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Friday, July 13, 2018

Political Post--the movie you will never see

This was just a passing thought, so bear with me.

There will never be a serious movie about Donald Trump the hero.

Now, given how much we hate him, you all might be saying, "Duh!" but bear with me.

One of the notable things about Shakespeare's Macbeth is that the minute Macbeth dedicates himself to evil and stops fighting with his conscience, he ceases to be the main character in the play.  We're more concerned with Malcolm and MacDuff and how they're going to turn the motherfucker into bone paste than we are with Macbeth anymore. He ordered the slaughter of innocent people. We are fucking DONE with him.

Hitler is never the hero.

Rasputin is never the hero.

Stalin is never the hero.

The minute we get to irredeemable acts, giant ones, on a grand scale, all of the stuff they teach us about the villain being the "hero in his own story" goes away.

There is no redemption. All we care about is this guy's annihilation so there's balance in the universe.

Donald Trump has no redeeming characteristics. There's no, "But he's a great father!" or "He's kind to animals!" He's the creepy kid who used to abuse the neighbor's doll, and because his daddy had money, he got to inflict that bullshit on the entire planet.  What he has done to people seeking asylum, to soldiers in his own army, to women, to teenage girls, to the planet--all of it is irredeemable.

Any movie made with Donald Trump in it will either A. Be commissioned by him to make him the hero and will suck, or B. Be about how he's brought down.

So shit's getting real.

There's a possibility the November election we've been hoping for will find us double-fucked because the supreme court is going to be a sham by then. If Wotsit-Hitler goes titsup tonight with his face in a bowl full of coke, it's still going to be a giant pita putting the country back together.

But he's the one who wanted to make history.

Just remember the part he'll play in it, when it comes to pass.

He'll never be the hero.

He'll be held as our rarer monsters are, in a cage, hanging from a pole, on a sign underwrit, "Here may thou see the tyrant."  (Macbeth, mangled, Act 5, S2, right before that cowardly piece of shit gets his head chopped off and put on a pike. Bless Shakespeare for giving us something to shoot for.)

Why I need more yarn...

Okay, so I don't need more yarn. 

That's a total and complete lie.

I've been packing my knitting for the trip. Now, about three weeks ago I agreed with myself that, really, I only needed a couple of balls of sock yarn to work on as socks, and a couple of balls of sock yarn to work on as a shawl.


That's all I need.

But then I finished the color-crash sweater and it turned out so nice, I started on another crocheted worsted weight sweater for ZoomBoy. Now ZoomBoy only really loves two colors--turquoise and lime--and it's a great color combo, but for the sweater I had in mind for him, that means I'm working on about an acre of lime green back. 

And it's getting close to done, but I'm not taking it to RWA with me--for one thing, it's a big bag with a relatively short project yield. I'd really rather take a number of different, finer balls of yarn that could last me, say, a year.

So I packed my project bag and--as often happens--it grew. Especially when I was thinking, "We're going to drive for 14 hours that first day. Seriously. What in the holy fuck am I going to do with myself when Mate's driving?" (Besides listening to Neil Gaiman's books on tape, that is. They're already purchased and waiting in my phone.)

Anyway--so as it stands, in addition to my emergency sock bag--which holds three pairs in progress, you know, for emergencies--I have the bag I packed here. 

In the picture. I know it's hard to see--one of the color-combos is buried deep--but there are three projects in progress there, not to mention extra sock yarn should I exhaust the emergency sock bag as we drive. 


Do you think I need another skein?

Anyway-- when I pass on, Chicken has instructions to ship big boxes of the stuff to the people I love. It will be like getting yarn from the grave. 

All of you in my address book who enjoy yarn, you can look forward to that. 

It'll be fun.

You can--as you probably have often done since I've started posting completed projects on this blog--look at that box of hand-dyed yummy yarn and think to yourself, "What a dear, daft woman. In a million billion years, I'll never know what in the holy hell she had planned for that."  

Well, I could probably give you an itemized list, but I will tell you this.

No matter what it was I actually planned for that, the odds are really really good that whatever it is I would have eventually made would have been vastly, inescapably different. 

You know... I think I need to add another ball to the emergency sock bag... it's looking a might poorly, all things considered. 

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Author of the Month Post

Hey all!

I don't normally post on Wednesdays--it's dance day--but I'm author of the month over here at My Fiction Nook, and I thought I'd say hi! Come over! I've got an exclusive excerpt from A Fool and His Manny!  as well as five things you might not know about me!



Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Scuse me, I gotta write a sex scene... right after I drop this cover :-)

No, seriously.

So-- busy, because trying to make a deadline before we leave for Denver. Mate is out of town, and today was... well weird.

Seriously, if I'd known my dentist was going to bail, I would have planned something different for my morning. As it was, I was all cattywampus in my scheduling and it's 11 pm and I have no nap and the one interesting thing I've done today was take the kids to ice cream.

Okay-- that wasn't bad.

I just sat up at 8 and left my keyboard and said, "Let's take the dogs for ice cream!"

Well, Johnnie must have heard that as, "Let's take the dogs for torture!" because he disappeared under the bed.

I said, "Screw him!" and took the littler dogs out. They ate whipped cream while the kids and I sat outside Cold Stone and ingested way too much sugar.

But given this was the most exciting thing we'd done all day-- besides watch Anne With an E on Netflix (which I loved)-- I'm calling it a win.


I'm so close to having this book done by deadline.  And the big--as in the FIRST and possibly the only--sex scene is right there. I mean... y'all, the towel just slipped. After 47K of snarky paranormal adventure, two guys are finally getting naked and sticky.

I REALLY need to write this scene.

So I'll leave you with a picture of kids eating ice cream and hope your summer has some sweet moments too!


Wait! Speaking of!

A Few Good Fish is up for pre-sale-- here's the new cover, and here's the blurb and the link!

You guys, I think you'll like this one... I mean, it's got Burton and Ernie in it, right? And Jackson and Ellery? And Ace and Sonny.

What could go wrong?

Uh... in a word?


That's why you'll love it!

A Few Good Fish

by Amy Lane

Fish Out of Water: Book Three

A tomcat, a psychopath, and a psychic walk into the desert to rescue the men they love…. Can everybody make it out with their skin intact?

PI Jackson Rivers and Defense Attorney Ellery Cramer have barely recovered from last November, when stopping a serial killer nearly destroyed Jackson in both body and spirit.

But their previous investigation poked a new danger with a stick, forcing Jackson and Ellery to leave town so they can meet the snake in its den.

Jackson Rivers grew up with the mean streets as a classroom and he learned a long time ago not to give a damn about his own life. But he gets a whole new education when the enemy takes Ellery. The man who pulled his shattered pieces from darkness and stitched them back together again is in trouble, and Jackson’s only chance to save him rests in the hands of fragile allies he barely knows.

It’s going to take a little bit of luck to get these Few Good Fish out alive!

Monday, July 9, 2018

Grown-Up Stories

So, on Twitter the other day, someone asked us tell the most On Brand (TM) story from their childhood years.

Mine was about being a latchkey kid. I would come home, gather my stuffed animals into a semi-circle, and tell them a story, then quiz them about the parts in the middle.

And you can make of that what you will.

But something just happened that I think is pretty on-brand for me as an adult, and I thought I'd share.

We get pest control because if I had to knock down my own wasp nests we'd all be trapped inside by hordes of the flying menaces, and that is the truth.

Tonight--and ugh, it was super hot on my porch--a guy representing another company came knocking on my door.

"Hi, I'm from Mosquito Hawk-X pest control--oh, hi little dog. Aren't you a cute puppy."

"She's full grown."

"Well I'm in the area, making appointments--do you have Pest Control?"

"Yes, we do--we use Golden Hills."

"Oh! Do you know Dave?"

"Tall, goofy kind of guy? Loves to talk? Yeah! I love Dave! I haven't seen him with Golden Hill lately--"

"That's because he's working for us now. If you hired us instead of Gold Hills, you could visit with Dave!"

I almost did it. I mean, he almost had me.  Because Dave and I had a lot of fun together!  He's great! Talks about everything! Fun guy!

But frankly, I'm barely organized enough to have Golden Hills come to my house. I mean, I like them. They know me.

But gees, I miss Dave.

In the end I said no--but when I told Mate, he thought it was pretty funny.

He doesn't even know our pest control guys have names.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Out on Amazon!

Okay-- some of you are actually GETTING MY NEWSLETTER. I'm thrilled--but still puzzled as to why other people aren't. I have professionals working on it, and they can't answer that either, so I'm just going to assume that some computers think that Constant Contact, my e-mail server, has the plague.

However--there are SOME things I can show you here in the blog.

First of all, A Fool and His Manny is available for pre-sale on amazon now! WOOT!

A Fool and His Manny

by Amy Lane

Seeing the truth and falling in love.

Dustin Robbins-Grayson was a surly adolescent when Quinlan Gregory started the nanny gig. After a rocky start, he grew into Quinlan’s friend and confidant—and a damned sexy man.

At twenty-one, Dusty sees how Quinlan sacrificed his own life and desires to care for Dusty’s family. He’s ready to claim Quinlan—he’s never met a kinder, more capable, more lovable man. Or a lonelier one. Quinlan has spent his life as the stranger on the edge of the photograph, but Dusty wants Quinlan to be the center of his world. First he has to convince Quinlan he’s an adult, their love is real, and Quinlan can be more than a friend and caregiver. Can he show Quin that he deserves to be both a man and a lover, and that in Dusty’s eyes, he’s never been “just the manny?”
Buy at DSP

Buy at Amazon

And that's REALLY exciting-- I hope you all are happy about this one--it can be read as a standalone, but it's really so much more fun as the end of the series!

Also-- there was a cover reveal for A Few Good Fish, which will be out on August 28th!  I'll put the cover out here, but the link should go up for it tomorrow, and I'll have them both, cover and link, on the blog tomorrow--so YAYAYAYAY!

Also on the newsletter--


I do not have the dates for everything, BUT...

Freckles will be re-released with a new cover
Christmas Kitsch will be re-released with a new cover
Racing for the Sun will be recovered--and you'll see that when you see the cover for Hiding the Moon
and Regret Me Not will be recovered, AND re-released as a paperback in novel form, with the extra 20k from the blog included. 

So... yeah! Damn! That's a LOT of cover love, and you'll be seeing it both in the newsletter and here.

I mean, exciting, yeah?

I'm excited.

So if you haven't subscribed for the newsletter yet--or if you thought you'd subscribed before and it just didn't take, HERE'S THE LINK AGAIN.   There's fun things on it-- Ask Amy's Guys, and a few words about new releases and such. And be sure to check back here tomorrow for the reveal and the link for A Few Good Fish. 

So much good stuff coming out--I'm totally twirling!


Politics and Superman

Bruce heard the first thud when he woke up. He reached out and found the space next to him cold.


Batman had barely climbed into bed not two hours ago. Clark didn't really need sleep--but still, he made it a point to lie next to Bruce and doze, just so their bodies could share space and warmth.

Most nights.

"Diana," Bruce said, putting on the com he'd left next to the bed. "Was Superman needed for anything last night?"

"No," she said shortly. Then she sighed. "Just... you know. Reporting."


"You know what would make our lives easier?" he snarled, that sick feeling churning in his stomach as it had for the past two years.

"We can't," she said, but her voice sounded void of resolve. "A vacuum is worse than a tyrant, Bruce--you know that."

"It's killing us," Bruce said bluntly. "Living in this country, spending half our time fighting the policies of the traitor who's supposed to be running it--"

"I know that!" she cried. "Do you think I don't know that? And we're doing things--we are. You know that. But neither of you can be seen doing them, and..." She deflated. "Yesterday was just a bad day at work."


Working as a reporter had been something Superman had been good at. Truth and justice--a reporter's mantra. Having a president who literally spit in his face--it hurt something inside.

The thud sounded again, this time rattling the windows of Wayne manor. Fuck. Bruce needed to do something.

"Bat glider," he rasped, knowing it would power up as he named it. With a yawn he ran toward the back of the house and the secret entrance to the Bat Cave, his bare feet thudding on the floorboards.

It took him fifteen minutes to suit up and fly to the quarry, which lay a good ten miles outside of Gotham. No machinery darkened the sky, no workers dotted the walls like ants--the place had long ago been shut down.

Today, it was occupied by one pissed off alien, using the side of the mountain as his own personal speedbag.

Bap-bap-bap-bap-bap-- each small blow with the force of a jackhammer, and then, every five minutes or so, BAM. Every BAM ended with a shower of rocks from the hills above that might become deadly at any time.

Bruce launched himself out of the glider and sent it home with a verbal command, then used the fins on his suit to slow his descent until he could touch down next to a man who could kill him with one blow.

"Stop it," he ordered.


"Go away. I"m busy."

"I said stop it!" Bruce yelled, and the bap-bap-bap didn't let up. "You're going to start an earthquake!"

"Good!" Clark shouted back. "Maybe buildings will collapse! Maybe all the fracking he's started will explode! Maybe he'll get killed in the backlash!"

Bruce had had enough. "And maybe innocent people will too!" And with that he stepped between Superman and a quarry wall.

Clark's first blow landed--but pulled back, and Bruce was wearing armor. Still, he'd be feeling that bruise on his rib for weeks--any harder, and they'd be pulling pieces of bone out of his heart.

"Goddammit, Bruce!"

He was crying. Clark Kent was crying, and Bruce's breath shuddered in his chest.

"Come here," he growled, furious. He grabbed Clark's chin and pulled him forward, mouth plundering, tongue sweeping in and taking charge.

All of Clark's breath shuddered in his chest then, the shaky, briny breath of a man who'd been exercising his demons instead of exorcising them.

Bruce pressed the advantage. Superman could pulverize him with a glancing blow--but Clark Kent, who respected laws and justice and order--that man needed somebody to take charge. Bruce kissed him hard and without mercy, until Clark whimpered and went boneless, melting into Bruce's arms.

Bruce shoved at his suit, knowing that while it looked one piece, in truth the tight shirt fit into the pants.

"Here?" Clark mumbled.

"Now," Bruce ordered. "Turn around. Hold on to the wall. Take it."

Clark tilted back his head. "Ahh-ahh..." apparently undone just by the order. He could have flown away. He could have begged to go somewhere private. But he turned, shoving at his tight uniform, not even bothering to step out of his boots.

Batman had a loin-plate--easy removal because even superheroes had to pee. And he had lubricant--good for all sorts of mechanical things, but also surgical grade--in his belt. His gloves and loin plate hit the ground about the same time he breached Clark with two fingers, rudely, trying to drive out all the things that drove his lover to despair.

Clark sighed in acquiescence. Needy. So needy. Well, Bruce thought, his erection battering at Clark's entrance, we all like to be told what to do. Even people who fight against rules want to know they're there for a reason.


He slid in to his balls and rested for a moment, his forehead against Clark's neck, his cock throbbing inside Clark's ass.

"PLease," Clark whispered.

He didn't beg often.

Bruce obliged, throwing himself forward, intent on domination, not pleasure.

Pleasure they had in their bed, naked, the two of them intimate and sweet.  Pleasure was joy and hidden moments of being two people in love.

This was different.

This was Bruce shoving his cock inside Clark because Clark needed to know his cock was there and it had a purpose.

Sometimes knowing that thing had a purpose was the only line between barely holding on to order and the screaming void of chaos.

Clark fucked Bruce into the wall because order, dammit--the order of cock and asshole and fucking and come.

Their orgasms tore through them, Clark's first, the clenching of his tight muscle around Bruce's cock driving Bruce into the final drive. Their screams of climax echoed through the quarry, loud, profane, desperate. Clark sobbed once, twice as Bruce twitched in side him, and then Bruce pulled out and turned him gently, taking his distraught lover into his arms.

A few moment's peace.

Clark sobbing onto his shoulder for the people hurt, the children brutalized, the country vandalized by the pig at the wheel.

Bruce whispering in his ear about how it didn't matter, none of it mattered, they'd known from the first that the good fight was all they had in them, it was all they could fight, and winning wasn't the object.

Winning wasn't the object.

"Well what's the point?" Clark snapped bitterly, still being rocked in Bruce's arms.

"The point?" Bruce laughed, the sound soft and muffled against Clark's neck. "The point is that I had you naked and needing, fucked naked against a wall. And you cried out my name as you came. The point is, you can have me the same way. The point is, I love you because you'll go out and fight the good fight--and you love me for the same reason. But neither of us said a damned thing about winning. It was the fight that mattered. I'll fight for your soul every day of my life. That's the point."

Clark pulled back and nuzzled his temple. "You have my soul," he said. "YOu've had it for years." He let out a breath. "Now pull up my pants and do your... whatever is going on with your armor, or we're going to end up on someone's satellite, okay?"

Bruce's eyes went heavy-lidded and half-mast. "Sure," he said, bending down to pick up his gauntlets and loin-plate--and giving Clark's cock a quick slurp while his head was down there. "We'll get dressed. You'll take me home so I can--"

"Get some sleep," Clark said, wincing guiltily.

"Whatever floats your boat. But you and I know what just happened. And your ass is going to tingle from it all day. And when you get tempted to give in to despair, you know what you're going to remember?"

Clark's fair skin flushed easy, two pink crescents appeared on his cheeks. "I'm yours," he confessed roughly. "Nothing can change that."

"That's right." Bruce refastened his loin-plate. "Remember that the next time you try to start an earthquake. Remember that I will rock your fucking world."

Superman ducked his head and kissed him, solidly and squarely on the lips, slipping his tongue in for good measure. "Understood," he whispered. "I'll remember that you rock my fucking world. And that's why I fight for this fucking world. Because people like you make it good."

Bruce smiled lazily. "No. People like you make it good. I just give you what you need sometimes."

"Hold on to my shoulders, Bruce," Clark said, because they were both dressed. "I love you. You give me what I need all the time."

"Well you make the world good all the time," Bruce said. His mission done, he could relax against Clark's chest then, secure in the knowledge that Clark wouldn't drop him on the way to the Bat Cave, because Bruce wouldn't drop Clark any other time, or any other place. Holding each other up kept the world spinning.

It was the only way they knew how to do that, when all their other safeguards failed.

Friday, July 6, 2018

Happier Than I Expected


First of all, I'd like to say I can pack an amazing picnic.

There. It's out. My house is a disaster, I have yarn everywhere, but I"m not a completely loser as a housewife.

I can cook.

Barbecue ribs, cherries, corn, potato salad-- I put it all in one bag for the big kids, another bag for us. Dropped the big kids off their dinner, and then Mate, Squish, ZoomBoy and I all ate dinner at the park, waiting for the fireworks.

A.  Dinner was delicious.

B. There was a Tom Petty cover band there. I sort of loved them.

C. The fireworks were great!  Not as big as the Cal Expo fireworks-- which we could see from where we sat--but I'd forgotten how personal fireworks were when you are up close. Each one was right there and exciting--so even though the Cal Expo show was bigger and more spectacular, this one felt like it was just for us, and that was sort of super cool.

D. The big kids walked from their apartment to sit with us, and brought their friends.

And it was a really good night.

But--and this is important--my children now have two of my best grocery bags.


*sigh*  Dammit!

Wednesday, July 4, 2018


So, 4th of July.

Never my favorite holiday.

Often there's something doing at my parents' house, but not always. Some years it's just a quiet bit here, watching movies. Some years we have company.

Mostly, Mate and I lay low, trying to avoid the heat (it's going to be unseasonably cool here tomorrow) and the smoke (the air's been crunchy for two days straight) and the litter. (Ugh.)

It's hard though--the kids are always SO excited about it. "Are we going to grandma's? Are we going to see fireworks? I don't care what they represent, dammit, I want to see pretty sky explosions like the rest of the fuckin' planet!"

Well, we usually give our kids what they wish for, and I think tomorrow will not be different. Chicken is sort of hosting--not on purpose, but she is. There's going to be fireworks by her apartment--you can see them from her second story window, and seriously, that's all Squish wanted. So I'm planning to do some cooking in the early afternoon and bring it to her apartment while there's still parking. Whee! Holiday!

I have to say-- the political situation this year has done nothing to make me any more excited to celebrate Murica, that's for sure.

But something amazing happened on Twitter in the last three days--something that started out ugly and got hilarious.

See, Alex Jones, the @#$%#^$# who started "InfoWars" is a true bilious asshole wart. He's a pustule on fly vomit. He's the horror show that hounds the grieving parents of school shooting victims and tries to get them to say it was all an act and they're "crisis actors" and that their beautiful child was NOT just brutally murdered. There's a massive lawsuit against him by the parents of Sandy Hook for cruel and unusual harassment, and I hope he loses not just his shirt, but also his skin, his toenails and his teeth, because he's just that fucking vile.

Anyway-- he tried to get Americans to incite violence against each other by announcing tomorrow "America's Second Civil War" --claiming the liberals were going to start it.

Liberals are all, "Uh... most of us just want health care, and, oh yeah, to NOT LOCK KIDS UP IN CAGES!"

And then the humor of the situation set in.

Who's going to start the war again?


Us folks obsessed with our wifi and our Starbucks and our avocado toast?


Not bloody likely--not according to those MAGA-hat assholes who like to call us snowflakes and laugh about our trigger warnings, anyway.

And that's when the fun started on Twitter.

Under the hashtag #secondcivilwar people started writing 280 character tributes to the civil war that hasn't been yet. The best ones poke fun at ourselves, at the things that obsess liberals in popular culture, at a liberal's well-established pet peeves. A few Republicans have tried to troll the hashtag--Orrin Hatch did an especially ghastly attempt--but they have no sense of irony, no snark, no sense of self-deprecation, and no humor. It's painful to watch them try.

So I've embedded a few here (and I hope this works) to share. Because they were funny, and we desperately needed funny, that's why.

I could go on... and on and on and on...

But I"m sure you'll check it out for yourselves.

For me, it was enough that people turned something almost unbearably ugly into something hilarious and self-deprecating.

If I can celebrate nothing else tomorrow, I can celebrate that.

Monday, July 2, 2018

Kermit Flail-- the OMG IS IT JULY ALREADY? edition!


And seriously-- did June just FLY right by or what?

Anyway-- for your summer holiday edition of romance, I have got some AMAZING reads here, by authors I know and some I don't so much and some who just look like they've got adorable stuff!

So Marie Sexton-- yeah, I know, THE Marie Sexton, sent me her next book, Terms of Service--and it looks amazing. (Not only that but I love the name River, so that's nice too!)  Nicola Cameron sent me what looks to be a delightful romantic romp, Sophia Beaumont did a gender-bending Three Musketeers, and Nic Starr has got a VERY sexy Motorcycle Club series going on--I mean, so far, can't lose, right?

But there's MORE!

Jackie Keswick gives us an older, established couple solving murders, which is one of my favorite things, so THAT'S fun. And J. Leigh Bailey and Madeleine Kirby both go shapeshifter on our delighted-reading asses, and paranormal romance is alive and well, and our summer is complete!

Oh-- and don't forget the fourth and final Manny book, A Fool and His Manny, which could possibly be my favorite, and which wouldn't possibly be complete without a quick visit to the other guys in the series.

So there you go-- SO MUCH FUN!

I hope you all find something wonderful here--I know every month when I ask for submissions, I'm so excited to see what other authors are doing, and so happy that they submit their stuff to me!

So go! Find yourself something fun and wonderful to help you recharge over a long hot summer--Romance Keeps Us Young!

Terms of Service

by Marie Sexton
Dr. River McKay moved to Denver with his husband, Terrence, hoping to give their failing marriage a new start. A year later, Terrence is gone and River’s left brokenhearted. Now, he’s decided it’s time to get back in the game. A chance encounter at the hospital introduces him to Phil, a strong-willed pharmacist who isn’t impressed by River’s degree.

Phil can’t deny his attraction to River, but dating is out of the question. Phil only does one kind of relationship — domestic servitude, where he gives the orders and his partner obeys. To his surprise, River agrees — not because he likes the idea, but because anything’s better than being alone.

They know the arrangement won’t last. Phil’s set in his ways and incapable of showing affection outside the bedroom. River’s unused to obedience and still in love with his ex. But their time together will change them, making them question everything they thought they knew about control, respect, and love. When the unexpected threatens to tear them apart, they’ll be forced to choose between the comforts of the past and a future they can only find together.

Buy Here

To My Muse

by Nicola Cameron

Ever do something really, really dumb?

When too much tequila and an enabling BFF put Lily Nayar’s romance novel Feast of Lovers into the hands of its inspiration, sexy British actor Tom Morrison, Lily is horrified. Now she’s determined to get her book back, even if that means breaking into Tom’s hotel room to do it.

With the help of a strategic lie and an Oscar-winning knight, Lily’s screwball plan catapults her into the middle of her very own Cinderella story, Hollywood style. But will a vengeful actress ruin Lily’s shot at a real life HEA with Tom?

All For One

by Sophia Beaumont

In 1862, the Republic of Quebec has a constitutional monarchy, established ninety years before by Marie Antoinette, who fled France’s revolution. Under the influence of its matriarchal leaders, Quebec is the first country to grant equal rights to all citizens, regardless of gender.

Louise Drapeau is willing and eager to take advantage of these rights as she travels from her small town to the capital to join the most elite fighting force in the country, the all-female Queen’s Guard, also known as the Musketeers. She’s barely in the city twenty-four hours, however, when she uncovers a plot to kill the queen, headed by Quebec’s First Minister, Cardinal Lefebvre.

With the help of her three new friends—Portia, Athena, and Arabella—Louise must unravel the increasingly complex politics of the palace in order to not only save the queen but to keep neutral Quebec out of the Civil War raging just a few hundred miles south in the United States.

Surely this will be enough to get her into the Musketeers—if she can survive.

The Night Owl and the Insomniac: A Shifter U Tale
by J. Leigh Bailey
Long nights lead to intrigue… and infatuation.
Chronically ill with a mysterious condition, Yusuf “Joey” Franke escapes his smothering family and doctors by moving halfway across the country to enroll in Cody College. Not long after arriving on campus, some of his symptoms disappear, only to be replaced by debilitating insomnia. Joey spends his nights wandering the halls of his dormitory and hanging out with gregarious and affable Owen, who works the night shift.
When he suddenly shifts from a sick college kid to a massive Asiatic lion, Joey discovers another side to Cody College—it’s a haven for shifters like himself… and like Owen, a part-time great horned owl. And being a shifter is hereditary, which means his parents have some explaining to do.
When Joey and Owen investigate, they discover more than they bargained for—a family deception, a dangerous enemy with international connections, and a love that might be too new to survive the backlash.

Not a Werewolf (Jake & Boo Book 1) 

by Madeline Kirby

When perpetual student Jake Hillebrand starts having strange dreams, no theory is too outlandish - even the possibility that he has become a werewolf. His best friend Don is no help, though – he doesn’t even believe in werewolves!

When the dreams lead Jake and Don to the body of a despised developer dumped along a Houston bayou, the only ones listening to Jake's theories are the dishy Detective Ruben Petreski and Jake's feline visitor, Boo.

In a historic neighborhood under threat from developers, everyone is a suspect, but so far all Jake's new-found psychic abilities seem to be good for is finding kittens and talking to squirrels. He's really going to have to up his game if he wants to escape the killer's attention - and catch Detective Petreski's.

Note: Contains excessive caffeine intake, cats, irritable detectives, lots of carbs, and no werewolves.

Buy Here 

Lies and Deception

by Nic Starr
Detective Mitch O’Neill is the ideal man to infiltrate the Soldiers of Fury Motorcycle Club. His ex-boyfriend, Peter, is pledged with the club, which provides Mitch with the perfect cover. Despite the relationship ending badly, he’s come to terms with Peter’s drug addiction and his inability to help. All Mitch wants now is to bring down the Soldiers and the club president, Rocky Cummings, once and for all.

Finn Cummings hates everything the motorcycle club stands for, but he’s unable to escape his brother’s clutches. When Mitch is assigned as Finn’s driver, they spend countless hours together, and the saying proves true—opposites do attract. Finn agonizes over his feelings for Mitch—the last thing he wants is to involve himself further with criminals, not when he wants to leave that world. Mitch tries to come to terms with falling for a member of the outlaw club he’s determined to destroy.

If they can survive the fallout from Rocky’s violence and the investigation, they might discover it’s not a case of opposites attract after all.

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Swings and Roundabouts

by Jackie Keswick

Jack Horwood. Vigilante, hacker, security specialist. Partner to Gareth Flynn. Adoptive father to their two teenage boys. Happily juggling long days and short nights.
Gareth Flynn. Ex-army officer. Ace negotiator. Righter of wrongs. Family man. Away from home more often than he likes.

Desperate for a relationship reset, Jack treats Gareth to a romantic getaway and Sweden’s frigid peace gives them the break they both need. But Jack’s a trouble magnet and the next dead body just a wild skidoo ride away.

Can love, teamwork, and trust survive the troubles that follow them around? Can Jack save what’s become so important to him?

Expect action, drama, and hot romance in book 4 of the Power of Zero series.

A Fool and his Manny
by Amy Lane

The Mannies

Seeing the truth and falling in love...

Dustin Robbins-Grayson was a surly adolescent when Quinlan Gregory started the nanny gig. After a rocky start, he grew into Quinlan's friend and confidant—and a damned sexy man.

At twenty-one, Dusty sees how Quinlan sacrificed his own life and desires to care for Dusty’s family. He’s ready to claim Quinlan—he's never met a kinder, more capable, more lovable man. Or a lonelier one. Quinlan has spent his life as the stranger on the edge of the photograph, but Dusty wants Quinlan to be the center of his world. First he has to convince Quinlan he’s an adult, their love is real, and Quinlan can be more than a friend and caregiver. Can he show Quin that he deserves to be both a man and a lover, and that in Dusty’s eyes, he’s never been “just the manny?”