Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Marketing for Romance Writers (mfrwio) group author Katy Eeten to the blog. On April 10th, 2026, she released A Stalker to Die For, a Christian, romantic suspense story. Take a look at the YouTube trailer below.
BOOK BLURB
Ashley Morris thought the worst part of online dating was awkward small talk. She was wrong.
After one disastrous date, a man named Nick won’t take no for an answer. His calls and texts escalate into threats, break-ins, and a terror that shadows her every move. Desperate for safety, Ashley hires Jackson Russo— a talented painter with a kind heart and a protective streak— to renovate her home. But as their friendship deepens into something more, Nick’s obsession turns deadly.
Caught between a stalker’s rage and a love she never expected, Ashley must trust God’s protection and her own instincts to survive. With Jackson by her side, she’ll fight for her life— and for a future worth living.
A faith-filled romantic suspense with a slow-burn, closed-door romance and a guaranteed happily ever after. Perfect for fans of Lynette Eason, Dani Pettrey, and Dee Henderson.
She glanced over at him, and they exchanged closed-mouth smiles before she leaned her head on his shoulder. A second later, he leaned his head on top of hers. She almost melted in the bliss of the moment.
This felt so right. And as much as she wanted to raise her head and kiss this incredible man, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Considering this was about as peaceful and cherished and loved as she’d ever felt—could ever hope to feel—she didn’t want to risk ruining it by muddying the innocence with a kiss. Though she certainly wouldn’t turn him away if he was offering up kisses. But she’d be patient. And grateful.
He lifted his head a few moments later, causing her to do the same as she flashed him an inquisitive look. He extended his arm behind her shoulders and pulled her close. “I just thought this might be more comfortable.”
As she leaned into his sturdy chest and closed her eyes, her dreamy sigh was audible. How had she gotten so blessed? God, thank You. As he stroked her upper arm, her cheeks radiated heat. Oh, how she wished time would stand still. Being with Jackson was the highlight of her weekend.
“Sorry again that the drawing idea didn’t work out. Here I thought this would be the most romantic night ever.” He let out a nervous chuckle.
Ashley’s eyes shot open at the absurdity of his words. Did he not consider their present situation romantic? “What do you mean?” She raised her head and turned to face him, their faces mere inches from each other. “This is the most romantic—”
A single loud popping sound pierced the air.
Ashley jumped. “What was that?”
Jackson sat up straight. “I’m not sure, but it sounded like a gunshot.”
When she was a kid, Katy Eeten filled notebooks and binders with poems and short stories. As an adult, she turned that love for the written word into Christian fiction. Between contemporary Christian romance novels and short, sweet Christmas novellas, she loves the feeling of creating characters, scenes, and plots that readers will enjoy.
She works full time in the corporate world, but she tries to find time for her passions—which include writing, reading, taking walks, playing board games, baking, and spending time with her family. She lives in southeast Wisconsin with her husband and their two teenage sons.
Please welcome author Brenda Murphy to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Treasure by Chance. It is a Domme/sub, contemporary, romantic suspense, and the first book in the University Row series. Let’s check it out.
Title: Treasure by Chance Series: University Row, Book One Author: Brenda Murphy Publisher: NineStar Press Release Date: 04/21/2026 Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex Pairing: Female/Female Length: 246
Fire investigator and legendary stud about town Mel Michaels is not looking for love. Raising her niece, Nicole, after her sister’s death is her full-time job. Who needs a potential heartbreak when Mel’s natural charm and swagger has opened every bedroom door she’s ever knocked on?
Music teacher Sofia Ortega has spent the last three years putting her life back together after a bitter breakup. Back in her hometown she is content with her life and has sworn off relationships. After their chance encounter ends in a torrid one-night stand, both women are forced to choose. Protect their hearts or take a chance?
Chapter One “Have they set a date for your recital? I need to get it in the schedule.” Mel Michaels kneeled in the foyer to tie her work boots.
“Don’t worry about it.” Nicole shouldered her see-through backpack. “Ms. Ortega said she needed to finalize some things. She’ll let us know in a couple of weeks.”
“Okay.” Mel looked up and tilted her head at Nicole. “You want a ride?”
“No. Steve and Erin’s mom is making them walk to school ’cause she thinks they don’t exercise enough. I promised Erin I’d walk with them.”
Mel stood and met Nicole’s gaze. “Be careful. I’ll pick you up after piano today. I might be a little late. I have to help take Grandma to her doctor appointment.”
Nicole’s brows lowered. “Grandma’s been forgetting a lot of things. Did you see her bruises? Grandad said she fell while he was taking a nap.” She chewed her lip. “What if she falls and one of us isn’t with her?”
Mel shifted her gaze away from Nicole. “We’re going to help Grandad do his best to keep her safe, and to help her remember the important things, okay? I’ll talk with him again about getting help with her.”
“She’ll just wait till he takes a nap and do it again.” Nicole pushed back her hair and shifted on the balls of her feet. “Erin’s mom is taking her to get her temps next week. When will you take me?”
“I’ll take you the first day you’re old enough to test, okay?” Mel rested her hand on her niece’s shoulder. “You’re studying the manual, right?”
“Yeah. Me and Erin are quizzing each other.”
“Good. Now scoot or you’re gonna be late.” Mel gave Nicole’s shoulder a squeeze and urged her toward the door.
“Bye.” Nicole opened the door and hurried down the front steps.
“Bye.” Mel stood in the doorway and watched her niece until she turned the corner. She closed the door and leaned back against it.
The kitchen clock chimed half seven. Mel turned to the entryway mirror and checked her reflection. In the glass, her gaze rested on the photo hanging on the wall behind her. She turned toward it. Nicole’s gap-toothed grin contrasted with her sister Jane’s forced smile and spaced-out expression as she held Nicole’s hand.
Memories of screaming matches with her sister over empty pill bottles and promises to quit, to seek counseling, to take better care of Nicole bubbled up. Mel shoved away her grief and anger. She closed her eyes against the intrusive images of her sister’s body, of Nicole patting her mother’s face, her frightened voice. “She won’t wake up, Aunt Mel.” The memory was as clear and bright as a razor’s edge. Mel’s chest tightened as the images overlapped and morphed into other painful memories too numerous to count. Rage flooded her senses. She snatched the photo off the wall. The edge of the frame dug into her palm. Her hands trembled as she lifted it over her head.
“Get it together, Mel.” She spoke out loud, her words echoing back to her in the empty hallway. “Stop. Stop thinking about it. You got things to do.” She placed the photo face down on the table. Mentally, she slammed the lid shut on her box of memories before she straightened her shoulders and blew out her breath forcefully. She picked up her keys and snatched her gym bag off the floor on her way out the door, counting down the minutes until she could work over the heavy bag.
*****
Sofia splashed water on her face before she picked up the icy cold washcloth. She placed it against the puffy dark circles under her eyes, the chill soothing. When the cloth warmed, she rinsed it and hung it to dry. She tamed her hair with quick strokes of her brush.
She dug an elastic hairband out from the red container on the shelf and surveyed her face in the bathroom mirror while she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. Fine streaks of grey stood out against the dark-brown strands of her hair. Satisfied she was presentable, she pulled her favorite yellow sundress on. The sounds of plates clinking and her mother humming drew her toward the kitchen.
The morning light streamed in, creating a sunbeam across the linoleum. The floor was warm under her bare feet. Her mouth watered with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the cinnamon scent of muffins.
“Morning. Coffee’s ready.” Sofia’s mother, Alejandra, glanced up at Sofia as she arranged steaming muffins on a platter. Two place settings and a bud vase with miniature white roses graced the round table.
“You spoil me, Mom. I’m never going to want to find a place of my own.” She poured a cup of coffee for her mother and herself.
“You don’t need to. I’m going to travel after I retire. It will be like living alone. This house is paid for. Save your money. Then you can spoil me in my old age.”
Sofia picked up the grocery list from the tabletop. “Let’s talk about it later.” She held out the paper to her mom. “What’s this one? I can’t read it.”
Alejandra squinted at the list. “A pint of heavy cream. You can’t put me off forever, Sofia.”
“I know, Mom. I know.” Sophia added cream to her coffee before she placed a muffin on her plate. She sipped her coffee, savoring the rich Costa Rican blend. Steam rose from the muffin as she split its top with her knife. Her stomach rumbled as she pulled off a piece and popped it into her mouth. The sweet cinnamon flavor burst over her tongue followed by the rich crumb of the topping. She ate the rest of the muffin in two bites.
“What’s your hurry?” Alejandra’s brow wrinkled. “I won’t force you to talk about it.”
“I’m not avoiding the conversation, Mom,” Sofia lied. “I want to get to the grocery before the yoga mom crowd.”
She scooted her chair back, stood, and drank the rest of her coffee while avoiding her mother’s gaze. Sophia bolted from the kitchen. “Love you, Mom.” She strode down the hall and snatched her purse off the hall table before she plucked her keys out of the rack. “Text me if you think of anything else you want.”
Brenda Murphy (she/her) writes erotic romance. Her most recent novel, Double Six, is the 2020 Golden Crown Literary Society winner for Erotic Novels, and Knotted Legacy, the third book in the Rowan House series, made the 2018 The Lesbian Review’s Top 100 Vacation Reads list. You can catch her musings on writing, books, and living with wicked ADHD on her blog Writing While Distracted. She loves sideshows and tattoos and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not loitering at her local library, she wrangles twins, one dog, and an unrepentant parrot.
I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For a free short story, information on book signings, appearances, work in progress snippets, previews and sneak-peeks, sign up for my email list at:
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Meg Macy, a new author, to the blog. On December 15th, 2025, they released Love Me Do, book two of the series called Love Is Love. It’s a polyamory, neurodivergent, LGBTQA+ romance that’s right up my alley.
BOOK BLURB
Longtime friends Jackson Riley and Juliette (aka Jules) Baxter are committed to fulfilling their first year of business at their breakfast café, but trouble is brewing again in their personal lives. Jack and Reese Baxter are in a committed relationship — or are they? Jack’s not so certain given Reese’s continued reluctance to come out of the closet. Jules has ended her polyamorous relationships, but she’s juggling her romantic attraction to two café staff members – a man and a woman. Jules’s parents split in their support of the cafe, and Reese’s mother is making a big stink as well. When more details of Jack’s secret past rise from the ashes, everything is thrown in turmoil. Will they all survive to celebrate?
Warnings: Anxiety, past abuse, foster care, trans attack, cutting
SERIES BLURB
In the Love Is Love series, three LGBTQA+ contemporary romance novels explore past hurts, healing, and the vulnerability of gay love and acceptance. Friendship, trust, courage, and resilience unite to combat fear and homophobia in reshaping lives and communities.
Juli eyes Jack. “How come you two didn’t stay at the Unicorn until midnight on New Year’s Eve?”
He glances over the table at Reese, whose cheeks flush again. “We agreed to go home early. My man gets overwhelmed with so many people.” Jack leans over and whispers a phrase that Chris doesn’t catch, then taps out a pattern on the table with a finger. “You good?”
Reese taps the same pattern with a smile and visibly relaxes. But he keeps his eyes on the table, avoiding the growing crowd around them. Chris steers the conversation in a different direction, figuring that might help as well.
“I heard last year the Unicorn was so crowded, people couldn’t get in.”
“Yeah,” Jack says. “I was so squashed, I got bruises.”
“You kissed all the pretty boys that night,” Juli teases him. “You went missing a few times, too. Bet you were popular in the men’s restroom, is that it?”
“Hey, I missed my friends after being gone,” he says, his face scarlet from his hairline to his neck. “But Stevie and me left for Blake’s house. They don’t like crowds, neither.”
Reese remains silent, eyes hooded. Chris saw the social media posts from over a year ago, and Juli’s right—Jack was the life of that party. A couple photos showed him sandwiched between two guys on the dance floor, hugging, kissing, groping.
Juli squeals when the waiter sets her pulled pork entrée down with a separate plate of French fries. “Oh my God and the angels, these are so good!”
He steals a few garlic fries. “Remember you owe me, babe.”
“For drinking some of your milkshake?”
“Some? Like more’n half!”
Jack finishes his salad bowl and leans against Reese’s shoulder. “I’m stuffed, that was so good. Glad we didn’t order that churro. You’re as bad as my man chowing down on beef, cheese, and bacon all together. Talk about risking a heart attack.”
Reese shakes his head, his mouth turning up into a half smile. “Don’t listen to him. More than eighty percent of vegetarians go back to eating meat.”
“I’m pescatarian. Just for that, I’ll making pasta with tofu tomorrow for dinner.”
“Hmm. I might have to work late.”
“What a coward! You won’t get a tattoo neither.”
“My body is a temple, not a canvas—”
Juli giggles at their teasing exchange. “Love always wins in the end.”
Chris notices a tall, well-built guy in a hoodie staring at them near the door before he saunters over to their table with a big grin. Doesn’t say anything, but stands behind Jack, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Cocks his head, clearly listening.
“You ain’t gonna believe this. I was sat down when this lady comes up to me, asking—” Seeing Chris point a finger behind him, Jack twists around in surprise. “The hell?”
The stranger pulls him up from the bench and gives him a ferocious bear hug. “Tink! Knew I’d run into you at some point.”
Jack pulls free. “Never expected to see you in Michigan—wait, hold on.” He turns toward the table. “Hey, everyone. Kyle Kingston is an actor friend from New York. This is my business partner, Jules Baxter, and Chris Bouchard. And here’s my hot man, Reese Baxter.”
Already standing, Reese extends a hand to shake. The actor accepts and gives Jack a knowing smirk, which puzzles Chris. Is Kyle gay or straight? He eyes Juli with interest, winking at her and acting more like a “bro” with a swagger, but keeps a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Chris notices how Reese looks more stone-faced while Jack and Kyle exchange tidbits about theater friends they knew back in New York. At last the actor glances around at them, as if realizing they’re all listening.
“What kind of business are you in, Tink?” the actor asks.
“Running a breakfast café,” Jack says. “Here Comes the Sun’s north of the river. You should stop in and see it. I can text you the address. You still got the same number? Did you ever replace your Android, that damned screen was so scratched….”
Chris stays quiet, but Juli’s attempts to get a word in edgewise are hit or miss. She glances his way and hides a smile behind one hand. Signals him to leave by hooking a thumb at the door. He tosses money on the table to cover their part of the bill.
“Nice meeting you, Kyle! See you guys later.” Juli hurries outside, Chris trailing her, but she turns and holds out a few bills. “This wasn’t a date, remember, so I’ll pay for myself.”
“I just figured you wanted to get out of there fast.”
“I did! You saw Reese? I swear steam came out of his ears,” she says, laughing hard. “He is soooo jealous. I could tell if Kyle has the hots for Jack, didn’t you think so? I wonder if there’s more between them than we know.”
“I remember Stevie or Blake talking about some guy Jack was dating in New York.”
Juli rubs her hands together with a wicked gleam in her blue eyes. “You mean more than a hookup? Oooh. Guess I’ll have to dig for the gossip! If Blake doesn’t know, then for sure Stevie will tell me.”
“She doesn’t know everything about Jack, though,” Chris says, “and Stevie claimed that Jack avoided committed relationships. He’s been with Reese for what, over six months?”
“Yeah, Jack resisted whenever I tried to them up for a blind date last year when we opened the café. Hey, today was a lot of fun,” she says. “Sometimes I get so wrapped up at home or doing a bunch of errands, I never enjoy a day off.”
“Yeah, I get that. I’m also Stevie’s personal assistant, doing her laundry and getting her groceries. Without the benefits—money or sex,” Chris adds with a wink.
Juli bursts out laughing again, her reddish-gold hair framing her face like a halo.
National bestselling author Meg Macy is a reader first and foremost. She’s always found comfort, adventure, and connection in books—which might explain why she now writes stories that offer all three.
Best known for her Shamelessly Adorable Teddy Bear Mystery series (Kensington), several Christmas romance novellas with rescue pets, and as one-half of D.E. Ireland, the Agatha Award-nominated duo behind the Eliza Doolittle and Professor Higgins mysteries, Meg has long embraced the cozy end of fiction.
Now, she’s rewriting the rules with a new direction: LGBTQA+ romantic suspense —queer characters in a cozy setting, with spice, intrigue, and plenty of emotional payoff. M/M or M/F polyamory, traditional or trailblazing, her stories are comfort reads with a twist. Unique? Yep. Meg loves breaking the rules. She lives with her writing companion, Mr. Whiskers the cat, and prefers pages to parties any day.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Kashel Char to the blog. On April 2nd, 2026, they released Children of Anzulla: Draxton & Kellan, the start of a trilogy called New Beginnings Trilogy. It’s a portal, sci-fantasy and I do find this subgenre fascinating. Let’s see what it is all about.
BOOK BLURB
DRAXTON:
Have you ever looked for something you know is there but can’t find it?
I was born to explore caves, and when it comes to finding the door to another reality, I become a tire-screeching, hyper-focused maniac.
When I use my charm, I know, no one can refuse me, especially when I’m wearing my sexy jean shorts and wide-brimmed hat, even if I pair them with flip-flops.
I will do anything to secure an extension to explore the Star Caves, nestled in the Cradle of Mankind, South Africa.
With my grandfather’s map in hand, I set out to barter for more time.
The plan was simple. Entice, seduce, and bribe the man responsible for my future. He accepted the bribe, my priceless map, but as soon as he started showing up at the site, he refused my body, three times!
KELLAN:
How do you keep a bubble from popping when you want to catch it? Easy, don’t try to catch it at all.
I’m so in love with Draxton that I’d do just about anything to keep him around a little longer—even if it means shoving him into another guy’s arms! It’s my way of saying, I’m not trying to build a Draxton prison over here!
But, how will I do that if I have to protect him while he’s going on all these missions to help my brother free Atlas, a dragon who was the only one who could take us back home?
Recommended pre-read: New Beginnings Trilogy.
Warnings: Themes of rescue missions, human oppression, invasion, slavery
His eyes flicked to mine. “You know, Mr. Dubois, I call bullshit. You didn’t preserve it. You were hiding something.” He was correct. I hid my great-grandfather’s code that he had written with milk on the side of the map.
I waved off the statement. “Look, the passages on the map turn left upon entry and pass in front of the chimney, but then it turns sharply down and to the right. We need more time because we’ve been scanning that wall repeatedly. We can’t go right. We need time. Here, Tobias and I found a fine line. I call it a line, but he insists it’s a crack. It’s unusually straight and long. No human could have scraped that with a piece of rock. It’s not rock carvings. Look, the door has to be there, somewhere in this exact spot, either up or down. You know the rock carvings look just like these.” I pointed to ladders, triangles, and squares. “I know the door is there. All I need is time, Professor. Once I find the door, all the credit goes to you and your faculty. You won’t have to spend a cent. All you have to do is say yes. Let National Geographic pull out, as they planned to today. I need space to work without any interference or distractions. Give me three months. That’s all I ask. If there’s no sign other than what we’ve found up until today, I will gladly pack up and call it quits. I’ll go home and start my research all over again. Because then I’m wrong. So wrong.”
I tipped my head down to catch my breath and waited. Usually, people hated it if I stayed quiet for so long, it made them uncomfortable. My grandfather told me it’s not my fault if people got impatient and thought I was rude. The silence in the office finally doused my echoing words. When I looked back up, he sat patiently waiting for me with a smile. This man was really at the top of the food chain.
He pointed a finger at me. I wanted to sink to my knees for him. Not to beg, but to crawl closer and smell him like a dog. I bet he smelled like soap and tasted sweat. “I will give you three months, but I will be visiting and checking on your progress. No one else goes into those caves but you and Tobias. You work for me now. Without pay, of course. Anything new—be it the door, any bones, or anything, I don’t care if it’s just a hair. It belongs to the Wits, to my department.”
A broad smile spread across my face. “Thank you.” I stood up weak in the knees, to shake his hand. “You just made the best deal of your career. I won’t disappoint you.”
“Famous last words, Mr. Dubois.” He unfolded his new map, then rolled it back up and slipped it back into the protective tube.
“Famous indeed, as you’ll see. You are about to become very famous.” I chuckled. “I was about to flirt with you and persuade you with my body.” I laughed, awaiting a reaction.
“No need for that. We’ll see more of each other, Mr. Dubois.”
“Please, I asked you earlier to call me Draxton.”
“Only if you call me by my name, Kellan.” He looked like a Kellan. I liked the alliteration of the k’s.
“Professor Kellan Kilroy, I look forward to working with you.” We shook hands longer than necessary. His long, slender fingers were surprisingly callused for a man who spends his days in an office. I shivered at the thought of those rough calluses scraping against my skin down my spine on their way to separate my butt cheeks.
Gods, I have to stop gazing into his all-knowing eyes. I can’t…I can’t look away.
He beamed at me knowingly, and we paused for a moment. In that instant, for the first time ever, my entire world went silent as I made eye contact. It didn’t make me nervous—no buzzing noises urging me to find silence—just a profound and unexpected comfort that settled deep within my bones. All the usual frantic chatter in my mind faded, replaced by a singular, unwavering focus as we shared the understanding of mutual attraction.
“We’ll see each other again the day after tomorrow. Please tell Tobias I said hello.” He patted my arm, and my skin prickled where he had touched me.
Swirls of heat detonated inside me. “I…I will, until then,” I said hurriedly, opening the office door, flustered and eager to resume my trek through the Johannesburg traffic—with a victorious grin.
Kashel is a Canadian speculative fiction author, writing in the genres of science fiction, fantasy, and paranormal.
Their writing explores who we are, where we come from, and where we are heading as a human race on Earth, by weaving unpredictable, twisted stories with a dash of humor, centered on gay characters.
My goal for this year was to release a post on the first Sunday of each month. I’m currently writing this on my phone with only a few minutes before it’s Monday. Not my finest moment this month. If I figure out how to add images, I’ll be set. It’s not looking good, so probably will not have images in this post. It’s a shame because my intention was for readers to have something to observe visually.
I’m eating all the gluten-free food I can handle. That’s basically a permanent change now. My medication has changed slightly, too. Doctor raised the GLP-1 injection and changed the dosing on my Vitamin D to daily with a lower amount. Adding a new glasses prescription to the mix, I experienced a headache and nausea on Thursday and Friday as my body adjusted. Many of my family members have been unwell at different times and to different extents, so it’s possible I caught a bug.
I haven’t been able to write this past month, and I’m not sure April will be much better. The muse and motivation have been short recently. I’m feeling better overall; it seems I was experiencing brain fog without realizing it. That’s something at least. Perhaps I will finish the couple of editing projects this year and actually re-publish some things.
As I was navigating on my phone, I went to another part of my blog in the admin console to update something and realized when I went back to posts that I was editing my March post and NOT the new draft copy. 🙀 So, I gave up and opened my laptop. This is faster anyway, and I can put a picture in. 🥹
For your viewing pleasure, this is one of two part-time cats we have. He is the cat that goes by many names, but I ended up calling him just Jingle. That is his “I want out” face. I just let him out the back door just now, too.
It’s almost 1 AM by the time I finished editing this post. I’m going to leave this as is and make a note to myself. Just get on the computer and do blog posts from there. Never again, phone. Never again.
Please welcome returning author Mell Eight to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Divine Judgment. If you like paranormal romantacies, this is for you. As a side note, I liked the blurb enough while posting this that I picked it up on Kobo. ☺️
Title: Divine Judgment Author: Mell Eight Publisher: NineStar Press Release Date: 03/10/2026 Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex Pairing: Male/Male Length: 43908
Ves’s life has always been a troubled one. An orphan growing up on the streets and imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit, Ves knows how bad things can be. When he’s chosen to go before the God of Judgment to be judged for his crimes, Ves knows the result of that will either be insanity or death. Except, Judgment doesn’t go as anyone expected when, instead, the God chooses Ves to be his head priest.
Settling into his new life as priest to a God is strange, but being around Rais, the God of Judgment, is no chore. Spending time together as Ves learns what it means to be a Priest of Judgment is wonderful, until people from Ves’s past realize where he is. Ves must decide whether he wants the past he didn’t realize he had lost, or the future he was just starting to build with Rais. Presuming the other powers at play allow him to live long enough to make that decision.
Ves’s side of the room was small with no windows and a single chair in the center of the stained wood floor. The walls had been white originally but were now a murky shade of brownish gray. The guard behind him grunted pointedly, so Ves made his slow way to the chair. He gratefully sat down and placed his crutch on the floor next to him before looking across his portion of the room to the other side. A high wall separated his dingy room from the court judge in his comfortably padded chair behind a carved wooden desk. The upper half of the wall was open like a long window and high enough anyone from Ves’s side would require a few extra seconds to climb, which was more than enough time for the guard standing behind Ves to stop them. Not that Ves could climb like that, of course, but Ves doubted the judge or the guard cared.
The judge had a steaming mug of tea at one hand, a folio in front of him, and a fancy quill in a stand to his right. The walls in his half of the room were painted a cheery yellow, which augmented the afternoon light streaming in from the glass-paned window.
“You have been recommended for early release,” the judge said. He didn’t look up from the folio, nor otherwise acknowledge Ves was in the room. “Based on your criminal history and your behavior while incarcerated, the court is willing to consider this sentence reduction.”
Ves swallowed down his growing hope, knowing better than to say anything or let any budding happiness show on his face in any way that could be seen by the guards or the judge. In this world of prison bars and shackles, hiding emotion was much safer. Besides, Ves had always been skilled at discerning the truth hidden behind the words. In this case, the truth was the prison was overcrowded and funding was limited. Thanks to his injury, Ves wasn’t likely to repeat the crimes for which he had been convicted, and providing medical care and accommodations for him was expensive. Tossing him out on the street and hoping for the best was far more economical for the courts than keeping him for the full term of his sentence.
“However, there are requirements that must be fulfilled prior to certifying your release,” the judge continued. “Per our laws enshrined in the annals of the divine accolades, first, you must go before the God of Judgment and beg for absolution of your crime. Should the God grant mercy, you will be released from prison. Second, should you be granted release, you will be provided housing for one week, after which you must obtain lawful employment. You must be gainfully employed for the remaining time left on your sentence. A gap of longer than a week is grounds for reincarceration. Third, you will be assigned a liaison officer with whom you must meet weekly. This officer will assess your activities and provide reports to the court regarding whether you should return to prison. Lastly, commission of any crime is grounds for immediate cancellation of your early release.”
The court judge picked up the fancy quill, dipped it in ink, and signed something at the bottom of one of the papers in the folio. He dusted the ink with sand before closing the folio and passing it to someone standing by the door, likely a secretary. Once that was done, he looked at the guard.
“Next case. I would like to have this chore completed in time to be home for afternoon tea.” The judge still hadn’t looked at Ves, more interested in the contents of his cooling teacup as Ves picked up his crutch and struggled to his feet.
Ves followed the guard out the door and back into the prison, trying not to let hope take root in his chest. He had no idea what obtaining a divine Judgment required, but felt safe assuming he didn’t have enough money to bribe the priests in the temple of the God of Judgment to agree to his release. Even if he did manage to get through Judgment, getting a job with his injury was going to be next to impossible. Ves didn’t remember the stabbing or know why he had been targeted by another inmate, just that when he woke in the prison’s medical wing, he had lost the use of his right leg as a result. The leg was still attached, but he could only bend his knee, feel his foot, or wiggle his toes about 10 percent of the time. The other 90 percent, his right foot hung like a deadweight. There was no way to know whether the stabbing had been the cause or whether the incompetent medical care Ves received afterward was the problem, but he was restricted to the speed of his crutch and only had one free hand to carry things while he was upright. Most ex-convicts found work at the docks unloading ships. Ves wouldn’t be able to do that, which limited his options severely. Regardless, even a few days of freedom would be a nice vacation from the hell that was prison.
“Do you know when I’ll be able to request absolution from the God of Judgment?” Ves asked the guard, who grunted in response.
“Today’s Moonsadai. Convict absolution is always the morning of Raisadai, so in two days. Don’t be in a rush to meet this God though.” The guard smirked at Ves. “If you’re lucky, you’ll come back here more injured than you left. If you’re not lucky, you’ll be dead.” Still smirking, the guard stopped at the first set of doors leading into Ves’s shared cell. He pulled a lever, and the first barred door slid aside. Ves stepped through the doorway and the first door slid closed, locking him into the two-by-two-foot space. The guard pulled the lever again, and the second door slid to the side, revealing the nine-by-nine-foot square cell he shared with three other inmates.
The man Ves only knew as Fang grinned at Ves as the second door closed behind him. Both of Fang’s pointed incisors, sharpened prior to his arrest for ripping out chunks of people with his teeth, were prominent in his mouth, so the grin was equally a threat and a welcome.
“Well, you getting out of here?” Fang asked, watching from where he was sitting on his bottom bunk as Ves slowly made his way to the other bunk bed. Ves got the bottom of his bed thanks to necessity, since he couldn’t climb. Fang liked Ves for some reason, so it was thanks to his influence over their other two cellmates that Ves hadn’t been challenged for the better bed.
“I get to have a hearing with the God of Judgment in two days. I’m not sure that means I’m getting out of here though.”
“If you only get to see one of the priests, you’ll be back here in an hour,” Omnit called from where he was flopped out on the bed above Ves.
Fang nodded and ran his hand over his mouth. “Maybe. If you actually get to go into the temple to get a Judgment directly from the God, though, I’ll bet you’ll be freed. You’re one of the noble mistakes, right? I’ve heard the God of Judgment doesn’t care about rank or money, just whether you actually committed the crime.”
“And I’ve heard people who go see the God come back missing limbs or go straight to the crazy house ’cause their heads got messed up instead,” Omnit added. “They spend the rest of their days laughing at blank walls or screaming at the air. Better to see a corrupt priest instead.”
Ves sighed and lay back on the thin mattress, staring up at the straps holding Omnit’s mattress in place. One of the noble mistakes. In the prison system they were so common they had a name, and people who fell into that category tended to receive a bit more leeway from the other inmates. They weren’t usually randomly stabbed like Ves. The guards didn’t care, but Fang had defended Ves on multiple occasions because of it. When nobles broke the law and got caught, that mistake was rectified with money put in the right hands and a scapegoat going to prison instead. Ves hadn’t even had a trial but was now seven years into a fifteen-year sentence, convicted of two attempted rapes, the last one resulting in manslaughter of the victim. He would be turning twenty-one years old in two days, Ves realized as his gloomy thoughts identified something else depressing to focus on. When people reached the age of majority, they visited the temple of the God of Life to pray for guidance as they stepped into adulthood. Hopefully visiting the God of Judgment, instead, wouldn’t be yet another black mark against him.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” Ves finally responded. “The court judge signed some paperwork, so I’ll be dragged to the temple whether I like it or not.”
Fang let out a barking laugh. “That’s the world of the Gods, I guess. All we can do is hope they don’t make us suffer too damned much.”
Before Ves could think of a response, the afternoon klaxon went off, echoing through the prison as it did twice every day—first thing in the morning and now. Ves’s ears continued to ring for a few seconds after the klaxon stopped. By the time he could hear again, he could also hear the squeaky wheel from the meal cart in the hallway. A moment later a slot opened above the small table in the corner, bolted to the wall so they couldn’t move it, and someone pushed four trays filled with their dinner onto it. Omnit scrambled down from his bed and returned holding two trays, one of which he passed to Ves. Fang grabbed a tray, and the fourth man in their cell climbed down from his bunk over Fang to get his as well. The man never spoke, ever, so Ves didn’t know his name, but he also never caused problems, so he wasn’t the worst roommate Ves had endured in his seven years here.
Dinner was boiled chicken, boiled potatoes, and boiled beans, each portioned exactly so every tray had the same amount of bland, lifeless grub. At first, Ves had been excited about the prospect of regular meals, since that wasn’t something he had enjoyed before his incarceration, but that minimal silver lining had faded away fast. He ate the food, tasting nothing the entire time, and let Omnit return the empty tray to the table next to the slot for the workers to remove later. With nothing else to anticipate before the morning klaxon announcing breakfast, Ves curled up on his bed and pulled his thin blanket over his shoulders. Sleeping wouldn’t end his misery or allay his worries about the impending temple visit, but at least he could turn off his brain for a few hours. After seven years of long practice, Ves forced himself to sleep, knowing everything would still be waiting for him to dwell on in the morning.
When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.
Welcome to the first day of March and blog post number three. I’ve been sick since returning from vacation, so much so that I had to take the rest of the week off and then I had President’s Day off to assist with recovering. I went back to the full-time job that Tuesday but still coughing, sneezing, a runny nose, and congestion. Thankfully, not Covid, Flu A or B (took two tests for Covid, both negative). I’m better now, but still have the occasional coughing fit.
Good news, well mostly good news, is that doing gluten-free for 99% of my trip allowed me to feel better. Between that and being sick, I’ve lost 10 pounds. Not a great way to lose weight since I ate little during the height of the illness, but I’ll take it. Found out from parents when I visited with them the Saturday before the cruise that both of them have issues with gluten: Mom sticks to not eating where as Dad continues to eat it but in smaller portions. I guess I get it honestly. 🙂
Unfortunately, that means that while I’ve kept up with blog tours/blitzes this month, I ended up posting the day of that I plan to post. Last week, the family learned that my partner’s grandmother passed away, and they will hold the celebration of life at the end of the month. She had taken a turn for the worse the week before, so her passing is not unexpected, but we will still feel her loss. We have plans to carpool to the funeral home and make it a day trip. She was 100.
As for finishing the edits for Charon’s Dilemma to send off to the editor this month, that hasn’t finished yet. I had planned to work on it during the cruise, but I got caught up in other things and didn’t get to it. Then I was sick and still not feeling it. I’ll get there. Maybe I will later today or sometime this week; possibly the next day when we get back from the funeral. I will have to see.
Good news is that I got the chair my parents got me for Christmas and my daughter put it together last week. It’s so much nicer than my old chair and the hydraulics work nicely. It’s a Laz-Y-Boy brand and very nice for the price. They bought it at BJ’s when it was on sale right before Christmas. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get it in Georgia, and that’s why I picked it up while I was in the area.
Now I need to get another one, possibly a gaming one for my personal laptop setup upstairs. This one will be used with my work office.
As I’m writing this post the week before. It’s a cold and windy day today after hitting 72 as a high a few days ago. Stay warm as the last gasp of winter lingers before spring comes officially.
Please welcome Stephanie Burke to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Demonium Rex AKA Buttercupe, a second edition of book 6 in the Demon Entanglements series. This is perfect for fans of urban fantasy and romance.
Win is a writer with a new house, a new life, and a rapidly approaching deadline. She doesn’t have time for the voices in her head to be demanding attention. She just wants to finish her book and maybe get laid. But what will she do when the character her subconscious dreams up starts becoming corporeal?
Demonium Rex is the undisputed king of all sexual demons, but when his people come to him with a mark who refuses to crack, he takes action. Now he is stuck in a non-corporeal form while the woman he needs to seduce is too stubborn to just let it happen. And even worse, she sticks him with a stupid name. But in the end, he will show her who’s the real King — or his name isn’t Buttercup.
Wineva Waller had never felt so warm, so safe, so comforted. It was like she was being wrapped in a huge, soft, silk-lined quilt, or more like floating in a deep pool of the warmest of soft-perfumed waters. It had to be a dream, a lie. There was nothing soft in her life, had never been, would never be.
But why not enjoy the escape and live the fantasy while it lasted? She couldn’t do a lot of things for herself, couldn’t care less about the way the world worked or how people viewed her, but she could at least give herself this, even if it would dissipate like wisps of dew in the morning sun.
There were arms around her, solid and muscular, holding her in a warm embrace that canceled out worry, stress, and time. There was a large male body pressed tightly to her, a hard, fuzzy chest that her breasts were pressed deliciously against, chin nuzzling in the top of her hair, heavy, muscular legs entwined with hers.
As she contemplated who it could be, a large, warm hand slid up from her belly to cup her breast, the palm rough against her nipple. She couldn’t stop the moan from leaving her mouth as that clever, beautiful hand caressed her flesh, the fingers tugging sharply at her nipple, causing her to arch her back as the pleasure shot down her spine and settled in her pussy. She was getting so wet.
“I can feel how much you want me,” the voice purred as a second hand slid down to comb through the neatly trimmed patch of hair at her groin.
Win whimpered, feeling the need to be touched grow inside her. Those fingers were moving too slow. She needed more, she wanted more. She opened her mouth to complain when one of his legs shoved forward, parting her thighs, and she shivered as the cooler air of the room wound around her needy pussy.
“I’ve got you,” the voice insisted as warm, citrus-scented breath caressed her ear. There was a nip there as the fingers teased her mound, sliding down further, the tips caressing the root of her clit, and that one touch made her gasp, arching her hip to get more.
It felt so good… it had been so long…
“Please,” she whimpered as that knowing finger began to run small circles around the base of her clit, making her whole body tremble as she moved her ass back against the hard length of cock.
“Who hurt you?” he asked again, his lips trailing down the back of her neck, his warm breath caressing her skin.
As she tried to figure out what he wanted, there was a sharp nip and then a solid bite to the base of her neck. Sensations she hadn’t experienced in a long time shot down her back as the hand caressing her breast slid up to wrap gently around her neck.
She began to pant, her heart was racing as his hard cock began sliding against her cheeks until the hot bar of flesh was settled between them, not trying to penetrate but just caressing her there too. The feel of him was intense and as she opened her mouth to demand more, the clever fingers at her groin finally moved lower, gently sliding back the protective hood of her clit to lightly caress her tender skin, pulling a whimper from her throat. Her hips began to rise up, seeking more of that electric touch, tearing her breath from her body as her heart began to race even faster.
“Please,” she begged as he began to take control of her body, playing her like a fine instrument and pulling sounds she would have been embarrassed were hers in the daylight.
“I have you.” His voice was deep and rough, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned her and this time pressed against her back to the bed. She could feel it racing, matching the tempo of her own rapidly beating heart as she rocked back against him.
She opened her mouth to demand more as his fingers began to press and tighten around her clit. Win could feel her slick wetness slowly slide down, soaking her swollen labia that was also begging for a touch. She tried to push her hips forward, to force his fingers where she needed them the most, but he only chuckled at her action.
“Who hurt you?” he asked again, biting down harder on her shoulder before he licked the sharp pain away.
Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.
From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.
Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.
Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.
Please welcome new author Will Okati to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release And Call Me, a second edition, box set duet. This is perfect for fans of age-gap romance.
Title: And Call Me
Author: Will Okati
Cover Art: Bryan Keller
Genres: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Contemporary, New Releases, Romance
Themes: Age Gap (Older Man), LGBTQ+ Gay, Medical Romance, Second Edition
Need a prescription for love? Take two, and call me in the morning.
And Call Me in the Morning: Eli and Zane. Yes, they spend a lot of time together. That doesn’t mean they’re a real couple. When teased about it one too many times by their colleagues, Zane challenges Eli to set the record straight with a kiss to prove there’s absolutely no chemistry between them. Neither expected a spark to ignite between them. More than a spark. Truth be told, Eli’s not so sure they can set the record straight after all.
And Call Me in the Evening: Eli’s still not great at wearing his heart on his sleeve and Zane’s still got trust issues, but they manage just fine. It’s all good. Right? Yes and no. Eli’s ex-wife Marybeth has come back to town, bringing a heaping helping of hassle with her. There’s something to be said for setting the story straight, it’s true. Eli knows he and Zane have a good thing going even if keeping it that way is the hardest — and best — part.
Falling in love with his closest friend had never been something Eli planned to do with his life. Wasn’t as if he could have stopped it, though.
Sometimes love just happened.
Even if it took him a while to figure that out.
* * *
“There you are.” Zane laid down the heavy, ivory-colored menu he’d been idly flipping through as Eli approached, making his way through the maze of tables at their regular bistro. “I almost thought you weren’t going to make it.”
Eli sat with a thump, running his hand through his dark brown hair, cut short but still quite capable of standing on end. He grimaced when he discovered he’d forgotten his stethoscope, still wound around his neck.
“Long night?” Zane asked, already waving their server over with the universal “coffee here” gesture.
Eli relaxed and let Zane take care of him. Some days, a man truly appreciated a friend who’d have his back when he needed a rock to shore up against. “Long, long night. Three-car pileup at an intersection. I didn’t want to leave before everyone was stable.”
“That’s my boy.” Zane shifted out of the way to let their server pour Eli’s cup. She was a pretty thing, well packed into her curves — curves that she offered not so subtly for display.
Zane ignored them. He’d taken Eli’s face in his hands and begun to assess him for signs of exhaustion. The guy had good hands, firm and dry and dexterous. They felt nice and cool against Eli’s skin. He let Eli go with a light slap to the cheek. “Your eyes look like burned holes in a blanket. You should go home and get some rest.”
“Like I’d miss a chance at a fine, elegant brunch?” Eli rolled his eyes.
“Heaven forbid.” Zane gave good deadpan. “Jeez. This is the kind of place I fear running into my family.” How moneyed Zane’s family was, Eli didn’t know. Coming from an ivory tower was a sore spot for Zane, who much preferred the life he’d chosen in a grittier world.
Eli segued to spare Zane any discomfort. What were friends for, right? “You were on last night too. How’d you manage to get away in time for a shower and a sharp morning suit?”
“Questions, questions.” The corners of Zane’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Unlike some of us, I leave when my shift’s done.”
“Since when? You’re as much of a workaholic as I am, if not more. A hospitalist’s work is never done, especially at Immaculate Grace. What was I thinking when I chose that as a career, anyway?”
“That you’re a glutton for punishment?”
“True enough.” Eli drank deeply of his coffee, almost moaning in appreciation. The influx of better-than-decent caffeine stimulated his brain. “Before I forget, I got those concert tickets you begged me for. Two, even.” He patted his dark brown shirt pocket. Plain clothes for a plain man, built tough to last, Chicago born and bred for forty-three years.
Unlike Zane, who looked as fresh as a daisy in a casual white linen jacket, pale violet button-down, and pressed slacks. Pretty as a picture, coming across as maybe five years younger than his forty-one. Zane brightened and made a grab. “Good seats?”
“I’m told they’re the best. Ah-ah-ah.” Eli tapped his pocket again. “I also got advance tickets for a Cubs game when the season starts. Fair is fair. I try not to fall asleep during the chorale or chamber music or whatever you want to call it, and you endure beer, umpire heckling, and giant foam fingers.”
“Done and done. You drive a hard bargain.” Zane clinked coffee cups with Eli. He hadn’t looked away once, but Eli liked that about Zane. When he gave you his full attention, nothing else seemed to matter to him. All part of the Zane package, and it made him the best doctor Eli had known. “I –” He stopped, interrupted by the chiming of his pager. When he checked the number, he grimaced. “Damn. Sorry, I’ve got to take this. Keep that warm for me.”
“What did I tell you? Workaholic. Hey! Do not let them talk you into coming back to the hospital today.”
Zane waved backward at Eli as he walked off. Eli watched him go, amused.
A different server, young and male, approached with the coffeepot. Eli suspected the waitress had gotten fed up with flirting and traded off. Fine by him. This kid had a good eye for refills. He held his cup up. “Keep it coming, but we’re not ordering yet. Still waiting for two.”
And they’d better hurry, if they know what’s good for them.
Eli wasn’t a huge fan of this bistro. Without Zane there to provide a buffer, the place was too rich for his blood. Made him feel like any second someone with a pedigree was going to jump out from behind a column and ask him what a working-class stiff like him thought he was doing here.
“Of course, sir. I’m sorry if I’m being rude,” the waiter said, deftly pouring. “If I could ask — you two make such a handsome couple. How long have you been together?”
Not this again. Eli didn’t even have to ask what the kid meant. Wasn’t the first time he and Zane had been mistaken for a couple, and he’d bet his hard-earned MD it wouldn’t be the last. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but we’re not.”
The waiter’s coffeepot slipped. “You’re not — oh. Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“No problem.” Eli waved him off before the kid could apologize again. He’d almost gotten used to the assumption. Whatever people saw in Zane and him, he had no idea. Felt like being on the shooting range sometimes, as many assumptions made about them as they had to dodge. Once corrected, strangers were mostly good about apologizing and moving on.
Friends of theirs, on the other hand, were not so accommodating.
“We made it!” Diana and Holly — also doctors, both familiar faces at Immaculate Heart — swarmed the table in a cloud of perfume and joie de vivre. With them, more hesitantly, came a fresh-faced kid Eli vaguely recognized as an intern. The ladies dove into the fresh baguettes and cherry jam their new waiter discreetly slid onto the table before exiting at speed, stage left.
Eli stayed well back from the carnage. Friends they might be, but Holly and Diana — well, it was best to stay on your toes around them. “Who’s the boy toy?”
Holly, a pale, Nordic-type blonde, swatted Eli’s arm. “Be nice. Taye’s been at work for almost twenty-four hours. He deserved a break, so we brought him along to give him a treat.”
Eli didn’t doubt she spoke the truth. The intern was gray with exhaustion and had bags under his eyes big enough to carry the US mail. For all that, he wasn’t bad-looking. If you noticed male attributes, that was. A well-shaped face and a kind mouth, reddish gold hair cut short and sleek. Eli could tell he was probably handsome given the way Diana eyed him with impressively dirty intent.
“Really?” Eli nudged Diana under the table.
Diana, forty-two and unashamed, attractive in a gamine sort of way, wrinkled her nose at Eli. A damned fine cardiologist and an innovator in her field, she had the sense of humor of a collegiate and saw no point in growing old gracefully. She nudged back, and ouch, she was wearing pointy-toed shoes. “Bah humbug.”
Taye watched them with big eyes. “Is there something going on here that I should know about?”
“Not a thing,” Diana said. Butter wouldn’t have melted between her cherry red lips. She stole Eli’s coffee and sipped demurely.
Holly petted Taye’s hair. “It’s all right, Taye. No one here’s going to bite.”
Taye cracked a grin. “Right. It’s just — three doctors and me. All of you have been in medicine since I was in grade school. I’m a little nervous.”
“Shows what you know,” Eli said, jumping back into the conversation. “I just finished my residency last year.” He shrugged. “My midlife crisis came early. What can I say?”
“Seriously? But you seem so… I mean, you’re… The way you take charge, I’d thought you were an old pro.”
“Thank you. It’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks. And before you ask, I’m forty-three.” Eli took his cup back from Diana, only to find it empty. “Wench.”
She smirked at Eli. “And don’t you forget it. So where’s your wife?”
“Right now, specifically?” Eli checked his watch, a gift from Zane when he’d been hired on as an attending. “Hell if I know. Either in Nepal with Paolo or in Paris with Neo. I lost track.” Either way, she was doing adventurous things with a man who isn’t married to his job. He couldn’t blame Marybeth. Cops made terrible husbands. When he’d decided to switch to medicine, that’d been the last straw, and he wished her well with… whoever was on the menu this week. “Enough about me.” They knew damn well he didn’t like to talk about personal business in public.
Holly and Diana exchanged glances, the secretly amused and utterly female method of communication Eli had never learned to interpret, God help him.
“Good for her. I was talking about your other wife,” Diana said around a bite of ruby jam and baguette.
“Beg pardon?”
“She means Zane,” Holly said.
That, in Eli’s opinion, was taking it too far, especially in front of a colleague Eli didn’t know. “Enough, the both of you.”
Holly ignored him serenely and put her chin in her hands. “Come to think of it, this might be the first time I’ve seen you without him in weeks.”
Eli could feel Taye watching them, fascinated. “My private life is not up for scrutiny, but for the last time, Zane and I are not together. How many times do I have to say this, and to how many people?”
“Wait, what?” Looked like Taye had forgotten his nerves. He turned to Diana instead of Eli. “Zane is Dr. Novia, right? They’re not…”
“No,” Eli said, annoyed. A flicker of motion in his peripheral vision filled him with relief. “Zane, for the love of God, would you get behind me on this?”
Diana and Holly dissolved into giggles. Zane shrugged, untroubled as ever, and took his seat. He tucked his pager away. “What are we being ridiculed for today?”
“Same old, same old,” Eli said. He passed Zane the bread and jam. “Apparently we want to jump each other’s bones.”
“An oldie, but a goodie.” Zane lifted his chin at Taye. “What are you looking at, junior?”
Taye coughed. “Nothing. Sorry.” He retreated behind a mouthful of fresh-from-the-oven baguette.
Eli had to admire Zane at work. They could have used a laser stare like Zane’s on the force back in the day. He’d have had perps pissing their pants with nothing more than a look.
Zane turned it on Diana. “Look at you, Mrs. Robinson.”
Diana possessed not the smallest trace of shame. “You wish you had my cojones.”
“True.”
Their byplay didn’t stop Holly. Nothing did, as far as Eli could tell. Hell, her husband egged her on; Eli held it in private opinion that the pair of them enjoyed more kink than a Slinky. She folded her hands beneath her chin and gave Zane her best you-can-trust-me psychotherapist face. “It just seems obvious to everyone but the pair of you.”
“It’s true,” Diana said. She started to pick through the packages of fake and real sugar, searching for Splenda. “You go to the symphony together. Ball games. Brunch, for God’s sake. And when was the last time you went out with a woman, the pair of us aside?”
Eli opened his mouth, closed it, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So it’s been a while. I don’t have time for playing the field when I’m trying to get ahead with my career.”
“But you have time to spend with Zane,” Holly said sweetly.
Eli gave up. For the moment.
Diana didn’t. “Take, for example, the way you two are sitting. Shoulder to shoulder.”
“The table is crowded,” Eli protested. “Four-person table, five people jammed in. You’re plastered against Taye.”
Diana smiled like a cat who’d just gotten her first taste of the cream and said nothing.
Fine, that hadn’t helped. Frustrated, Eli looked to Zane for support. No luck; Zane was busy waving for more coffee all around.
Eli wasn’t an idiot. When he examined Zane through objective eyes, he could see the appeal. Zane looked closer to thirty than forty, excepting the smile lines and small sprinkling of silver in his hair, and it was a trim, fit thirty with a body he kept in tip-top shape with rigorous exercise.
Not that Eli had anything to be ashamed of on that count, either. Zane’s enthusiasm for biking and boxing had chivied Eli out of the threat of middle-aged spread and back into better shape than he’d been on the force. Handsome, fit, successful.
So yes, he noticed these things. Didn’t everybody? And so they spent most of their time together. Mankind wasn’t made to be alone. Big deal.
Zane’s beeper shrilled. He rolled his eyes to the heavens. “I’m going to take this in my car. If the waiter comes around, order for me, but no meat. As soon as we’re done here I’m going back to Immaculate Grace and carving myself a filet of intern. Not you,” he said as an aside to Taye. “You’re doing great. Keep up the good work. Eli, tell them I want the usual, okay?”
Eli didn’t let Diana or Holly ask. “Yes, I know his usual. Belgian waffle with cinnamon sugar and whipped cream, the real stuff, and a fruit salad. No strawberries.” He swatted Zane’s hip as Zane scooted behind him and away. “Don’t worry; I’ve got it covered.”
“No strawberries?” Taye asked.
“He’s allergic,” Eli said. Medicine fell outside the personal-business umbrella, and Zane considered nothing taboo anyway. Still grated Eli’s nerves a bit to answer. “I’ve never seen how allergic, but he carries an EpiPen. No sense taking chances.”
Hoping the subject would be dropped, knowing there was no way he’d get that lucky, Eli studied the menu until he could no longer ignore the women clicking their tongues at him. Approximately thirty seconds. “What?”
The women exchanged Highly Significant Looks. “Doth the gentleman protest too much?” Diana asked.
“He doth,” Holly agreed. “Let me ask you a question, Eli.”
“Since I’m well aware that I can’t stop you, please, proceed.” Eli crossed his arms and waited for it.
“How much time did you spend with your ex-wife before she took off for — where was it again?” She shushed him before he could answer. “It’s Austria with Pieter, by the way. I actually know this, and you don’t. Now tell me: how much time do you spend with Zane?”
Eli scowled and said nothing.
Holly pounced. “You see? I’ll bet you can even tell me where Zane was night before last.”
There was no way he would win here, was there? “My place,” Eli admitted. “Takeout and Die Hard. What’s your point?”
“I think their point is that you’re all but married,” Taye said. Apparently he’d chosen sides. Good to know. For that, he would pay. “Look, I know a few things about what it’s like to love your own gender. It’s strange as hell at first.”
Diana’s face fell in a way that would have been heartbreaking if it hadn’t been ever so satisfying instead. “You’re –”
Taye blushed but kept his chin up. “Yes.”
“No disrespect to you personally intended, Taye, but can I just say ha?” Eli pointed at Holly and Diana in turn. “Your gaydar needs a tune-up.”
Diana didn’t take defeat graciously. She narrowed her eyes at Taye. “Prove it.”
“Hey.” Eli straightened. “Nobody around here has to prove anything. Diana, leave him alone.”
Taye’s color heightened. “I can fight my own battles, thanks.”
Eli held up his hands in mock surrender. “Suit yourself, tough guy.”
Maybe it was the lack of sleep followed by the powerful coffee, or maybe Taye was one of those fortunate fools who didn’t hesitate to jump in where mortals feared to tread. “Excuse me.” Taye touched the waiter’s arm as he approached, coming in on the third round of coffee refills. “Would it be all right with you if I kissed you?”
The waiter stared at him. Eli waited for the “No!”
Instead, their waiter did a quick check to make sure no managerial eyes were on him, slid his carafe onto the table, and pressed in close to Taye. “I thought you’d never ask, handsome.” He stood on tiptoe and —
Eli sighed. Holly made cooing noises that unfortunately didn’t cover up the noises of a highly enthusiastic kiss. A darker mood still shadowed Eli’s thoughts when the sound of the smacking prompted a stir in his groin.
He tapped his foot thoughtfully. All right, so maybe it’s been a longer dry spell than I’ll admit to this crowd. I’m a busy man. That doesn’t mean listening to two pretty boys make out turns me on. Or Zane. It just means I need to get laid, or at least spend a quality afternoon with my right hand.
“Is that what we’re leaving instead of a tip?” Zane made his reappearance without fanfare or notice from anyone except Eli. “If that’s the case, we should take Taye out with us more often.”
Eli chuckled. “I was just enjoying the sight of Diana proved wrong.”
Diana scowled at Taye. “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he? No wonder you were willing to brunch instead of crash.”
“Can you blame me?” Taye kissed the waiter again, this time on the tip of his nose. “See you later, handsome.”
Was he? Eli couldn’t see the appeal, himself. Waiter-boy was shorter than Taye by at least half a foot, wiry, curly dark hair, a button nose… Okay, maybe he could see it a little. Discomfort at PDA aside, Eli was man enough to admit the pair of them were almost cute. He knew he’d be just as fidgety with a hetero couple. The last time Holly’s computer-something-or-another-engineer husband, Keith, had come along to brunch, he’d almost wanted to crawl under the table.
Not even Diana could stand up against that. She sighed and shifted fully from tigress on the hunt to full-fledged fan club member. “Worth it.”
A faint touch at his elbow drew Eli’s attention to Holly. “You see?” she asked, quiet as a mouse. A far-too-knowing mouse. “That’s the way you and Zane look at each other. You’re the only two who can’t see it.”
“Be that as it may. We’re not interested. Not homophobic, Taye, so no offense to you. You two ladies, stop going there. This is the last time I’m going to ask. We’re friends. That’s all. Leave it alone.”
Diana clicked her tongue against her teeth. Eli didn’t like the look on her face. Too suspicious by half. “Let me ask you this. How do you know there’s nothing more to it? Have you ever tried?”
Even Holly tried to shush her at that, but the damage was done. “I think we’re done here.” Eli dropped his napkin on the table and stood. “My private life is just that: private. I’ve had about enough of defending myself.”
“Like I said. Protesting too much,” Diana said. She wasn’t one to back down. Normally Eli liked that about her. Normally. Not so much now. “Look it up.”
Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of the quiet ones to watch out for, but life — like storytelling — is always a work in progress.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes E.M. Hamill to the blog. On January 11, 2026, she released Forrest House, a standalone Mystery-Thriller, romance novel. Enjoy!
BOOK BLURB
Blood is Stronger Than Magic
Ander Forrest renounced blood magic to become a nurse-healer in his rural hometown, far from the drama of wizardry and espionage his sister Kate craved. When Kate goes missing in action, Ander finds himself the legal guardian of her gifted twins and receives a cryptic warning from Kate’s husband to protect them before he, too, disappears.
Six months later, his former lover crash lands in the kids’ bedroom via a spell only Ander’s sister could have cast. Druid Cai Piper doesn’t remember how he got there, but he knows he never stopped loving Ander, and that he was sent to protect him and the twins. Cai is strangely drawn to Forrest House and the land it stands upon.
With the secrets of a clandestine wizards’ order hanging between them, Cai and Ander must remember how to trust each other as sinister forces move against the Forrest family—magical terrorists who want to exploit their rare sorcery and bring the world to its knees.
Cai slept the rest of the afternoon. Ander managed to distract the twins from sneaking into their uncle’s room by helping them make chocolate chip cookies. As snow-blue darkness began to gather in the valley, he peered into the guest room again.
His bloodstained long coat was draped over the footboard. Cai sat on the side of the bed, his drooping head leaning in his hands. It was a disconcerting flashback of the night Ander left their flat. That scene was seared into his conscience like a brand.
“Headache?” Ander asked softly. Cai startled, raised his head quickly, and winced.
“Blinding,” he admitted.
“Here. You need to drink water.” Ander uncapped the bottle and handed it to Cai. “You took a nasty hit to the head. I healed the cut, but it’s a bad bruise. I have some acetaminophen—paracetamol—if you want it.”
“Not yet.” He drank deeply and stood, unfolding his tall frame with caution. “The vertigo is gone.”
“Good.” They stared at each other for a long moment. Ander’s insides still did flip-flops beneath Cai’s golden-brown gaze, bringing warmth to his cheeks.
Cai cleared his throat. “You said I’m in America?”
“Yeah.”
“And if I was sent by a bloodspell, does that mean Remy and Raven are here?”
“Well, of course.” Ander blinked as Cai closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or defeat. “You didn’t know,” he said.
“No. Edwyn kept it a secret, even from me.” His fingers touched the blood-matted knot at the back of his head in tentative exploration. “I must have been out. I would never have let him send me otherwise. He was bleeding badly.” His hand tapped an area high and to the outside on his left leg. “Shot in the thigh.”
Ander thought of all the major blood vessels there and breathed a plea to the Goddess that none were severed. “I didn’t think the Fellowship used bullets.”
“We don’t. We were on a joint mission with intelligence agents. Someone started lobbing spells at us and our allies turned and shot each other. He was hit in the crossfire.”
“A Judas spell?” Ander frowned.
“I think so.”
“Were you working with British intelligence?”
Cai opened his mouth to answer, then flinched and rubbed both sides of his head. “Some of my memories are missing. It’s painful to think about.”
“I think you might have a concussion.”
“Maybe. But this feels more like it was blocked by a spell.”
“By Edwyn?”
“I don’t think he would have had time. Not surrounded by guns and magic.” His breath became uneven again, and he sat unsteadily on the bed. “The harder I try to think about it, the more it hurts.”
“Don’t try right now.” Ander came closer and put his fingers under Cai’s jaw, forcing him to look up so he could peer into his eyes. Still no signs of a more serious head injury, but he wasn’t satisfied until he ran his fingers under Cai’s clotted hair to cradle the bruised lump beneath his palm, his senses open for new bleeding. He didn’t discover any.
Cai stared at him as he pulled away, his face inches from Ander’s. They both became aware at the same time of how close he was standing, his hands gentle on the back of Cai’s head as if he were going to draw him into a kiss. Ander slowly stepped back.
“I have to find a way to get back to…” Cai frowned. “To…damn it! They took that, too. I don’t know where we were.” He looked to Ander with a desolate gaze. “I don’t even know if Edwyn’s alive.”
“You can’t ask the Fellowship?”
He stiffened. “No, I can’t.”
“I’d feel better if I could get you to a hospital.”
“I’ll be fine. I think it’s clear I’m meant to protect you and the twins.”
“Protect us from what?” He sat on the bed next to him. “What’s going on, Cai? Why wouldn’t Ed tell you where the kids were?”
He didn’t answer, his gaze slipping sideways.
Ander had not missed this infuriating silence. Kate had pushed Ander away with it, Edwyn maintained it, and Cai had used it to shut down questions when they were together.
He’d left Wales and come home because the people he loved most in the world could barely talk to him unless he was inducted into the Fellowship.
Fury rose in scarlet floods with Cai’s refusal to speak. Ander let it crest. “That’s fantastic. Of course you can’t say anything. Then tell me how to protect them and get the fuck out.”
“You don’t—”
“They’re all I have left of Kate! I need to know how to protect them!”
“If you’re going to shout at me, then I will take that paracetamol now.” His voice was soft, defeated. A crease furrowed the skin between his brows, and the tight lines of his body spoke of more pain than a headache. Ander didn’t have to imagine the grief of not knowing if his brother was dead or alive. He knew only too well.
“I’m sorry.” Ander exhaled, forcing himself to calm. “We aren’t done,” he said in a less strident tone. “You will tell me what’s going on. Fuck the Fellowship and your code of secrecy! Those kids are my priority now. They’ve already lost their mother, and now maybe their father. No more.”
To his surprise, Cai nodded. “I promise I will tell you what I know.”
Disconcerted by his unexpected victory, Ander reluctantly let his anger drain away.
“Are you hungry? I’m making dinner.”
“Starving. I can’t recall when I last ate anything.”
“It’ll be ready in half an hour. Make sure you drink the rest of that water.” He turned to go.
“Ander.” Cai’s expression was gentle as Ander looked back over his shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too.” The flutters inside were ridiculous despite the tug of war between Ander’s anger and worry.
Award- winning author Elisabeth “E.M.” Hamill is a nurse by day, unabashed geek, chocoholic, sci fi and fantasy novelist by nights, weekends, and whenever it’s possible to steal quality time with a laptop.
Lisa lives with their family, two dogs, and a cat in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.
