Love Me Do (Love Is Love 02) by Meg Macy #BlogTour #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Romance #Poly #Contemporary #RainbowIdentities #NewRelease

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

Warnings: Anxiety, past abuse, foster care, trans attack, cutting

SERIES BLURB

Buy Links:
Universal | Goodreads


EXCERPT

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.


Buy Links:
Universal | Goodreads

AUTHOR BIO

Meg Macy

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.

The Talking Cure (The Sean Joye Investigations 02) by Kathy L. Brown #BlogTour #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Fantasy #Mystery #Supernatural #NewRelease

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.

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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

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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

Buy Links:
Universal


EXCERPT

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.


Buy Links:
Universal

AUTHOR BIO

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.

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