Title: Dragon Detective

Series: Supernatural Consultant, Book Four

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 24, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 29700

Genre: Paranormal YA, LGBTQIA+, YA, dragon shifters, mage, magical detective agency, magic-users, dragon family, kitnapping, HFN

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Synopsis

Nickel might be a water elemental dragon, but even he has limits—and the sudden rain storms, hail, and snow in midsummer are way over the line. Luckily, he works for Dane’s Supernatural Consulting firm and can use those resources to figure out who keeps mucking with the weather and get them to stop. Soon Nickel realizes he isn’t the only one searching for the weather worker: the enemy he has been hunting for ten years has finally reappeared, and it’s a race to see who will reach the weather worker first. Nickel isn’t certain he’ll win, or even survive, the attempt, but he’ll do whatever it takes to save the dragons.

Excerpt

Dragon Detective Mell Eight © 2020 All Rights Reserved Chapter One Nickel walked into the office and shut his umbrella with a snap that spattered water droplets all over his pant legs. He grimaced and tossed the umbrella onto the stand by the door with a sigh of disgust. “It’s not that bad, dear,” Becky said cheerfully from her oversized secretary’s desk in the middle of the room. He scowled at her in return, which she ignored with the ease of knowing him for over ten years. Becky looked warm and dry while wearing a nice summer-weight cardigan. The rain hadn’t started until an hour ago, so she had already been safely ensconced on her throne. Nickel, on the other hand, had been out and about getting lunch. He had been lucky to be near a shop selling umbrellas when it had suddenly started pouring, but that hadn’t saved his shoes. Admittedly, Nickel liked rain. He was usually the first one to run outside to play when the skies darkened and thunder rumbled overhead, just not when he was wearing a nice suit. He might be able to save his shoes, but only if the scamp napping on his desk chair moved. “Lumie, scram,” Nickel snapped. Lumie popped one red eye open, saw that Nickel was the one speaking to him, and went right back to sleep. His long red hair flopped over his face as he took ignoring Nickel to another level. Nickel growled and ran a hand through his much shorter blue hair in exasperation. There was no talking to Lumie when he was in one of his moods. Instead of fighting for his chair, Nickel dropped to the floor. His shoes popped off with wet squelching sounds, and his socks left a puddle on the floor. Nickel’s magic fizzled between his fingers for a moment before he directed it to pull on the water, calling it out of his shoes and socks. It was a gradual process. Water moved slowly. It was sticky, according to the science teacher Dane had hired to teach all the kits, and was therefore happier to remain attached to something than not. It was why water always hesitated on the edge of a counter before the push from behind and gravity below finally sent it falling. Of course, once the first drop fell, all the water built up behind it fell too because it was all stuck together. It took some doing before the water obeyed his magic, but once one drop and then another began to coalesce in Nickel’s hand, it wasn’t long before he had a small river flowing from his shoes and socks into his cupped palms. The water was cool and welcoming, just the way Nickel liked it. He continued to call out the water slowly. Easy, routine magic, it was also good practice for when he worked larger spells. Except the water was starting to heat in his hands. First it was only just warm, which happened sometimes when he was being a touch careless, but when bubbles started to form between his hands, Nickel turned to glare at Lumie. “Knock it off!” Nickel snapped. Lumie continued to breathe evenly, as if he really were asleep. Experience told Nickel that Lumie was a dammed good actor, though. The heat continued to rise until the water stopped protecting Nickel’s hands and they began to get uncomfortably hot. His shoes also began to smell. ’Ron had stuck a hairdryer into a pair of sneakers once to try to dry them. The bathroom had reeked of sweaty feet for days when she was done, and the office was quickly taking on the smell of that awful aroma. Nickel tossed the water before it could start burning his hands. It arced beautifully in the air, steaming as it continued to boil, and landed directly on Lumie’s head. Lumie shrieked and jumped out of Nickel’s chair. His red hair was plastered to his face and dripping onto his shirt. He looked like a soaked puppy, especially as he scowled. Nickel couldn’t help grinning at the sight. “What was that for?” Lumie shook his head back and forth, deliberately spraying Nickel with more water. The water steamed off Lumie quickly, leaving his hair dry and slightly fluffy. “You know why!” Nickel snapped back, his good mood forgotten with the reminder that Lumie had just tried to boil Nickel’s hands off and destroy the office with a pervasive stench. “Sleeping in your chair is no reason for you to throw water all over me!” Lumie yelled. His eyes flashed with magic, so Nickel prepared himself to block anything Lumie was about to throw at him. “And ugh, what’s that smell anyway?” Lumie asked. He turned his head away from Nickel, the water incident already forgotten as he sniffed the air. “I was just trying to help!” Alloy whined. He poked his head out from underneath the desk. His mixed red-and-blue hair was disheveled, and his eyes—one bright red and the other blue—were wide as he tried to hold back tears. Nickel jumped in surprise and then growled at himself. How had he missed the fact that Alloy was curled underneath the desk? He shouldn’t have. Apparently, the distraction of Lumie taking his chair combined with his wet shoes had been enough for Nickel to miss Alloy. That wasn’t acceptable; Nickel snarled to himself. He had to be better than that. Alloy wasn’t an enemy, but next time Nickel might not be so lucky. Still, yelling at Alloy wouldn’t have any effect. Either Alloy would pretend to be Lumie and conveniently forget the scolding a few minutes later, or he would run to Copper and Copper would smooth over any hard lessons Nickel had tried to impart. “You remember the time ’Ron tried to dry her shoes in the bathroom?” Nickel asked Alloy as calmly as he could. Alloy’s nose wrinkled in disgust so Nickel took that as a yes. “She used the hot air from the hairdryer, and the heat made her shoes stink. That’s why heating up the water in my shoes started to smell bad.” “Oh,” Alloy said slowly as he began to understand the mistake he had made. “I should have helped your water magic, then?” he asked curiously. For any other dragon, what Alloy had said would have been an impossibility. Elemental dragons like them used one element of magic. That was it. Nickel used water, and Lumie used fire. Alloy was the result of a cruel experiment gone wrong and had somehow been born with power over both water and fire. “That would have been better,” Nickel agreed. “But you should always ask first before you interrupt someone’s spell. You could have burned me if I hadn’t gotten Lumie wet instead.” Alloy giggled and Nickel couldn’t help cracking a smile at the memory of Lumie jumping up in surprise. “Shut up,” Lumie grumped. At some point, he had left Nickel’s desk and had wandered over to Becky’s instead. He was busy plundering her candy jar, but he still shot them a disgruntled glare that only faded when he finally found a Cinnamon Bomb. He bounced off into Dane’s empty office with his prize in hand, Nickel and Alloy promptly forgotten. Nickel could only shake his head. Lumie had to grow up eventually, Nickel hoped. Alloy was certainly more mature. “Oh, don’t worry, dears,” Becky said in her best old-lady voice. She looked like one at the moment, although in another minute she might look like someone Nickel’s age or even someone in their thirties. Her outward appearance wasn’t confined by age. “I have enough candy for everyone.” She reached into her plundered candy jar and pulled out a package of red Laffy Taffy. It was cinnamon flavored, but Alloy liked the high sugar content too. For Nickel, she waved a stick of blue rock candy. She had apparently been shopping overnight, because Nickel was certain there hadn’t been any of his favorite candy left yesterday. He had checked. Was it demeaning to allow himself to be bribed by candy? Nickel couldn’t help wondering even as he padded barefoot across the office to take the proffered candy. Alloy looked at his candy and then down at Nickel’s shoes. He whined to himself and plopped down on the ground. Nickel felt the swirl of water magic in the air a moment later. He took Alloy’s candy too and brought it over. Nickel called on his own water magic and sat next to Alloy to help.

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Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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Title: Evie and the Pack-Horse Librarians

Author: Laurel Beckley

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 17, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 24100

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, libraries, fantasy, lesbian, romance, shifters, magical abilities, paranormal

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Synopsis

As an assistant editor at the prestigious Hanhat Publishers, Evie Southiel is entrusted with fine-tuning the manuscripts of the company’s most important authors. Her skills as a book witch allow her to manipulate the stories she reviews and bring them to life. When her girlfriend steals the secret manuscript of Hanhat’s best-selling author and leaks it to the press, Evie is exiled to become a journey carrier with the Pack-Horse Librarians in the eastern mountains. Timid city mouse Evie doesn’t know the first thing about surviving in the wilderness, riding a horse, or dealing with the rugged mountain folk and coal miners surrounding the town of Hevis. She does know books, though, and she’s determined to do the best job she can. But that goal is jeopardized when her horse gets spooked on her first solo run, sending her tumbling out of the saddle and into a mysterious woman’s life.

Excerpt

Evie and the Pack-Horse Librarians Laurel Beckley © 2020 All Rights Reserved A hard knot had formed in Evie’s throat since she was summoned into Mr. Lodge’s corner office, and now the butterflies in her stomach transformed into a hive of angry bees threatening to upset her meager breakfast. Mr. Lodge gave another long humph, the fifth in as many minutes. Evie shuffled in her seat, trying to keep her fingers knotted together in her lap, struggling to prevent her feet from tapping with anxiety. After an eternity, Mr. Lodge looked up from the newspaper, placing it carefully onto his desk. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, his usually cheerful expression was gone, replaced with a stern man Evie didn’t recognize. “Miss Southeil,” he began, then stopped. Another sigh. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his long nose. Evie unconsciously mimicked the gesture, pushing her own wire-rimmed glasses further onto her face. She caught a glimpse of her ink-stained fingers from the corner of her eye and hastily dropped her hands into her lap, letting her dull-gray skirt envelop them. Mr. Lodge opened his eyes. “Miss Southeil,” he repeated. “Of all the journeys present, I might have expected this egregious misstep from anyone else. But not from you.” Evie bit her lip, trying to prevent the knot in her stomach from bringing up actual food onto Mr. Lodge’s manuscript-filled desk—manuscripts she had nurtured into books to be published and read and devoured by the hungry readers of historical fiction. Even among the handful of journey-rank editors at Hanhat Publishing, Evie was special. She knew she had the gift of turning rough sentences into delightful bouquets for the eyes, and yet here she was. Quivering in her boss’s office. Oh, how she had messed up. Mr. Lodge removed one manuscript from the pile and placed it directly underneath the damning newspaper. Evie stared at it, trying to will away the blasted thing’s existence. He tapped the stack of papers with an inky finger. “How did you let this come to pass? Our competitors are breathing down our backs, eager for any hint of weakness, and you give them the scoop of the year!” “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Lodge,” Evie whispered, ducking her chin to prevent tears from escaping. It wasn’t her fault. Well, it was, but it wasn’t. “I won’t—” “You’re damn right you won’t!” Mr. Lodge slammed his hand onto the table. Evie squeaked, jumping in her seat. He reeled in his anger, grimacing at the appendage as though alarmed that such an outburst had come from his body. He heaved another sigh. “Forgive me, but you know as well as I that Mr. Cabot’s novel was to be the highlight of our publishing year. Having the plot…splattered across the gossip rags is an embarrassment to the company and the Guild.” Evie wanted to curl up inside herself until she became nothing more than a ball of gray cloth, hidden from the world. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, blinking furiously. Mr. Lodge’s face softened as did his voice. “Evie, I’m not going to fire you.” She lifted her head, hopeful. “You’re the best assistant editor I’ve had in years, but I think this promotion came too fast, too soon.” He shook his head sadly. “But it’s no use having you here waiting for this whole scandal to blow over. It’ll harm the company’s reputation, and to have your face associated with this whole thing…” He paused, staring at her until she lifted her head. She tried to meet his gaze and failed. Eye contact had always been a struggle for her. “I’m sending you away,” he declared. With her head bowed, Evie nodded. “I’ll clear my desk and head to the printers’ office.” The printers’ office was located five blocks away in the factory district. Dark, dingy, labor-intensive, and where Hanhat Publishing usually sent their screw-ups for menial labor. “No, Evie.” She looked up, startled. “It’s going to be farther than that. I’ve reassigned you to the Librarian’s Guild.” Evie’s heart lifted. At least she’d be near books. Near words and stories and life. Not confined to operating the massive printing machines, spending every minute in danger of getting an industrial injury. She blinked, realizing that she was still being sent away. Being transferred from one guild to another was hardly unique, but certainly not a common practice. He went on. “Think of this as an opportunity, a chance to use your journey time to, well, journey.” Journey? Evie wondered. Members of the Librarian’s Guild were stationed in every city, town, university, and village in Isten with a large enough population to support them, but they certainly did not travel. “You’ll be part of the pack-horse librarians stationed in District Forty-five,” Mr. Lodge said. Obviously interpreting Evie’s miscomprehension as shock, he added, “This will be a two-year assignment. After that, you may return to Hanhat Publishing. I’ll always need copyeditors.” “Th-thank you, Mr. Lodge,” Evie stuttered, lips moving automatically, mind still trying to figure out what had happened. Pack-horse librarians? Two years? And a copyeditor? She pressed her fingers to her lips, struggling to choke down bile and disappointment. Her supervisor slid a folder across the table. It was depressingly thin. Mr. Lodge smiled, a mixture of kind and condescending that hurt worse than any of his words. “Someone will come by your flat to collect any remaining manuscripts. You’re dismissed.” Evie rose from her chair to stand on legs she wasn’t certain would work and took the folder with shaking hands. She pressed the packet of papers to her stomach and bolted, bumping into her fellow journey, Anda, on her sprint to the bathroom. Once inside, she emptied the contents of her breakfast, along with the entirety of her previous life, into the toilet. Someone knocked softly on the bathroom door, interrupting Evie’s hundredth heave. “Evie?” The voice was hesitant. “One minute.” Evie wiped her mouth and ran cold water over her wrists and face, trying to fight the nausea. She avoided the mirror above the sink. Her eyes were surely red and puffy, her dark skin sallow and splotchy. She didn’t need a mirror for that information. She opened the door, nearly jumping as her girlfriend Anda burst inside and locked the door behind her. “Evie, I just heard, and I’m so sorry!” She tried to wrap her arms around Evie in a hug. Evie pushed her away, staring into the face of the girl she had loved so fiercely until that moment in Mr. Lodge’s office. “How could you?” she demanded. Anda’s eyes widened innocently. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, placing a hand on her chest. Rage bubbled in Evie’s chest, replacing the nausea and sickness. “I let you review that manuscript in confidence, Anda,” she hissed, “to help you polish your editing skills.” If possible, Anda’s eyes opened wider. “Evie,” she cooed, “I gave that manuscript back to you a week ago. You must have misplaced it. You know how forgetful you are.” Evie shook her head. Tears continued streaking down her cheeks, and she wiped them off vigorously with her sleeve, her fist clenched tightly. The story had broken the night before, and since Evie had first found out about it as she entered the building for work that morning, she’d had the sinking suspicion that Anda was behind her situation. Evie was allowed to take manuscripts home and help smooth them over, but only with the explicit understanding that no one else could review an author’s latest creation. “I returned that manuscript to Mr. Lodge a week ago. Besides me, no one but you had hands on it.” Anda lips twisted in a facsimile of a smile. There was something predatory in her gaze, which Evie had seen her deliver to their fellow apprentices and journeys but never to her. “Evie, dear, you know it wasn’t me. Just accept responsibility and take your punishment at the pressman’s office.” She bit her lip and looked down, fluttering her eyelashes. The predatory gleam disappeared, replaced by the image of a remorseful girl. “I think that, with all this in mind, we shouldn’t be together anymore.” Her eyelashes fluttered again. “I mean, an assistant editor with a disgraced pressman? That would taint my career.” Evie gasped, tears beginning to spill out again. Anda’s betrayal was worse than anything she had ever anticipated, but to end their four-year relationship so… callously… was something else. “I can’t believe you,” she whispered. “I knew you were ambitious, but—” The remorse vanished, and Anda was replaced by a hardened creature Evie had never seen before. “But what? I’ve been here eight years, Evie. Do you know how hard I’ve worked only to be passed up by a girl who just got promoted to journey? This position is my due. Not yours.” She sniffed. “And clearly you don’t have the maturity to handle such a job.” Evie placed a hand over her mouth, trying to stuff her sobs back down her throat as Anda threw open the door and stormed out. Tears overwhelmed Evie’s senses as she slid down the wall and hit the tiled floor. This was so, so much worse than she had ever imagined. She’d lost her job, been betrayed by her girlfriend, and was being sent away in disgrace. How would she tell her parents?

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Meet the Author

Laurel Beckley has been writing ever since she started her first novel the summer before eighth grade—a hand-written epic fantasy catastrophe that has lurked in her mind and an increasingly ratty college-ruled notebook ever since. She is a writer, Marine Corps veteran, and librarian.

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Title: Glorious Day

Author: Skye Kilaen

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 3, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 23500

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, sci-fi, lesbian, bisexual, bodyguard, royalty, social unrest, disability, depression, power imbalance

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Synopsis

Elsenna Hazen left spaceport security and ended up a royal bodyguard. She should have known better than to fall in love with a princess. It’s been two years since one ill-advised kiss in the garden pulled them apart. With uprisings in the streets, the nervous princess transfers Elsenna back into her service. Her Highness has no idea Elsenna is leaking data to the revolutionaries bent on overthrowing the princess’s oppressive father. Now Elsenna wakes up each day wondering what will happen first: her own execution, or that of the woman she could never stop loving. When rebel attacks escalate and the king plans retaliation, Elsenna discovers that the fights for her love and her life are one and the same.

Excerpt

Glorious Day Skye Kilaen © 2020 All Rights Reserved It had been difficult that morning to fit treason in around my duties as vice-captain of the castle complex’s security forces. Every professional conversation had taken twice as long as it should have. When His Majesty, the Most Victorious Born on the 24th Day of Winter, the King of Iospary, was finally overthrown for corruption and tyranny, I would not miss the part of my job where incompetent colleagues argued with me. Of course I wouldn’t miss it because I’d be dead. With so much blood on my hands since the last change in rulers, I had no illusions. My acts of sedition over the last two years wouldn’t save my soul, let alone my head. Not after serving this king for so long. By the time I won the latest personnel allotment struggle with my overly promoted counterpart in spaceport security, it was almost the middle of the day. I took a short walk outside. Anyone who saw me found somewhere else to be—a common reaction to the combination of my height and my uniform—so I had privacy to drop the latest data packet to the rebels. I used the comm behind my ear to access a secure channel I could only hope stayed that way. While the packet uploaded, I found a terrace where I could look down at the city. The apartment blocks were overcrowded, the hospitals neglected. Businesses paid extortionate taxes to fund the lavish lifestyles of the king and his favorites. Hopefully not for much longer. Data sent, I returned to the security center, crowded with surveillance screens and too many desks for the small room, and settled down to work. “Vice-Captain Hazen,” one of the guards said from behind me. “You have a call.” “I’ll call them back.” Whoever it was, my patience for bullshit had run out, and the duty roster for this week needed finalizing. “Ma’am,” the guard said again, nervous this time. “It’s the princess. She asked for you specifically.” The security center went silent around me. Her Highness, the Most Glorious Born on the 13th Day of Spring, the Crown Princess of Iospary, did not personally call the security center. She had staff for making calls, and assigned bodyguards as well. I’d been one of them once. Lest anyone think I was hesitating, I transferred the call to my comm. “Your Highness, this is the vice-captain on duty. What may we do for you?” “Hello, Elsen—Vice-Captain. Are you free for a short conversation? I hope I’m not interrupting anything crucial. I know you have many more responsibilities now.” I’d thought to go the rest of my days without hearing that voice again. I was grateful I’d learned long ago not to show my emotions on my face. I couldn’t imagine what would be there now. Two guards near the door had gotten up, ready to move in case of an emergency. I signaled for them to stand down. “Your Highness,” I replied. “Of course.” “I wish to ask a favor of you, if I may,” the princess began. Then she paused so long I began to wonder if she was making this call in secret, and someone had walked into the room. Or maybe things were this awkward between us after more than two years with no direct contact. “I have heard rumors of disturbances. I hoped you might provide a briefing. In person.” I needed a deep breath. I tried to take it silently. Here she was, speaking with me for the first time since our long-ago night in the garden, and she wanted news about the movement to bring her father down. Not that I would want it to be a personal call. The further apart I kept memories of her from my current activities, the better. During my sleepless nights, I already struggled to avoid imagining what might befall her when the end came. That the rebels would distinguish her innocence from her father’s guilt was unlikely; the chance I would be in any position to change that even smaller. “Your Highness,” I said once I’d composed myself. “I would be happy to arrange for the appropriate royal advisor—” “No,” she interrupted, polite but firm. “Thank you, but I would prefer to hear from you. If you…would be so kind.” All three guards were watching me now, curious. “Immediately, Your Highness.” She made a soft noise of disagreement, a sound so familiar, but one I hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime. “At your convenience. I have no plans outside my rooms until this evening. Please call when you’re on your way.” “Yes, Your Highness.” “Goodbye. Vice-Captain.” The call disconnected. I stared down at my screen again, though the schedule I’d been preparing was now a blur. When those around me concluded they’d get no further entertainment, the regular sounds of the security center picked up again: chairs squeaking, guards talking with others in the castle or stationed around the sprawling royal complex, an occasional cough or frustrated mutter. The king’s staff could advise his daughter in a way he’d find palatable. Surely the princess would have been steered in that direction if she’d expressed misgivings to her own people about whatever she’d overheard. There was no reason for her to call the security center—to call her former bodyguard—directly. Unless she was in trouble. The last time I’d seen her, in a corner of the Fall Gardens after her birthday dance, I’d let my heart get the better of me. I’d held her. Kissed her. Would have done more if not for the chasm between her station and mine. I put away the unfinished guard duty schedule, stood, and pulled on my jacket. “Vice-Captain,” Mbala said. “We have a vehicle fire in one of the garages near the outer wall. Fire suppressors are malfunctioning. A truck is on its way, but it’s drawing a crowd.” I wished I could believe this was one of his practical jokes, but not with how this day had been going so far. “Have Proce take a team over.” My fellow vice-captain could stand to get his hands dirty for a change, even if he was off-shift. “He’s across the river on a personal errand.” Damn. We were stretched too thin for me to delegate this. I thought about letting the whole thing burn, but that would draw the wrong kind of attention. “I’m on it.” If the princess was in trouble, hopefully it wouldn’t get worse over the next few hours.

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Meet the Author

Skye started writing fiction in elementary school on a Smith Corona electric typewriter because that’s all people had back in the early 1980s. She didn’t realize she wanted to read and write romance until much later, when it finally dawned on her that she adored X-Men comics for the soap opera aspect as much as for the superpowers. Now she writes queer romance, both contemporary and science fiction, that is mostly F/F and F/M with queer main characters. Her work is sometimes polyam and usually at least a bit geeky. After all, she does some of her writing in her local comic book shop. She is bi, and she currently lives in Austin, Texas because of all the libraries and breakfast tacos.

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