ty took the aisle seat and waited as the lights dimmed. The darkness sharpened the smell of dust coming from the old upholstery, the whispers of the spectators, and most annoyingly, the glare of their cell phone screens. It would seem even the promise of magic couldn’t tear some people away from their social media. The emcee announced the magician, and the show began. Contrary to tradition, Mr. Mars didn’t have an assistant. His tricks weren’t all that complicated, but Ty had to give him credit for showmanship. He supplied a running commentary for the performance, which was both witty and charming and elicited laughter from the crowd. Smart. People always loved it when a show made them laugh, so they were more likely to forgive the lack of surprise and excitement. Not that Ty was in any way an expert on magic shows, but he was, in a manner of speaking, an expert on excitement. The magician’s looks didn’t hurt either. His smooth tan skin and fine features made the gaudy stage costume appear elegant. Ty absently noted the lean figure and the fluid movements, but he wasn’t there to admire Westfield’s form. As Mr. Mars struck another impressive pose, pretending to strain to recite the contents of some woman’s purse, Ty slipped quietly into the shadows, making himself as inconspicuous as possible. Thankfully, the small theater had an appropriately small staff, even on a busier Saturday night, and no one spotted him as he made his way to the backstage passage. There was only one dressing room, and the lock on it was a joke. He let himself inside and closed the door softly. The runes tattooed into his fingertips with invisible ink prevented him from leaving fingerprints, so he could rummage freely without being encumbered by gloves. That shit always came in handy—bad pun intended. The small room was cramped, serving both as a makeup nook and a storage space for various costumes and stage props. There was a vanity with a large backlit mirror. Ty looked it over, but saw nothing of interest besides a kohl eyeliner and a few mini-sized bottles of flavored vodka scattered all over the tabletop. Either the Incredible Mr. Mars needed some liquid courage before facing the crowd, or Mr. Westfield had a bit of a drinking problem. It was more force of habit than curiosity. Ty didn’t really expect to find anything of value lying around. He retreated to a far corner, where he spotted an oversized armchair under a pile of old sequined jackets, and settled there, taking out his SIG. The show was supposed to run for at least forty more minutes, but that was okay. He could wait.

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Meet the Author

A voracious reader from the age of five, Isabelle Adler has always dreamed of one day putting her own stories into writing. She loves traveling, art, and science, and finds inspiration in all of these. Her favorite genres include sci-fi, fantasy, and historical adventure. She also firmly believes in the unlimited powers of imagination and caffeine.

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Title:  A Cook's Tale

Series: Centauri Survivors Second Chance Chronicles, Book Two

Author: J. Alan Veerkamp

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: May 21, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 56,900

Genre: Science Fiction, gay, space, cooks, illness, hurt/comfort, age gap

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Synopsis

After a breakup, Erron Murfin finds himself broken, homeless, and destitute. The chance to become the Santa Claus's new cook is a beacon he can’t ignore. The new position allows him to work under Gamin Rockwell, the man who helped raise him until he disappeared when Erron turned nineteen—well over a decade ago. While the two make up for lost time, Erron catches the eyes of many crewmen as well as James and Barrus, a married pair with real intentions who are determined to draw the cautious new arrival into their relationship. Even as he stitches together his ability to see a future for himself, Gamin's history and personal issues begin to surface. Secrets bubble out in ways Erron can't ignore and he finds himself with a mystery he needs to solve. Because there’s something about Gamin that goes far deeper than the fatherly role he once held in Erron’s life so long ago.

Excerpt

Erron looked down at the synthesized protein masquerading as eggs on his plate. How this diner justified serving this travesty was beyond him. Even the smell was wrong. It was nothing like the meal he had eaten during his interview yesterday. He picked at the unyielding rubber surface with his utensil and promptly set it down on the table. There was no way he was eating this. The triangle of toast was passable. At least they had real bread. It wasn’t helping to settle his stomach, though, because his nerves were so on edge. This diner in the spaceport was close to the Santa Claus’s landing bay. It was really the only reason he had chosen it. It certainly wasn’t for the four-star cuisine. At least from his seat, the anti-grav pallet was visible, holding the crates with all his worldly possessions. Erron had packed as soon as he’d returned to his room the day before. When he’d realized he couldn’t sleep worth a damn, he had given up trying. Now he had time to burn before his appointment. He wasn’t sure if showing up too early was good or not. He didn’t want to seem too eager. Captain Danverse had told him he’d meet with his security chief for his indoctrination. There was a ship tour, procedures to go over, and a work contract to sign. Two years off planet wasn’t really so long. From what he’d researched, most crew members extended their contracts multiple times, so the Santa Claus couldn’t be that bad. On the plus side, he’d be allowed to cook for others again. That might make up for most shortcomings. Erron was fairly confident he was doing the right thing. Fairly. It wasn’t as if he had much choice. He needed the job. When the server brought the bill for his breakfast—rather than call it a travesty—he cringed when he pressed his finger to the DNA ID scanner. If there hadn’t been enough credits in his account, he would have been in trouble. He didn’t know why he continued to sip at the bitter, burned coffee. It certainly wasn’t doing his stomach any favors. The diner was stocked with a fair number of customers. Apparently, being cheap overrode the food quality in this establishment. Erron mentally kicked himself. Being a food snob was one thing, but being an elitist ass was something else. These people probably hadn’t spent three months living in shitty hotels. The patrons seemed mostly working class, enjoying their breakfasts. No doubt some were station regulars, who chatted with the servers and cook with a family-like familiarity. A warm camaraderie filled the place and that made Erron smaller somehow. What he wouldn’t give to belong somewhere. He’d lost that when Toby hadn’t even fought for him as he was fired and evicted. It wasn’t fair. Erron thought he’d had everything: a loving partner, a job he excelled at, and a promising future. All of it scrubbed away without so much as an acknowledgement of regret on Toby’s part. A young man and woman walked into the diner and sat at the counter, holding hands the entire time. The ache in his chest twisted deeper. Fucking heteros. The coffee had long since gone cold, but somehow it tasted better that way, so he waved off the server when she tried to refill the mug. Erron looked at the time glowing in amber numbers on the wall. An hour more, then he’d start his new life. The door hissed open as an older woman in filthy, tattered clothes shuffled into the diner. The staff ignored her from the moment she stepped across the threshold. Perhaps they knew better than to engage her. Erron was about to follow their example when her gray stare suddenly bore down on him. With a stern purpose, she strode over to his table. Erron startled when she clamped her dirty hand on his wrist. He pulled back slightly, but her grip was firmer than he expected. “You’ve lost someone very close to you.” Her voice was raspy, and Erron couldn’t help but look into her glassy eyes. “That’s a little vague.” “You’re about to travel a great distance.” She continued to speak as if she was barely aware of his response. Erron’s brow furrowed. “I am in a spaceport.” “Someone will be on board that you thought you’d lost long ago.” Surprise froze Erron in his seat. Gamin was on board. It had been years since they’d laid eyes on one another. Part of the gnawing at his gut was whether Gamin would be happy to see him or not. Erron had given up a long time ago asking his mother about what happened between them. She took the story to her grave. He loved his mother and missed her, but he’d never completely forgiven her for it either. “You think you’ve lost the ability to love another, but you’ll find it on board once again.” Words refused to form when Erron opened his mouth. A psi on this side of the galaxy? He’d never met one before. Para-humans were few and far between. What were the chances she was telling him his future? She stood silent as he pondered. It wasn’t so much that he believed her. Deep down, he just really wanted to. “Do you see anything else?” Erron’s response was timid and quiet. Her rough voice managed to coo. “Of course, child. It’ll cost you ten credits.”

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Meet the Author

While spending years more focused on visual arts, J. Alan Veerkamp never let go of his innate passion for storytelling, wanting to write and draw comic books when he grew up. Once he discovered M/M fiction, a whole new world opened filled with possibilities. Why couldn’t you have fantastic and dynamic sexy tales with an M/M cast? He started reading the online tales of authors like, Night Tempest, Rob Colton, and Alicia Nordwell, which only fueled his need to create. Eventually he found GayAuthors.org, and with a little coercive nudge, started sharing his tales with an unexpected level of positive response. The experience and support gave him the courage to cross his fingers and aim for the world of M/M publishing. Born and raised in Michigan, J. Alan continues to type away, wishing it was practical to use an noisy, old fashioned keyboard that clacks with each strike, if just to annoy his loving partner and spoiled miniature dachshund.

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Title:  What It Seems

Author: Sydney Blackburn

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: May 21, 2018

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 19,700

Genre: Contemporary, ace, bisexual, romance, self-discovery

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Synopsis

Michael’s straight and infatuated with a woman he worked with one day, over a year ago. But when he finally sees her again, he’s astounded that the woman of his dreams is a man in drag. Darcy is ace and not interested in dating anyone, so he and Michael just hang out. A lot. When he needs to do an on-screen kissing scene, Michael is the best person to ask for help. Michael soon discovers he isn’t as straight as he thought he was, and Darcy likes kissing him a little too much for someone certain he never would. Those are a lot of changes to accept, but they just might be worth it.

Excerpt

What It Seems Sydney Blackburn © 2018 All Rights Reserved Chapter One Michael Eden did not believe in love at first sight—it was a completely ridiculous notion. First came attraction, or lust if one was to be blunt about it, then a discovery of shared interests and a passion for discussing opposite interests. And from that, an intimate history of shared experiences. There was a science to it, right down to the feeling. And that was cool; it was still a wonderful, magical thing, but it didn’t just happen instantly. He believed that right up until the day he found himself on the closed set for a music video, dancing a complex choreography around the love of his life. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—she was slim to the point of being flat-chested, and her jaw was a little too square. But she had long dark-brown hair that hung in heavy waves around her shoulders, sexy legs, and her eyes, dear god, her eyes. Big and cinnamon brown, surrounded by long dark lashes. One look in those eyes and Michael Eden had lost his heart forever. When filming ended, though, he couldn’t find her. All he knew was her first name. Darcy. Over a year later, without ever finding her again, he still dreamed about her regularly. Dreamed of her eyes closing as her lips pressed to his, of her slender body against his. Dreamed her breasts barely apples in his hands, tiny, with perfect, rosy nipples. Sometimes his dreams were explicit enough to wake up covered in spunk, which was worse when he’d spent the night with a woman as much like his beloved Darcy as he’d been able to find. They never satisfied him, not really, and he’d stopped picking up women for what was basically masturbation. Oh, he tried to make sure they got off, too, not because he wanted to please them so much as he felt guilty for pretending they were someone else. It wasn’t worth it. His current gig was a production of Bite Me! at the Mermaid Theatre. He was assistant choreographer in addition to leading the chorus dancers, and while it wasn’t headline fame, it was satisfying. In fact, if he could just forget Darcy, his life would be close to perfect. He shook his head briefly as he pedalled his bike home from the theatre. Maybe he should seek professional help. He grimaced, hating the very idea of a psychiatrist. His phone chose that moment to chime. He knew it was Dave by the ringtone, and that it was a text by the vibration. Nothing he had to stop and answer. He was sweating by the time he locked his bike into the sheltered rack behind his building and climbed the back stairs. It was a small three-story walk-up, built in the early fifties. His apartment still had a milk door outside the kitchen, although it had been long since blocked off and screwed shut. He couldn’t imagine someone carting crates of milk bottles up those stairs every morning to deliver to the apartments. He flipped the air conditioner switch to suck out the July heat, put a pot of water on to boil for his mac and cheese, and took a quick shower before checking Dave’s text—it just read: Call me when u get a chance. Michael finished his supper, supplementing the boxed meal with a small plastic clamshell of blackberries. His laptop was playing tunes in the background, and he left it on as he called Dave. “Sup?” “Michael! Hey, listen I need a favour.” “Anything, buddy.” “They’re going to be fumigating my place, so we all need to bug out for a couple of days. I was wondering if I could stay with you?” Michael had a tiny one-bedroom apartment, and he knew he was lucky to be able to afford it. Most guys he knew had roommates or lived in apartments so small their kitchen was their bedroom. Dave could crash on his couch or sleep in his bed. Dave was gay and he was straight, but they’d been friends forever, and sleeping in the same bed was no big deal. He and Dave had swapped hand jobs on occasion and once, while drunk, blowjobs. Dave had told Michael he was bisexual. Michael didn’t feel bisexual, though—more like an open-minded straight guy. Jerking another guy to relieve some horniness wasn’t the same as thinking guys were hot or wanting to date one. “It’s not like we have sex,” he’d protested. “Bro, even if your definition of sex is limited to dicks going into another person’s bodily orifice, blowjobs count.” Michael had rolled his eyes and shook his head. “One time. It was one time. And alcohol was involved.” “River in Egypt.” He and Dave could sleep in the same bed with nothing remotely sexual too. They were friends, and once in a rare while, they shared special benefits and that was it. Now he said, “How many days?” “Two, three at the most. I guess ants are almost as hard to kill as roaches. That a problem? You finally got a real girlfriend?” Michael laughed. “Nah. Still waiting to find the woman of my dreams.” He took a split second to think about it and said, “Of course you can stay.”

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Meet the Author

Sydney Blackburn is a binary star system. Always a voracious reader, she began to write when she couldn’t find the stories she wanted to read. She likes candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach… Oh wait, wrong profile. She’s a snarky introvert and admits to having a past full of casual sex and dubious hookups, which she uses for her stories. She likes word play and puns and science-y things. And green curry. Her dislikes include talking on the phone, people trying to talk to her before she’s had coffee, and filling out the “about me” fields in social media. Besides writing, she also designs book covers for poor people.

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Title:  Into the Mystic, Volume Three

Author: Ava Kelly, Bru Baker, Lis Valentine, Michelle Frost, L.J. Hamlin, K. Parr, Artemis Savory, M. Hollis, Ziggy Schutz

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: May 7, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 55800

Genre: Paranormal Romance, LGBT, shifters, fantasy, mythology, magic, steampunk, vampires, disabilities, demons, bisexual, curses, ghosts, lesbian, paranormal, romance

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Synopsis

Nine lesbian/bisexual paranormal short stories… It Started Before Noon – All stories must begin somewhere. Heart’s Thaw – A frozen heart is no match for ignited passions. Fire and Brine – Of all the bars in all the world, Alice had to wander into Cassandra’s. Are either of them ready for what comes next? Dance with Me – Can a werewolf and a vampire put aside their differences to catch a thief in the Windy City? My Cup of O Pos – Not every visit to the ER has to be stressful. Home – A stray, an alpha, and a question: Where does she belong? Swoon – Falling in love is tough when you’re a cursed pirate. The Hunt – A first bite is never easy for a teenage vampire. By Candlelight – A girl and her ghost await a funeral

Blurbs

It Started before Noon by Ava Kelly Talida’s job as a muse is to tend to storypuffs, which she sells to storytellers when they need a spark of inspiration. One day, a gray-clad scientist named Ingrid comes into Talida’s store, trying to buy inspiration. However, scientists are boring and always adhering to strict rules, so Ingrid wouldn’t have any use for it, would she? Heart’s Thaw by Bru Baker As the daughter of the Duke Keering, Lady Helena Alexandra Gertrude Heart is well versed in propriety. Her purity has never been called into question, and many go so far as to call her frigid. When a scorned incubus bespells her, Lady Heart must find a way to unlock her inner passions—and her true feelings for her trusted companion, Calliope—or risk an icy death at the hands of the creature’s curse. Fire and Brine by Lis Valentine Cassandra’s night was full of bar fights and angry truckers, and it’s about to get much longer as a strange woman appears claiming to be a plumber sent by a friend. Things heat up quickly and the pipes are forgotten as two women who know what they want come together. But Cassandra and Alice each have secrets of their own. Dance with Me by Michelle Frost Dominique Silver, Werewolf PI, isn’t in the business of catering to rich vampires even if they are gorgeous. When vampire Madeleine’s signet ring is stolen, she risks Dom’s ire if it means having the best investigator in the city on the case. Animosity simmers even as attraction sizzles, but when the trail leads them to an unlikely thief and hidden truths are revealed, will it rip apart the tentative trust they’ve built? My Cup of O Pos by L.J. Hamlin Vampires and humans are treated separately by different doctors, so one human doctor gets a surprise when her patient has no heartbeat. The young British vampire has Ehlers Danlos syndrome and is very used to hospitals and she charms her American doctor. Home by K. Parr Raised in the foster system, 19-year-old Farah is used to fending for herself—even after getting bitten and transformed into a werewolf. So, on the night of her fourth full moon after being bitten, she handcuffs herself to her bed and prays for the best. But things don’t go according to plan. Farah wakes up the next morning outside, naked and sprawled on the back lawn of a beautiful yet intimidating woman. An alpha werewolf and Farah has trespassed on her property. Swoon by Artemis Savory Mira, a pirate, is losing her voice, and if she doesn’t have sex soon, she’ll lose her life. But she isn’t drawn to men like her sisters are, and she can’t bring herself to touch one. Will she be able to find a woman to suit her needs and save her life? Or will she fall in love before taking the plunge? The Hunt by M. Hollis Belinda’s teeth have been itching and bothering her for weeks. Her mothers say this is just another part of being a young vampire and that she’s ready to hunt. But having a crush on the human girl she needs to bite was not what she expected from a Friday night. By Candlelight by Ziggy Schutz Zoe has been obsessed with death ever since she found out she would die young. Still, stepping out of her body to be met by a ghost was not completely as she expected, and Zoe finds herself less than eager to take the final steps toward her afterlife.

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