BLOG TOUR: WHAT COMES NEXT BY CAITLIN FORBES + BOOK EXCERPT

On December 20, 2025December 19, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Book Summary

An empowering and heartfelt novel about the complexities of family, the power of sisterhood, and the bravery it takes to choose happiness when all seems lost.

“My life is perfectly fine.”

Alex has pretended this for years―despite an emotionally absent father, a best friend drifting away, and a floundering dog-training business. At least Alex has her sister, Meredith, a driven polar opposite. But both their lives are upended when their estranged mother dies of a genetic condition that the sisters have a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting. For Alex, a world without her mother is uncomfortable. But a world without Meredith is unthinkable.

Alex suggests a pact to which Meredith tentatively agrees: In three months they’ll get tested. Until then they go after everything they’ve ever wanted. Alex is finally stepping out of her comfort zone and opening herself up to new relationships. Or maybe reconnecting with an old one. Nathan, a boy who once broke her heart, needs a trainer for his mixed-breed rescue. Alex can’t resist.

As sparks rekindle, and time passes much too quickly, Alex discovers more about herself, her sister, and her mother than she ever imagined. And that everything in life―especially happiness―comes with a risk worth taking.

Publisher: Lake Union Publishing

ISBN-10: 1662528116

ISBN-13: 978-1662528118

ASIN: B0DZY6Q16W

Print length: 317 pages

Purchase a copy of What Comes Next on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Bookshop.org. You can also add it to your GoodReads list.

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About the Author

Photography by Molly Haley, mollyhaley.com

Caitlin Forbes is a Maine-based author who writes stories that explore the messiness of relationships—from sisterhood to romance to the tricky relationship we have with ourselves. When not writing, you can find her chasing after her toddler (or her dog) and exploring small-town New England life.

You can follow the author at:

https://www.caitlinforbesauthor.com/

https://www.instagram.com/caitlin_forbes_author/

Blog Tour Calendar

December 8 @ The Muffin

Join us at the Muffin as we celebrate the launch of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes. We interview the author and give you a chance to win a copy of the book.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

December 9 @ Kaecey McCormick’s blog

Join Kaecey’s blog for a guest post from Caitlin Forbes about why she writes and what inspires her.

https://www.kaeceymccormick.com/blog

December 11 @ Knotty Needle

Judy shares her thoughts about What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://knottyneedle.blogspot.com/

December 12 @ CC King’s blog

Stop by Caitrin’s blog for a guest post by Caitlin Forbes on the struggle and process of publishing a debut novel.

https://www.caitrincking.com/blog

December 15 @ Sarandipity’s

Visit Sara’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://sarandipitys.com/blog/

December 18 @ Knotty Needle

Stop by Judy’s blog again for her response to our tour-themed prompt about her own dog rescue story.

https://knottyneedle.blogspot.com/

December 19 @ Nicole Writes About Stuff

Stop by Nicole’s Substack for a contribution from Caitlin Forbes.

https://nicolepyles.substack.com

December 20 @ A Wonderful World of Books

Visit Joy’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://awonderfulworldofwordsa.blogspot.com/

December 20 @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Visit Anthony’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://authoranthonyavina.com/category/blog-tours/

December 21 @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog for a guest post by Caitlin Forbes about the importance of fiction, particularly book club fiction, in this crazy time.

https://chapterbreak.net/

December 23 @ What Is That Book About?

Visit Michelle’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://www.whatisthatbookabout.com/

December 26 @ Words by Webb

Visit Jodi’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://www.jodiwebbwriter.com/blog

December 28 @ StoreyBook Reviews

Stop by Leslie’s blog for a guest post by Caitlin Forbes on why she included dogs in her book What Comes Next.

https://storeybookreviews.com/

January 2 @ Nicole Writes About Stuff

Stop by Nicole’s Substack for a feature of What Comes Next in her weekly newsletter.

https://nicolepyles.substack.com

January 3 @ Seaside Book Nook

Visit Jilleen’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

http://www.seasidebooknook.com/

January 4 @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Stop by Anthony’s blog for his review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://authoranthonyavina.com/category/blog-tours/

January 8 @ Writer Advice

Visit B. Lynn Goodwin’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://writeradvice.com/

January 9 @ Writer Advice

Stop by B. Lynn Goodwin’s blog for a guest post by author Caitlin Forbes about the question of inheritance – of what we inherit versus what we get to choose.

https://writeradvice.com/

January 10 @ Just Katherine

Stop by Katherine’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes. You’ll also have a chance to read her response to our tour-themed prompt about whether if she had an incurable condition and if she would want to find out.

https://justkatherineblog.wordpress.com/

Enjoy this Excertp from What Comes Next

WHAT COMES NEXT — Chapter 1

By Caitlin Forbes

When the doorbell rings, I’m standing in front of my bathroom sink, the picture of indecision: boxer briefs paired with a black silk tank top, made-up face, and completely untamed hair.

I’m supposed to meet my roommate, Holly, for drinks. But it was a last-minute invite—with people I don’t know, planned days or even weeks earlier—and now I feel uncomfortable. As if I’ve become the kind of obligation that I never wanted to be. We’ve been best friends for nearly a decade, but these days, things are different, and I don’t know that I want to feel the strain of it tonight. I’m more tempted by Netflix and cold pizza. My favorite pair of slippers.

I check the weather app on my phone and am almost relieved that it calls for rain.

I’m conceding defeat, turning off the curler, when the bell rings and I physically jump. Because who rings the doorbell in Somerville, Massachusetts, other than someone who wants to kill me? Or someone who wants to sell something, which is maybe not all that much better. But then I consider my upstairs neighbor, who has lost her keys more than once, and is so young, still new to the Boston area, and I feel guilty, so I pad down the stairs of our apartment and crack open the building door. And I swear, I get a whiff of cinnamon, a smell so familiar it knocks me back before I can remember why.

And he’s standing there. On my doorstep. Tall. Even taller than I remember.

Nathan Browning.

We stare at each other from either side of the doorframe. And I will him to disappear. Or turn into someone else. Or at the very least, to come back when I’m wearing pants.

Nathan. Those first two years of college. Nights spent squeezed onto a twin bed in his dorm room, pretending we weren’t uncomfortable just so we could fall asleep together. The summer I’d spent with his family at Lake Winnipesaukee. Campfires and smoky hair. His lips, pillow soft. Water. An excess of water—one oversize tube, our limbs tangled together. Salty tears.

“Alex?”

It’s my name that gets my attention. My name in his mouth, as if it belongs there. As if we still mean something to each other.

I almost shut the door right then.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I’m relieved my voice sounds calm. Disengaged, even. Because it doesn’t matter that he is here. Because it doesn’t matter what we once were.

“I need your help,” he says.

I stare at him blankly, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking over his shoulder. He’s looking at the car parked behind him and, more accurately, at what is sitting in the front seat.

He turns back to me with those gray-blue eyes. The ones that were always focused, always so certain, but now hold the smallest hesitation. An expression that seems wrong in this face I still somehow know.

“I saw your video,” he says. “And I—we need your help.”

The video. The one that changed my life right up until it didn’t.

I was a part-time dog trainer then, still trying to make that dream real. Holly and I made a video, and she stuck it up on YouTube, and then it went viral. It was a fluky kind of thing, like those things always are: the right content at the right time in front of the right people. The algorithm was alerted, and the amplification went from there. I was twenty-four and poor and bored—working a second job and involved in a fling to pass the time—and then suddenly, I was also something else. A dog whisperer, people typed. Cesar Millan but softer, with a woman’s touch. Silly. Casually sexist.

But something just the same.

After the video, it was Holly’s idea to start the training business. DogKind, we called it. I dropped my second job as copywriter to train full-time, and she did everything else—the administration and the management. The promotions. We’d both majored in marketing in college, but Holly was better at it than me. Maybe because she believed in it: the concept of brands that build trust, and colors and fonts that tell a story. It took her only two weeks to launch DogKind’s website and get us live on all the social platforms. We were still twenty-four and poor but suddenly not so bored. I remember the day the site launched—us sitting on the floor in our cramped living room, a five-dollar bottle of red between us. Stained teeth. It was summer in an attic apartment in the city, and we didn’t have air-conditioning. Holly had chopped her hair off, and we were trying to convince ourselves it was edgy.

We were young in that way you actually notice. When you’re afraid of what will happen when you blink.

Four years ago. The length of high school, or of college, but without the predetermined milestones. The signposts that tell you how and why everything is about to change.

Holly quit the business less than two years later, and I followed her lead not long after. Partly because I wasn’t making enough money to cover rent, and partly because of what happened with Cliff, one of the dogs I tried to save. But mainly because I hated being called a “dog whisperer.” I hated that people thought I could perform miracles, that they insisted on believing I was more than I was.

I work at Kensington Media now. It covers the rent, and it could one day become a real career. And I don’t have regrets. Except, there are these moments—when I see a short haircut on a blonde, when Instagram flashes up a memory of a pup—and it’s like my whole body freezes over. A little voice in my head, whispering, You can go back if you just stay still.

“How did you find me? I took down my website ages ago.”

“An old testimonial from a woman named Lois, I think?” Nathan says. “Her address is publicly listed. So I called her. She pointed me in your direction.”

Lois. She was my neighbor as a kid. She moved closer to the city after my mom left, but she always kept a close eye on me and Mere. A bespectacled not-quite grandmother—that careful mix of kind and overbearing. She’s a lifelong dog rescuer and was DogKind’s first client.

Lois never wanted me to quit.

I sneak a peek at him while he’s checking the car, again. He’s still handsome. Those eyes, and dark-brown hair with the slightest hint of red—the red was the part that I liked most, that almost made us match. Behind him, I can see a flash of auburn fur. Two half-bent glossy ears pointed forward. A white-tipped tail.

I swallow. “I don’t train anymore,” I say.

He lifts a shoulder. The gesture looks comfortable on him. Like he’s used to half explaining himself, half caring if anyone understands. And I remember that part, too: the easy confidence. The kind I imagine he still takes for granted.

“She thought you might still help.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Lois is one of those people who likes to imagine me as bigger and braver than I am.

“Listen, I don’t know what you saw in that video, but it’s not—she’s not me.”

“She sure looked like you.”

And right then, our eyes meet. And we get stuck there. Three breaths. Blue-gray eyes, like he still knows me. Like we still know each other. And something electric—something more than anger—passes between us. Right here, on my dirty Somerville stoop, wearing the bottom half of my pajamas, everything else recedes. For three breaths, it’s just us.

A car drives by with the windows open, the radio blaring through the street. I take a step back.

“I’ll give you a referral,” I say. “I know a lot better trainers than me out there.”

“Alex.” I hate the way he says my name. “I know that you and I . . . that our history makes this tough . . .” His voice trails off as my eyes snap to him. He takes in my expression, then lifts his chin. That confidence. Whatever hesitation I saw earlier is long gone.

“I’m sorry,” he says firmly. “You know that I am sorry.”

I shake my head. I don’t want an apology. I’m embarrassed—mortified, really—that I still care. That he knows that I still care. That he’s still talking, and I’m falling backward into sand and blue water and the particular ache of a wound that is old but was also first.

I pull my shoulders back. I make my voice flat. “This isn’t about us. I’m not a trainer anymore. I haven’t worked with a dog in almost two years.”

“Her name is Remy,” he says. “She only has three months.”

I pause, already half turned away, my hand pressed against the battered wooden doorframe. The day we moved in, I hit my shoulder against it and ended up with a splinter. I’d been laughing about something with Holly, and then sharp wood pressed deep under my skin.

“Remy bit someone,” he says. I can feel his eyes studying my half-turned face. “She’s a rescue, and she has a history of bites. I had to go to court, and they mandated that she see a vet behaviorist and trainer. I did the first part, and they have her on anxiety meds, which will maybe help. But I need to do the training. And if we can’t document improvement . . .”

His voice trails off, but I don’t need him to finish. I already know how this goes. I’ve seen it before.

Ninety days. He has ninety days to prove that she can be trusted. Or euthanasia. That’s what the court told him.

Of course, they have it all wrong. It’s not about us trusting her. It’s whether she’ll choose to trust us again after whatever made her stop.

I glance back over his shoulder. Those ears, cocked forward above the dashboard, they break my heart. She’s waiting for him. The Nathan I remember was too busy for dogs. Too focused on everything he planned to achieve. But here he is, with a rescue who has decided he’s worth waiting for.

I bite my lower lip. “Your vet must have given you referrals,” I say.

“They were booked out for a month. And the other ones I called wouldn’t take her. They say she’s hopeless.” His jaw clenches. “But, Alex . . . I’ve seen what you can do.”

“You saw an edited video. If they’re telling you she’s a lost cause—”

“We used to say that lost causes were an excuse.”

Our first real conversation. The one that once it started, it felt like it would never stop.

My breath stutters on the memory.

It seems possible, in this moment, that he remembers just as much as I do.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, okay,” he says. “I know that. But Remy is a wonderful dog. And no one else will help her. Whatever you think of me, and honestly, whatever you think of you . . . none of that matters. You need to try. You can do this.”

It’s all classic Nathan: unapologetic and determined. Nathan’s not used to people saying no, especially when it comes to “doing the right thing.” He can be an ass—too cocky, with expectations that are too high—but he’s a genuinely good guy. And he’s never had much patience for people who don’t step up.

It was one of the first things I loved about him.

It was also one of the things that I hated.

“Nathan—”

“Please,” he cuts in. His voice hitches, and I see it now: the dark circles under his eyes, the tightness of his expression. I used to know him once. There was a time when he let me further in than anyone, and I can tell that he is scared. He’s scared for her.

Remorse crowds my stomach because, back then, I could have helped him. But I am not the girl he remembers, and I’m not whoever he thinks he saw online. “I can’t,” I say. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

He looks like he’s about to argue. I expect him to argue. But then, it’s as if he deflates in front of me. His whole chest sinks inward. It’s not a look I’ve ever seen on him. Or one that I like.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” he says.

“I’m not what she needs,” I mumble.

“Sure, okay. I’m sorry for showing up like this.” It’s awkward now. His voice is clipped, and he’s running his hands through his hair like he does in those rare moments when he’s uncomfortable. I don’t have to check to know the back pieces will stick up.

“Listen, leave your number,” I say. “I know a lot of trainers. I’ll find her someone, okay?”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, sure. Thank you.” I can tell he wants to leave. I can tell I am a disappointment. And maybe it’s my imagination, but I get the feeling that it hurts him. Being here. Seeing me.

I think it hurts him, too.

I left my phone upstairs, so he pulls a pen from his suit pocket and a piece of paper from his bag and jots down his number. The promised rain starts as he turns to go, water brushing against my cheeks, and I duck inside the entryway, the paper clenched tightly in my fist. As I watch him jog back to his car, I wonder about the suit. I wonder what he does for work, what kind of man he turned into. I find myself hoping that he got the life he’d planned.

He drives away, and I unstick my feet. I drift back upstairs, past the bright-yellow welcome doormat Holly bought, and collapse on our coach. My mind is strangely quiet, and I let my eyes wander our small place. Everything about it is bright and fun and filled with Holly’s energy: colorful, mismatched place mats; a half a dozen of those cheesy quote signs scattered across the walls; and an array of weird glass owl figurines that Holly collects. They catch the light, making everything twinkle.

I pull out my phone, scrolling past a missed call from my sister to a text message from Lois.

A lovely sounding boy called about his dog. He seemed a bit desperate but was so polite. Be nice!!

I shake my head. Lois is not the first person to be easily charmed by Nathan.

I am going to connect him to a good trainer. No more referrals, please!

I see the response bubbles pop up from her immediately. And then disappear. She starts again, then deletes whatever she wrote. The gentle thud of rain starts to pound outside the window.

My phone buzzes.

I just want you to be happy, honey.

I stare at the screen lit up against my hand. I ignore the sudden tightness of my jaw. I read the words again.

I just want you to be happy.

It’s such a seemingly innocuous statement. A level of genericness that begs an equally generic response. And I want to type back something funny, something simple, but I’m blinking back water that has nothing to do with the rain.

I should be happy. My life is perfectly fine. And wanting more than fine feels like an obnoxious privilege. Too embarrassing to say out loud. Especially when there’s stuff that I could do to improve my life. Books I could read. Skills I could learn. I know there’s stuff I’m supposed to be doing. Just like I know there’s a person I’m supposed to be becoming.

Except, when I think about that person, she’s just as alien as she was when I graduated from college. And I’m not sure how to change that. I’m not sure how to explain that between work and all the daily stuff in my life that is really not that hard, that I don’t know how to become. How the being takes up all the energy that should go toward the becoming.

I didn’t think I would end up this way. I used to want to be different. I used to want to be more like the girl Nathan remembers. I look down at my hands—at the piece of paper still threaded between my fingers, with a number and a name—and a splash of longing bubbles up delicately in my chest. I turn on Netflix, and I find an old sitcom filled with people in their thirties. And as the rain picks up speed outside, I take a careful breath around the bubble. I tell myself I still have time.

BLOG TOUR: THE NEW WORLD (THE NEW WORLDS TRILOGY BOOK 1) BY JAYE C WATTS + EXCERPT

On December 18, 2025December 15, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Jaye C. Watts has a new queer sci-fi book out (transgender, poly, non-binary, pansexual, lesbian): The New Worlds.

The year is 2293 and the Truth no longer exists. In the future there are many truths, giving rise to many worlds, but each must be kept separate.

Born to protect these truths, Axton Bryce patrols the New Worlds Star System—to observe, participate, and gather information. But as she learns the ways of each world, she must also hunt for those who defy their world’s truth: the Outliers.

While stationed on a nearby planet, Axton meets the charming Ambassador Bray Wilde. As the two become close, Axton reveals a painful secret—the loss of her first love, exiled as an Outlier.

Longing to see beyond their own world, the ambassador proposes a rescue mission—one that will bring both friends and foes, and ultimately a fight for freedom. But first, Axton must make a choice: between a life-long allegiance… and the chance to claim a truth of her own.

Warnings: indoctrination, brainwashing, threatening with a weapon (guns & a bomb)

Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

I clenched my fists. “Focus,” I told myself. Grabbing my communication cuff, I fastened it around my wrist. “INS communications, activate.” I opened my wardrobe and reached for a freshly pressed uniform. “Aurelia, give me today’s briefing.”

It lit up and responded. “Your next assignment will be on the Amorous World for a standard duration of three months. You are scheduled to depart today at zero six hundred Geo Time and arrive at zero eight-forty Geo Time. The latest reports on the Amorous World are available for your review. Do you wish to accept, Mediator Axton Bryce?”

I crouched to lace up my boots. “I accept.”

“On behalf of Chairman West and the Individual Nations Secretariat, we thank you, Mediator Axton Bryce, for your work in protecting the Truth of many truths.”

I rose to my feet, skin prickling at the back of my neck. Though I couldn’t see it, I could feel it: two lowercase t’s under one capital T, branded at the top of my spine—a permanent part of me ever since my Veneration five long years ago.

I reached back, digging my nails in, tempted to tear the tattoo right from my skin. “She should have been there,” I whispered. If only she’d kept those thoughts to herself.

I grabbed my utility belt and wrapped it around my waist, ensuring the gun was secure. Staring at myself in the mirror, I straightened the collar of my shirt. I’d never been to the Amorous World before. Perfect, I thought. Some fresh scenery was just what I needed.

* * *

I checked my cuff—zero five fifty-five, right on schedule. Marching across the launch deck, I carried one efficiently packed piece of luggage. I never glanced back when boarding my ship; Brokazaria’s endless acres of skyscrapers would still be here when I returned. Instead, I looked up. The early-morning sky was just waking. Aside from Primus B—the Middle World’s secondary, and thus miniature, sun—not a star was in sight. As I approached my ship, the roar of its engine reminded me that soon the stars would be all around me.

I turned and gave the official salute to a line of NI Security standing at attention. In unison, the humanlike Machines returned the gesture, crossing their arms to form a lowercase letter t. Sergeant L43 pumped his eyebrows, prompting me to raise one of mine in response. Hard to believe they were once called “AI.” New Intelligence, we were told, was a much more appropriate term.

L43 stepped forward. “Afternoon, miss.” He grabbed my bag, allowing me to ascend the ladder.

“Thanks,” I said. I climbed to the top and crawled through the hatch.

“Catch!” the NI yelled, tossing up my luggage.

With a reflex just quick enough, I caught the bag. “Sergeant!” I scolded. “What if there was something fragile in there?”

“You humans,” he replied. “Always afraid something’s gonna break. Your luggage, your bones, your bodies… not to mention your hearts and minds.”

I rolled my eyes at the cheeky Machine. “Watch it, L, or I’ll get them to reboot you.”

Unperturbed, the Machine grinned and waved. “I’ll miss you, too. Bon voyage!”

“See you in three months,” I muttered, closing the hatch behind me. I immediately got busy flicking switches and hitting buttons. Muscle memory took over as I continued the launch prep with complete focus. Not a moment later, a blue light illuminated my cuff, drawing my attention. Blue indicated a direct message from Chairman West himself, Secretary-General of the Individual Nations Secretariat.

“Play address,” I said, eager to hear our leader’s words.

A ghostlike image projected from my arm, transporting the man’s titanic figure into my control room. Neatly trimmed grays blended inconspicuously into the rest of his dark hair, swept back to frame a chiseled face. Salt-and-pepper stubble outlined a pair of smiling lips—the beginnings of a goatee that never quite came to fruition. As always, a perfectly pressed suit hugged every one of his bulging muscles.

“Greetings, my children!” The chairman’s voice rumbled from a gaping grin, complete with gleaming teeth. “Today is a very special day, not only for the New Worlds Star System but for some of our most dedicated Mediators.”

My ears perked up as I waited for more.

“Today marks two hundred and fifty years of living in an interplanetary alliance, free from the terrors of war, safe from the dangers of Plurality! A quarter of a millennium since the United Nations of the Old World became the Individual Nations of the New Worlds, marking humanity’s Great Dispersion!”

A swell of pride surged in my chest. I was part of something big and important.

“All of this would not be possible without you,” he declared, “our magnificent Mediators. You have been instrumental in our coordination with each world, fostering the cooperation necessary to manage the complexities of a resource-based economy spanning a system as vast as ours. And!”—the chairman raised a finger, flashing one of his many gold rings—“most importantly, you have upheld the sovereignty of every truth within it.”

I gave a humble nod, as though he could see me.

“Lastly,” the chairman said, “further congratulations to the Mediators of unit 245. Tomorrow is your quinquennium! Five years of serving as peacekeepers, saviors, Mediators! Father Chairman West and the INS commend you.” His thick forearms crossed in a salute, only to vanish as the feed cut out.

I took a moment to absorb his words, stunned by how many years had passed. Then I checked my cuff—Time to go.

I finished preparing for the launch, my movements steady and certain. We had done it. Peace among the planets for over two centuries.

I paused, letting my mind drift…

It had to be worth it.

Author Bio

JAYE C. WATTS (he/they) is a queer and trans sci-fi writer living on Lək̓ʷəŋən territory in Victoria, BC, Canada. He holds a bachelor’s degree in Sociology, with a minor in Technology and Society, as well as a diploma in Professional Recording Arts from the Art Institute of Vancouver.

When he isn’t writing, Jaye can be found falling down rabbit holes of all kinds thanks to an unquenchable curiosity and lust for learning – homeschooling will do that to you.

Jaye also loves classic jazz, mixing cocktails, biking all over the city, and of course, people watching.

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

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

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/156707355-jaye-c-watts

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Jaye-C.-Watts/author/B0FVL8XMKW

Now please enjoy this excerpt for The New Worlds

The Center loomed before us, a giant, shimmering pearl nestled in the middle of the donut-shaped university.

Trapp halted at the edge of the surrounding lawn, flicking off his headlamp. The rest of us gathered behind him, staring in awe at the breathtaking view.

I’d seen the landmark before, but only during the day. At night, the shining sphere transformed into something otherworldly. To the people of the Quantified World, the Center was akin to a giant crystal ball—all-knowing and all-powerful. I took in the dazzling show, watching its ethereal light cascade across the reflective solar panels covering the surrounding university.

“Whoa,” Bray whispered, their voice reverent.

“Good golly,” Logan uttered.

Medallia didn’t speak, only inhaled deeply through her

nose. Trapp released a satisfied exhale, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all night.

I stood silent, shaking my head in disbelief at how damn lucky we were. Lucky to have made it this far but also lucky this mesmerizing display continued through the night. Strange, given the fact that no one—aside from the occasional NI and rogue Outlier—was awake to see it.

Then again, this was more than just a machine.

I almost felt hypnotized by the swirling neon patterns, their movements dictated by aesthetic algorithms. For the first time, I understood why so many worshipped this construct. Numbers weren’t just functional; they could also be beautiful.

With the rest of the world fast asleep, the omniscient sphere drew me in. Heart rates, body temperatures, brain waves, even dream activity, all coming together in a colorful symphony of light.

“All this,” I marveled aloud, “from a bunch of ones and zeros.”

Bray turned to me, furrowing their brow. “Ones and zeros?”

I turned to meet their gaze. “Oh, um… I was referring to binary code.”

Their forehead crinkled even more.

“It’s a type of language,” I explained. “For computers. But not with words, just numbers. Ones and—” I stopped myself, and instead summarized. “It’s… technology stuff.”

Bray lifted their chin, acknowledging my poor attempt at clarification before turning back to the glowing orb. Any explanation involving the “t word,” as they called it, received little more than a placating nod from them.

Without warning, Trapp began tromping across the lawn, his patience for sightseeing all used up.

Logan and Medallia followed suit as I nudged Bray into motion before bringing up the rear.

As we walked, the sphere’s light continued to play across the grass. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the calm before the storm; a sense of peace coated the atmosphere, even as it charged with unimaginable possibilities. So close, I thought, and yet still so far. Hard to believe we were mere steps from Trapp’s door through time, while our final destination lay light-years away.

Our footsteps left faint trails in the dew-coated grass, leading us to a set of doors. Trapp pressed his thumb against a small black scanner embedded in the frame. After a brief pause, the device beeped, unlocking with a soft click.

Amused, Trapp wiggled the digits on his right hand and muttered, “Guess they should’ve taken my fingers, too.”

Once inside, Trapp reactivated his headlamp. The spot‐light beamed down the curved hallway, casting skittish shadows across classroom doors. The walls on either side displayed an array of infographics: pies, bars, bubbles, grids and graphs—statistical analyses whose end results were surprisingly artistic.

While trying to decipher some of the informative shapes, a low-pitched hum caught my attention.

I turned my head toward the sound. Emerging from the shadows was a clunky bot, its movements slow and methodical. The machine hugged the wall as it moved, resembling a lumbering mechanical rodent.

Beside me, Bray flinched, their body jolting as if startled by a wild animal. Their wide eyes darted toward me, like a child searching for guidance in their parent’s reaction.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s just a robot”—a word I would never use on the Machine World. “It’s governed by preprogrammed instructions, which look to be nothing more than tidying up.” I lifted my boots, one after the other, hoping we hadn’t tracked in any mud.

Bray’s gaze returned to the machine, their fear giving way to tentative curiosity. While they kept a safe distance, Logan stepped closer, crouching to greet the bot.

“Well, hello there, little fella,” he said, grinning.

“Cleaning in progress,” the bot replied “flatly. “Step aside please.”

Logan chuckled, rejoining us as we continued down the hallway. He spun slowly, taking in everything the dim light allowed. “So these were your ol’ stomping grounds, eh, Trapp?”

“If by ‘stomping grounds’ you mean where I learned how to transcend time and space,” Trapp replied, “then yes.”

Bray cast one last glance back at the retreating bot before asking, “Were you a teacher here?”

“I was primarily a researcher,” Trapp said. “I only taught to gain access to the labs. I’d much rather make new discoveries than teach others about old ones.”

Trapp came to a sudden halt, stopping so abruptly Bray nearly bumped into him. Turning his head, he lit up a windowless metal door with a sign stating its purpose:

PARTICLE PHYSICS LAB RESTRICTED ACCESS

Trapp smiled with his eyes. “We’re close now,” he said, his words laced with determination. “Just a few more steps.” He pressed his thumb against the small scanner to his right, unlocking the door to a new world… an old world, rather.

The Old World.

BLOG TOUR: To Have and to Hold, To Love and to Kill: An Agreement of Souls by Amy S. Cutler EXCERPTS

On October 24, 2025October 23, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Book PromotionLeave a comment

About the Book

In her past life, after causing the death of a little boy, Nikki was so devastated that her soul mate promised to murder her in their next life, to make her pay for what she had done. With no knowledge of this, Nikki lives for years as an addict, down on her luck, until she is rescued by Ken, who helps her with all aspects of her recovery. With the help of a few new friends and a cat named Destiny, Nikki turns her life around. What she doesn’t know is that someone out there is destined to kill her, and he is watching, his passion for killing her growing stronger each day.

The question is: Can an agreement made between two souls be broken, and how far will one soul go to keep a promise made in a desperate attempt to save the other?

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About the Author

Amy Sampson-Cutler, author of “To Have and to Hold, to Love and to Kill: An Agreement of Souls” and “A Shadow of Love,” is a writer who earned her master’s degree in creative writing from Goddard College. Her work can be found in Slut Vomit: An Anthology of Sex Work, Tales to Terrify, WOW! Women on Writing, The Pitkin Review and more. She is the Executive Manager at Mount Peter Ski Area, where she grew up skiing in the winter and dreaming up stories in the summer. Her favorite days are spent knocking around story ideas with her husband. She lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, son, and a ridiculous amount of furry family members.

She can be contacted through AmysHippieHut.com. Also follow her on:

Facebook: https://facebook.com/AmysHippieHut

Instagram: https://instagram.com/amyshippiehut

https://bookshop.org/p/books/to-have-and-to-hold-to-love-and-to-kill-an-agreement-of-souls-amy-s-cutler/20601757?ean=9781685133429&next=t

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/200655790-to-have-and-to-hold-to-love-and-to-kill

https://amzn.to/4q7hiLK

Excerpt One

Vicky turned, in slow motion, to see the rescue crew attempting to pull Mrs. Viola from the wrecked car. Rage filled her entire being as she was torn between watching people unsuccessfully bring her child back to life and attacking the person who did this to him. She half walked, half crawled over to the paramedics who were struggling to free Julie’s body. She pushed right past them and, on her knees, grabbed the dead woman’s face and screamed. It was all of Julie that she could grab, her body still sandwiched between the steering wheel and the seat, upside down and sticky with blood. Vicky had to be pulled from Julie’s body, cutting herself on the broken glass and metal of the car, not caring about anything except rage, because rage is always better than sorrow.

Excerpt Two

Julie shook her head, the sadness rolling off her in waves of gray, and took his hand. “You know the difference between predestiny and an accident,” she reminded him. “I can’t just move on. Not until you promise me that I will pay for this. This must be set right. I cannot ask that boy’s soul to return, to waste a life just to punish me. Please.” Julie was quietly begging, and James knew what he would have to do, quickly, before the light was gone and they were lost. He held her hand up, putting his palm against hers. “I promise, in our next life together, we will be apart. You will know sadness. And when the time is right, I will bring your death.” Julie almost smiled. “And I will be scared? And I will suffer?” Right then, to Julie, punishment was the most important lesson of all. “It is my promise to you. You are my soul mate, and I will do anything to bring you peace, even if that means killing you.” Julie didn’t even have time to consider what James was giving up for her. Their hands glowed in 10 TO HAVE AND TO HOLD, TO LOVE AND TO KILL: AN AGREEMENT OF SOULS the light that came rushing into them, the promise sealed for eternity. No time to reconsider, Julie leaned into James, but he was instantly torn from her. Both of their souls tumbled toward the light, and both entered the world again. Together but completely alone.

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Blog Tour Calendar

— Blog Tour Calendar

October 6 @ The Muffin

Join us as we celebrate the launch of To Have and to Hold, to Love and to Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler. We interview the author and give you a chance to win a copy of the book.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

October 6 @ Tracey Lampley’s blog

Visit Tracey’s blog for a guest post by author Amy Sampson-Cutler on why she writes scary stories even though she’s afraid of the dark.

https://www.traceylampley.com

October 7 @ All Things Writing

Visit Caitrin’s blog for a guest post by author Amy Sampson-Cutler on finding time to write on a busy schedule.

https://www.caitrincking.com/blog

October 12 @ Author Anthony Avina’s Blog

Visit Anthony’s blog for his review of To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler.

https://www.authoranthonyavina.com

October 15 @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog for a guest post by author Amy Sampson-Cutler on how to turn everyday encounters into spooky stories.

https://chapterbreak.net

October 18 @ Boots, Shoes, and Fashion

Linda interviews author Amy Sampson-Cutler about her book To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill.

https://bootsshoesandfashion.com

October 20 @ A Storybook World

Visit Deirdra’s blog for her spotlight of To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler.

https://www.astorybookworld.com

October 22 @ Guatemala Paula Loves to Read

Visit Karen’s blog for her review of To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler.

https://guatemalapaula.blogspot.com

October 23 @ Knotty Needle

Visit Judy’s blog for her review of To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler.

https://knottyneedle.blogspot.com

October 23 @ The Faerie Review

Visit Lily’s blog for her spotlight of To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler.

https://www.thefaeriereview.com

October 24 @ Author Anthony Avina’s Blog

Visit Anthony’s blog for an excerpt from To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler.

https://www.authoranthonyavina.com

October 25 @ Word Magic

Visit Fiona’s blog for a guest post by Amy Sampson-Cutler on creating the perfect ambiance to write paranormal tales.

https://fionaingramauthor.blogspot.com/

October 27 @ Lit World Interviews

Visit Ronovan’s blog for his review of To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill by Amy Sampson-Cutler.

https://litworldinterviews.com

October 28 @ Kaecey McCormick’s blog

Visit Kaecey’s blog for a guest post by author Amy Sampson-Cutler on tips on writing for your favorite genre.

https://www.kaeceymccormick.com/blog

October 29 @ Sarandipity

Sara interviews author Amy Sampson-Cutler about her book To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill.

Home

October 30 @ Words by Webb

Stop by Jodi’s blog for Amy Sampson-Cutler’s guest post on her favorite books to read on Halloween.

https://www.jodiwebbwriter.com/blog

October 31 @ Sarandipity

Visit Sara’s blog for a guest post by author Amy Sampson-Cutler on creating the perfect ambiance to write paranormal tales.

Home

November 2 @ Jill Sheets’ Blog

Visit Jill’s blog for her interview with author Amy Sampson-Cutler about her book To Have and To Hold, To Love and To Kill.

https://jillsheets.blogspot.com

BLOG TOUR: THE WITCH’S APPRENTICE AND OTHER STORIES BY EKTA R. GARG EXCERPT

On September 12, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events1 Comment

Hello there, everyone!

I am thrilled to be able to present you with an excerpt from the upcoming novel “THE WITCH’S APPRENTICE AND OTHER STORIES” by author Ekta R. Garg, as part of the author’s book tour with Women on Writing Blog Tours. I hope you will enjoy.

Question

When the tornado took Dorothy’s house to Oz, it landed on the Wicked Witch of the East and killed the witch instantly.

What was the witch doing in the road in the first place?

The Witch’s Apprentice

Do you remember the story about the house that fell on the Wicked Witch of the East? The one where the girl who came out of the house took the witch’s lovely silver shoes and went on her adventures down the road of yellow bricks? Well, enough time has passed that I believe I can confess.

It’s my fault the house fell on the witch in the first place.

She was there, in the middle of the road, because we were arguing. And we were arguing because I was asking—no, that’s not right. I was demanding to be freed from the Spell of Inhibition so I could complete my apprenticeship. The witch was the ruler of Munchkinland and the head of the High Council of Witches. Before my apprenticeship started, I had chosen her to be my mentor.

She was also my cousin.

We had been arguing about the completion of my apprenticeship, which required an act of altruism assigned to me by the High Council. Once I completed the task and the Council deemed it pure, proving I would only use my magic for good, the High Witches would lift the Spell of Inhibition that prevented the free use of magic for everything. After three years of training, I still hadn’t gotten used to the physical sensation of the spell; it made my skin itch in a way that made me want to shed it so I could emerge as a full-fledged witch.

For weeks, however, the High Council had ignored my repeated requests for a task. Anyone I asked referred me to someone else, and after the fourth or fifth request they all told me to speak to Cousin. When I got my chance on that day, in the middle of the road, I told Cousin in a firm voice that the time had come. I had proven myself and knew I was ready to practice magic as she did.

She began laughing in that cruel, high voice she had, and I knew. Even though the sound crushed my heart, in that moment I knew she had no intention of helping me. I thrust out my wand, ready to show her what I’d learned, fighting against the fiery sensation burning across my hand and wrist as the Spell of Inhibition warned against doing magic. In that moment, I heard a rushing sound, looked up, and saw the house. I jumped out of the way just before it…well, you know.

I assumed Cousin had also escaped, but then I looked back and saw her feet sticking out from under the house. My heart started fluttering faster than I could breathe. I scrambled to stand then ran back toward the tavern at the edge of the village where we had met to talk. A few munchkins walking past the tavern stared at me with curious looks, but I bypassed them completely, dove behind the squat building, and cast a spell on myself to transport me back to my cottage.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. In order to understand my tale, I’ll have to go back to the beginning so you’ll know properly how I ended up where I am now. So you’ll understand why running left me wracked by guilt…but also cradled by relief.

Ekta Garg’s

WOW! WOMEN ON WRITING TOUR

The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories

Tour Begins August 25

Book Summary

Have you ever wondered why Jack and Jill needed that pail of water in the first place? Or how Sleeping Beauty managed to prick her finger despite a royal order to destroy every spindle in the kingdom?

Fairy tales and nursery rhymes have given us some of the most iconic characters and images in storytelling; think Cinderella’s glass slipper or Jack’s oversized beanstalk. But what about the in-between moments? The ones that never made it to the page?

In this enchanting micro-collection of short stories, award-winning author Ekta R. Garg explores the untold scenes between the lines of some of our most loved tales. Find out what the Wicked Witch of the East was doing in the road before Dorothy’s house fell on her. Learn where Goldilocks came from. Meet the conmen who convinced the emperor he had new clothes and more.

Rediscover the wit, heart, and magic of the classics, and see them as you’ve never seen them before in The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

Purchase a copy of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories on Amazon. You can also add this to your GoodReads reading list.

About the Author

A Reviewer, Editor, Author, and Dreamer of stories and books, Ekta has worked in niche publishing since 2005—she’s written and edited about everything from healthcare to home improvement to Hindi films! Ekta judges writing contests, hosts writing workshops, and podcasts about great books and how to write them. She’s currently the Content Coordinator of Neighbors of SW Champaign, a hyper-local magazine focusing on and lifting up the Champaign, Illinois, community. Ekta’s award-winning holiday novella, The Truth About Elves, and her award-winning fairy tale for grown-ups, In the Heart of the Linden Wood, are available from Atmosphere Press.

Website: https://ektargarg.com

Blog: https://thewriteedge.wordpress.com

Instagram: @EktaRGarg

X.com: @EktaRGarg

Facebook: https://facebook.com/ReviewerEditorAuthorDreamer

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Blog Tour Calendar

August 25 @ WOW! Women on Writing

Join us as we celebrate the launch of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg. Read an interview with the author and enter for a chance to win a copy of the book.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

August 27 @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://chapterbreak.com

August 29 @ CK Sorens’ Instagram

Join Carrie for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://instagram.com/ck_sorens

August 30 @ One Writer’s Journey

Visit Sue’s blog for an excerpt from The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://suebe.wordpress.com/

September 2 @ One Writer’s Journey

Stop by Sue’s blog again for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://suebe.wordpress.com/

September 4 @ The Faerie Review

Join Lily for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://www.thefaeriereview.com

September 4 @ Knotty Needle

Visit Judy’s blog for a guest post by author Ekta Garg on how to set goals and actually keep them.

http://knottyneedle.blogspot.com

September 5 @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog again for a guest post by author Ekta Garg on how to choose the theme of your book…or let it choose you. You can also read her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

https://chapterbreak.net

September 5 @ All Things Writing

Caitrin interviews author Ekta Garg about her writing journey and short story collection The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

https://www.caitrincking.com/blog

September 7 @ What Is That Book About

Visit Michelle’s blog for an excerpt from The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg

https://www.whatisthatbookabout.com

September 7 @ Shoe’s Seeds and Stories

Visit Linda’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://lschuelerca.wordpress.com/

September 9 @ Words by Webb

Join Jodi for her response to our tour-themed prompt on what’s something in a fairy tale that she wished she saw more of.

https://www.jodiwebbwriter.com/blog

September 10 @ A Wonderful World of Words

Visit Joy’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://awonderfulworldofwordsa.blogspot.com/

September 12 @ Musings of a Literary Wanderer

Visit Angela’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://musingsofaliterarywanderer.blogspot.com/

September 12 @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Visit Anthony’s blog for an excerpt from The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://www.authoranthonyavina.com

September 13 @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog for her response to our tour-themed prompt about her thoughts on why fairy tales still resonate with readers today.

https://chapterbreak.net

September 13 @ Boots Shoes and Fashion

Join Linda’s blog for her interview with Ekta Garg about her book The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

https://bootsshoesandfashion.com

September 14 @ Shoe’s Seeds and Stories

Visit Linda’s blog again for her response to our tour-themed prompt about what were some of her favorite fairy tales growing up.

https://lschuelerca.wordpress.com/

September 15 @ Beverley A. Baird’s blog

Visit Beverley for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://beverleyabaird.wordpress.com

September 16 @ A Wonderful World of Words

Visit Joy’s blog again for an excerpt from The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

https://awonderfulworldofwordsa.blogspot.com/

September 16 @ Words by Webb

Join Jodi for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://www.jodiwebbwriter.com/blog

September 16 @ CK Sorens Newsletter

Don’t miss Carrie’s feature of Ekta Garg’s The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

https://www.cksorens.com

September 17 @ Beverley A. Baird’s Blog

Join Beverley again for a guest post by Ekta Garg on finding your voice as a writer.

https://beverleyabaird.wordpress.com

September 18 @ Knotty Needle

Visit Judy’s blog for her response to our tour-themed prompt about her thoughts on why fairy tales still resonate with readers today.

http://knottyneedle.blogspot.com

September 19 @ Beverley A. Baird’s blog

Visit Beverley again for her response to our tour-themed prompt on which fairy tale she would alter and how she would do it.

https://beverleyabaird.wordpress.com

September 20 @ Sarandipity’s

Visit Sara’s blog for her interview with author Ekta Garg about her book The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

https://sarandipitys.com/blog/

September 21 @ A Storybook World

Visit Deirdra’s blog for a guest post by Ekta Garg on using the word “perfect” to empower your writing.

https://www.astorybookworld.com/

September 21 @ Boys’ Mom Reads

Join Karen’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://karensiddall.wordpress.com/

September 23 @ Sandy Kirby Quandt

Visit Sandy’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://sandykirbyquandt.com/

September 24 @ Writer Advice

Visit B. Lynn Goodwin’s blog for a guest post by Ekta Garg on why she chose the hybrid publishing route.

https://www.writeradvice.com

September 24 @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Stop by Anthony’s blog for his review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

https://www.authoranthonyavina.com

September 25 @ Knotty Needle

Stop by Judy’s blog again for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg.

http://knottyneedle.blogspot.com

September 26 @ Just Katherine

Visit Katherine’s blog for her review of The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories by Ekta Garg. You can also check out her response to our tour-themed prompt on what she hasn’t seen in a fairy tale that we wish we saw more of.

https://justkatherineblog.wordpress.com

September 27 @ Jill Sheets’ Blog

Visit Jill’s blog again for her interview with author Ekta Garg about her book The Witch’s Apprentice and Other Stories.

https://jillsheets.blogspot.com/

The Time Patriot Episode 1: Hail Mary Pass by Kim Megahee Feature and Excerpt

On March 27, 2024 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Author Spotlight, Book EventsLeave a comment

Synopsis (from Amazon):

A Hail Mary Pass – that’s what the President of the United States called it.

What are the chances Marc McKnight’s time travel team can convince George Washington to leave his home and travel with them to the year 2037?

Another bloody civil war is imminent in the United States. Political parties are hopelessly divided and fanning the embers of war. Can the war be prevented if George Washington tells modern America what the Founding Fathers were trying to achieve?

A Hail Mary Pass. A long shot. But it’s worth a try.

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Author Bio:

Kim Megahee is a writer, a musician, and a retired IT consultant. His background includes playing in rock bands, teaching high school, and much experience in computer programming, security and consulting.

He lives in Gainesville, Georgia with his soulmate wife Martha, and Leo, an incredibly smart and stubborn red-headed toy poodle. In addition to writing, he enjoys reading, playing live music, and socializing with friends.

Website: https://www.authorkimmegahee.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.kmega

Amazon: http://amzn.to/3OdX8xE

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/65138146-the-time-patriot

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EXCERPT

Excerpt from Chapter Five of THE TIME PATRIOT: EPISODE ONE – HAIL MARY PASS

Before Washington could speak, McKnight and Tyler stepped out of the trees with their sidearms in their hands.

The robbers turned to them as McKnight spoke.

“Release him or you’ll answer to us. This gentleman is our companion and under our protection.”

The robbers spread out and raised their rifles.

“Just the two of you, then?” the leader said. “Not very good odds.”

McKnight whistled, and the rest of the team stepped out of the bushes, weapons trained on the robbers. “I won’t ask again. Lay down your weapons if you want to live.”

The bandits laid down their weapons, but the one named Sam drew a knife, leaped toward Washington, and held the blade to his throat.

“I think you are the ones who should lie down your weapons. Else, I’ll slice your benefactor’s throat. Your choice.”

McKnight didn’t blink.

“Hatcher?” he said.

“No shot, sir, I’ll hit the General.”

“Cutty?”

“I have him, sir. Say the word and I’ll blow his head off.”

“Wait, now wait!” David cried out and stepped forward with his hands out.

“Hold, Sam!” he said, and pointed at Washington. “Did you call him General? Who is he?”

Tyler spoke. “That’s General Washington. Did you fight with him during the war?”

Sam stepped away from Washington and dropped his knife.

“I did,” he said. “I’m sorry, sir.”

The other robbers hung their heads.

“We all did, sir,” David said, dropping Washington’s sword. “We wouldn’t have attacked if we’d known it was you, sir. We’d sooner starve than hurt you.”

Several of the others nodded.

Hatcher bounded over and cut the ropes that bound Washington and Lee to the tree, then went to secure the horses.

The general shrugged off the rope fragments, rubbed his wrists and, after a long look at Hatcher, he approached McKnight and Tyler.

“Sirs, I beg you, please release these men. Their primary crime is being hungry, a common plight in this part of the country. Three of them have already paid with their lives.”

Before they could reply, Washington did a double-take and stared at Tyler’s face.

“Colonel Tyler, isn’t it?” he said. “You look different.”

Tyler glanced at McKnight and winked with a smile.

McKnight could almost read his friend’s mind and sense his humor. “I’m a colonel, too.”

“Yes, General Washington. It’s me. May I present—”

“I know,” Washington said. “Colonel McKnight, I presume?”

McKnight was stunned. “How…?”

Washington looked him up and down.

“You’re not what I expected, sir. I look forward to talking with you, but we have an immediate situation to resolve. What should we do with these men?”

David spoke up. “General Washington, you have our humblest apologies. We’ll accept any punishment you demand. We deserve it.”

Washington looked at McKnight, who gave a slight nod.

“When we were at war,” Washington said, “I had men flogged for stealing.”

He sighed.

“The war is over, and I’m a businessman now. I’m not inclined to punish these men. What about you, Colonel McKnight?”

“I’ll leave it to you, General. It’s to your discretion.”

Washington nodded and turned back to the robbers. He walked to David and picked up his sword. He looked him in the eye, then stepped back to address all the bandits.

“I am releasing you to go back to your homes. If I learn you are waylaying people on this trail again, I shall raise a force and come looking for you. I won’t be merciful the second time.”

He approached the leader David again. The man stared at the ground.

Washington spoke in a low voice.

“Look at me, sir.”

David raised his face to Washington. Tears flowed down his cheeks.

“These men respect you, David,” Washington said. “You have influence over them. I’m counting on you to keep them on a Christian path. Don’t let them stray.”

“I will, sir,” he said. “I swear before God I will.”

“Good. Pick up your weapons and go home. Find a better way to survive if you can. If not, come see me at Mount Vernon. Together, we will find a solution.”

David’s men picked up their long guns and walked back uphill to the trail.

Washington turned his back to them and walked back to McKnight and Tyler.

McKnight glanced at Wheeler, who nodded and slipped into the brush after the robbers.

Washington looked at Tyler again. He touched Tyler’s hat and said, “May I?”

“Yes, sir,” Tyler said, and Washington reached forward and lifted his hat from his head.

“I’ve known you for twenty years now, Colonel, and the last time I saw you, your hairline was receding. Now your hair is full again and the wrinkles on your face are gone. How is this possible?”

“It’s part of a plan, sir,” Tyler said. “It’s what brought us here to this time and place.”

“A plan?” Washington said. “Clearly, there’s more here than I perceive.”

He turned to McKnight.

“So, tell me, Colonel McKnight, what army are you in? What brings you and your men…” He stopped and scanned the faces before him, his eyes resting on Hatcher and Lagunas. “… Your men and women… to these woods?”

“We represent the Army of the United States, sir, and we came here looking for you.”

Washington nodded. “It appears you have found me, Colonel. What can I do for you?”

McKnight laughed. “That we have, sir. We need your help, and if you’ll allow me a few minutes of your time, I’ll explain.”

Washington looked around and spread out his arms.

“I am at your disposal, Colonel. How can I help?”

Mu: Legend of A Lost City by M.D. Neu Blog Tour + Exclusive Excerpt

On November 19, 2023November 19, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events1 Comment

M.D. Neu has a new MM sci-fantasy mystery out: Mu; Legend of a Lost City.

For years, the whispers and legends of a lost city hiding in the Pacific Ocean were just that; legend. On the day Kaimi discovers his parents, the Queen and King of Mu, murdered, Mu’s most powerful weapon fired, sending a pulse rushing towards the North American west coast.

After the 2025 Great Pacific Pulse Event, or Pulse, vomited up much of humankind’s trash in the Pacific Ocean along the North American west coast. The mysterious occurrence causing the largest environmental disaster in human history, people are no longer certain there is nothing concealed in the depths of the ocean.

Scientist Karen Linn and billionaire investor Michael Donovan want to find out what actually happened that day five years ago. Will Michael’s life in the adult entertainment industry and Karen’s moniker in pseudoscience keep them as social pariahs, or are they on the cusp of finding a civilization that has been kept out of our grasp, deep in the world’s largest ocean? How does the event from five years ago tie into the murder of the Queen and King of Mu?

What lies under the sea may be bigger than anyone can imagine, and neither civilization may be ready for the truth.

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Excerpt

~ Chapter 1 ~ Five years ago.

The dripping crimson on his hands contrasted the polished blue stone floors in front of him. Iron permeated around him, the scent made him want to vomit. But he couldn’t leave or move, he was frozen by pain and action. Soft warm light from the energy crystals reflected off the walls and floor, filling the space with a bright, cheerful glow, reminding Kaimi of all the wonderful memories this chamber held for him. The birth of each of his younger siblings. The day he introduced Makani to his family, followed by the celebration of their marriage two years later. Watching as Nohealani and Malo were joined in the presence of their gods. Seeing each of their children brought forth and presented to the family and the gods upon their births.

So much joy. Now this.

A burble of air. A cough. A gasp of pain forced him to see what lay before him.

“Help!” His voice yelled out.

Everything sparkled in those memories, but now the red slowly muted not only the bright glow of the veins running through the floors but also his pristine white shirt. From this day forward, the crimson liquid and the pungent fragrance of death would taint each of his happy memories.

More memories pushed forward, forcing out what stretched before him. Kaimi witnessed the day Kai Malina received the gift of sight from the gods of Mu, and was welcomed by Mana Lani into the arms of the world of Spiritual healers and Māhū. Something Kaimi didn’t fully believe in, well, not as much as he did when he was younger, but everyone had been pleased. Even he found himself excited. Past images of joy played out in his mind. The music, the fire dancing, the tumblers and dancers, the fragrances of meats for the prepared feast. So much elation that day.

How had Mana Lani or Kai Malina not seen this coming? They are gifted with foresight. They are the Māhū. Perhaps they only see what suits them.

“No.” Kaimi whispered. “Please, someone.” His voice called out again. “Help!” He bellowed.

More family memories rushed as his mind continued to process the scene. The recollections of Nohealani, Ulani, Koa, Kai Malnia, and him running around when court wasn’t in session. Were they all there? He was barely more than thirteen, too old to play with the babies, but somehow, they had managed to engage him. How many times did he and Nohealani have to usher their younger siblings off to bed, or back to bed, after sneaking out of their sleeping chambers only to find them playing here?

A growing collection of scarlet pooled closer to him. Pouring from her body, the thick fluid marred the sparkle of her dress, crystals handstitched into the gown to reflect not only the light of the kingdom, but the light of her soul.

This can’t be happening. How did this happen? Who would do…

Troubling recent memories leaked into his mind as more crimson oozed through his fingers, even though his hands remained firmly in place. Rust continued to overpower every other scent around him. The disagreements about how and if to engage the above worlders. The concerns and potential for discovery by those who live in the sun. Koa arguing with both the Queen and King about how encounters with those above would be the end of them and their world here in Mu. The Queen believing now the time had come to reveal themselves, hoping their presence to be a positive influence on the world above.

“We can help them. Teach them.” She pointed to the ceiling. “We have so much to offer each other. Our worlds have been separated for too long.”

However, when challenged and asked, neither Kai Malina nor Mana Lani were able to interrupt what the Gods had to say on the matter. He wasn’t sure what their gods would say, assuming they commented at all. But if the Queen believed in joining the world above, who was he to argue the point? The rest of his siblings offered what he hoped to be agreement.

Well, not all. They didn’t argue in public, but in private we spoke freely with each other, even loudly when the need arose.

I need assistants.” Kaimi called out, pleading with each word.

In the distance, the splashing of the tide pools outside the windows past the royal gardens filled his ears. Or were the sounds only his recollection bringing the noises to him? So many memories. Now this.—so much pain.—He peered over to the jeweled ornate windows, each crystal pane hand carved to reflect as much light as possible, while bringing the scenes of the world they once occupied to life with movement. Small shells from the creatures who filled the tide pools adding to the created images. A small breeze pushed the smells of water through the slightly opened windows, riding the air as more light shone through. The warmth on his skin and the taste of the salt water from the tide pools on his lips tingled all the way to his soul. He wished to be down there now, walking with Makani hand-in-hand, not here.

The blaring of sirens rang out, calling him from his thoughts, the piercing sound canceling out his calls for help. The puddles of red expanded around his knees and feet, beginning to soak his sarong.

A gift from Makani now ruined.

Kaimi forced himself to focus, his hands covered the wound before him. He glared up. As if seeing Koa for the first time. Koa stood over the body of the King on the floor. Koa stood and glanced down, offering no help. Red droplets on his white shirt and tan sarong created a similar pattern as the light crystals shown down on the kingdom when the light cycle recharged. At night, the crystals patterns were beautiful. Here, on Koa, the image made his stomach turn. Koa stayed quiet as he continued to hold the crystal pike in his hand.

Just as I found you. What happened? Why?

“Why?” Kaimi adjusted the pressure on the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. The chest of the Queen raised and lowered slowly, but the inhalations were becoming much more irregular. He forced his stare up at Koa, his eyes moving from the weapon in his hands to the bodies on the palace floor.

“I… It…” Koa backed away, dropping the weapon to the ground, the clatter almost as loud as the siren still screeching to every corner of the palace, if not beyond. His head shook as he stared at his hands.

The main doors of the chamber burst open. “Koa!” A female voice called.

Upon hearing the doors, Koa made for the rear of the chamber.

“No!” Kaimi called out, wanting to rush after him, but if he did, there would be no one to care for the Queen or the King.

Author Bio

M.D. Neu is an international award-winning inclusive queer Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.

When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of twenty plus years.

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

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

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Exclusive Excerpt

Mu; Legend of a Lost City

~ Chapter Two ~

Michael’s eyes fluttered open. The soft scent of lavender tickled his nose, and he took a deep breath, enjoying the smells before exhaling. “Who’s there?” He mumbled to the empty room as the first rays of the morning were starting to break through the curtains covering his windows. He rolled over onto his back, a sigh breaking from his lips as the softness of the bed and pillow engulfed him. The smile, his chest, and those beautiful thighs. “So real.” He glanced at the ceiling fan as the machine spun, a soft moan joining each rotation. The cool air on his exposed shoulders and chest both chilled and tantalized him, especially after such a dream.

He glanced down, seeing the duvet tented up right below his mid-section. “I’ll have to take care of that in the shower.” He peered up at the ceiling fan as the blades spun around.

He remembered each detail, the taste of his lips as they kissed, the playful bites at his ears and neck. Even how their tongues danced around each other for what seemed like hours. The dream played out like a scene from one of his movies, but this was real, not forced for the camera. A gentle moment of passion shared between two people who desperately wanted each other as their souls merged into one.

Not fake.

His chest dropped as what he assumed was a smile faded from his chilled lips. “Clearly a pleasant dream, but a dream nonetheless.” Things like that may happen to everyone else, but not to him. Michael was a pariah, persona non grata, when relationships were in play. Sure, people found him attractive, even at forty, but once they found out what he had done in his past. Where he had come from. Where his money came from.

He shook his head.

They couldn’t handle his past or present, and they would leave. At least those were the honest ones. The ones who pretended not to know about him, professed to understand, and faked wanting to be with him, those hurt. These guys only really wanting to see what being with him, a former adult entertainer, was like. Once they got what they were after, or found out he was a regular person, with feelings and emotions, not a prop for their fantasies, they would leave.

The alarm from his phone buzzed, forcing him out of his thoughts.

He rubbed his hands over the stubble on his face and chin.

Definitely need a shave today.

Michael reached over and tapped the alarm before picking up the phone, swiping at one of the news alerts reading:

Five years since the Pacific Pulse. Scientists still baffled by the occurrence. Swipe to learn more.

“Baffled…well I guess baffled is one word for what happened.” He dropped his feet over the edge of the bed, the cool wood chilling the bottom of his bare feet. He remembered the night the strange signal happened, the pulse interrupted everything, phone, radio, computers, cell service, satellites, all technology. Everyone assumed the Pulse was some new weapon from China, Russia or one of the other countries who didn’t like the US. The west coast was a mess for hours, everyone freaking out. Not only here in the US, but Canada and Mexico. Michael shook his head.

“So much devastation and still not everyone has recovered.”

The Scientists came out and declared they had suffered from a geological abnormality from the Pacific Ocean. “Right.” He huffed.

“Boneheads. What did they know?” He chuckled, “What did I know at the time…hell what do I know now?”

He put the phone down on his nightstand, not needing to turn the light on. More and more of the morning light creeped over the room. Prickles on his flesh quickly appeared as a shiver raced down his spine. All the money he offered for research; Stanford, Santa Clara University, San Francisco University, University of British Columbia. He even offered money to the University of Alberta in Edmonton to open a research center. He did the same in Mexico. But nothing, well, that wasn’t quite true. Sure, people would take the money, but no one wanted to be associated with him or have his name on any of their buildings.

He frowned down to the floor. “Except for my dream man.”

A fresh flash of those soft lips and beautiful dark hair tugged at his visual memory. Another shiver danced down his spine, this time not related to the cold.

“To find a love like that.” He lamented. “In the real world would be nice.”

The more he focused on his dream man, the more details returned to him. “Everything about the dream felt so genuine.”

There was another ding from his phone. He glanced at his device.

“A text message from Karen.” He didn’t bother looking at the message long enough to read. “I’ll deal with you after I shower and get myself ready for the day.” Standing, he allowed the small amount of the duvet covering him to drop to the bed, exposing his nakedness to the morning air. “And now I have to pee.”

He made his way to the bathroom to get ready. His day played out ahead of him. He would go to the office early, meet with his development heads; they were working on another site upgrade for each of his three platforms. After that, he had a meeting with his product development group to go over the series of new adult toys. People might snub their nose at the adult entertainment industry, but explain how, if everyone is against porn, the industry pulls in about $20 billion a year. How do you explain his company being on target to have its most profitable year? He laughed.

“Hypocrisy.” He mumbled as the water from the shower bounced off his face, waking up every cell as the heat warmed him. He tapped a button on the shower and hints of eucalyptus started to fill the steam and the stress washed away with each drop of water.

He would need to check with Sharon about his meeting with Karen. They were going to meet about her expedition…

Jade: First and Last by M.D. Grimm Blog Tour + Excerpt

On July 30, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Good day lovely readers! Thank you for joining me. I am M.D. Grimm and I am here to promote my newest release, “Jade: First and Last.” This is the latest entry in The Stones of Power, and the structure became a quest story, much the same as the first book in the series. I kept making it worse for my guys as they searched for the jade stone of power. And I had a bit too much fun doing so. I only have four books left before I wrap things up for Lord Morgorth and Aishe, and I am both excited and saddened. They’ve been with me for a decade, and it will be an end of an era when I let them go. If you like magic, surly, anti-hero mages (wizards), their loyal, long-suffering mates, and a fun setting with quirky supporting characters, this series might be for you!

Enjoy this exclusive excerpt!

I stared in fascination as Morgorth’s skin rippled and the air around him shimmered. He’d confirmed how agonizing the change was, and I gritted my teeth at the sounds of breaking bones and snapping tendons. His proportions shrank, his skin erupted in feathers, and his face grew a beak. His low moan turned into a ruckus caw.

A long moment later a large black bird stood on the floor, ruffling his feathers, and clicking his beak. He flapped his wings and cocked his head, familiarizing himself with his new form.

I knelt in front of him and slipped the small cord over his head. The thumbnail-size crystal lay against his chest. “You are beautiful.”

He let out a soft sound, almost a coo, and flapped his wings hard, gaining lift. I stood and he fluttered over to land on my shoulder.

“Are you ready?”

He nipped at my hair.

I hid him under my cloak as we snuck out. Once outside, I drew up my hood, since Morgorth advised against using the same disguise potion as yesterday. He didn’t want to make me sick. I stepped around the corner once outside, and Morgorth took flight, wheeling a bit unsteadily through the air. I watched for a moment, anxious before following him on foot. The city was far busier in the early afternoon. Everyone moved with a purpose and rarely made eye contact or even greeted each other. I didn’t sense unfriendliness, more unease and a bit of fear.

As I followed Morgorth down a few side streets we’d tried the other night, I noticed the graffiti on the walls and spots of vandalism. I hadn’t spotted them in the dark. The words were in the local dialect, but I could understand the meaning well enough. Calls for revolution or for someone to depose the king.

I got a bit distracted, trying to decipher a few of the words and graphic pictures, and wondering if the current state of the city, and the kingdom as a whole, could have an impact on the thief’s actions. A group of children, none at puberty yet, ran past me, screaming and hollering in manic glee. I flinched at the noise but found myself smiling. Even in this devastated city, the perseverance of children couldn’t be dampened. But their ragged clothing, dirty faces, and bare feet, concerned me. They were far too skinny, and their body odor lingered in their wake.

“What’s all this noise?” an old man bellowed as he stuck his head out of his door. “You get out of here, you little maggots! None of us wants to hear you carrying on.”

The kids jeered and called him names, making the old man red in the face.

I was moving forward before I knew it, hoping to stop an altercation. But then the swooping of wings, and the brush of feathers against my hood brought me back to our mission. Morgorth cawed as he soared higher. I gritted my teeth against the instinctive urge to interfere. But the kids had already run away, and the old man turned his attention to me.

He glared. “What you looking at, you davish?”

I stiffened, the insult burning. “Nothing.”

He snorted. “Get back to your own country and out of our city, tree whore. We don’t want your kind here.”

I gaped as he shut the door.

Did he just…? Was that a derogatory name for dialen? Had to be. And how dare he call me a davish! The nerve of accusing a perfect stranger of rutting with animals. The old man’s vitriol staggered me. He hated me for even existing in his presence. It appeared that generations of war turned some bitter and hateful, and irrationally bigoted.

How had he known I was a dialen, though? My hood was still in place, and the cloak was big enough to cover my clothing. Could it be my bow? Perhaps. It wasn’t the same shape and style as the bows of the city.

I sighed and tried to shake it off as I turned and followed Morgorth again. The encounter shook me despite my best efforts. The despair permeating the city was even worse in the daytime when I could see the faces of the citizens and the resignation in their eyes.

I lifted the crystal to my lips. “We have to do something about this war, Morgorth. After we find the jade, we have to… I don’t know. This place, it… we have to help if we can.”

He gave two clicks.

I sighed.

The afternoon wore on, and I witnessed a half dozen thefts, and it sickened me to turn away. But when I spotted three men harassing a woman, I couldn’t stand by. They had her backed into the end of an alley and were tugging at her arms, her clothes. I didn’t want the attention of the patrols or soldiers, so I kept my arrows and sword sheathed and used my bow as a club instead.

“Hey, you should leave her alone if you know what’s good for you!”

They all turned to me. I kept my hood up, bow at the ready.

“Who are you?” one of them asked, the one gripping her arm.

“And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t interfere,” another said.

The two speakers were rather scrawny, underfed, and their clothes were more patches than fabric. The third was a wide, short stump of a man who scowled and said nothing.

“Please help me!” the woman said, struggling against the first man’s hold.

“I won’t offer another warning,” I said, wondering where in the underworld the patrols were.

“Neither will we. Ander!”

The stump of a man charged me.

I braced and lifted my bow.

The Stones of Power 1-9 are available for purchase at Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. I have a newsletter that I send out monthly with all the goodies you can expect in the future. That’s the best way to find out about my current and future projects.

I’m currently working on the next Shifter Chronicles book, as well as the first book in a duology concerning two sisters and their love lives with dragons and wolves.

More information on my catalog can be found at my website.

I hope you stay safe and healthy, and may dragons guard your dreams,

M.D. Grimm

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M.D. Grimm has a new MM fantasy book out, Stones of Power book 9 – Jade: First and Last.

Morgorth and Aishe must contend with a deadly threat that could spell disaster for their world.

Payshthas were the first of the Mother’s intelligent children. It is rare for true friendship to form between them and another species—which makes Morgorth’s bond with Enfernlo unique. And it is due to their friendship that Morgorth doesn’t hesitate to answer Enfernlo’s plea for help.

A thief has stolen something vital from Enfernlo’s colony—a stone of power.

Their hunt for the stone leads them to a war torn kingdom, and Aishe can hardly stomach what he sees. The devastation urges him to assist however he can, no matter the risk. Meanwhile, Morgorth is faced with reminders of the monster he used to be, and contemplates how far he’s come, and yet how far he still has to go. And when his estranged mentor joins them on their search, Morgorth is forced to confront his resentment and sense of betrayal, and use Master Ulezander as a tool to save the payshthas.

Forced into a deadly quest where trust is in short supply, and faced with challengers for the stone, Morgorth must put his faith in those he loves and in himself… and become a champion not just of the Mother but for Karishian itself.

Warnings: magic violence, dragon violence, war-torn country

About the Series:

Lord Morgorth is a dark mage on the planet Karishian. His peers consider him a villain, but there is more to him than they choose to understand. Cursed by a dark destiny and tormented by painful memories of the past, Morgorth struggles to find his place in the world. Far from innocent, Morgorth has teetered between embracing his destiny and fighting against it his entire life. A decision that is made easier when Aishe comes into his life.

Aishe is a creature of the forest, a warrior and healer. He has the moral compass that Morgorth needs, and Morgorth gives Aishe the companionship he craves. Together, they forge ahead, weathering the storms and fighting the enemies fate puts into their paths.

However, their greatest enemy is not a living being, but gemstones infused with deadly power. They are addictive, seductive, and completely treacherous. Morgorth hates them and is determined to find and imprison all of them. But he soon realizes they are keys to a greater power. He learns his destiny is not all he thought it was. And an even greater enemy stirs in the darkness.

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Excerpt

Morgorth snarled a word, and his magick speed shot him like an arrow into the tunnels. I followed in his wake, focusing on the eight gVattaren who were running away. The hard sand didn’t hinder us, and I caught up with their shorter strides. I shot two in the neck before those remaining reeled around and attacked. They cursed and squealed as their blades blinded me when the sun broke the horizon. I dropped my bow and grabbed my short sword.

With my own snarl, I barreled into them. My blade sang as I swung at their arms and heads while also dodging and swerving as they tried to stick me with their knives. The six surrounded me, and while a few broke through my defenses and slashed at my legs, their blades glanced off my armored clothing. It didn’t take long for the gVattaren to realize they couldn’t puncture through the cloth to my flesh.

One sneaky fellow sliced the back of my uncovered hand while another threw a blade at my face. I ducked and hissed at the sting on my hand. I cut off their arm while slashing at the one who’d flung the knife.

“What do you hope to accomplish?” I asked, spitting mad. “Do you not see the payshtha over there? He can burn you to a crisp in an instant!”

“Then why hasn’t he?” one of them said, voice raspy and filled with dark amusement.

I turned to the mocker and found an opening to kick them in the head. They dropped like a stone and the other five hissed and snarled.

“I’m not done having fun yet,” I said.

I trusted Morgorth to recover whatever they’d thrown into the tunnel as I gradually moved them farther away from the Jesllan. The small group was vicious and quick, fueled by rage. I would have been bleeding from many shallow wounds if Morgorth hadn’t enchanted my clothing. But then they surged toward me all at once, and one leapt upon my back, trying to stab my face. I gripped their wrist and twisted sharply. With a snap and a scream, they fell off me, dropping the blade. Unfortunately, with their other hand, the stabber grabbed my wrist and used their weight to force me to drop my sword arm. Then they clung and bit my hand, turning the previous slice into torn and mangled flesh that gushed blood.

I screamed, unable to shake them off.

I dropped my sword.

Seizing the opportunity, the other four attempted to saw their way through my clothing. They clung like leeches, and their combined weight made it hard for me to move.

“Get off me!” I punched at their heads with my free hand and struggled to keep my face beyond their reach.

“Close your eyes!” Enfernlo bellowed.

I snapped them shut an instant before hot air slammed into my back and engulfed me. The gVattaren shrieked in agony as the five spasmed against me. Then all the weight vanished, and it was silent except for the roar of the wind. Then that, too, dissipated.

I swayed and fell to one knee, panting. When I opened my eyes, I grimaced. The streaks of ash against the crystallized sand told me it hadn’t been hot wind, but payshtha fire. He’d disintegrated the gVattaren, just as I’d warned them he’d do.

Payshthas, like mages, could control their fire and who it harmed. To some extent, at least. But while mages needed to retain the connection to their fire, payshthas could direct it even when the bond was severed.

I tucked my mangled hand to my chest and grabbed my sword with the other. It was no worse for the wear, much to my relief. I turned and jolted. Enfernlo stood just behind, towering over me, his teeth bared, his eyes glimmering dark with rage. His wings were unfurled to their full span, and his posture reminded me of a striking snake or diving bird.

I was grateful my bowels didn’t betray me.

“Aishe!”

I turned and Morgorth engulfed me in his arms.

“Careful,” I said, grunting.

He jerked back and swept his gaze over me before focusing on my hand. His mouth twisted and his magick flared. “I’m sorry. Right after I retrieved that bomb they threw in, another group leapt out of the sand and attacked.”

I cupped his cheek with my good hand and met his gaze. “I’m all right.”

“Show me your hand,” Enfernlo said.

He no longer looked about to attack, and I breathed easier as I held out my hand. A gentle stream of fire blew out of his mouth and landed on my wound. It seeped into the torn flesh, glowed yellow, and then vanished. The pain stopped, my hand as good as new.

“Thank you.” I touched his snout.

Then I turned to Morgorth and cupped his cheek again. “And thank you for the clothes.”

He grunted. He covered my hand on his cheek and kissed my palm.

Author Bio

M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!).

After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier. Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

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

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Blog Tour: Lord Manetu (Blackwood Pack Series Book 12) by Mary Rundle + Exclusive Excerpt

On July 24, 2023July 24, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Hi Everyone! So glad to be here and today there’s an exclusive excerpt from Lord Manetu, Book 12 of the Blackwood Pack series. It’s about Theo, Norm, and Smokey who have a rocky path to their HEA but not to worry because the Blackwood Pack is always ready to step in with a helping hand. Please enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After promising Jackson he would not seek out Theo until given permission, Smokey left the study, heading outside. He needed the peace of the forest to help settle his thoughts about what his options were concerning his mate. Opening the front door, he stepped outside, ignoring his bear’s objections. While he could understand and even agree with his animal’s demand for vengeance, he knew they belonged here with their mate. Revenge would have to wait.

Pausing on the porch, Smokey glanced around, smirking at the enforcers casually scattered around the edge of the forest. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind what their assignment was but that wouldn’t be necessary. He had no intention of doing anything that would cause his mate more anxiety. Nodding briefly to the leader, he stepped off the porch, heading for a path leading into the trees.

The quietness of Smokey’s footsteps on the thick bed of pine needles had the effect on his bear he hoped for. The anger was gone, stripped from his animal by the stillness of the forest surrounding them. Now he could think without dealing with the wild mood swings of his bear.

Moving slowly through the trees, Smokey let his senses savor the forest sounds and scents, reminding him of the many times spent with his grandfather learning the ways of the ancient ones. He kept that knowledge locked up, guarded against all who might seek to destroy it or use it for nefarious purposes. It was a part of him that had remained a secret—at least most of it—from even his two best friends.

But somehow Ghost had found out about some of it, which is why he’d insisted Smokey use it to save Harte. Thinking it over as his mind cleared in the peaceful surroundings of the forest, the impact of Ghost’s knowing about his power chilled him to the core. Not only did it expose him to danger, but it also compromised his friend—who couldn’t possibly know how vulnerable he might now be. Dammit!

Continuing on the path, Smokey headed deeper into the forest, letting the shadows cool his agitation. Ghost’s knowledge would have to be handled soon, but there were other matters he needed to figure out first. Turning his attention to his mate, the image of Theo filled his mind, causing his bear to roar in approval. I agree…our mate is gorgeous…and brave…and smart! Everything he learned from Jackson told him the Fates had found him a mate worthy of sharing the world he was born into; the problem was Theo was already spoken for.

Fucking hell! Slamming his fist into the trunk of the nearest tree, Smokey howled in frustration, cursing the turn his life had taken. Nothing had ever been easy, so why did he expect his mating to be? Rubbing his fist, he resumed walking, concentrating on the questions Jackson asked him, questions he hadn’t been able to answer.

He decided to start with the easiest one. Can you raise Theo’s cub even though you’re not the father? Smokey carefully examined his feelings and those of his bear and after talking it over with his animal, he knew the answer. Blood alone did not make a father, but the love he already felt for the cub certainly did. And the thought he might never get to show the cub his love caused a deep ache in his heart.

Trying to ignore it, Smokey moved on to the next question. Can you accept the father of the cub and welcome him into your mating? Listening to his bear growl in response, he knew it would be a problem—not for him, but definitely for his animal. That was the reason he couldn’t immediately give Jackson the assurances he was looking for. As far as he was concerned, he owed…what was his name? oh yeah, Norman…Norman for saving Theo’s life. According to Jackson, Norman was the reason his mate made it through the hell of Arald’s prison.

Pausing as the growls of his bear grew louder, Smokey gave his animal the finger, refusing to kowtow to his demands this time. It was rare for Smokey to stand up to his bear, but too much was at stake to give in. Finding a fallen tree trunk, he sat down on it and called to his animal’s spirit, seeking a meeting with him. Once the spirit appeared, Smokey closed his eyes and released control of his human spirit. Falling into a trance, he watched and listened as his spirit explained the issues to his bear’s spirit. Smokey knew the only way to gain his animal’s cooperation was if their spirits were in agreement.

Mary Rundle has a new MM paranormal romance out, Blackwood Pack book 12: Lord Manetu. And there’s a giveaway.

This is part of a continuing series by Amazon Bestselling Author, Mary Rundle – reading the previous titles is advised. Readers will enjoy catching up with members of the Blackwood Pack and reading about what is happening to them as the pack does what it does best ̶ caring for one another and helping shifters everywhere.

Barely surviving Arald’s prison, Theo’s luck has finally changed. Discovering an unknown passion for cooking, he’s settled into his new life with his fiancé at the Blackwood Pack. He’s excited about tying the knot with Norm in the company of all their friends. It’s everything Norm promised him during their bleakest days of incarceration and he doesn’t think he can be any happier.

Waking up at Arald’s, Norm’s sole mission in life is to help his Fated Mate, Theo, survive the horrors inflicted on them both. Now free, he sets about to make all of Theo’s dreams come true, including the most important one, the cub his mate so dearly wants.

Smokey heads North to pick up Kevin’s parents and deliver them to the Blackwood Pack before hurrying back to LA. Easy-peasy…right? That’s what Smokey thinks but then, what is supposed to be a simple mission, turns into a race to avoid human hunters who have already shot Kevin’s father. Using his skills honed as a secret agent, Smokey manages to elude the hunters, heal the father’s wound and then successfully transport them to safety only to find the Fates have a surprise waiting for him.

After a series of misunderstandings and then with some help from Jackson, the pack’s Alpha, Theo and Norm finally accept Smokey as their mate and set upon a journey to unite the three of them. Discovering truths about their past lives leads to uncovering long-kept secrets that end up bonding Theo, Norm and Smokey together, giving each more love and happiness than they ever knew existed.

Astounding surprises, rare and unique gifts, an action-packed mission, and many unexpected twists and turns make this passionate love story by Mary Rundle impossible to put down once you’ve read the first page.

Get It On Amazon

Giveaway

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Excerpt

Peering into the underbrush to his left, Smokey found the glowing eyes of Ivan’s mountain lion staring back at him, waiting for the signal to attack. Then swiveling his head to the right, he found a pair of gleaming wolf eyes focused on him. Satisfied, he looked up through the branches of some huge pine trees, searching for Hawkeye, but the sky was empty. Huffing quietly, he turned his attention back to the three men in front of the cave where Kevin’s parents were holed up. Studying his preys’ body language, he deduced that the man on the left was the leader, while the other two were carrying out his orders.

Gesturing with one of his paws to Ivan, Smokey pointed out the man he was going to kill.

Ivan nodded, impressed by the giant paw with razor sharp claws.

Suddenly a hoarse screech broke the silence as a Red-Tail Hawk dive bombed the clearing at the mouth of the cave, causing the men surrounding it to scatter and duck. Before they could recover, a thunderous roar froze them in place.

Smokey’s bear rushed forward, his paw aimed at the leader, his four-inch claws easily piercing the man’s back. Ignoring the ear-splitting scream of pain, he clutched his prize then, pausing for a moment, he tore the man’s heart out. Swinging around, he saw Ivan’s mountain lion momentarily incapacitated by bear spray. Smokey’s eyes glowed red with anger as he aimed a paw at the man with the spray, his claws sinking deep into his stomach, eviscerating him. Scooping out his victim’s guts and scattering them on the ground, he then moved on to the next target.

Though all three men had now been killed, Smokey’s bear was still in a frenzy. Anger pulsed through him, demanding further revenge against those who dared hurt Kevin’s parents. Lifting up his head, Smokey’s bear roared again, silencing the forest as he broadcast his displeasure. Finally, after several more bellows, Smokey forced his bear into a shift and reclaimed his human form, his body still filled with adrenaline. Opening and closing his fists, Smokey slowed his breathing, calming himself. Standing in the clearing, he surveyed the bloody scene before turning to Ivan. “Anyone injured?”

Smirking, Ivan’s eyes lingered on the bodies of the men lying on the ground. “I’m assuming you don’t mean them. In that case, nope, other than a few scratches, everyone’s fine.”

“Smartass!” Before Smokey could say more, he heard Elen calling his name. Whirling around, he ran toward the cave, his gut tightening at the sound of panic in her voice. Once inside, he blinked several times until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, then spying Elen kneeling next to Harte, he rushed over to her. Dropping down beside her, he asked, “What happened?”

“He’s been shot and I can’t stop the bleeding, Gabriel.”

“Lemme see.” After Elen removed her hand from the blood-soaked cloth, Smokey gently lifted it, inhaling sharply at the still-bleeding wound. With the amount of blood Harte was losing, it was impossible for him to be moved. Replacing the bandage quickly, he said, “Here, press down as hard as you can.”

“Gabe, he needs to shift now. His heart has already stopped once.”

“I know…” Lifting his right hand, he extended a claw before cutting open his left wrist. Waiting a second until blood flowed from the wound, he put the open cut tightly against Harte’s mouth. “C’mon Harte…drink,” he muttered.

“Will it work?” asked Elen, trying to hide her fear.

“I don’t know…he’s weak.” Reaching down, with his right hand, he pinched Harte’s nose closed, hoping the lack of air would cause him to open his mouth. Waiting for Harte’s survival instinct to kick in felt like hours for Smokey, who was running through other options in his mind. But suddenly he felt a tugging at the cut as Harte started swallowing his blood. Removing his fingers from the man’s nose, Smokey was relieved to see the rise and fall of Harte’s chest as his breathing became steady.

Harte drank for several minutes before Smokey gently pulled his wrist away, licking his cut to seal it. “That should be enough for it to work,” he murmured, leaving the part ‘if it’s gonna work’ unsaid. There wasn’t any reason to stress out Elen anymore than she already was, especially since she was critical to her husband’s survival.

Glancing at the man she regarded as her second son, Elen softly said, “Thank you for coming, Gabriel.”

“No thanks needed,” Smokey smiled. “Kevin would kick my ass if I hadn’t.”

A shadow passed over Elen’s face at the mention of her son. “You haven’t found him yet.”

Placing his large hand over Elen’s delicate fingers, Smokey squeezed lightly. “No, but I will…promise.”

Author Bio

A few years ago, I wrote my first book, Dire Warning. Readers loved it and I was on my way to chronicle the Blackwood Pack, seven brothers who are gay wolf shifters in search of their fated mates—stories about love at first sight with twists and turns, angst and humor, romance and adventure and, of course, happy endings. Since then, the pack has expanded, allowing more stories to be told and different paranormals to be included. The series has become, as one reader described it…an “Epic Saga.”

Now, twelve books later, Lord Manetu, has just been published. I love the M/M paranormal genre because it gives my imagination a lot of territory in which to roam. My mind can really run wild and come up with some amazing stuff when it doesn’t have to stay inside the box. My story ideas come to me as if they were being channeled by my characters, all of whom I love (except for a few villains). They are eager to recount their lives, loves and adventures, and are not reluctant to let it all out when it comes to revealing steamy details. My writing style is free-wheeling and uninhibited and my readers tell me they love it that way; that it makes them feel like they’re right in on the action and a member of the Blackwood Pack.

I live in the Northeast and love the beautiful change of seasons, my husband, and our quirky calico cat, though not necessarily in that order. I read a lot (good for the mind) and love gardening (good for the soul). And I’m always happy to hear from my readers and can be reached through Facebook, my private Facebook Group, Twitter, Instagram, or my website.

Author Website: http://www.maryrundle.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/maryrundle69

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

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maryrundle69

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14246427.Mary_Rundle

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/mary-rundle/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/maryrundle

Blog Tour: Head over Feels by Bix Barrow + Excerpt

On July 10, 2023July 10, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Bix Barrow has a new MM contemporary romance out (gay, pan): Head Over Feels. And there’s a giveaway.

A luscious pet massage therapist, a gorgeous but grumpy ex-FBI agent, and glitter bombs gone deadly…

Malcolm:

I shouldn’t be jealous of my cat. I am, though. Her pet massage therapist (who knew that was even a thing?) is exactly my type. Smart, funny, and adorable with just the right amount of meat on his bones.

But a guy like that deserves more than a grouchy forty-something ex-FBI agent with a broken body and a screwed-up brain. I’m shocked when he offers a no-strings night together, though I don’t think twice before I’m all in.

I should’ve known better, because one night will never be enough. But before I can ask Felix for more, our awkward morning after turns explosive. And not in a good way

Now I just have to keep Felix alive long enough to catch the bomber. And to capture Felix’s heart.

Felix:

What would happen if everyone you’d ever dated got together and plotted against you?

For me, it’s glitter bombs. Lots and lots of glitter bombs.

Okay, maybe I deserved the first one or two. Or three. But I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m a better person now. I definitely don’t deserve the latest bomb—this one isn’t made of glitter. Now I’m in hiding with Malcolm, the smokin’ hot older client I just had a sizzling one-night stand with.

Malcolm might be grumpy and prickly, but to me he’s also warm, caring, and romantic. My exes can’t hold a candle to him. But all that glitters is not gold. The bomber still wants me dead, and I’m pretty sure the police arrested the wrong guy.

If Malcolm and I want our HEA, we have to identify the real culprit. I just hope it all doesn’t blow up in our faces.

Head Over Feels is a low-angst MM contemporary romance. Come for the grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity (but there are two beds, sorry), hurt/comfort, and found family. Stay for the bombs (glitter and real), the 1985 Buick Riviera convertible, dreams coming true, atoning for past mistakes, game nights, a dead body, and an online date gone very, very, wrong. HEA guaranteed!

Warnings: PTSD symptoms, bomb explosion, off-page murder, recount of dog euthanasia

Amazon | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

Giveaway

Bix is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

(from Felix’s POV)

I was still furious at Jaime’s holier-than-thou attitude about pet massage therapy. Where did he get off thinking he could judge me? At least I’d be helping animals and their owners. He built skyscrapers for rich jerks.

If I winced a little thinking my ex-dates would have a very similar opinion about me if they found out I’d held them up for the world to laugh at, well, that was no one’s business but my own.

Crap.

Anger and guilt were fighting in my gut as I clomped up the stairs and down the hall, turning the corner to reach my apartment. A small box sat in front of my door. Usually the apartment complex sent an email when I had a package delivered, but maybe one of my neighbors had picked it up by mistake.

I checked, and it was addressed to me. Someone is thinking about you was plastered across the outside of the box on colorful tape.

Could it be from my grandma? Sometimes she sent cookies. I’d been planning to spend the rest of the night on the couch with a bottle of cheap vodka, but cookies would be a welcome addition to help drown my feelings. The night was looking up at last.

After dumping my wallet and keys on the kitchen counter, I rooted around in my junk drawer for a pair of shears to open the package with. Inside the outer box was another box tied with curly multicolored ribbon. Thinking of you, said the sticker on the lid.

Smiling, I lifted out the smaller box and tugged on the ribbon.

The box burst open. I flinched back and yelled as a shower of glitter exploded all over the kitchen. And me.

“Ugh!” I spat into the sink to get the glitter out of my mouth. I tried to wipe my face on my sleeve, but my shirt was covered in it too. Luckily I hadn’t gotten any in my eyes, but it was crusted on my eyelids and in my beard.

I swiped at my head to get it out of my hair. The glitter rained down on the counter. Silver glitter. Gold glitter. Red, blue, green glitter.

It covered the counter and the kitchen floor. I didn’t have to look to know it had spread over the opposite side of the counter onto the living room carpet.

Freaking fantastic.

I brushed my hands together to get the worst of it off, then I studied the remains of the box. A spring had powered the little explosion. I found a notecard underneath the glitter and pulled it out. One side of the card showed a drawing of a tree and proclaimed, Our glitter is non-toxic and biodegradable! On the other side someone had handwritten, This is the least you deserve.

It wasn’t signed.

I flashed to my ex-dates. Surely not. I mean, what were the odds they would’ve seen Felicia in the City, much less recognized themselves.

Shaking my head, I set about washing the glitter off my hands, cleaning as much as I could from the counter and the floor, then running my ancient vacuum cleaner over the living room carpet.

I couldn’t think of anyone I’d aggravated recently. Except Jaime, of course. Not to mention his boyfriend. But the timing wasn’t right. I snorted to myself. If anyone deserved a glitter bomb, it was Jaime.

The kitchen was as clean as it was going to get, at least tonight. I went into the bathroom and stood in the tub to take my clothes off. Biodegradable meant it could go down the drain, right? Showering was a relief. The glitter had been starting to itch.

After putting on a t-shirt and pajama pants, I flopped down on the couch. I was exhausted but too wired to sleep yet. Groaning, I heaved myself up again and trudged to the kitchen. After pouring myself a generous vodka with a hint of tonic, I shuffled back to the couch and sank into the cushions.

With the kitchen light on, the carpet sparkled from embedded glitter. The vacuum hadn’t done much to get it out.

I slugged back about a third of my vodka tonic, then I picked up my phone to text Cal.

Me: My date was cheating on his boyfriend. And when I got home someone had sent me a glitter bomb.

Little dots appeared almost immediately, so I sipped my drink somewhat more sedately while I waited.

Cal: WTF, man? I hope u gave ur friend Cole shit about it. Do u know who sent the glitter bomb?

Me: I did and no, no idea. The note said “This is the least you deserve”

Cal: I hate to bring this up again, but how about those guys u dated who ended up on Felicia in the City?

Me: Marcie changed their names, and the show’s set in a different town

Cal: Well, I didn’t have anything to do last night, so I binged the first season. How many guys have model train tracks throughout their entire house and can’t sleep without it running? And how many guys show photos of their ex to their date and cry about him?

Well, fuck. Trent, the train guy, would definitely recognize himself. Or his friends would. And if you saw the episode with the guy crying over photos of his ex—who was very much alive, mind you—you might remember the appetizer in question was calamari. Something Marcie had kept consistent with my real date, since she liked how I’d described it as crying in the calamari. I hadn’t considered it might be a clue for Xavier to recognize himself on the show.

And none of the guys would have a hard time figuring out it was me who told their stories.

Me: Crap, you might be right

Cal: Well whichever of those guys did it, hopefully sending the glitter bomb got it out of their system

Me: I hope so

I rubbed my chest, frowning. Maybe letting Marcie pay me to use the stories from my dates hadn’t been the nicest thing I could’ve done.

Crap.

Author Bio

When Bix Barrow got an idea for her first book, it ended up turning into her second — and thus the first two stories in the Bent Oak, Texas series emerged. An aspiring author for most of her life, it took a foray into the MM romance genre to spark the steamy scenes and blazing banter Bix now weaves into her novels. Accompanying her on her writing exploits are her two dogs and multitude of cats (seven at last count). An avid traveler, Bix has started to view her expeditions as interviews for her future home. Born and raised in Texas, she is eager to move somewhere with fewer politicians, hurricanes and flooding. Connect with Bix at http://www.bixbarrow.com

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

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

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

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

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Book Excerpt

Head Over Feels

by Bix Barrow

Unique Excerpt

(Felix’s POV)

My alarm went off too early for my taste. The insistent buzzing broke me out of a deep sleep, and I woke confused about where I was for a moment. I’d been sleeping with my face pressed into a pillow, and I blinked as I sat up and glanced around. Malcolm wasn’t in the bed, and the sheets next to me were cold.

The room was a little stark, but it could’ve been due to Malcolm not having lived in the house very long. The bed had a black metal headboard with two crossbars. The comforter was white with a black swirling pattern and a significant swath of dark brown cat hair. There was no rug on the hardwood floor, and a tall black chest of drawers was the only other piece of furniture in the room. I guessed Malcolm didn’t spend much time in here.

I picked up my phone and thumbed off the alarm. I had a couple of hours before I needed to be at the rescue ranch.

Malcolm appeared in the doorway, wearing some ancient-looking sweatpants and no shirt. His hair was damp. I spared a brief regret for missing an opportunity to suggest sharing the shower.

“Hey,” he said. His face was almost expressionless. Fuck, was he going to be awkward again? I would’ve liked to take a moment to appreciate his furry chest, but not if he wasn’t into it, so I kept my eyes trained on his face. I was acutely conscious of my nakedness under the sheet, and not in a sexy way.

“When do you need to leave?” Malcolm asked. “I can make breakfast.”

Breakfast? Would that be weird? But he was offering, and I didn’t want to make it weird if he wasn’t weirded out. I wished I could tell what he was thinking.

“Um, sure. I don’t have a set appointment, but I need to go home and change before I drive out to… a ranch outside of town this morning sometime.” Jason had asked me to come over and look at an elderly alpaca they’d taken in. She had a limp, and Doc Pinkerton said it was a muscle strain.

Malcolm gave a sharp nod. “I should head to the office early as well. Feel free to use the shower. Come to the kitchen when you’re done.” He pivoted on his cane and then vanished down the hallway.

Well, okay. Were we supposed to pretend we hadn’t seen each other naked? I mean, I didn’t expect any boyfriend-y behavior like kissing me awake or bringing me coffee in bed. But after a night of hot sex, a guy likes to at least be ogled a little the next morning, you know?

My clothes had been folded neatly and placed on the chest of drawers. I showered as quickly as I could, then got dressed. Maybe it’d be better to skip breakfast and take off.

But when I found Malcolm in the kitchen, he’d already plated our food. Eggs, bacon and toast. Coffee was already poured, milk and sugar displayed prominently to the side.

“Come eat,” he ordered, shoving one of the chairs back for me.

Well, I was hungry. Internally shrugging, I sat. “Thanks.” I’d eat as quickly as possible and then bolt.

Mariposa sauntered in. After winding herself around my ankles a couple of times, she jumped up into the chair to my left. I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Malcolm, but he ignored me. He forked up a bit of egg from his plate and held it out to Mariposa. She daintily accepted the offering, and Malcolm withdrew his fork and began eating again.

“Um, you know cats lick themselves everywhere, don’t you?”

Malcolm shrugged and sipped his coffee. One eyebrow went up as if in challenge. “You know some men lick their lovers everywhere, don’t you?”

He’d barely spoken to me all morning, and now he was making sex jokes? Screw that noise. I glared at him. “There’s no reason last night has to make things awkward, Malcolm.”

He sighed and looked down at his plate, then back up at me. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just… been a while for me. I’m out of practice or something.”

“We’re good,” I reassured him. “It was only casual. Nobody’s expecting any commitments.”

He nodded, and we both focused on finishing our breakfasts. At least the tension in the air had eased a little.

After we’d eaten, Malcolm rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher before grabbing his car keys. “Let’s go out the side door here.”

“Sure.” I picked up my messenger bag from the living room, checked my phone was in my pocket, and followed him out to the carport.

We stepped out into the humid morning air. Mockingbirds called to each other, drowning out every other bird who might have wanted to greet the day. I wandered over to look Malcolm’s giant convertible while he shut the door and locked it.

“Felix,” he said. I turned to look back at him. “I wanted to—”

I caught sight of my sedan at the end of the driveway. “Fucking hell!” I shouted. “Are you kidding me!” I ran toward the car.

Sitting on the roof, right over the driver’s door, was a small brown cardboard box.

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