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.
February’s just starting, and here’s blog post number two. I did it! Another musings posted for the month. 🥰 Let’s hope I can continue. So far, so good. It’s been a wild ride so far in 2026, and things are going well. I have big plans for this year. Fingers crossed I can keep going.
I’ve done a few blog tours or blitzes as well. I enjoy remembering what drew me to blogging about books. My love for reading is how I ended up writing. I still read because it chills me out after a long day of work or play. Speaking of playing, I’ve been playing a new Steam game called Planet Crafter with the family and it has been great. Think Don’t Starve (if you know that game) meets planet terraformation and not as much death. Plus, it’s a cooperative game, which is a nice bonus
I’ve been recovering from minor surgery and preparing to begin my 7-day cruise on the Carnival Venezia. It’s the second biggest class out of Port Canaveral leaving today. I’m writing this post the Saturday before the scheduled date. I’ll have my laptop with me just in case. Whether I pull it out to do some writing, not sure yet. We’re getting ready for an ice storm tonight in north Metro Atlanta, and it’s supposed to bring a good amount of ice, maybe a quarter inch up to a couple of inches thick. Power may or may not go out, but likely will sit heavily on the trees. We’ll see. We’re prepared as we can.
I’ve been working on Charon’s Dilemma, originally published under the 2014 Goodreads MM Romance group event anthology, and it was ready for a fresh release. I’ve been wanting to update and re-release it for several years now and finally got enough motivation to complete it and get it to an editor for polishing in February. When it’s finished, I’ll look into getting it out there myself or through a small publisher. Not sure exactly which way I will go. It’ll probably come down to whether someone wants to publish it. If that doesn’t work, I’ll just self-publish.
After Charon’s Dilemma, I’m going to consider updating and re-publishing Coil Me Up, the 2015 Goodreads MM Romance group event anthology I did the following year. I’m hoping to put it out again this year, but no promises. I’ve been thinking about a sequel, possibly turning it into a trilogy, for a long time. I started working on a sequel soon after it came out, but then my creativity just kind of went away for a bit. Then the pandemic hit, and my work life filled my time.
The covers will probably change as well. I do like them, so I might keep some elements of the covers in the new ones. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll need to find a cover artist for them too. I’m possibly going to look into rebranding as well. All the things I’m looking to do. I’ve already got things planned: I’ll figure out if I can sort that out.
I think I will sign off for now. Stay safe if you are in the ice storm warning in Georgia.
Please welcome new author Mell Eight to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Cupids’ Arrows. If you like magical, fantasy romances, this is for you.
Sable and Wynn have kept their relationship quiet. Love cupids and loss cupids are too different, after all. But cupid society wasn’t always separated. When Elder Meir hatches a plot to use Sable and Wynn to prove cupids work better together, Sable and Wynn are all in. However, the plot requires they travel to the human world to tackle a very complicated case of love and loss where failure isn’t an option. They can only hope their bond will be enough to overcome the odds.
Sable shook his head and sighed. The poor guy sitting at the park bench on the other side of the path from where Sable stood, reading a brochure with a picture of white sand and blue ocean on the cover, really was suffering, and all because a love cupid had hit him with an arrow. On the one hand, the man was clearly very in love with his wife. He adored her and the life they had together. On the other, his real love was the opportunity to travel. He wanted to see the world, exactly as the brochure in his hands invited. However, as long as he was married to his wife and tied up with her social calendar, he was never going to have the opportunity.
Sable concentrated, using his magic to sift through the pieces of information he felt emanating from the subject as the man closed the brochure and tipped his head back against the top of the bench to stare at the blue sky. To find his true happiness, what the man needed was to be able to say no to the next charity ball, to skip the musical or play that month, or even to miss the golf tournament his wife signed him up for every year.
There was no need to negate the marriage or remove the love cupid’s arrow completely, Sable decided. The man really did love his wife, and he didn’t mind most of the events she dragged him to. He just needed enough free time between those events to get on a plane and fly to another country. To do that, he had to develop a backbone and the ability to be firm about advocating for himself against her demands to escort her to all her events.
That wouldn’t be too difficult to manufacture. The shaft of an arrow appeared in Sable’s hand, cedar to hold the spell and fly true. He added goose feathers with a bit of twine and glue on one end of the shaft because they symbolized both loyalty to family and a transition. A steel broadhead for resiliency went on the other end. Sable concentrated on the finished arrow, calling up his magic.
Barefoot on soft white sand, the quiet rush of the waves, and the glow of the moon overhead. Beauty and peace. And then his wife walked up to him and took his hand, holding him close to enjoy the view together, and the moment became perfect. All he had to do was find the courage and ask, and this dream would become reality.
Sable let out a breath and opened his eyes as the spell snapped into place. His fingers tingled with the backlash, but the arrow was complete. The glue was still a little damp, but there was no time to wait. This opportunity while the subject sat on the bench was too perfect. Sable called up his bow, the recurve crossbow appearing in his free hand. He loaded the arrow and aimed.
“Don’t you dare!”
Sable jumped. Thankfully his finger hadn’t been on the trigger, because he would have shot the arrow into a tree instead of his target.
“Don’t you loss cupids have anything better to do than ruin all of the love cupids’ hard work?” the voice continued.
Sable turned to look, already scowling. The man standing behind Sable, hands on his hips, was vaguely familiar. Sable had definitely seen him flying around the clouds the cupids called home but had never spoken with him before. Down on Earth and confined to a human form, he didn’t look all that different to what Sable remembered. Long blond hair, windswept and slightly tangled in the breeze, and blue eyes darkened by scorn, he was the embodiment of what a love cupid should look like. Minus the wings, of course, since those were hidden from human view whenever any cupid came down to Earth. He was also incredibly hot, particularly the way his lower lip jutted out—begging for a nibble—as his scowl deepened.
“I have my mission,” Sable replied, but that only made the love cupid scoff.
“Some mission.”
Sable managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the level of sarcasm in those two words. Sable had his mission, exactly as he had said, and no love cupid was going to get in the way of that. Still though… Sable bit his lip, and when the cupid’s eyes dipped down, tracking as Sable slowly let his lip slide free from between his teeth, Sable made his decision.
“Use your magic on him. What do you feel?”
The love cupid stared at Sable a moment longer before huffing out a breath and refocusing on Sable’s subject.
“He’s happy and in love,” the cupid replied after a moment.
“Is he?” Sable replied, keeping his tone bland. While the love cupid was distracted, Sable lifted his crossbow, aimed, and fired. The arrow flew true, slamming into the man’s chest directly over his heart where it shimmered for a moment before vanishing.
“Hey!”
“Feel him now,” Sable said, cutting into the cupid’s ire as he spun back toward Sable. “Now tell me if he’s happy. Tell me!” Sable insisted
The cupid glared at Sable, but when Sable only looked back, firm with the knowledge that he was right, the cupid huffed out another breath and turned back to the man.
The subject was no longer staring longingly at the sky. Instead, he had the brochure open again and was running a finger down the line of departure dates on the final panel, a broad smile on his face. A moment later he pulled out his cell phone, tapping to make a call before bringing it to his ear.
“Honey, remember how you were complaining that you didn’t want to see that one-man play where the character has multiple personalities that Jan insisted we needed to see because her son helped produce it? What if we already had other plans?” He paused, listening. “Well, we don’t need to tell her when we booked our other plans, but I think we would both enjoy two weeks exploring Panama and Colombia with a few days relaxing on the beaches in Aruba rather than seeing that play.” He listened again, his smile growing even wider. “Exactly! Should I go ahead and book it?”
Sable turned away, satisfied both by what he was hearing and by what his magic told him. The man had taken the first step toward truly being happy; there was no reason for Sable to linger.
“How did you do that?” the love cupid asked, hurrying to catch up to Sable. “You didn’t break my arrow. You layered your own on top of mine!”
“I needed to break his attachment to always saying yes to ensure his wife was always happy,” Sable explained. “You were right that he and his wife are a perfect match, but his happiness was entirely dependent on hers. My arrow gave him the incentive he needed to balance ensuring her happiness and his own.”
“Huh.” The love cupid suddenly stopped walking and held out his hand. “I’m Wynn.”
“Sable,” he responded, taking Wynn’s hand and shaking it. Wynn let go slowly, his fingers almost caressing against Sable’s.
“I like the way you think, Sable,” Wynn said, his voice when he said Sable’s name dipping low and sultry. “I’ll definitely be seeing you again.”
He winked before abruptly turning and jogging away into the trees. A moment later, he vanished with a brief flash of light, heading back up to the clouds.
Sable looked at his hand for a moment, his skin still tingling faintly from Wynn’s warmth.
“Huh,” Sable said, echoing Wynn from a moment ago.
He had a feeling Wynn was lingering in the landing zone up in the clouds, waiting to see whether Sable might be interested in a game of chase. A game, Sable thought, smiling to himself, that would likely end up in one of their bedrooms.
Sable was definitely interested in giving Wynn’s little game a try.
He walked the last few steps into the trees, reaching the spot where Wynn had vanished, and paused to double-check himself. Wynn was a love cupid, after all, and Sable a loss cupid. They were so different, and this really wasn’t a good idea, and yet… Wynn’s playful wink said he didn’t care. Sable… He shook his head. He cared, but despite that, he still wanted to see where a tryst with Wynn might lead.
Sable signaled, and the flash of light enveloped him. A moment later, the cloud where the landing zone was located appeared around him. Wynn stood in the doorway, his bright white wings spread. When he saw Sable looking at him, he grinned and took off, flying over the clouds in the general direction of the city.
Sable rustled his own wings, stretching them out after their confinement while on Earth, then took off, too, following Wynn. While the chase might be fun, catching Wynn was definitely going to be much more so. Sable honestly couldn’t wait.
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.
Please welcome new author Natalie Monteiro to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Vermont Paradise. If you like contemporary, vacation romances, this is for you.
A camping trip with her family is what Maria was expecting. Long walks with her dog, Maggie, the usual banter with her sister, Tanya, receiving unsolicited survival lessons from her dad, and pep talks of positivity from her mom. But her predictions were only half correct. Never would she expect to spend so much time with anyone else. Especially not a total stranger. A stranger with such a pretty smile and beautiful green eyes. Because that’s the thing about people who you don’t know. They can teach you things that you never knew about yourself.
I threw my backpack into the backseat of our blue Subaru Outback and closed the door. I really wanted to slam it, but I had recently taken it upon myself to be less passive-aggressive. Regardless, I shouldn’t show my cards. Mom had practically begged us to be on our best behavior. For Dad’s sake, she had said. It was his idea to go on this family camping trip. Our first one ever. I didn’t know what inspired this idea of his. All I knew was that he thought it would be a good idea to teach us kids about the outdoors. In case we ever got lost in the wilderness or in case there was total collapse of society. The latter seemed to be his greatest fear.
“All set?” my mom asked as she approached the Subaru.
“Yes, my bag is all packed,” I responded.
“Do you know if Tanya is ready?”
Tanya. My lovely older sister. She was the main reason I was dreading this family trip. I tried my best to keep my composure.
“Probably not. You know how she is. Waiting until the last minute to get ready just like Dad.”
“Ugh, I know,” Mom said with a huff. “Your father is still in the shower.”
We were supposed to be on the road by 8:00 a.m., but here we were at 8:20 a.m., still waiting for them. Getting up early was not an issue for me. If anything, I woke up too early. Like today. Five-thirty a.m. was a bit too much, even for me. I knew it was because I had too much on my mind… I just wanted to get this camping trip over with already.
I gave my mom a half smile before passing her by to go back inside. I wanted to say goodbye to my cat, Remy, while I still could. I bet he would enjoy the house all to himself. If anything, he would enjoy being free from Maggie, our four-year-old Australian Shepherd who still had the energy of a puppy. Which, unfortunately for Remy, meant that she wanted to play with him whenever the rest of us were too busy.
It was one of my favorite things about Maggie. How much she loved to play. We could do it for hours. Fetch with her favorite tennis ball or playing with my old, beat-up soccer ball. She even knew how to play hide and seek! But for her, she didn’t really care what we did, so long as we were doing it together. That was why I made sure she was included in this family trip. But truthfully, it was just as much for her sake as it was for mine.
That the one good thing about camping, at least. It was dog friendly.
I opened the kitchen cupboard, hoping to find Remy there. It wasn’t his typical hiding spot, but it definitely wasn’t his most unusual. He was usually to be found under my parents’ bed, but with all the extra commotion this morning, I figured he wanted somewhere quieter.
I was right. There he was, curled up in a tight ball, staring up at me with his bright-green eyes. He gave me a look of “please just let me sleep some more.” Not this time. If only he could understand that he could go back to sleeping in a few minutes, once all of us had left.
He let out a soft meow as I scooped him up and plopped us onto the black pleather couch. I held him tight against my chest, and he nuzzled in, making himself more comfortable. I stroked the long dirty-brown fur on his back, and I could feel him relaxing more deeply. Soon, he closed his eyes as if ready to return to sleep.
If only he knew how lucky he is, not having to endure the family trip that lies ahead.
“Morning, sis!” Tanya screeched from over my shoulder. My entire body jumped in surprise as my heart rate increased. Remy too was disturbed. His eyes jolted open, and he looked direly afraid. I didn’t know if it was from Tanya’s yell or my reaction to it. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was just lucky that he didn’t run away.
“Ready for some family bonding?” she asked with an overly sarcastic tone. It took every bone in my body to not get upset with her. She knew that I startled easily, and I knew that she got pleasure from seeing it happen. I couldn’t fault her for it this time. I could only wonder how I had missed her coming down the stairs.
“Yeah, I’m ready for it if you are,” I said, trying to gauge just how bad of a mood she was in. Out of all the vacations we could have gone on, at least we could agree that this would be very low on the list. Though I knew she wouldn’t handle camping as well as I would.
She mocked me under her breath. “I’m ready if you are,” she muttered to herself in a voice that made me sound stupid. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
I stared at her without an answer. Was she really starting this already?
“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with you in a car, for, what, like four hours?”
“Like three and a half,” I corrected, wanting to add a splash of fuel to the fire.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”
I stared at her in make-believe confusion. “Oh, I thought you’d be delighted. It’s less time than you were expecting to spend with me in the car.”
She stared back at me with a dirty grin on her face. “No one likes a know-it-all, Mar. And that’s only one reason why people don’t like you.”
I instinctively clenched my hand into a fist. I usually tried to ignore comments like these from her, but I was getting sick of being her punching bag. Camping would be bad enough on its own. I didn’t need her comments on top of it.
“Aw, what a real shame Tommy didn’t want to come with us. I can’t imagine why. You’re such a charmer. Hey, well, since he’s not coming, why don’t you take all that makeup off? Or are you too insecure to even let your family see what you really look like?”
Remy wasn’t having it. I could only assume he felt the tension. He jumped off my lap and ran up the stairs, probably to hide elsewhere. Anywhere far from here. It made my skin boil hotter. Tanya had ruined my goodbye with him.
She gave me a smirk. “Okay, one: you know Tommy couldn’t take the time off work. And two: you sound like a jealous bitch. It’s not my fault you’re incapable of obtaining a meaningful, long-term relationship. One that’s filled with connection. One that’s filled with love.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure he really loves you. I totally haven’t noticed him flirting with anyone else. Never.”
“That’s it!” She lunged in my direction with her arms at full stretch.
“Girls!” Mom yelled, swinging the front door open and accidentally slamming it into the wall. She stared at where it had hit, clearly upset that it had happened. She turned to give us an angry look of “see what you made me do?”
Tanya’s eyes were locked on mine as she slowly took a step backward. She maintained a glare at me while doing so, making me believe that she really was about to beat the shit out of me. What retaliation had Mom just saved me from?
“It is too early for this much animosity! Please!” Mom seemed unsatisfied that our ongoing tension hadn’t miraculously disappeared into thin air.
“She started it!” Tanya yelled, breaking our deadlock. I felt like I had teleported back to when we were kids. Her five and me four.
“I don’t want to hear it! We have been over this already! I need you two to get along for the sake of your father. This vacation is very important to him.”
I let out a heavy sigh, knowing she was right. “Yes, Mom. It won’t happen again,” I agreed, really hoping that this would be the last of our fighting. But knowing Tanya, Mom’s interference had merely delayed her retaliation, and she didn’t even have a chance to respond.
It was as if Dad had heard his name and was arriving on cue. He bounced down the stairs with a big bag of God knows what in either hand. “All right, all right, all right!” he hummed. “Who’s ready for some camping?” He expressed it in such a way that made the only appropriate answer to be one agreeing with him wholeheartedly.
“Me!” Tanya said, convincingly, taking the words right out of my mouth. It was officially time to put on the good girl show for Dad.
“Me too, Dad!” I said, sounding equally excited.
Mom looked like a wave of relief had been taken off her shoulders. She had nipped our fighting in the bud before Dad could even become aware of it. It was lucky for her, and it was lucky for us. There was no reason to make Dad upset.
“Great! Let’s pack up the car,” he said.
“I already threw my stuff in there,” I explained, alluding to the fact that I had been ready for a while now.
“Okay, well then, you can help me load these bags into the car, and Tanya, you can help your mother fill the cooler.”
I was pretty sure that Mom had already filled it, but I wasn’t going to correct him, and apparently, she didn’t want to either. She just gave him a smile.
I stepped outside. The cool air of the summer morning hit my face. I could already feel the heat from the sun beaming down on top of my head, which meant regardless of the brisk morning air, today was going to be a hot one.
Dad opened the trunk to the Subaru, looking displeased as he noticed the various items that were already loaded in there. He pulled them all out and placed them onto the pavement. I knew too well what he was doing. He needed to load everything in a specific way, making the most space possible. I stood there, watching him, letting him do his thing.
“I’m leaving space here for the cooler,” Dad said, letting me be privy to the inner workings of his mind. He started putting everything back inside, leaving the left side of the trunk open. “Normally, I’d want to put that in first, since it’s so big, but I guess we are going a little wild today.” He paused for a moment, turning to look at me with an amused grin. “Wild! Ha!”
Oh, Dad.
“Good one,” I said with a soft chuckle, mainly because of his reaction to the pun and not the pun itself. Off to the wilderness we went.
Mom and Tanya came out the front door of the house. They each had a handle to the cooler in one hand as they walked carefully toward us. Dad rushed over to meet them. He swiftly took it into his possession, carried it the rest of the way to the car, and slid it into its rightful spot.
“Great,” he said, satisfied. “Now to get the last-minute items.”
“I’ll open up the garage,” Mom said, as if she also knew Dad’s process. I let them handle the rest as I went back inside to retrieve Maggie.
“Mags!” I hollered, entering the house, but she was already patiently waiting at the door for me. Her eyes were wide, and she panted. She started doing circles around me. She hated being alone. Even if it was for a second.
“Do you want to go for a car ride?” I asked, and she stopped in her tracks. This devolved into her running around me even faster than before. She threw in some kind of silly-looking bunny hops. I let out a wholesome laugh at her utter cuteness.
“Okay, good girl! Sit,” I commanded. Her listening skills were great, just like I had trained them to be. I connected her turquoise collar to its matching leash. Together, we did a final walk around the house making sure that I had packed up everything Maggie would need. Her water bowl, her container of food, the bag of treats, and her blanket. They were nowhere to be found, which meant that I had successfully packed them all into the car.
I eyed her bin of toys, opting to bring one more with us. I hadn’t wanted to get it dirty, but I changed my mind. She’d be happy to have her favorite stuffed pickle available to chew during the car ride, so I picked up the soft green blob, and she excitedly mouthed it out of my hand. I smiled down at her, letting her carry it the rest of the way.
“Does anyone need anything else from inside?” I hollered to my family as I opened the front door once more. With overwhelming nos from the family, I locked the door behind me and joined the rest of them at the rear of the car.
They had made fast work. The trunk was now stuffed, with the cooler barely visible behind all the additional items around it. From what I could tell at a glance, they had added in the tents, a propane stove, and camping chairs. With how full the trunk was, it looked like we were going on a two-week trip, but luckily for me, we’d only be gone for the next five days.
With everything all set, we hopped into the car. Dad as the driver, Mom as the copilot, me sitting behind Dad, and Tanya seated behind Mom. Then, of course, there was Maggie, who was half on my lap and half on the middle seat. She shoved Pickle in my face, making me do nothing but smile.
I said a mental goodbye to Remy, and the house at large, as the garage door closed and we began to drive away.
Natalie Monteiro lives in Central Massachusetts where she enjoys embracing her creativity in whatever form it takes. From writing, to singing, to painting. Natalie also works as a biological research scientist in her daily life. She achieved a Master of Science in Pharmacology from the University of Minnesota and a Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience from the University of New Hampshire. Throughout her years of schooling, her creative roots never stopped calling to her, which ultimately resulted in her debut novel Vermont Paradise. It is her hope that Vermont Paradise can serve as a reminder for all to follow their passions. May the process bring much happiness.
Happy New Year, everyone! I have scheduled this post. Yay! Hopefully, the first of monthly posts talking about random things going on in my life, writings, blogging, and anything else I can think of to post.
I’ve restarted book tour posts from IndiGo Marketing & Design besides the Other Worlds Ink (OWI) book tours I do occasionally as time permits. I’m hoping to do more blog posts this year and have content for my newsletters from this blog. I might see about finding others, especially independent marketing teams, to host blog posts for book tours more often. Perhaps I can have posts once a week. Probably need to work up to that.
Now that I’ve established my self-hosted WordPress blog, and the subsequent growing pains, I would like to do more this year with blogging and writing. Blogging is where I started. I hope the writing muse inspires me again, enabling me to return to something I enjoyed and the reason I started writing.
For now, I’m going to keep this short. The holiday delayed finishing this post so I’m revising and hitting the “Schedule” button the day before. Story of my life. I did it, though. I managed to do a post the following month.
I’m planning to edit those stories I’ve been talking about re-releasing. Perhaps I will get a new story out this year. Here’s hoping. I’m signing off for this month but expect to see more posts coming your way. Perhaps I will get to weekly posts someday.
If you are a Pokémon Go fan, I plan to be at a local meetup for Piplup Community Day tomorrow from 2 pm to 5 pm ET, presuming it’s not a bad arthritis day. One day at a time.
Please welcome new author Jonathan Wright to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog and returning tour group Indigo Marketing & Design. This is a book blast for the new release Incubus, the 6th book in the “Joseph Horn” series. If you like dark-themed fantasy and romance, this is for you.
Title: Incubus Author: Jonathan Wright Cover Art: Bryan Keller Series: Joseph Horn (#6) Book Length: Novella Page Count: 30
Synopsis
Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!
Life — and love — with a man who fights nightmares is bound to be… different.
Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing — until she met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop running.
In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness — Joe. The hard-as-nails woman becomes Joe’s willing sub — his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but Sarah has even darker fantasies — lurid, sensual and totally submissive. Sometimes, they even come to life.
Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure. Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.
Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches, honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.
Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger. And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.
Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But this wasn’t really about Joe…
* * *
Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing… please, please, please.
Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free hand.
Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed heavily, staring at his cock.
“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made you scream my name.”
Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe to… rescue…
Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…
* * *
The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly spider arms reached for her…
Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.
* * *
Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.
Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?
She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths of his lair.
“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A ritual. A spell.
Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her back, presenting her full tits.
I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?
Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it. Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.
Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.
Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep stroking yourself!”
She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to obey. I want more!
“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”
Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard, pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes! Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”
She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart, driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came and…
* * *
Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched, groaning.
“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for anything else.”
Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.
Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.
Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that. Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.
Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”
Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.
He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up with her because she makes great cookies.
I was deleting spam comments on my blog in September and figured I should start posting regularly because it had been almost a month since then. I thought I might even start posting more often. Let’s see about posting monthly first and go from there. Hmm, I might add that as a calendar reminder… forgetfulness is a thing.
Well, surprise, surprise, I started this post to be posted at the beginning of October, stepped away to do something else, and promptly forgot. So, instead, it looks like I’m doing a quarterly thing. At least this year. Maybe I’ll see about a New Year’s resolution to post monthly. I got it scheduled on my calendar, though. I’ve got New Year’s Eve through the 4th of January when I’ve “scheduled for” January’s post. We’ll see if I can actually get the post made and in the queue to post the first Sunday of the month. 😉
I will definitely need to schedule a post for February as I will be out of the country on a 7-day cruise on the 1st, which is the first Sunday in February. We’ll see how this goes. I might have to move the post to the second Sunday. We’ll see.
Hard to believe it’s December already. The various end-of-year holidays are upon us. Yule is next Sunday, and Christmas is the following Thursday. The family is doing a Christmas exchange this year. This is the first time we are doing this; it should be interesting. In not too many days, it will be next year. The last quarter of the year feels like it’s over in a flash.
I was planning to put out some writings from Goodreads that I wrote over a decade ago. That didn’t happen for sure. I edited some this year, but I need to do more. The creative juices for fresh stories, while there in the background, have not flowed to the electronic paper yet. I’ve had some medical stuff this year, and the stress of work and family is not conducive to writing. Nothing new there, but I had hoped this was the year I would get some material published. Here’s hoping that I will be able to next year.
I want to wish everyone a happy holidays, whatever your celebration looks like. Enjoy any time off with friends and family and we’ll see you next year!
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Kathy L. Brown to the blog. On November 25th, 2025, she recently released The Talking Cure, which is the second book in The Sean Joye Investigations series. You do not need to read the first book in the series, The Big Cinch, to enjoy this one.
BOOK BLURB
Sean Joye Investigations, Book 2
Haunted woman claws her way back to reality by reconnecting with her magical powers in The Talking Cure, a supernatural Yuletide follow-up to The Big Cinch.
Committed to an insane asylum, Violet Humphrey is isolated on the Illinois prairie with only her own thoughts and a persistent new voice in her head for company. When she is accused of murder, Violet suspects her road to both freedom and recovery lies through confronting her painful past and solving the crime. Magically summoned, Sean Joye skids through an ice storm to help Violet, but can they catch the killer and defy an eldritch horror before Violet loses her tenuous grasp on reality?
“The Talking Cure is a marvelous story—an Agatha Christie-style murder mystery infused with a strong sense of the Weird… and a hearty dose of magic on the side. It’s ideal for all fans of the sinister, the surprising, and the strange.”
—Cherie Priest, award-winning author of Boneshaker
SERIES BLURB
The Sean Joye Investigations series embeds readers in a magic-laced 1920s era St. Louis. The world has barely survived a brutal global war, disease pandemic, and rampant ethnic violence. The cosmic balance is off kilter, and corrupt energies seep through widening cracks in reality. That foul rot has touched Sean Joye in myriad ways. A disillusioned veteran of 1922’s Irish Civil War, he traveled to America to escape supernatural attention, forget his assassin past, and forge a clean new life. Can Sean now master the magical abilities he has rejected for so long in time to protect the innocent and save his own skin?
Warnings: suicidal ideations, references past harm to child
Cold air invaded the room, and the flames crackled in greeting. Out in the foyer, I could hear Carrie as she passed off the arriving board members’ coats and bags to an orderly dragooned into footman duty—“Good evening, Doctor. Ah, Doctor, you remember Doctor? And here’s Doctor, right on time.”
I scooted as far away from Dr. Elsass as I could, making for the Christmas tree in front of the parlor windows. Its sharp green scent tried its best to counter the guests’ stench. As much as I avoided the director, I could still hear him chirping in the background. “We’ll talk about that, of course.” His voice dropped to a whisper, but the words flew across the room to me like bright budgies. “Do you think that wise, Emerson? She is in a most fragile state.”
I found Nurse Martin leading my other roommate, Berta, and two additional patients in tree decoration. “Ah, Violet, thanks for joining us.” She held out a sturdy cedar ornament. “Care to help?”
I took it and clung to its warm scent for protection, but despite knowing better—the men would just upset me—I couldn’t help watching their dispute. Dr. Elsass was a chess master, and we were all merely pieces in play. Even this Emerson fellow.
“Don’t you believe in your Talking Cure? She seems much better to me.” Emerson glanced down at his wife and grinned, showing lots of teeth.
The rumor among the maids and kitchen staff was that Blanche was besotted with our therapist, Dr. Ibrahim Cole. Although she was here for “female hysteria”— whatever that was—I had never met a less hysterical female.
Blanche diligently ignored her husband and Dr. Elsass, engrossed as she was in the sketchbook that was never far from her side.
“Aren’t you, darling?” Emerson said, paying no attention to her activity. “Wouldn’t you like a break from chewing off Cole’s ear? You can talk to me if you feel down in the mouth.”
Blanche looked up. “I would like to see my dog.”
Ah, I thought. She was paying attention. I bet she notices more than she lets on.
“See? She’s fine.” Emerson exclaimed to Dr. Elsass, as if he’d cured her female hysteria himself.
“Perhaps a weekend pass,” the director mused, pretending to consider the matter. “We’ll discuss it at the staff meeting. Mrs. Emerson has made remarkable progress, it is true.” He glanced around the room, caught my eye, and beamed. Damn. “And speaking of remarkable progress, you know Mrs. Humphrey, I’m sure.”
Emerson strode across the room and held out his hand. “Percy Emerson. We’ve met, but you may not remember. I knew your father from the Piasa Club.”
I made myself take his hand, briefly, despite his rotten odor. And the maggots I could see writhing about on his palm. Not real, I told myself. Not real. “Please call me Violet.”
“And you should call me Percy. I’m…Sorry for your loss.”
I nodded and made for the tea cart, aiming for a napkin to wipe his stench off my skin. My losses were many. To which did he refer?
Percy drifted back to Dr. Elsass and winked. “Nice try. As I was saying, Blanche is much more…tractable…than before.” He patted his wife on the head. “But your cure takes an awful lot of time and buckets of cash—who’s to say she wouldn’t have snapped out of it on her own?”
For her part, Blanche seemed oblivious to the conversation that was transpiring, intent as she was on sketching the Christmas tree. Percy at last noticed the sketchbook on his wife’s lap. “That’s nice, honey. Gonna puts some colors on there? Lots of green and red?”
She looked up at him, her face blank. Eventually, she said, “Do you think I should? I was interested in the pattern, you see, the way the light—”
“Oh, yes, definitely. Christmas trees are green. With red balls. That might be good enough for a holiday card, if you color it up right.” To Dr. Elsass, he said, “Nice little scam you got going here, doc.” His voice boomed over the chittering noise of the room. “Well played.”
The guests ceased their conversations and turned to the two men. Dr. Elsass and Percy stared at each other for a long minute. At last, the director laughed out loud. “Ah, Mr. Emerson. Always a kidder, as the young people say.”
The room grew darker as the afternoon faded, with just the glow of the hearth and the lights on the Christmas tree. When a fresh contingent of board members lumbered into the parlor, the parrot squawked, and the elderly tree trimmers equally took fright. Dr. Elsass approached the new arrivals, arms outstretched. “Come in, gentlemen. Have a hot drink. There will be ‘something stronger,’ and a fine meal presently.”
Suddenly, a passing shadow blocked the glow from the fireplace, a darkness that smelled of decaying fish, sulfur, and algae bloom. Then Berta, who’d been so calm, sank to her knees, her eyes darting about, and croaked in a wavering voice, “Dagon lives. Mighty Dagon. Dagon. Dagon. Dagon.”
The bird joined in as a chorus, “Dagon, Dagon, Dagon.”
Having no idea to whom or what they referenced, I was struck for a moment with total conviction that Berta, and perhaps the parrot, knew some secret of infinite portent. I utterly believed them, the words a carillon to my ears. I took a deep breath. This wouldn’t do at all. I’m sure it was just what Carrie had been worried about, one of us crazy people acting crazy at the normal-people party.
Kathy L. Brown writes speculative fiction with a historical twist. Her hometown— St. Louis, Missouri, USA—and its history inspires much of her fiction.
The haunted 1920s world of the Sean Joye Investigations book series was conceived in a creative writing workshop in 2004. The idea wouldn’t go away, and Kathy published two Sean Joye novellas while working on her first novel, The Big Cinch, released by the Montag Press Collective in December 2021. The Big Cinch won the 2022 Imadjinn award for best urban fantasy novel.
After spending the pandemic editing and publishing a secondary-world young adult fantasy, Wolfhearted, Kathy wrote the next Sean Joye investigation, The Talking Cure. It will be published in November 2025. A Sean Joye short story, “The Pixie Job,” appears in the 2024 Marathonarium Anthology: Volume II.
Currently she is preparing a high fantasy novella in the Wolfhearted world for publication in 2026. Learn more at kathylbrown.com.
