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It's that time - time to let you all know where I'll be at GRL this year. GRL (the Gay Romance Literature Retreat) is an annual retreat for readers of LGBTQ+ romance, which this year is being held at the Hilton at the Ballpark in St. Louis. Official event dates are 10/6 - 10/10 this year. While registration begins on 10/6 and there are some events scheduled for late afternoon/evening, the author specific events start Thursday morning.  I will be these places: Thursday, 10/7 Author Lounge (come and chat, pick up some swag and stuff) 12:00 - 12:45 Friday, 10/8 Author Lounge (see above) 10:00 - 10:45 Panel: Writing the Rainbow (it's about more than just the G in LGBTQ+) 11:30 - 12:20 Saturday, 10/9 Featured Author Booksigning (open to the public, anyone can come see us! I will have books to sell!) 10:00 - 11:30 Also on Saturday, don't forget to pick up your bracelet from Ari McKay for charm collecting! I will have hedgehog charms for you, but you need to have the bracelet first! :D  There are additional hedgehog charms if you're a Brimstone fan (or if you purchase some Brimstone :D ), but these are separate: 
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 They were both downstairs in the common room at breakfast, as promised. Reliable mercenaries. What was the world coming to? Zie wasn't certain what he'd been thinking accepting their offer, either.
Except…except… He hadn't had any real contact with anyone—barring business transactions and theft—for so long. The tall, graceful one had called him lovely. The compact, beautifully muscled one had stared and stammered like a youngster on his first assignation. The attention, while initially alarming, had warmed abandoned places inside. A bit of comfort while he recovered? Maybe it was an indulgence, but he could afford it. He had time. A little. Even if nothing happened in the bedroom, being admired, touched, perhaps held—these things would shore up his reserves, keep his mind from sliding so quickly into the dark. This is fine. A good thing. The first in a long while. The half selak—Zie could see it now in the not-quite human ear shape, the faint opalescent sheen on dark skin when they turned in the light—was laughing with the innkeeper while their companion rolled his eyes. They both seemed quite familiar with her. Old friends, maybe. No. The mostly human one, Davitts, was a relation. They shared the same long nose and the same river clay hue to their skin. He'd presumed Essenin and Davitts were lovers, and this morning confirmed it. The little touches between them, the way Essenin kissed Davitts' forehead to smooth away his frown. Deliciously tender. Zie allowed himself a moment to wonder whether they would prefer their liaisons with him together or separately. Either way would suit him. That entire thought process amazed him. He hadn't… Well. He hadn't had the space in his head to think about it for some time. A good meal, a good bed, and safety finally within his grasp had improved his outlook enormously. Essenin turned and spotted Zie making his careful way down the steps. "There you are!" Before Zie could respond, Essenin had bounded up the remaining stairs, offered their arm to support him, and assisted him into a chair near the warmth of the kitchen. "Auntie Lana, should I—?" Davitts hooked a thumb toward the doorway. "Thank you, Davs, yes. Go fetch breakfast for all of us." She gave him a fond smile. Ah. Nephew. Perhaps favorite nephew. Her smile turned to envelop Zie. "How are you feeling this morning? You looked three steps from death last night." From somewhere in his memories, Zie dredged up a charming smile. He hoped it was charming instead of ghastly. "I apologize for causing concern, madam. And yes, I feel much more alive today." "Good. We'll rewrap your ankle before my young bravos drag you down to the docks." Essenin claimed the chair on Zie's left. "Could we have the cart, Lana? So Zie won't need to walk." She gave them an odd look. "You may. But return it the way you found it this time." The smile dropped from Essenin's face. "That wasn't my fault." "Debatable," Davitts muttered as he returned from the kitchen balancing a platter of bread and cut fruit on one arm, and an earthenware pot on the other. The pot contained a grain porridge, well sweetened and spiced, that caused Zie's stomach to growl in hollow outrage, while the fruit was perfectly ripe, scarlet oarpods with some sear berries sprinkled about. The bread was slathered with—oh wonders of earth—butter, something Zie hadn't tasted in several months. His breakfast company remained soft-spoken, mainly engaged in eating. He couldn't complain about that. Small talk had become a foreign concept and he certainly didn't want to discuss anything important to him. These warm, wholesome people should be kept away from his problems. Probably away from him as well, but he'd botched that entirely. The cart ended up being a small trap, only large enough for two small people or one Zie-sized person, pulled by an elderly town gossta no taller than Zie's shoulder and as blue as his coat. She fussed with her wings and pecked at Essenin while they got her in harness, but settled into contented honk mutters once all the buckling and adjusting were complete. In what seemed an out of character moment, Essenin stood back, hands twisted together, while Davitts settled Zie onto the padded seat of the cart. Once accomplished, Davitts turned a pointed look on his lover and an even more pointed, "Well?" Essenin cleared their throat. "I behaved badly last evening. I put my hands on you when you said no and didn't listen when you said stop. I'm truly, terribly sorry." The polite fiction of it's fine, it's of no matter didn't feel right in the face of such earnest self-recrimination. "You won't do it again?" "I won't." Hopeful and earnest. Difficult to resist. "Then I accept your apology." Zie reached out to pat their arm. "Your intentions weren't toward harm. I forgive you." A second sun rose in Essenin's smile and Zie didn't miss the fond and heated gaze Davitts settled on him. How much of the apology had been Essenin’s idea originally? Though perhaps he hadn’t needed much of a shove. They did fit well together. So well. Blossoming thoughts of seduction had to be set aside, though, when Davitts whistled to the gossta and jogged out of the courtyard. The cart jerked into motion and Zie had to concentrate on keeping his seat over the cobbled streets as the old cart bird hurried after the mercenary pair. Not mercenaries. Guards. The thought was wryly amused, though more of Zie's attention focused on the two figures jogging in front of the cart and their wonderfully muscular backsides. He was so thoroughly distracted, he didn't notice that the streets had opened up until they had entered the harbor. Ships. So many ships. A forest of masts. Large and small, sleek and ponderous. Wonder turned to overwhelmed anxiety. How was he to find an appropriate one in such a dizzying crowd of vessels? It's Friday again and time for me to read to you! This week, I have an excerpt from a new contemporary romance from Mere Rain - Tonight and Every Night. :) College romance, jock/nerd, lots of social awkwardness - come have a listen! *note - when I recorded, the Amazon link wasn't live yet, but it is now! Included below.  Tonight and Every Night by Mere Rain JMS Books Amazon B&N PJ is socially awkward to the degree that he never expected to have a relationship or “normal” life. Everything other than math makes him feel stupid, and trying to fit in with the party crowd only results in him getting embarrassingly drunk at Giant’s apartment. He wouldn’t have the first idea how to ask someone out. Especially not someone popular and hot. Giant is having lots of fun but doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life. A working-class guy with an athletic scholarship, he feels stupid and low-class compared to most of his classmates. He’s had plenty of one-night-stands but none of them ever seem to see him as boyfriend material. When the cute nerd who somehow ended up in his bed asks to see him again, he can’t think of any reason to say no. As they spend more time together, not all of it in bed, both men start to fall in love, but neither wants to risk ending what they have by asking questions about their relationship. Then they go home for Thanksgiving and familial opposition forces them to put their feelings about each other, and themselves, into words, and make choices about their future together. But do they want the same things? About Mere:
Mere Rain is an author of romance and speculative fiction who has previously published with Other Worlds Ink, Mischief Corner Books, The Mad Scientist Journal, Things in the Well, and Mythical Girls. Mere Rain is an international nonentity of mystery whose library resides in California. Mere likes reading, travel, food, art, and you. Someone (*coughFreddycough*) decided I needed a prettier, more story appropriate graphic for Shadow Run. I absolutely adore it: Shadow Run is a high fantasy serial about:
Zie, who's been fleeing from something horrible for a long time Essenin, who spots him in a tavern and is interested and Davitts, who really would rather not, thanks, but since Ess is determined... New episodes every Monday. Davitts narrowed his eyes at the newcomer who'd charmed Aunt Lana into giving him the corner booth for dinner and bringing him a cushion to prop his foot up on the bench.
Leaned back against the wall, hiding their grin behind a sip of kelver, Essenin nudged him with their elbow. "You'll set your aunt's new guest on fire if you glare any harder." "Not sure I like him," Davitts muttered, though he turned to his dinner, which did deserve his attention. Nothing was as good as Aunt Lana's marsh hare stew. "Oh?" Essenin had dropped the grin, though their dark eyes danced with amusement. "What don't you like? How charming he is? How interesting? How very pretty?" Davitts shoved at two of Essenin's many black braids so the beads clacked together. "Stop thinking with your nethers. He looks shabby, but paid up front for four days. No luggage. No pack, Auntie said. I think he's on the run." "As long as he pays, how's that your business, Davs?" "Don't want any trouble coming here, is all. And I'll keep an eye out for my family so long's I'm in town, thanks much." "Fair." Essenin's gaze had hardened to something more considering. "Best that we make sure of him, then." Davitts stared in horror as Essenin picked up their plate and mug, and meandered toward the stranger's table. "What? Ess, wait!" He knew better than to think Ess would listen, of course. With a sigh, he gathered up his own dinner and followed, plunking himself down opposite while Essenin cozied up next to the stranger, who neither glanced up nor took off his hat. "Pardon, but I didn't ask for company." The stranger's voice held the soft consonants of the northlands, polite, measured, but definitely not pleased. "You didn't." Essenin nodded cheerfully. "But you looked like you needed it. I'm Essenin ky Soll na Reabis and my friend here is Davitts ky Antris na Damil, security for hire." "Mercenaries," the stranger said, tone flat and even less pleased. "Oh, not usually. We mostly take jobs as caravan guards and private bodyguards. That sort of thing." Essenin leaned closer, probably trying to see under the hat. "Now you're supposed to give us your name." "Am I?" The stranger let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'm Zie." They both waited for the rest of the name. There had to be more. Essenin broke first. "Just Zie?" "Yes. Now please go away." Instead of leaving, Essenin pointed to the propped up, stocking foot. "You've injured yourself, have you? I'll have a look, if you don't mind? Pretty good with this sort of thing." "I do mind." Zie's head came up far enough to show the horror in his purple eyes—huh, those were pretty—as Essenin strode around the table to the other side and began working off Zie's sock. "Don't…stop that! Let go! Leave that on!" While it was amusing to watch Essenin steamroll someone who wasn't him, Davitts couldn't help a small internal cringe at how desperate Zie sounded. Frightened instead of annoyed. "Ess, maybe you shouldn't—" But the sock was already off and Davitts found himself staring at the delicate, though rather swollen foot so suddenly revealed. There were no toenails. Not that they'd been ripped out or anything horrid. They just didn't exist. The bottom of the foot appeared to have pads, like a feline's would. Essenin let out a surprised hiss and released his grip, which allowed Zie to yank his leg away and hide his foot under the table. "You're sylvas," Essenin said softly. "We'd heard something terrible happened up north. That you were all wiped out." "Go away," Zie whispered with his eyes squeezed shut as if that might make them vanish. Davitts blurted out, "Were there other survivors? What happened?" "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to talk about it," Essenin hastened to add. "There might be others." Zie shook his head slowly. "I couldn't say." Essenin shared a stricken look with Davitts, both of them obviously at a loss. "Now that I've answered all your burning and necessary questions, please give me my sock back and leave me alone." Essenin had enough sense to look sheepish as they relinquished the sock, but they persisted. "You don't have to hide here, you know. No one cares that you're not human. Not like those bigots in those human towns inland." They pulled down their shirt collar to show their gill slits. "I'm half selak, myself. Davitts' granda was a taur. That's where he gets those big hands." They accompanied that last bit with an eyebrow waggle and Davitts' face heated. "Ess. Not the time." Zie heaved another little sigh, removed his hat, placed it carefully on the bench, and went back to his dinner, apparently bent on ignoring them if he couldn't get rid of them. His ears…Davitts hated to admit it, but they were adorable. Set just a bit higher than human ears, pointed at the top with little tufts of fuzz at the very tip, they twitched and turned in reaction to sound. He'd kept his gloves on, but Davitts surmised his hands also had no nails and more than likely had retractable claws instead. In a silent show of solidarity or maybe just not wanting to frighten Zie off, Davitts started eating again. He felt terrible now for his suspicions, mistaking a tired refugee for a possible criminal. He hoped Essenin would get the hint. They did not. "That ankle looks painful. I could wrap it for you. You really should have it wrapped." For the first time, Zie met Essenin's eyes, and though wariness and exhaustion were topmost, Davitts thought he saw something else. Relief, maybe. "All right. Thank you." With a smile that looked a shade too triumphant, Essenin hurried off, probably to wheedle medical supplies out of Aunt Lana. They returned quickly with a damp cloth, soaked in teo root extract for the inflammation by the sharp smell, and a length of linen wrap. Gently, and no one knew better than Davitts how gentle their hands could be, Essenin laid the teo cloth on the worst of the bruising and wrapped Zie's ankle securely and efficiently. In their line of work, they both certainly had practice enough with that sort of thing to do it well. "How long are you here for?" Essenin asked as he placed Zie's foot back on the cushion and gave it a final pat. Zie regarded his foot with a frown, then Essenin, and finally Davitts. "No more than four or five days. I need… I'd like to find a ship that will take me." "I'm asking out of concern, but can you afford ship's passage?" Davitts inquired softly. "Perhaps." Zie spun his fork in his gloved fingers. "But I can do wind work. I'd hoped someone would need a sail impeller." "We can help you with that." Essenin patted his knee. "We know people at the harbor." "Why—?" Zie stopped himself and shook his head. "What do you want for this?" Davitts opened his mouth to say nothing, they would help someone who needed it without demands, but Essenin spoke before he could, with a bright smile. "Nothing but your company, lovely sir. As much of it as you're willing to give." "Ess…" But Zie held up a hand and caught Davitts' gaze hard. He couldn't have looked away if he'd tried. "The offer applies to you both?" The first noise out of Davitts' mouth was a rusty-hinge squeak. How did Essenin just proposition people so…so brazenly? "Ye… Yes?" He cleared his throat. "Yes." "Done, then." Zie rapped the table three times. "But tonight, I'm going to finish my dinner and go back to sleep." "And we'll meet you here for breakfast," Essenin suggested, though it didn't sound like a suggestion. After Zie had limped upstairs to bed, Davitts dropped his head in his hands. "Ess, what in all screaming pits?" "Oh, come on." They shoved Davitt's shoulder. "He needs help and it'll be interesting." That was something Davitt couldn’t argue with, not at all. Happy Friday, everyone! Who's ready for a humorous paranormal mystery series? This week, I'm reading to you from EJ Russell's brand new novel, Five Dead Herrings, the first book in the Quest Investigations series (a Mythmatched universe spinoff.) (From the cover, you know there's gonna be selkies - yaay!)  Five Dead Herrings Quest Investigations #1 by EJ Russell Amazon Amazon Universal Something’s definitely fishy about this case… On my last stakeout for Quest Investigations, I nearly got clotheslined by a grove of angry dryads. I expected my bosses to reprimand me, but instead they handed me my first solo assignment. Me! Matt Steinitz, the only human on the Quest roster! Okay, so the mission isn’t exactly demanding. Obviously, the bosses wanted to give me something they think I can’t screw up. I’m determined to show them what I can do, however, so I dive right in with no complaints. At first glance, it looks as simple as baiting a hook: A selkie’s almost-ex-husband is vandalizing his boat with unwanted deliveries of deceased sea life. All I have to do is document the scene, tell the ex to cease and desist, and present the bill for property damages. Boom. Mission accomplished, another Quest success, and as a bonus, I get to keep my job. But then things get…complicated. Suspicious undercurrents muddy up my oh-so-easy case. Nothing is as clear as it should be. And the biggest complication? My inappropriate attraction to the client, who may not be as blameless as he claims. Turns out those dead herrings aren’t the only things that stink about this situation. Dammit. Five Dead Herrings is the first in the Quest Investigations M/M paranormal mystery series, a spinoff of E.J. Russell’s Mythmatched paranormal rom-com story world. It contains no on-page sex or violence, and although there is a romantic subplot, it is not a romance. About EJ:
E.J. Russell (she/her) ), author of the award-winning Mythmatched LGBTQ+ paranormal romance series, holds a BA and an MFA in theater, so naturally she spent three decades as a financial manager, database designer, and business intelligence consultant (as one does). She’s now abandoned data wrangling, however, and spends her days wrestling words across a rainbow of genres. Count on high snark, low angst, and happy endings. Reality? Eh, not so much. She’s married to Curmudgeonly Husband, a man who cares even less about sports than she does. Luckily, CH loves to cook, or all three of their children (Lovely Daughter and Darling Sons A and B) would have survived on nothing but Cheerios, beef jerky, and satsuma mandarins (the extent of E.J.’s culinary skill set). E.J. lives in rural Oregon, enjoys visits from her wonderful adult children, and indulges in good books, red wine, and the occasional hyperbole. Newsletter: https://ejr.pub/news-from-ej Facebook group (Reality Optional): https://www.facebook.com/groups/reality.optional Website: https://ejrussell.com Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ej_russell_author Production on new releases has been moved into 2022 for both my publishers, which gives me a little breathing room. And what happens when my brain gets breathing room? A new character walks in. Naturally. There he was, at three in the morning. No name. No backstory. Just STANDING there atop a fencepost giving me a LOOK. Rather than start a new novel and outline and agonize and get that in production somewhere, I thought it would be fun to just write as it occurs in a serial format to fill the time between releases. (That's a teensy bit of a fib - I didn't actually start writing until I had a direction. But things will fill in more clearly as we go.) Zie's initial episode is the next blog down, if you care to start following along. "Shadow Run" will post every Monday, until the story finds an end. I will try to keep the episodes short? But I'm not making promises. High fantasy. Probably some violence along the way. Probably some NSF episodes soon, too. Just so you know. (I've typed the word "episode" so many times this week, it no longer looks right.)  (Author's note: Welcome to the inaugural episode of "Shadow Run", a serialized high fantasy story about... Well. You'll have to see. Short episodes update every Monday. Until we're done.) Episode 1
Sunrise bled into the field of snow daisies, painting their petals scarlet, forcing the shadows to bow in submission. Normal, everyday morning shadows. With any luck, his pursuers would be more than two days behind him. For now. From his perch atop a jagged fencepost, Zie had an excellent view of the northern horizon where his way through the field was no more than a suggestion of passage by now. Not that it mattered how few plants he'd broken as he ran. The wind rose, biting and insistent, whipping his leather coat about his ankles in restless waves of deep blue. His favorite coat… Lucky thing, that, since it's your only coat now. Only boots, rather worse for wear. Only shirt. Only… He crouched atop the fencepost, squinting toward the south. How much farther now? What if he was entirely, stupidly wrong? And did it truly matter any longer? He was tired, so cursed exhausted. The question really is, am I ready to die? Do I deserve to? A spirit crow let out her laughing cry from three fence posts over and Zie took it as an answer. He was too much of a coward for the first answer to be yes, and too self-involved for the second. Craven panic and narcissism had gotten him this far, why stop now? When he squinted, smoky haze was just visible in the distance—usually the sign of a sizeable human community. That would do for a few days if he was careful since his pursuers seemed confounded by human towns. A tiny spark of guilt twinged under his breastbone as he considered endangering an entire community, but he never stayed long enough for his hunters to overcome their wariness. The humans had been safe so far. Generally safe. Mostly safe. He leaped down from the post and ran, his steps light and nearly silent, any sounds covered by the wind rustling through the fields. If he recalled his geography of the region correctly, there would be another river between him and the town. His pursuers didn't like running water, either, which had been an unexpected blessing. Yes, there. The shining ribbon of a river appeared as he crested the next hill. Ancient, meandering and wide, he nearly wept to see it. He raced down the slope with his coattails flying behind him, gathering the notion of weightlessness in his mind, the feeling of buoyancy like invisible wings. The toes of his boots just skimmed the current as he stepped out onto the water, never slowing his pace. Hest had always laughed at him, telling him he didn't have to take it at a sprint. Fine for him, as he stood calmly in the middle of a waterway trying to convince Zie that he wouldn't sink if he slowed down. He never got the knack and running full out over wavelets and white water was more exhilarating, in any case, and Hest was dead-- No. Don't think about that now. Concentrate. He nearly made it. The horrible images he'd been fighting to suppress caught up with him at the last few steps and he splashed into the shallows, soaking his boots and turning his left ankle on a stone. Cursing and hissing, he limped onto the bank and headed for a cart path up ahead. "That's fine. It's fine." He'd made it across and put another obstacle between him and the nightmares behind him. That was the important thing. Never mind that he couldn't run now even if he had to. The cart path became a gravel track which soon joined a smooth, graded road. He spotted the first cart ahead of him—a box wagon pulled by a single draft edlak plodding along with unending patience on half-moon hooves the size of Zie's head. Now was the perfect time for caution. He pulled his hat lower to shade the non-human purple of his eyes and cover the tips of his ears. His gloves would have to stay on until he gauged the town's atmosphere and no one would see his feet. Come to think of it, he hoped his ankle wouldn't swell so much that he couldn't get the boot off that evening. Another carter, with an open wagon of hay pulled by a team of placid gosstas, took pity on Zie and let him ride to the town's gate with the hay. Itchy, and the gosstas occasional honking made his ears ache, but better than trying to walk on an ankle that complained more bitterly with each step. The town, apparently called Pellienport since it was built around the natural harbor where the Pellien River met the sea, bustled with more than human activity, to Zie's relief. No one like him, of course, but he wouldn't be such an oddity in a place where taurs and merfolk openly walked the streets. A bit of discreet pickpocketing shored up his funds enough to afford food and lodging. Not his finest hour, perhaps, but not his worst, either. He only took from those who could obviously afford it and preferred to steal from people who were arrogant and unpleasant. Keep telling yourself that makes it better. Go on. Closer to the center of town, since staying at inns near the gate was always a bad idea, he found The Blue Goblet, a tidy establishment tucked between a hostelry and a potter's shop. With the last of his energy, he negotiated with the landlady for a private room, dragged his bedraggled backside up the stairs, locked the door, dragged his boots off—the left was a struggle—and collapsed onto the bed for the first real sleep he'd had in weeks.
Hooray, we've made it to Friday! This week I have something to read to you that I'm particularly excited about - an excerpt from SI Clark's new space opera humor novel, The Left Hand of Dog. Hostile fluffy alien bunnies! Also, don't forget the giveaway at the bottom of the post.
There's never enough SF humor in the universe! Yaaay! Come have a listen. :D 
The Left Hand of Dog
Starship Teapot #1 by SI Clark White Hart Fiction Books2Read Escaping intergalactic kidnappers has never been quite so ridiculous. When Lem and her faithful dog, Spock, retreat from the city for a few days of hiking in Algonquin Park, the last thing they expect is to be kidnapped by aliens. No, scratch that. The last thing they expect is to be kidnapped by a bunch of strangely adorable intergalactic bounty hunters aboard a ship called the Teapot. Falling in with an unlikely group of allies – including a talking horse, a sarcastic robot, an overly anxious giant parrot, and a cloud of sentient glitter gas – Lem and the gang must devise a cunning plan to escape their captors and make it back home safely. But things won’t be as easy as they first seem. Lost in deep space and running out of fuel, this chaotic crew are faced with the daunting task of navigating an alien planet, breaking into a space station, and discovering the real reason they’re all there… Packed with preposterous scenarios, quirky characters, and oodles of humour, The Left Hand of Dog tackles complex subjects such as gender, the need to belong, and the importance of honest communication. Perfect for fans of Charlie Jane Anders’ Victories Greater than Death – especially ones who enjoy endless references to Red Dwarf, Star Trek, and Doctor Who. This book will show you that the universe is a very strange place indeed.
About SI:
SI CLARKE is a Canadian misanthrope who lives in Deptford, sarf ees London. She shares her home with her partner and an assortment of waifs and strays. When not writing convoluted, inefficient stories, she spends her time telling financial services firms to behave more efficiently. When not doing either of those things, she can be found in the pub or shouting at people online – occasionally practising efficiency by doing both at once. As someone who’s neurodivergent, an immigrant, and the proud owner of an invisible disability, she strives to present a diverse array of characters in her stories. Author Website: https://whitehartfiction.co.uk Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/clacksee Author Goodreads: goodreads.com/clacksee Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/32693/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/SI-CLARKE/e/B082GXW66G/ Happy Friday, everyone! This week, I have a bit of high fantasy for you - an excerpt from Nicole Dennis' new release, McShayne's Fae! Secrets, a mysterious visitor, and a terribly curious fae prince. Come have a listen. :) (*note about the series: McShayne's Dragon (the first in the series) will be re-published shortly.)  McShayne's Fae McShayne Bloodline 2 by Nicole Dennis Amazon KU A darkness encroaches the lands. Otherkin are disappearing. Towns attacked. The Golden Forest Fae Prince of the Solas High Court, Caderyn O’ Ceithearnaigh-Ard, finds himself in the middle of the battle. Where he learns a McShayne witch is a prisoner of these dangerous creatures, but escapes into a tangled land of broken magic. The mysterious witch who enters the Court’s gardens, no matter the magical barriers, and draws Caderyn’s attention. Needing help to help Larkin McShayne, he contacts another McShayne witch and his dragon. With their assistance, they try to draw Larkin out of the tangled lands and back to reality. Only there is more to the witch, to the prince, and what faces the Court. About Nicole:
A quiet one, Nicole Dennis curled up with the latest book of a favorite author. Since the beginning, characters were in her head, worlds building themselves, and stories written. Now she can let others into her imagination and worlds that always celebrate the love between two or more people within LGBT, paranormal, and fantasy. During the day, she works in a quiet office in Central Florida, where she also makes her home, and enjoys the down time to slip into her imagination. She is owned by a semi-demonic tortie calico, affectionately known as Fat Cat. Nicole Dennis (website) Nicole Dennis: Dreamers and Readers |
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About Angel
Angel writes (mostly) Science Fiction and Fantasy centered around queer heroes. Currently living part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware and full time inside her head, she has one husband, one son, two cats, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate. |
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