Supernatural Secret Service agents Owen Sharps and Calvin Springfield meet on the train to their new assignment in St. Louis, and sparks fly between them. But it's 1897, and they need to be very careful—falling in love can be dangerous for men like them.
It's their first case together, investigating mysterious disappearances—including the two agents who preceded them. Grim evidence leads them to look for a darker purpose. Old ghosts haunt the railroad line, zombie rise, signs point to ritual sacrifice, and they suspect someone is trying to open the gates of hell.
Can Calvin and Owen stop the mayhem, thwart the vampires, and find true love, or will everything go up in smoke?
Peacemaker is a high-stakes steampunk MM romance thrill ride filled with found family, paranormal Pinkertons, intrepid reporters, mysterious disappearances, nefarious land brokers, hellhounds, zombies, vengeful spirits, dark spells, absinthe magic, a ruthless vampire railroad baron and a love that won't be denied.
Before Colt and Winchester, there was Sharps & Springfield!
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
It can be read as a standalone, but the protagonist also appears in my novel, The Mayor of Oak Street (ages 12-21). The main story of this book takes place 40 years later and we find out what happened to him in flashbacks.
Nathan’s traumatic past challenges but cannot stop the arc that brings him to Mateo.
Blurb
Nathan doesn’t know how to stop dwelling on the failures and tragedies that have plagued him since he was a twenty-one-year-old happily in the arms of the handsome young doctor he had pined for since he was twelve. Many years later after the latest tragedy, who could mend Nathan’s heart? If not a handsome young doctor, would an ER nurse do? After a chance meeting with Mateo, a lot of Nathan’s reminiscing is now devoted to how that encounter made him feel. Will he seize the day or continue wallowing in the past, having lunch with his best girlfriend from high school, and writing poetry?
Excerpt
“Are you okay?” he asked in a slight Spanish accent. His questioning eyes moved directly to the stain on my T-shirt where the juicy tomato from my lunch had squirted. Looking like blood?
I became acutely aware of my attire: baggy sweats that may have had other stains, a baseball cap with a tattered rim, and faded crocs. He wore neat magenta scrubs that matched the color of his full shiny lips. His nametag said Mateo.
The scenario must have been embarrassingly clear to him. I had wandered off from one of the many senior facilities that dotted the landscape of the neighborhood. If I exaggerated the confusion that I, in fact, frequently felt, he might take my arm, walk me back to the facility, put me in a bath, gently wash my back, and tuck me into bed. The more I looked into his onyx eyes, the more I wanted him to do just that.
“I mean, you looked a little lost…and sad.”
“Don’t worry, Mateo.” His eyebrows separated and bounced at the sound of his name. Then he smiled and touched his nametag, realizing how I knew it. “I’m lost in a memory is all.” I chuckled. “I suppose I do fit a profile.”
“You’re okay, then?”
“Yep.”
“My bad. I didn’t mean to profile you. I have experience with that, and it’s no fun.”
I imagined that he was doubly profiled, first for the color of his skin and then a second time when people caught a hint of his accent.
“No harm done. I appreciate your concern.”
“It’s kind of my job. Sometimes it is difficult to switch out of that mode when I leave work.” He lowered his eyes, making me realize I must have been staring intently. How could I have not? He was an amalgam of all the men I had been attracted to my entire life: Mediterranean, Black, Latino, shorter than me, rectangular solid frame, soulful eyes, thick hair. But with an added twist. A dusting of freckles graced his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.
In a thoughtful gesture, he stared at the sidewalk and raised his hand to his chin, rubbing his index finger over his left cheek, revealing another physical trait that rang my buzzer: little tufts of black hair between his major and minor knuckles, a tiny forest to let my tongue wander through.
Thank God, he couldn’t read my thoughts. Or could he?
“I should let you get on your way,” he mumbled, still not looking at me. He stared at the smashed apricots on the ground with, I imagined, quite a different take than mine.
I wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.
“Do you work in one of these facilities I might have escaped from?”
“Now, look, I didn’t mean…” He took a step back in what appeared to be a desire to flee.
“I’m teasing. I haven’t seen you around the neighborhood.”
He tapped his nametag and twisted his neck to look at it. “Kaiser. It says right here. Kaiser Permanente.”
“I have trouble reading fine print.” I let out a small laugh, but he didn’t join me.
He took another step back. “Just moved here less than a year ago.”
I guessed he was mid-thirties, and with his Spanish accent and African features, maybe Puerto Rican? Cuban? I imagined he lived with a wife and multiple niños. They spent Saturdays having barbecues in the park and Sundays from dawn to dusk at church events. He looked far too sweet to be anything but a family man. Now I was profiling.
“From?” I asked.
He let out a protracted sigh, as if the conversation had gotten way more involved than he had intended. His forehead crinkled again, hesitating to give me an answer.
“The city. Getting too crazy over there.”
Then he raised his head and his eyes met mine with the twinkle of a forest elf. Perhaps he wasn’t annoyed with me after all. Perhaps I had been wrong about sizing him up, though my conclusion that he was a family man was much easier to handle. Yet, he wore no ring.
About the Author
Vincent Traughber Meis is a fiction writer, a world traveler, and a former ESL community college teacher. When he’s not traveling, he divides his time between writing and working in the garden. Most of the characters in his novels and short stories come from across the LGBTQ+ spectrum and are racially and ethnically diverse. He has published eight novels: Eddie’s Desert Rose, Tio Jorge, Down in Cuba, Deluge, Four Calling Burds and The Mayor of Oak Street, First Born Sons, and Colton’s Terrible Wonderful Year. Tio Jorge, Down in Cuba, and Deluge have all won Rainbow Awards. The Mayor of Oak Street and First Born Sons have won Reader Views Reviewer’s Choice Awards. His short stories have appeared in several collections both in print and online, and have reached finalist status in several short story contests. A collection of short stories, Far from Home, was published in October 2021. He lives with his husband in San Leandro, California and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
Sometimes love is just lying there, waiting to be found.
Blurb
When Miles Wickford happens upon a locket one day during his morning walk, little did he realize how his life would change.
Elias Grafton is frantic when his beloved locket is taken from his antique shop. He fears it may be lost forever.
Miles is intrigued by the power the locket possesses but can’t in good conscience keep what doesn’t belong to him. Although it can’t hurt to try it once or twice, can it?
A locket brings these two men together. And fate, or the locket’s magic, leads to so much more.
Sometimes love is just lying there, waiting to be found.
A Locket’s Tale is a small town MM romance featuring older guys, a lost locket, and just a hint of magic.
Excerpt
It was an ordinary day, much like every other in my life. I awoke at seven without an alarm, my body tuned to the rhythms of my life. After a quick shower, followed by coffee and a bagel, I set off on my morning ritual five-mile walk through my neighborhood and around Milford Pond before returning home.
I was a freelance editor, and this was how I started each day. It helped clear my mind. A brain reset, if you will, before delving into the next manuscript.
I sometimes varied my route slightly, just for a bit of variety in my otherwise oh-so-similar days, and this Friday was such a day. On my return home, I turned right on Folsom Street, which would take me by a small park, complete with a playground for the neighborhood children.
The park was empty at this hour, children already in school this sunny but cool October morning. As I ambled down the sidewalk, I heard a dog barking in the distance as something caught my eye on the pavement ahead of me. A ray of sunlight reflected on its surface. A coin perhaps.
But as I approached, its form became more distinct. Is that something on a chain? I stopped mere inches away and bent to retrieve it. A silver locket in the shape of a book. And yes, a matching chain. Curious. I looked around but saw no one who might have dropped it.
I examined the locket, noting the fine filigree work on the front surrounding an oval gem—lapis lazuli was my first thought—where one might expect to find a photo. Instead, the oval contained a cabochon of what appeared to be lapis lazuli. I opened it, hoping to find something that might help to identify it or the owner and was surprised to see words delicately engraved upon what looked like pages.
Despite my squinting, I couldn’t quite make out the words, so I closed the locket and placed it in the front pocket of my jeans. I’d employ the help of a magnifying glass to decipher the message once I returned home. And so I set off to complete my journey, wondering what secrets this jewelry might hold.
* * *
Entering the back door of my Craftsman home, I shrugged off my jacket and hung it on the peg just inside the kitchen entry. I filled my favorite Yeti tumbler with ice and water, then proceeded to my office to begin the day’s work. But first, a closer look at the locket.
Pulling it from my pocket, I placed it on the desk blotter and grabbed a magnifying glass from the top drawer. I examined the front and back, but again, found no distinguishing marks, so I opened it to study the message engraved inside.
Place this locket about your neck,
Then close your eyes and think
Upon a book that you adore
And let the story sink
Into your brain. Now make a wish
And you will find, indeed,
You’re in said story for a day
Or more or less. Take heed!
“Hmmm, that’s interesting,” I said aloud to the empty room. “But it still doesn’t tell me who this trinket may belong to.” I shrugged, glancing at the small digital clock on my desk only to see it was later than I realized. “I’ll give this more thought later.” I opened the project management app on my iMac. “But now I really need to get to work.”
About the Author
R.J. Peterson is a retired graphic designer. An avid reader—preferably while sipping a vodka martini or bourbon on the rocks—he's had a long and varied career, including library page, car wash attendant, travel agent, and graphic designer in the marijuana industry. In addition, he worked in the banking industry for twenty-five years. He loves to travel and has been on 55+ cruises. When not on a cruise, he and his husband live in New England.
He never planned to be a writer, but a fateful day in January, 2021 changed it all. He woke with a story stuck in his head and started typing. The more he types, the more ideas he gets.
Three men. Two blackmail notes. One slight misunderstanding.
Blurb
Every new romance has its ups and downs… Its bumps in the road… Its blackmail notes…
A misunderstanding ties the fates of three men together in this heartfelt, sensual, and uproarious romantic puzzle. Blackmailer’s Delight is a tale of lives tossed into the air, then reassembled in some rather unexpected ways.
England 1795 London gentleman Daniel Thornton has just dumped his philandering lover Clarence. He moves to Grantham to care for his ailing uncle and nurse a broken heart. The move he hopes will be a fresh start – a place to discover himself and perhaps a new way of seeing the world.
Luke Morley is a draper's son struggling to accept his sexuality. He has withdrawn into a world of fantasy, but with the arrival of Mr. Thronton this private world is shattered. Grantham’s most eligible bachelor is everything Luke has ever dreamed of. After months of silent admiration, he determines to introduce himself.
Re-enter Clarence, who arrives to win back his old lover. When Daniel rejects him again, he is not about to take it lying down…
A blackmail note appears – a demand that Daniel marry one of Luke’s sisters. A demand that he fulfill Luke’s sexual desires.
Daniel saw young Mr. Morley leave the note on his mantle.
The note is from Luke.
Excerpt
March 1795
A revolution in France. Food shortages at home. And now a damned tax on wig powder.
“This world is going to hell,” said Daniel Thornton to his lover, Clarence, one morning over toast and marmalade. “What is the name of that local sect I was telling you of the other morning? The one predicting the end of the world in the year 1800?”
“What?” said the younger man, who had been gazing out the first-floor window of their Westminster townhouse. “Haven’t they all gone to America?”
“It was in the paper last week. I distinctly recall telling you about it.”
“Oh, you know I don’t listen to anything you say at the breakfast table.”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m slow to rise, Danny. Once I am awake, I must plan my day; I cannot attend to your little newspaper articles.”
Daniel observed his companion for a moment – perhaps the longest moment of his life. This was the end, of course. Not of the world, but for them. For six weeks he had been expecting this, cynic that he was. They were both cynics – and, apart from the sex, he supposed Clarence’s pessimism had been his primary attraction. They saw the world identically. They liked to laugh at things like sects predicting the end of the world in five years. Or they had. If Clarence couldn’t be bothered to listen to him at the breakfast table, if they hadn’t even this anymore, after the misery this man was putting him through, there really was nothing for them.
He eyed the orange juice Clarence was sipping lazily. Should he?”
They weren’t sleeping together anymore. And this, incredibly, before he had understood why, had actually bonded him to this man. Clarence had made no excuses: “It’s the way of all things, isn’t it? We are simply two old men grown comfortable with each other,” though this was absurd as Clarence was just twenty-six. No man likes being rejected in bed, but Clarence had won him by appearing to join him in their common plight – wasn’t it just the way of this miserable world?
“What?” he said, lowering his orange juice to glance over his shoulder. Daniel hadn’t spoken – Clarence must have heard the memory of his words ringing in his companion’s head. Narcissists only listened to hear the echo of their own words.
About the Author
I am the author of two queer historical novels – ‘Hugh: A Hero without a Novel’ and ‘Blue Billy’s Rogue Lexicon’. As a writer, I love taking a deep dive into the social norms and historical events of 18th century England, told with humour and whimsy, while presenting what I hope are compelling and unique coming-of-age tales.
A native of the American Southwest, I have spent much of my life in Great Britain, France, and Finland. I now live in the American Northwest – Helena, Montana – with my Finnish partner.
By day I love hiking under the Big Sky of my beautiful adopted state.
By night, however, I prefer wandering the byways of 18th century London…
Can you love yourself enough? Are you capable of it?
Blurb
Step into the small & intriguing Midwestern town of Larton where Lloyd Wood struggles daily with reviving his failing restaurant while refusing to relinquish any control, even in his family life. When a business guru arrives and promises to set the restaurant right, Lloyd is tempted by the promise of a miraculous turnaround.
Toby, Lloyd's son, seeks conformity compulsively. Each day, he audits and buries his true self deeper, yearning to fade into obscurity, anonymity. His desperation leads him to a program that vows to obliterate his authentic self, setting Toby on an unintended and riveting path of self-discovery.
Meanwhile, Dawn, Lloyd's wife, finds solace in a new church where love is not just a sentiment but a commodity. Lost in her family's shadow, she embraces a new identity amidst her new church family whose intentions seem questionable at best.
As the Wood family strives to escape their own truths, the chasms they create around themselves deepen and, one by one, threaten to swallow the people they care about most.
'Be Not Afraid' explores identity, family dynamics, the destructive paradox of denial & with a distinct strength in voice questions our capacity to accept what we cannot change...or can we?
Excerpt
TOBY AND DAWN WAITED in the doctor’s office. She’d picked him up from Jonah’s that morning, and he had been quiet in the car and at the house, and then quiet again to the doctor’s office in town.
The sign above the reception window read Dr. E.M. Gille, MD.
‘How you feeling, hon?’ Dawn said. She had a magazine in her lap, and she was rubbing Toby’s back. ‘How’s your stomach? Want to describe it to me?’
‘No.’
‘If you describe it to me, it’ll be easier to tell the doctor.’
‘It’s fine right now,’ Toby said. He was watching the TV on a stand tucked in the corner. The news was on. Another eyewitness had seen an angel outside town.”
“A nurse came into the waiting room. She was in pink smocks and stood on thick soles. She said, ‘Toby Wood.’
Both Toby and Dawn followed the nurse to an exam room, which she knocked on before allowing entry.
She examined Toby and made him describe the pain.
‘It just hurts sometimes.’
She stunk like cigarettes.
The nurse said the doctor will be right in.
Toby sat on the examination table. The sanitary paper crinkled no matter how he moved or how he settled.
He and Dawn waited for the doctor.
‘Does it hurt now?’ Dawn said.
‘No, Mom.’
They waited, and sometime later, a knock announced the doctor. He was clean shaven with close-cropped hair white as bedsheets. His brows were thick and bushy. His skin was cream and pink and aged. He wore a button-up and tie under his white coat. His teeth and eyes were bright.
‘Heya, Toby,’ he said. He didn’t look at Toby when he said it; he was reading Toby’s chart. He sat and scooted his stool close. ‘You’re having stomach pain.’
It wasn’t a question; it was a statement the doctor read aloud.
Toby quietly confirmed.
The doctor pressed with his fingers into Toby’s stomach and tested areas and asked if that hurt.
Toby said it did not.
‘Pain comes and goes. It’s not that bad.’
‘Out of ten, what would you say?’
‘A two, one and a half. It’s really not that bad.’
‘A two? One and a half?’
‘Tell the doctor when it hurts, hon.’
‘It comes and goes, Mom.’
‘Do you take any pain relievers?’
‘No,’ Toby said.
‘No, he doesn’t,’ Dawn said too.
‘Okay,’ the doctor said. He made notes.
‘He doesn’t always come to me when it hurts. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what it is.’
The doctor’s tone was soft. ‘Well. Sometimes our bodies respond physically to factors within our environment, anxiety, stress, all these can stew in the body and hollow us out,’ the doctor said to Dawn.
She nodded intently.
‘Are you studying too hard? Maybe big tests coming up? Staying up too late with the video games?’
‘I study too hard,’ Toby said. He said it very quickly, almost before the doctor had finished speaking. ‘That must be it, the stress of studying,’ Toby said.
‘Still.’ The doctor rolled the stool close to Dawn. He continued, ‘A boy his age should not have recurring stomach pain. I’d like to send him for testing.’
‘That’s what I said, I didn’t like the frequency of it. Didn’t I say, Toby?’ Dawn said.
‘Testing?’ Toby said.
‘I’d like to rule some things out.’
‘It’s not that bad, really. It’s only sometimes,’ Toby said.
Dawn said whatever test was fine and she agreed, and she asked if it could, maybe, be this or could be that, or, she said, she didn’t really know, Doctor.
‘Could I have you step out for a minute, Mrs. Wood?’
Dawn stepped out, and the doctor shut the door. The doctor had Toby come off the exam table and sit in a chair, and the doctor rolled over on the rolly stool.
He did not speak right away. He was deep in thought, and then he said, ‘Is there anything you have not told your mom, anything you’re worried about that, maybe, you can’t tell mom or dad? Stress is not good for the body. If you’ve kept something to yourself, I won’t say a word to your mom or your dad if you’d like to share it with me. Do you have something you’d like to tell me that you can’t tell them?’
Toby was quiet a very long time. ‘I’m just studying too hard.’
The doctor nodded and waited for more from Toby.
There was no more.
‘Well. Then. Take study breaks, okay? Allow yourself time to relax. Time to be. But I do want to run some tests. Whatever is triggering the pain, we’ll find it out. Okay? I promise, son, we will unearth with absolute certainty what is causing this physical reaction. Even if it takes a while, we’ll uncover the root of it. I can promise that. Okay?’
The doctor went from the room and scheduled Toby’s lab tests with his mother and the receptionist.
Toby sat in the room.
Alone.
He was listening to the doctor’s words over and again.
We’ll find it out. Okay?
I can promise that.
His stomach hurt.
About the Author
AJ Saxsma, born in Illinois in 1987, is a queer writer. He lives in Los Angeles with his husky. His literary work has earned awards from Almond Press UK and has been published in several genre magazines. As a screenwriter, his work has been an official selection for the Independent Horror Film Awards, Hollywood Screen Film Festival, Los Angeles Cinefest, and Los Angeles Horror Competition. He's also written the narrative scripts for four video game projects produced by Oculus for the Oculus VR system.
In the shadows of Denver's comedy scene, a bartender named Dominique becomes the unexpected star of his own twisted Cinderella tale. Is love strong enough to save him from his wicked stepmother?
Blurb
After Midnight is an enchanting tale that reimagines the classic Cinderella story as a dark and passionate gay romance. In this modern retelling, Dillon, a talented and aspiring comedian, finds himself drawn to Dominique, a sexy bartender at the local comedy club.
Dominique, whose unfortunate life mimics the story of Cinderella, selflessly cares for his younger stepsisters while facing a treacherous stepmother.
Amidst the glittering lights of the comedy club, Dominique and Dillon’s love slowly grows as they overcome the challenges created by a willful and selfish adversary.
After Midnight is a captivating journey of resilience and the power of love; but is love enough to save Dominique when his hateful stepmother tries to end him once and for all?
Fallen Fairytales is a dark M/M romance, multi-author series. Each book may be read as a standalone, but why not load up your Kindle, kick back, and enjoy sexy men, shenanigans, and deliciously dark fairytale retellings.
Content warning: This is a dark romance, and readers sensitive to certain content should make note of the following triggers: racism, homophobia, child neglect, kidnapping, false allegations, lawsuits, embarrassment, loss of parent, grief and loss, manipulation by a parent figure, MC close to death.
Excerpt
Ashton Pipkin was hilarious, even though I had to Google most of his nineteen eighties references that went right over my head. The early crowd seemed to get his jokes, though. I knew I’d be lucky if I could get a third of the laughs he did, but I sure wasn’t gonna let that put me off.
I listened to him for several minutes before he stopped abruptly. “Hey, kid. I didn’t give you permission to listen to my set. What are you doing, trying to steal my material?”
I glanced around the room, not knowing who he was talking to. When I looked back to the stage, Ashton was standing with his hands on his hips, staring directly at me. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. What’s your angle?”
“Sorry, sir,” I said, sitting up straighter in my seat. “I just wanted to listen to your set. I didn’t mean any harm by it.”
He put his hand up. “You shouldn’t be watching another performer rehearse without their permission. By now, you should know that basic etiquette. So, I’m gonna ask you again. Are you trying to steal material from me?”
“No, of course not.” I tried to sound smooth even though his accusation took me by surprise. Inside, I was mortified. “I’m still finding my feet performing for the older crowd and I wanted to get in the mood.” My lame justification sounded pathetic even to my ears.
The older man cocked an eyebrow, not unlike my Papa K did when he suspected I was lying to him.
“In the mood, you say? Hey, barman,” he called out toward the bar. “Please come here a moment.”
The bartender must’ve finished shelving some more bottles first because it took a few moments before I heard him walking toward us. “This kid is telling me he’s sitting in on my rehearsal so he can ‘get in the mood,’” Ashton said, using air quotes. “Do you think that’s a load of garbage, or am I way off my game tonight?”
“Hmm, well, let’s see,” the man said in a sinfully deep voice that, honest to God, sent shivers down my spine.
I looked up and caught him scanning me up and down. I could feel my face growing warm from his intense perusal. When our eyes met, the corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky grin.
“What’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said?” he asked me.
I sputtered, my mind going blank. He had the most piercing green eyes, accented by his rich dark skin tone, and his attention never wavered from me. I’m not sure if it was his question or having a man this good-looking raking his gaze over my body, but I was officially flustered.
When I didn’t answer, he asked, “Do you find Mr. Pipkin funny?” The man’s cheeky grin was still in place, now accompanied by adorable as hell dimples. I’d always been a sucker for dimples. My mouth felt as dry as the Sahara and I swallowed thickly.
“I, um… I don’t know,” I said stupidly, my entire body flashing hot.
“How do you not know? Haven’t you seen him perform before?” he asked.
“Y-yeah,” I stuttered, unsure where this was going.
“So, if you’ve seen him perform, did you think he was funny?”
I shrugged, feeling embarrassed but trying to play it cool. “I didn’t really get most of his jokes,” I admitted. When I chanced a glance toward the stage, Ashton’s scowl signaled that he’d grown significantly more agitated. Dammit, I was clearly saying all the wrong things and making a fool of myself in front of him and a seriously hot barman.
“Why didn’t you get his jokes?” the guy asked, sounding curious. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and regain control of myself.
“I think I’m too young to understand the old pop culture references,” I replied honestly, feeling a little more confident now. If they wanted my honest opinion, I’d give it.
The man looked up at Ashton and shrugged. “I think you’re safe. He doesn’t seem to be old enough to get your humor.” His grin was now a full-on smile and I adored it.
Ashton was grinning now too. “And I suppose you do?”
The man shrugged. “Oh, I know quite a few old people who make me watch old TV shows. I would call them classics, but I’m not that rude.”
Ashton snorted a laugh. “Old and classic, is it?” he asked, and I suddenly realized with great relief that the conversation was no longer about me. “You know I can tell Miss Rita you called her old, and she’ll rip you a new one.”
“Miss Rita adores me,” the handsome man said with a laugh, then gave me a playful wink before he strolled back toward the bar. I couldn’t help my eyes following him as he left. It wasn’t my fault they trailed down his backside and came to rest on his very well-filled pair of pants.
“That may be,” Ashton called after him, “but if you call a prideful woman old, you might not be adored much longer.”
He shrugged but kept the huge smile on his face as he resumed his work behind the bar.
About the Author
Blake Allwood was born in west TN, then moved to Kansas City MO after attending college in Lamoni, Iowa. He met his husband in 1995 and they officially married in 2015, once gay marriage was legalized. In 2017, he and his husband sold their home, purchased an RV and began traveling the country with their two dogs. Their travels provide the inspiration and settings for many of his novels.
Typically, Blake can be found relaxing in the RV or by the fire with his laptop and their Jack Russell Terrier, Buddy, curled up between his legs demanding attention. Denver, their Siberian Husky mix is often asleep at his feet or playing tug of war with Blake’s husband.
To Alex Crimson, California means fun in the sun, but when his favorite new LGBTQ+ pop idol goes missing, California marks the start of a deadly nightmare.
As the disappearances continue, Alex fears the trail is moving toward Tulsa. Could the killer be someone he knows? Thinking things can’t get any worse, he unwittingly finds himself in the crosshairs of a friend’s volatile family dispute.
Join the cast of Runway Dreams in this dark and humorous murder mystery as they work to catch a serial killer, and avoid becoming the victims of a friend’s lunatic brothers.
Excerpt
Alex saw Matthew coming up the aisle, and a pain gripped his chest, sucking the air out of his lungs. Every hair on his body rose as he evaluated the grim look on Matthew’s face.
“May I speak to you outside for a moment?” Matthew whispered.
“Sure,” he replied. Somehow, he picked up his feet and follow Matthew away from his guest’s prying eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked, forcing the words out.
“Hector’s not here, Alex. We’ve checked the club, as well as your house and his. He’s nowhere to be found.”
“Did you find any notes?” asked Alex.
“No.” Matthew could tell from the look on his friend’s face that he was scared out of his mind. “Listen, I don’t want to think Hector would abandon you, but this might simply be a case of wedding day nerves.”
Alex shook his head. “Simple. Is that what you think this is? Nothing about this is simple, Matthew. We have one hundred guests sitting outside waiting to witness our vows. We’ve spent a fortune on flowers, food, and cake. This is supposed to be a happy reprieve from the depravity we’ve been pulled into over the past years,” said Alex, his voice slowly rising, “and you’re telling me the man I’m in love with and due to marry, this very day, has vanished just like his cousin, who turned up dead a day later! He could be the killer’s next victim!”
Matthew raised his hand and said, “Calm down. I know it’s easy to go into panic mode, but you mustn’t allow yourself to entertain the worst. We have absolutely no information to go on except that he was supposed to marry you, and he didn’t show up. I know it’s a terrible situation, no matter which way you view it, but we’ve got to remain calm until we know what we’re dealing with. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic somewhere?”
“Nooo!” shrieked Alex, his cheeks flushed as anger flashed in his eyes. “This is unacceptable!” Dropping his head into his hands, his lip began to quiver. “This is too much. Too freaking much. It’s bad enough I had to wear this cake-like makeup to cover my heinous green and yellow eye, but now there won't even be a wedding. I don’t really care what you say, but go tell our guests they can enjoy some wine and canapes on me. I don’t know what else to do.” The fight had been knocked out of him. “Send Hector's parents over. I’m sure they’ll want an explanation.” Matthew patted him on the back. “I’ll be fine.” Pausing, he let out another deep sigh and added, “I hope.”
“I’m so sorry, Alex,” said Matthew. Turning away, he walked back into the tent, noticing that Maddie had arrived and taken her seat, late as predicted. Approaching Alex’s sisters, he said, “Ladies, I need you to keep calm, as I don’t want to scare the guests, but Hector’s not here. I'll deal with the guests if you'll go console Alex.”
“Oh, no,” said Bell. “Do we know anything about what’s happened to Hector?”
“No,” replied Matt. “I’m praying its cold feet or something ridiculous slowing his arrival. You know how dramatic he can be. Anyway, I'm off to address the guests. Wish me luck.”
“Okay, good luck,” said Bernie. “We’ll go take care of Alex.”
Moving on, Matthew walked up to the microphone and tapped on it. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid there will be no wedding today due to unforeseen circumstances that must be dealt with. Alex and Hector will get back to you as soon as they know when the wedding will take place. In the meantime, help yourselves to a glass of sparkling wine and some canapes before you go. Thank you, and best wishes to you all.” Turning off the microphone, he waved Hector’s parents to follow and headed back to where the siblings were furiously discussing every possible scenario Hector might have gotten into.
“What if he was in a car wreck and he’s in the hospital?” asked Bell. “That isn’t far from what happened to me when Martin had me run off the road.”
“I doubt it,” said Matthew, “but I’ll notify Thompson and Wells and have the local hospitals checked immediately.”
As the siblings continued their discussion, Hector’s parents walked over to them. “What’s happened?” asked Hector’s mother. “Where’s my son?” She used all her strength to squeeze her husband's hand.
“We’re not sure,” replied Matthew, “but I know Thompson and Wells won't stop looking until they find him.”
About the Author
T.K. Ambers is the award-winning author of Runway Dreams A Pricey Affair. Her novel has been recognized in four award competitions and took second place in the Pencraft Awards, Women's Fiction category.
Her love of reading and writing spans several genres, but she loves comedy, thrillers, and paranormal. Most of her work contains a comedic element.
She lives in New Richmond, Wisconsin, with her husband and two cats, Bellatrix and Kit. She would spend her perfect day lakeside, where she would swim, play games, and then wind down with a bonfire, s'mores, and stories told by family and friends.
T.K. has a love for nature, travel, photography, concerts, off-roading, and hiking (preferably to waterfalls). She also holds a special place in her heart for her father's band, 40 Fingers. She enjoys dancing to their music.
She lives by the belief that life is short and every day is its own adventure and should be treated as such.
When Liam Belanger gets a professional tryout with the Miami Caimans, he’s hoping to land a roster spot that’ll keep him from bussing tables. If he can make the team and score a tryout in bed with Russ Lyons, the veteran defenseman who’s appointed himself Liam’s mentor, that would be the icing on the sweet hockey cake.
Living life by a strict set of rules has worked out well for Russ. He has a great career, great friends, and a great family, even if they do keep setting him up with hometown honey traps. But he can’t stop time, and now, despite all his planning, he’s looking at his last year with the Caimans before the uncertainty of free agency. Maybe that’s why he finds sunny, free-spirited Liam so attractive.
He’s still not going to sleep with his rookie.
Probably.
Liam starts the season in the minors, but it’s not long before he gets a shot at the Big Show. His year is shaping up to be a dream come true—even before Russ picks up on Liam’s passes and proves defensemen can score too.
Excerpt
The last time they ran through the set play, Yeti dumped Liam on his ass. Baller and Jonesy hooted with laughter as Liam’s gloves and stick went yard-saling over the ice.
Typical way to welcome a new defenseman. Russ snowed to a stop next to his temporary partner. “How you doing down there?”
Liam muttered a handful of French-Canadian expletives. He reached up with a bare hand and Russ hauled him to a sitting position. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“Yeti’ll do that to you. You good?”
Liam shook his head. “I’m good.” He got to his feet. “Jesus. How much does he weigh?”
“Significantly more when he’s moving that fast.” Russ clapped Liam’s shoulder as they skated off to let the next groups practice. They were done for now, so he had time to give Liam a little more feedback. “That’s something you’ll have to get used to.”
“What?” Liam pulled himself up on the half boards.
“Checking.” When Liam looked at him, Russ elaborated, “You flinch.”
Liam’s mouth dropped open. “I do not!”
“Twenty bucks says the video review shows otherwise.” Russ had seen it before with guys who came up through the college system, which focused on speed over hits, since they wanted their players to keep their brains unscrambled long enough to graduate. “It’s fine. You’re not the first. You’re going to have to work on it, though.”
“Not a lot of guys in college are Yeti-sized.” Liam’s mouth twisted into a wry smile, but he seemed genuinely upset, like the root of the problem bothered him.
Russ snorted. “Not a lot of guys in the NHL are either. Or outside of it.” Yeti was six foot nine and built like a linebacker. “Are you trying to bulk up for the season?”
“Was that a hint?” Liam grabbed his water bottle from the bench and waggled it. The joker was still there, but Russ was pretty sure he meant the question. “Think I should fill one of these with Ensure or something?”
God. “That’s one way to make sure no one ever steals your drink.”
“Seriously, though.” Liam put the bottle down. There was a smudge of blue at the corner of his mouth. “Do you think I’m too skinny?”
Russ must’ve given him a look that broadcast his thoughts, because Liam rolled his eyes and amended, still more than half serious, “For hockey. I’m not asking you to compliment my figure. I know I’m hot.”
“I think you’re a kid.” At that age Russ could’ve eaten his body weight in M&M’s and barely gained a pound. “Putting on weight at your age when you burn calories like we do isn’t easy. But you could work with the trainers on some exercises that’ll help you stay upright when someone his size hits you. Or when you hit them.”
Liam made a sad noise. “I always used to think those videos were funny. You know, tiny forward tries to check an absolute monster like Mikhail Kipriyanov, then ends up on his ass.”
“You’re going to be one of those videos,” Russ assured him. Maybe he shouldn’t inflate the kid’s hopes, but if he did his time in the AHL, he’d make it. It wouldn’t take long.
Liam straightened his shoulders like that was a great compliment. “I’m going to be one of those videos.” He shook his head and more of his usual humor returned. “I’m not even tiny. Just tiny compared to him.” He looked sideways at Russ and his voice dropped and took on a suggestive tone. “And you. You’re big. What do you eat?”
Russ glanced over and found Liam watching him with trouble written all over his face.
Surely he couldn’t be serious. He didn’t even know Russ was gay.
Which meant he was being a little shit. Russ shouldn’t encourage him, but he couldn’t let him get away with thinking he had the last word either. “Anything within range.”
This kid’s sass was going to cost him so much money if he officially joined the team. He hopped off the boards again and leaned close enough to put himself directly into Russ’s space. “Sounds like you have a pretty healthy appetite.”
Good grief. Russ had to laugh, because there was no way Liam was trying to pick him up with a game that bad. “Do these lines really work for you?”
Undaunted, Liam grinned and cocked his hip so his ass stuck out. “Don’t usually need ’em.”
Between Liam’s body, the slight dimple in his cheek, and the unruly curls, Russ could see why, but he wasn’t going to pump his tires. “Well, kid, welcome to the Big Show. Get used to putting in another level of effort.”
Then he skated off to the next drill before Liam could decide he should start putting in that effort now.
About the Authors
Ashlyn Kane likes to think she can do it all, but her follow-through often proves her undoing. Her house is as full of half-finished projects as her writing folder. With the help of her ADHD meds, she gets by.
An early reader and talker, Ashlyn has always had a flair for language and storytelling. As an eight-year-old, she attended her first writers’ workshop. As a teenager, she won an amateur poetry competition. As an adult, she received a starred review in Publishers Weekly for her novel Fake Dating the Prince. There were quite a few years in the middle there, but who’s counting?
Her hobbies include DIY home decor, container gardening (no pulling weeds), music, and spending time with her enormous chocolate lapdog. She is the fortunate wife of a wonderful man, the daughter of two sets of great parents, and the proud older sister/sister-in-law of the world’s biggest nerds.
Morgan James is a clueless (older) millennial who’s still trying to figure out what they’ll be when they grow up and enjoying the journey to get there. Now, with a couple of degrees, a few stints in Europe, and more than one false start to a career, they eagerly wait to see what’s next. James started writing fiction before they could spell and wrote their first (unpublished) novel in middle school. They haven’t stopped writing since. Geek, artist, archer, and fanatic, Morgan tends to pass their free hours with in imaginary worlds and people on pages and screens—it’s an addiction. As is their love of coffee and tea. They live in Canada with their massive collection of unread books, where they are the personal servant of too many four-legged creatures.
