Coming Soon!

 

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Jathyn’s Spirits – Book 5 in Vampire Wars

Jathyn grew up the son of a master vampire, or so he thought. When the master grew ill, his mother revealed an astonishing truth…Jathyn was a dyad, and the master was not his father.

Feeling angry, and betrayed, Jathyn couldn’t muster any regrets when the master died, his mother following the old vampire into death. The clan dispersed, and left him behind. Young, and naive, Jathyn spent years searching for more dyads.

When he stumbled upon Kylor’s clan, he finally thought he’d found a true home. Then he met his mates, both dyads. Happier than he ever thought he could be, it wasn’t to last.

On a mission for Kylor, Millar was killed, leaving Jathyn, and Shanley heartbroken. Grief tore them apart, Shanley helpless to fix their bond. Jathyn knew he was hurting his remaining mate, but he didn’t know what to do to bring them together again when he missed Millar with every breath.

When Shanley was gifted with another mate, Millar’s death having broken the coveted trimatris, it brought home just what Jathyn could lose if he didn’t bring himself out of his depression.

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A Blue Moon

Blie was convinced his life had just entered the Twilight Zone when his brother was kidnapped, and then returned—in pieces. Such violence had never touched him, his family, or the pack he belonged to.

They were a small pack, insignificant and he didn’t understand why someone would hurt them that way. The Hunters had been gone for a decade, wiped out by some of the larger packs. Their existence was still a secret from most humans. So who grabbed Niles, and turned him into a box of bloody scraps?

Blie’s alpha didn’t know what was going on, and his confusion was making the whole pack antsy. But even as the pack tried to make sense of what had happened, Blie was starting to get visions. Visions that made absolutely no sense, so he kept them to himself. They were under enough stress over Nile’s murder, they didn’t need to worry about Blie, and would probably think him insane anyway.

It was when a strange alpha appeared that things got even more interesting. Because the stranger was in Blie’s visions. He was drawn to the man, and it scared him. He’d never been attracted to a man before, was dating a she-wolf named Malinda as a matter of fact. She wasn’t his mate, but he was only twenty, and having fun, and he didn’t believe in fated mates anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Calix had been wandering for a long time, trying to find a pack he could fit into. Being an alpha made that difficult. He didn’t want to lead a pack, just wanted to feel like he belonged. Which was impossible since he’d be expected to challenge the current alpha of any pack he might find worthy.

When he came across a small pack in a tiny village in Idaho was when he thought things might be looking up. There was something—someone—here that drew him in. But finding that someone was proving to be difficult.

The pack was suspicious of strangers, and after hearing what had happened to one of its members, Calix could understand. But he wasn’t giving up. He was a detective by trade, and maybe if he helped the pack discover what had happened to the wolf who had been murdered, they would feel more comfortable around him. Especially after he met the brother of the beta that was killed—and found his mate. He hadn’t dared hope that he’d find his fated mate. But not only was Blie his mate, but a blue omega at that. So why wasn’t his mate using his gifts to find the murderer?

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Warrior Angel

Lysethan hid among the humans, unwilling to embrace his destiny. He didn’t want the responsibility—to be protector, and leader to the world of Angels. Unlike the myths, and legends of humans, there was no all mighty creator who angels served. They were simply a different race, living in an alternate dimension. A dimension rife with war, and violence. A place Lysethan had escaped decades ago, never to return.

But he wasn’t to have a choice when those who would make him fight, and rule them followed him to the human realm, and captured the man Lysethan had fallen in love with. To save Varian, Lysethan was going to have to bow to his destiny. He didn’t know, until he found his lover again, that Varian was part of the fate which awaited him. Hadn’t a clue Varian was capable of fighting alongside him, protecting his back as he wrestled to win the throne.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Varian Saint knew what his lover, Lysethan was. He’d inadvertently seen his wings when Ly didn’t know he was watching. But he didn’t want to reveal his knowledge, too afraid Ly would leave him.

All that became moot when others of Lysethan’s kind grabbed him, and whisked him away to a place that was dark, and violent. Was this where his lover was from? No wonder he’d left. But when Varian found out why they had captured him, he was determined to help his lover reclaim that which was his. To be strong, and encourage Ly to accept his destiny, even if that meant Varian’s life.

Fighting came easy for him, though he was not the warrior Ly was. His past was filled with battles of another kind. Wars that had hardened him, to where only Lysethan had ever gotten close to him, had seen his heart, and owned it. His love for the angel was more than enough to be by his side no matter the consequences.

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The Dark Soldier

Hollen Leone learns the hard way what he is…what he becomes. Bitten as a child, his parents blow it off as a raccoon attack. But as Hollen approaches puberty, things begin to get confusing…and alarming. By twelve, he can no longer tolerate being out in the sun for long. By fourteen, his interest in red meat has turned to bloody rare. By sixteen, meat no longer appeals at all. And all that time, he starts hearing things. Most notably, a steady pounding.

When Hollen hits eighteen, he joins the marines. And once deployed, he finds a new way to protect his fellow soldiers. A way that saves ammunition, time and most importantly, lives. Until he is captured that is. Now he not only has to protect his secret, but has to find a way to escape. Because he knows…if the enemy finds out what he is, he will be used to hunt and kill his fellow soldiers. And that just isn’t acceptable.

As he starved away in the camp, he tried to get one of the Serbian soldiers to bring him a live animal. Something to feed from. But it never happened. Then one night, Hollen lost the strength to fight his hunger and drained a fellow prisoner. The disgust and regret he felt was immense. The other man didn’t deserve to be Hollen’s meal.

As time went by, Hollen got to know the one soldier that watched over him the most. He was gorgeous and Hollen found himself attracted. But he couldn’t let that be. He was a prisoner, and the only thing he should be thinking about is escaping. It was the only way he would not be discovered.

When the soldier brought food that Hollen would not eat, he thought he might have his chance. But the soldier stopped him, making Hollen show his true nature. The horror on the man’s face cemented Hollen’s worst nightmare. But, instead of the man running to his superiors, he remained silent, watching Hollen as always, and beginning to ask questions Hollen couldn’t answer.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bojan Macura couldn’t get his mind off one the prisoner they had in containment. Something was very different about the handsome man, other than him being American. He hid himself away during the day in the farthest recesses of the enclosure, in a small cave, only venturing out into the fenced-in yard area at night.

Bojan had brought the man food, but he never touched it and he was growing thin. Too thin. It worried Bojan. His pale skin was so translucent, and his eyes were almost scary. Bojan was sure he’d seen them glow, but must be mistaken. The hallucinations of too much time in the war.

It was late one night when Bojan stood outside the fence staring at the prisoner as he paced back and forth. It was the first time he chose to speak. Bojan was one of the few who had attended university and could understand the English language the man spoke. But what he said made no sense. To ask for a live animal? What for? And the prisoner seemed desperate for such a simple thing. Bojan couldn’’ give it to him, of course. He was only to watch and make sure the man and his fellow prisoners did not escape.

Bojan definitely knew something was going on when a dead prisoner was found in the enclosure. A dead prisoner with bloody puncture wounds in his neck. Bojan’s superiors didn’t know what to think of it, but it drove them to separate the men they had captured. For some unknown reason, Bojan insisted the man he found so fascinating be left in the enclosure with the cave. Since the man always went there during the day, it was the least Bojan could do for him.

It was weeks later when Bojan finally saw what they had captured.

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One of His Boys

Rio no-last-name knew what being a loser felt like. A runaway and thief, Ruben Mendoza owned his ass–literally. Rio’s eighteenth birthday came, and went quietly. No fanfare, no acknowledgment, no celebration as he went from a minor to an adult.

He wanted out, wanted to live his life on his own terms, but had given up hope that would ever happen. He’d tried to save a little money, here and there, but Ruben always found out, and Rio was tired of the beatings.

It was at one of Ruben’s social events when a spark of hope ignited once more in Rio’s heart. Ruben’s gatherings were very exclusive, and he only had his best whores working. Rio was one of his highest earners.

There, Rio met a man who had him wishing for a new life again. He just didn’t know if it was possible. Especially as Boris was a constituent of Ruben’s, therefore probably as dirty as his boss.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Gallagher DeWitt aka Boris Malkovich hated coming to these parties. But to refuse would cause suspicion, and blow his cover. Tonight was especially hard because Rio was here—working the crowd. Gallagher knew everything about Rio, just as he did all of Ruben’s boys.

The stab of jealousy, possessiveness, and overwhelming protectiveness that hit Gallagher every time he saw Rio always took his breathe away. Tonight was no exception. Gallagher had never once touched any of Ruben’s boys, despite the numerous invitations. Not only because he shouldn’t for various reasons, but because most were minors. But, Gallagher knew Rio was eighteen now, and the rage that filled him watching the young man flirt sensually with others consumed him.

Of all the boys under Ruben’s control, it was Rio, Gallagher wanted to save the most. He just needed a plan—and to get closer to the gorgeous young rent boy.

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Under Wraps

Elijah Grayson was proud that he was the youngest detective on the Seattle force in recent history. But that pride was overshadowed by indignation that he was also the only detective that could pass for a fourteen year old boy. A rent boy. For that made him prefect for the Assignment.

An assignment that turned into a waking nightmare. Trapped in a whorehouse, Elijah relied on the contact he had with fellow narcotics detective Jace Atherton. A man he both despised and loved. A man that had hurt him badly. Then suddenly Jace was gone and Elijah was alone. Alone and vulnerable.

Once he’d gained the information to put the prostitution kingpin Asher Cravets behind bars for life, Elijah waited. No Jace. But he did get contacted again. By none other than Kinsey Sheridan, the PD Director’s own son. But, still, Elijah was left to continue in the whorehouse.

Elijah didn’t know what would become of him. And Cravet’s interest in him was growing again. Elijah didn’t want to be the next in a long line of dead rent boys. But his hope was left in a young, inexperienced detective named Kinsey, and an estranged lover, Jace.

Will Kinsey and Jace be able to save Elijah before Asher Cravets decides Elijah should be his…again? Will Jace want to salvage his love for Elijah and acknowledge his growing attraction to Kinsey? Will Elijah finally get the men he so desperately wants?

Warning: Content may be objectionable to some readers. M/M sexual practices, rape, murder, adult language, prostitution, underage prostitution.

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Gray is the Only Color

Curley was the local tagger. Most everyone thought he was a bit touched in the head because he never used any color but gray. He was exceptionally talented, but vandalism was vandalism. He’d never been caught in all the years he’d painted the walls of the town. He’d been homeless for as long as most could remember, though, in truth, he was only twenty-eight. He looked fifty with his rugged brown beard, long stringy hair, thin almost emancipated frame and crazy gray eyes. Even his fellow indigenous left Curley alone.

At thirty-five, James Collier had moved to West Marlin to escape the high crime areas of Baltimore and the stress of being a beat cop in some of the more dangerous parts of the city. Alone, with only his mastiff, Morgan for company, he was looking forward to the peace and solitude of small town America. It didn’t take him long to hear about the local legend known as Curley. Most of law enforcement had never even seen the man, but they had all seen the evidence of his passing. James was no expert, but even he could see that the mysterious homeless man was gifted. Not everyone could make such masterpieces with nothing but a spray can of gray paint.

Jim soon figured out, that when it came to Curley, the whole town tended to turn a blind eye to his crimes, each owner of whatever part of town he graced with his spray can, shouldering the cost to paint over the art left behind. When Jim finally caught Curley, no one in the lone precinct was happy, all giving Jim cold stares as if he’d desecrated a national monument. But it wasn’t the townsfolk, or his fellow officers that concerned Jim. It was his reaction to Curley. Once cleaned up, Curley was—well—beautiful, causing a stirring in Jim’s chest that he did not want.

Besides, what could he possibly find with a homeless man that was obviously crazy? But the weirdest part of all was that ever since that first arrest, every time Jim turned around, Curley was there to be easily caught, again and again, as if he was making himself available for Jim to bring in. And each time, Curley inched his way further and further under Jim’s skin until he found himself obsessed with the homeless man—and protecting him. And caring for him. Until the day Jim finally brought Curley home and his world was turned upside down.

Gypsy

Gypsy

Gerard Bennet aka Gypsy had been on his own since he was old enough to take care of himself, escaping a violent childhood and a painful past. With only his motorbike and wits, he traveled from town to town, taking on odd jobs to house and feed himself, only to move on when the itch was too much to bear. He’d never stayed in one place more than a few weeks. He didn’t know if he was still running from his past, or searching for something bigger than himself, something that could stop the demons that haunted him.

When he stopped in Hollingsville, Illinois, he made the mistake of meeting a man that filled his whole world for a brief time. But he didn’t stay, he couldn’t, the itch too great to ignore, his paranoia that his past would catch up to him undeniable. He had to keep moving, but it didn’t stop him from thinking, and remembering, and wishing.

Bryan Lancaster thought he’d met the man of his dreams. Gypsy was everything Bryan had ever wanted in a lover, but destiny wasn’t kind and Gypsy left, breaking Bryan’s heart. Bryan would have gone with Gypsy if he’d only asked. But Gypsy, no doubt, knew Bryan was trapped in Hollingsville, as if he were shackled by the very reason Gypsy disappeared—responsibility. Gypsy was a free spirit, answering to no one, not even Bryan. But Bryan wasn’t so unencumbered, having to care for his elderly grandmother and his younger brother.

It was a few years later that Bryan found himself free of his burdens, his grandmother having passed and his brother now old enough to stand on his own. Bryan had only one goal in mind—finding Gypsy. But where would he look? Where would he find the man he still loved? And would Gypsy still want him, or even remember him?

Crushing His walls

Crushing His Walls

Joel Beckham hates his sexuality…it lost him his home, his family, his job and his best friend. There was nothing about being gay that was positive for him. He tried the “pretend to be straight” route, which was probably the worst and most disastrous mistake he ever made. His guilt in deceiving the few women he dated ate at him.

Now, two years after his heterosexual debacle, he’s withdrawn and quiet, never letting anyone get close who might stumble across what he so desperately hides. He’s determined to keep to himself and never open up to another person, especially a man. But he didn’t count on Timothy Miller. Didn’t anticipate his reaction to the gorgeous man, a reaction he was unable to control. And it pissed him off!

To make matters worse, there was no way to avoid Timothy no matter how hard Joel tried. They worked together and Joel needed his job. It was the only thing between him and complete despair. Timothy was sweet, stunningly beautiful, funny, bright—and gay. And much to Joel’s irritation, attracted to Joel. He didn’t need this, didn’t want the baggage, and was very tempted just to tell Timothy he wasn’t gay, that he had a girlfriend. But the guilt from his horrendous experiment into hetero land wouldn’t let him lie.

Joel had never been pursued by a man and slowly Timothy was melting the cold, hard ice that was Joel’s heart, cracking the walls that surrounded Joel’s soul. It terrified him. Gay meant pain in Joel’s world. But Timothy just might be able to bring a little light to Joel’s dark life, if he can allow himself to feel again.

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Lonely In The Night

Alejandro stared at himself in the mirror, noting the multitude of familiar gang tats. His stomach clenched like it always did, but he’d done what he set out to do. He’d gotten his little brother out of the God forsaken hell hole that was their hood. Miguel, now Mikey would never have to experience what Alejandro dealt with on a daily or nightly basis. Six years he’d spent protecting his secrets and his brother. Six years he’d run with the men he called brothers, no matter the crimes they committed. Family closer than his blood, except for Miguel. But it’s not what he wanted for his baby brother. Miguel deserved better than the heavy guilt and constant fear—the life and death danger. Deserved better than the way Alejandro lived.

He picked up the short cylinder off the bathroom counter and carefully screwed it onto the gun in his hand. Time for the last favor for Berto and his debt would be paid. It wouldn’t be his first kill, though the others had been in self-defense. This would be his first murder. But Berto had made it clear, no kill, no home for Miguel. Alejandro had to do it, or his life, and Miguel’s would be forfeit. And Berto was not a man to mess around with or fuck over. He’d put a bullet between your eyebrows as soon as look at you. Alejandro didn’t understand why the gang was so loyal to the crazy guy, and yet Berto had no sense of brotherhood to the rest of them, no sense of responsibility. Berto never had anyone’s back. Didn’t make sense. But then, it didn’t have to since Alejandro was as much a drone of the gang as the rest of them.

Alejandro picked up the photo of the man Berto wanted out of the way and flipped it over, reading the stats. Nothing here clued Alejandro into why Berto wanted the man dead, but it wasn’t Alejandro’s job to question or wonder—or think. It was just his job to pop the guy and not get caught. Alejandro’s stomach clenched again and he was beginning to wonder if he could even do it. He’d never killed anyone in cold blood before and this man had never done a thing to him. He stepped back from the bathroom counter and caught the movement in the mirror. He stared at himself, watching his bright green eyes go dead. With a shaking hand, he stuffed the glock in the waistband of his tattered jeans and shuffled out of the run down apartment to find his target.

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Encounter – Book 1 of Dark Angels series

Doyle Kent never thought he’d find himself in the middle of an all-out war, especially stuck in the middle No-wheresville, Idaho. But a routine business trip between cities, an unexpected blizzard and a broken down car found him seeking shelter in a rundown biker bar.

What he found there took his breath away and scared him to death at the same time. The men he encountered were nothing like he’d ever seen. All wickedly beautiful and towering over his 6’ frame. One in particular had Doyle wishing he’d never gone on this business trip.

The man had to be at least 6’4” or better and absolute perfection, with his golden hair and pale gray eyes. He was cruelly beautiful, and looked extremely dangerous. They all did. And they were not shy in letting him know he wasn’t welcome.

But the stunning man that had Doyle wound tighter than a drum wouldn’t allow the others to kick him out into the frigid cold. Much to Doyle’s surprise, the man was kind, in a predatory sort of way. As the blizzard raged on, and the men seemed to forget he was there, all but the one anyway, he started to learn things. Things that made no sense. Words were used that confused him, and occasionally anger flared and the broken English changed to a language Doyle had never heard before.
But it was when these men made a decision that Doyle’s world dropped out from under him.

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Desperado

Lincoln Hart had learned over the years to steer clear of his boss, Des Kingston. The man was a walking, talking sex dream, and as mean as any rattler. He was one of the few who knew, or at least suspected that Des swung his way, but was well aware that his boss would never admit to something like that.

He kept to his job, foreman for Des’s 100 acre ranch, The Red Diamond, and tried not to let Des’s obvious loneliness kill him. Someday, maybe, Des would finally see what was right in front of him—a man willing and able to love him and complete his life.
********
Des Kingston liked his well-ordered, controlled life. Keeping to himself, never revealing the grief that still gripped him over the death of his lover. None of the hands currently working for him had known Clayton Spade, most seeing Des date women, and only rarely—for appearances. He never slept with any of them.

He’d accepted he would be alone the rest of his life, but much appreciated Lincoln’s friendship. His foreman was gorgeous, and sometimes Des had to fight his libido around the man. But he wouldn’t go there—couldn’t go there.

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