Please welcome author Brenda Murphy to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Treasure by Chance. It is a Domme/sub, contemporary, romantic suspense, and the first book in the University Row series. Let’s check it out.
Title: Treasure by Chance Series: University Row, Book One Author: Brenda Murphy Publisher: NineStar Press Release Date: 04/21/2026 Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex Pairing: Female/Female Length: 246
Fire investigator and legendary stud about town Mel Michaels is not looking for love. Raising her niece, Nicole, after her sister’s death is her full-time job. Who needs a potential heartbreak when Mel’s natural charm and swagger has opened every bedroom door she’s ever knocked on?
Music teacher Sofia Ortega has spent the last three years putting her life back together after a bitter breakup. Back in her hometown she is content with her life and has sworn off relationships. After their chance encounter ends in a torrid one-night stand, both women are forced to choose. Protect their hearts or take a chance?
Chapter One “Have they set a date for your recital? I need to get it in the schedule.” Mel Michaels kneeled in the foyer to tie her work boots.
“Don’t worry about it.” Nicole shouldered her see-through backpack. “Ms. Ortega said she needed to finalize some things. She’ll let us know in a couple of weeks.”
“Okay.” Mel looked up and tilted her head at Nicole. “You want a ride?”
“No. Steve and Erin’s mom is making them walk to school ’cause she thinks they don’t exercise enough. I promised Erin I’d walk with them.”
Mel stood and met Nicole’s gaze. “Be careful. I’ll pick you up after piano today. I might be a little late. I have to help take Grandma to her doctor appointment.”
Nicole’s brows lowered. “Grandma’s been forgetting a lot of things. Did you see her bruises? Grandad said she fell while he was taking a nap.” She chewed her lip. “What if she falls and one of us isn’t with her?”
Mel shifted her gaze away from Nicole. “We’re going to help Grandad do his best to keep her safe, and to help her remember the important things, okay? I’ll talk with him again about getting help with her.”
“She’ll just wait till he takes a nap and do it again.” Nicole pushed back her hair and shifted on the balls of her feet. “Erin’s mom is taking her to get her temps next week. When will you take me?”
“I’ll take you the first day you’re old enough to test, okay?” Mel rested her hand on her niece’s shoulder. “You’re studying the manual, right?”
“Yeah. Me and Erin are quizzing each other.”
“Good. Now scoot or you’re gonna be late.” Mel gave Nicole’s shoulder a squeeze and urged her toward the door.
“Bye.” Nicole opened the door and hurried down the front steps.
“Bye.” Mel stood in the doorway and watched her niece until she turned the corner. She closed the door and leaned back against it.
The kitchen clock chimed half seven. Mel turned to the entryway mirror and checked her reflection. In the glass, her gaze rested on the photo hanging on the wall behind her. She turned toward it. Nicole’s gap-toothed grin contrasted with her sister Jane’s forced smile and spaced-out expression as she held Nicole’s hand.
Memories of screaming matches with her sister over empty pill bottles and promises to quit, to seek counseling, to take better care of Nicole bubbled up. Mel shoved away her grief and anger. She closed her eyes against the intrusive images of her sister’s body, of Nicole patting her mother’s face, her frightened voice. “She won’t wake up, Aunt Mel.” The memory was as clear and bright as a razor’s edge. Mel’s chest tightened as the images overlapped and morphed into other painful memories too numerous to count. Rage flooded her senses. She snatched the photo off the wall. The edge of the frame dug into her palm. Her hands trembled as she lifted it over her head.
“Get it together, Mel.” She spoke out loud, her words echoing back to her in the empty hallway. “Stop. Stop thinking about it. You got things to do.” She placed the photo face down on the table. Mentally, she slammed the lid shut on her box of memories before she straightened her shoulders and blew out her breath forcefully. She picked up her keys and snatched her gym bag off the floor on her way out the door, counting down the minutes until she could work over the heavy bag.
*****
Sofia splashed water on her face before she picked up the icy cold washcloth. She placed it against the puffy dark circles under her eyes, the chill soothing. When the cloth warmed, she rinsed it and hung it to dry. She tamed her hair with quick strokes of her brush.
She dug an elastic hairband out from the red container on the shelf and surveyed her face in the bathroom mirror while she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. Fine streaks of grey stood out against the dark-brown strands of her hair. Satisfied she was presentable, she pulled her favorite yellow sundress on. The sounds of plates clinking and her mother humming drew her toward the kitchen.
The morning light streamed in, creating a sunbeam across the linoleum. The floor was warm under her bare feet. Her mouth watered with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the cinnamon scent of muffins.
“Morning. Coffee’s ready.” Sofia’s mother, Alejandra, glanced up at Sofia as she arranged steaming muffins on a platter. Two place settings and a bud vase with miniature white roses graced the round table.
“You spoil me, Mom. I’m never going to want to find a place of my own.” She poured a cup of coffee for her mother and herself.
“You don’t need to. I’m going to travel after I retire. It will be like living alone. This house is paid for. Save your money. Then you can spoil me in my old age.”
Sofia picked up the grocery list from the tabletop. “Let’s talk about it later.” She held out the paper to her mom. “What’s this one? I can’t read it.”
Alejandra squinted at the list. “A pint of heavy cream. You can’t put me off forever, Sofia.”
“I know, Mom. I know.” Sophia added cream to her coffee before she placed a muffin on her plate. She sipped her coffee, savoring the rich Costa Rican blend. Steam rose from the muffin as she split its top with her knife. Her stomach rumbled as she pulled off a piece and popped it into her mouth. The sweet cinnamon flavor burst over her tongue followed by the rich crumb of the topping. She ate the rest of the muffin in two bites.
“What’s your hurry?” Alejandra’s brow wrinkled. “I won’t force you to talk about it.”
“I’m not avoiding the conversation, Mom,” Sofia lied. “I want to get to the grocery before the yoga mom crowd.”
She scooted her chair back, stood, and drank the rest of her coffee while avoiding her mother’s gaze. Sophia bolted from the kitchen. “Love you, Mom.” She strode down the hall and snatched her purse off the hall table before she plucked her keys out of the rack. “Text me if you think of anything else you want.”
Brenda Murphy (she/her) writes erotic romance. Her most recent novel, Double Six, is the 2020 Golden Crown Literary Society winner for Erotic Novels, and Knotted Legacy, the third book in the Rowan House series, made the 2018 The Lesbian Review’s Top 100 Vacation Reads list. You can catch her musings on writing, books, and living with wicked ADHD on her blog Writing While Distracted. She loves sideshows and tattoos and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not loitering at her local library, she wrangles twins, one dog, and an unrepentant parrot.
I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For a free short story, information on book signings, appearances, work in progress snippets, previews and sneak-peeks, sign up for my email list at:
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.
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.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes back J. Scott Coatsworth to the blog with a stop on his blog tour for the new release of the second book in the River City series, Down the River. Read on to discover in this latest installment.
BOOK BLURB
Nine years have passed since a group of strangers first met at a magical little restaurant in East Sacramento called Ragazzi. They have all been touched by its subtle magic, and have become a family.
With the tragic death of one of them, the ripples spread through the entire group, exposing secrets and revealing truths that many of them would rather not face.
Dave and Marcos are battling their own demons. Matteo seeks an embezzler at Ragazzi, while Diego struggles to hold on to his son, Gio. Carmelina fears Daniele won’t take no for an answer. And both Ben and Sam are dealing with tragic losses that have turned their lives upside down. Into the mix come a few new characters—Ainsley, a Sac State student studying to be a doctor; a mysterious stranger who is stalking someone in the group; and a few new love interests who may have agendas of their own.
It’s 2024, and the cast of River City is back. What secrets will be revealed before the last page turns?
Warnings: Death of several characters.
Series Blurb:
The River City series is a heady blend of secrets, friendships, a little bit of magic, and a bunch of Italian cooking that will warm your heart.
EXCERPT
Chapter One Ragazzi
Ainsley Kim stared out of the window at the cars as they passed on Folsom Boulevard in a steady row of sparkling red and white, their lights scattering and twinkling like fairy dust across the rain-splattered glass. It was mesmerizing—so much life out there… and in here, as she was rudely reminded by the diner clearing his throat behind her.
“So sorry!” She spun around, reaching for the Toast point-of-sale device that hung from a custom-made pocket in her clean white apron that said Ragazzi in neat black letters. She turned her attention back to her customers. “Are you ready to order?”
The one who’d cleared his throat was a sharply dressed man in his mid-fifties—lawyer if she’d had to guess—his neatly trimmed black hair turning silver on the sides. He glared at the menu as if it were opposing counsel, squinting through his wire-framed glasses and scowling. “Damned print is so small on these things.”
His dining partner, another man in a black suit and tie, but without a hair on his head, chuckled. “You’re just getting old, Andy. Order the tagliatelle. It’s what you always get.” Bald Head offered her a warm smile. “So sorry for my partner’s behavior. Rough day in court today.”
Ainsley hid a grin. She was good at reading people. “Not a problem. So… the tagliatelle?”
Andy nodded. “Sure. With arrabbiata sauce. And ask the chef to make it a little extra spicy.”
She tapped it into the POS, feeling more like a glorified data entry clerk than a waitress. “You got it. And you, sir?”
“Don’t let him fool you. Kel knows what he wants. He just likes to play with his prey.” Andy grimaced, then managed a weak smile. “Sorry for the foul mood. I hate losing.”
Rich, white, and a lawyer to boot? You have no idea what losing is. “Not a problem.” She flashed him her best you’re the customer so I’ll pretend I like you smile.
“I’ll have the gnocchi in a ragu sauce, and an appetizer of your delightful burrata.” Kel flipped the menu over. “Add a glass of Chateau Ciel. I, unlike my friend here, had a lovely day. Signed a new artist for the gallery, a talented Korean painter named Jun Seo Jang.” His eyes fixed on her. “Do you know him?”
Ainsley blinked, caught between the casual racism of assuming that all Koreans knew each other—maybe he didn’t mean it that way?—and the fact that she did actually know them. Or of them, anyhow. Jang was one of her idols.
Customer service won out. “Yes. They are very good. I studied them in art class.”
Kel grinned. “Then you must come see his… their pieces. Sorry, old dog, new tricks. I’ll be getting the first of them next week.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted a card. “Kelton O’Malley, Red Roof Gallery.”
She took it, staring at it. It seemed to sparkle under the restaurant’s mood lighting. She blinked and the sparkle went away. She stuffed it in her pocket.
Nobody used business cards anymore. So old school. “Thank you. I’ll try to come by. It’s a bit busy, with school and work and all…” And taking care of her mother.
“Ah, what’s your major?”
“Molecular biology.” It came out automatically. Her father had wanted her to “make something of herself,” not just be another poor immigrant like himself, working at minimum wage jobs. She’d been at it so long, doing what her parents wanted her to do, that it almost seemed like she wanted it, too.
“Impressive.” He winked. “Still, it’s good to hear that you have an appreciation for the arts as well.”
She blushed. That comment hit a little too close to home. “I’ll find some time to stop by.”
“Wonderful. Jun Seo will be there next Thursday night, if you want to meet… them.”
Ainsley touched the edge of the table to steady herself. “They’ll be here… in town?” She was already calculating how she could rearrange things to be at the gallery.
“They personally supervise the set-up at all their new galleries.” He grinned. “See, that whole pronoun thing’s not so hard.”
She suppressed a snort. Boomers were always making such a big deal about it. “Let me get those orders in for you.” She gave them a small bow—ingrained behavior from two decades growing up in the Kim household—and slipped away.
“Need anything here?” she asked her next table, a young gay couple from the looks of it, who were busy staring rapturously into each other’s eyes like a couple lovestruck teenagers.
“Just some water,” the blond said, never breaking his gaze, his hand wrapped tightly around the other man’s. A single plate of pasta sat between them.
“You got it.”
A two-for-one, or twofer, they called it—when two clients shared a dish, usually to save costs.
Matteo had needed to raise prices again last month to account for inflation. Luckily Ragazzi was doing well enough that they’d expanded into a new addition, taking over the old bar next door for Diego’s cooking classes.
She twirled through the restaurant like a ballerina, checking on tables, her footsteps lighter than they’d been in months. Jun Seo Jang was coming to town. She had so many questions for them.
How did you find your inspiration? When did you know you wanted to be an artist? How did you let your parents down gently?
Ainsley Kim had a secret.
She wanted to be an artist more than anything else in the whole wide world. She wanted to create things, pieces of art that would make people frown and smile and nod knowingly as they stood in front of them, stroking their chins. Like her father did as a hobby.
She wanted to meet Jang, but she also wanted to become them.
The thought of life as a medical researcher left her cold, but her parents had invested so much in that dream, both money and hope. How could she bear to disappoint them?
Maybe it was better if she didn’t go to the gallery on Thursday. Better for everyone involved.
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes R.L. Merrill to the blog. Broken Mirror is the first book in the Resonant Earth series, and this second edition was released on August 16th, 2024. There is a Rafflecopter giveaway at the end of the post for Tortured Echoes, the sequel to Broken Mirror. Read on to discover more and good luck!
BOOK BLURB
From the award-winning author of Hurricane Reese, Summer of Hush, and You Can Do Magic comes a new rock star romance series inspired by legendary rock ‘n’ roll love affairs. Feuds and Interludes is a rivals-to-lovers, hurt/comfort love story complete with adorable septuagenarian lovebirds and beloved characters from Merrill’s previous rock-inspired series.
Boone Collins and Shane Butler are two of rock music’s brightest stars today. Their grandfathers founded a powerhouse rock supergroup that ruled the airwaves in the late 1970s, and the grandsons grew up in their shadows to become frontmen of their own successful bands. The epic rivalry between Boone and Shane is notorious, and it’s about to blow up.
When Shane’s grandfather Bruce inducts his deceased bandmate into the Rock Music Hall of Fame, he admits to the world that he wrote the band’s biggest hit about his best friend’s widow—Boone’s grandmother Vera Jean. The two want to rekindle their relationship, and their grandsons are determined to keep them apart. Only, working together for a common goal reveals surprising similarities between the rock stars as well as a chemistry they cannot ignore. Shane sees behind Boone’s glittery facade to the secrets he hides from his bandmates, and Boone is there to pick up the pieces when Shane’s professional world implodes. Together, they plot a musical collaboration to celebrate their grandfathers’ accomplishments instead of fighting—a star-studded tribute at the storied Rocktoberfest event in the Nevada desert—but will being in the spotlight prove to be too much for their fledgling romance to handle?
Feuds and Interludes is part of the multi-author Road to Rocktoberfest 2024 series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but why not read them all and see what antics our bands get into next? Hot rockstars and the men who love them, what more could you ask for. Kick back, load up your kindle, and enjoy the men of Rocktoberfest!
EXCERPT
“Boone, honey, will you zip me up?”
Vera Jean Collins had the kind of beauty that turned heads, the grace of a royal, and the unshakeable poise to shrug off even the most rabid paparazzi. And tonight, all those characteristics would be put to the test.
I’d never get over how beautiful my grandmother was. The only constant in my life, she was my home, my role model, and my best friend. Wearing a form-fitting, sleeveless black dress adorned with iridescent rainbow sparkles, she had a youthful glow about her at sixty-eight years old and still commanded attention. A statuesque former actress, beleaguered rockstar wife, and now passionate philanthropist, Vera Jean Collins carried herself with an elegance that belied her years spent married to my lovable scoundrel of a grandfather.
“That tuxedo is very flattering,” she said as I stepped behind her and carefully zipped her dress to the nape of her neck. She’d pulled her long silver hair into a twist that looked professionally done, and with her heels on, she stood nearly eye-to-eye with my five-eleven frame. “I love the vest, too.”
I looked down at the navy velvet suit and gold brocade vest and smiled. “The tailor did a nice job taking it in. I think Papa would get a kick out of me wearing this. He loved this one.”
I held up the matching tie and she took it from me, gesturing for me to let her tie it. She looped it over my head and went to work, a wistful smile on her face.
“He certainly did. He bought it to irritate me, and then was frustrated when I told him that I loved how it brought out the blue in his eyes. He was always trying to pull a fast one on me.”
“And you’d always call his bluff.”
She handed me her diamond choker to fasten, and I winced when I noticed her hands were shaking. She was so brave, no matter the challenge before her, but I’d learned to notice the subtle traces of her struggles. Tonight her task would be smiling and waving at her deceased husband’s adoring fans and colleagues as he was posthumously inducted into the Rock Hall. I knew she missed him terribly. We both did.
“Kept things fun,” she said with a little shrug. She ran her fingers over her choker and relaxed her shoulders. “Always kept him guessing.”
I had my own reason for being nervous. My band, Stellar, was chosen to lead the tribute performance. In a few hours, I would be performing for an arena full of my musical heroes. With Bruce Duncan. I usually did my best when under pressure, but this was ridiculous.
“It was weird seeing Bruce at rehearsal.”
I’d grown up hearing the stories of when he and my grandfather ruled the world, but I hadn’t seen him in years and had no idea what to make of him as a person.
“Oh? How so?”
Gran stopped what she was doing and turned to face me.
“He talked to everyone else in the room but me. Well, he scolded me about the timing on one of the songs.”
“Relax, darling,” she said as she fastened her bracelet. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”
“I’m not nervous. I know these songs like the back of my hand.”
“Right,” she said as she looked me up and down. “And that’s why your shirt is misbuttoned.”
I ran my hand down my shirt, and sure enough, I’d missed a button and the thing had a big bump in the middle sticking out from my vest. I went about undoing and redoing my shirt and vest. You’d think by the age of thirty, I’d be able to dress myself. You’d be wrong, apparently.
“Yeah, well, his infuriating grandson has probably told him terrible things about me.”
“Oh, nonsense. Shane is a good boy.”
“Boy? He’s two years older than me.”
“You two have more in common than you’d think.”
“He’s determined to be rude to me, so I guess I’ll never know.”
She was right in the sense that we came from similar backgrounds, but that’s where the similarities ended. I put together a band of unique artists interested in playing smart rock music with a point and a backbone. Shane was a hotheaded, brilliant musician who, instead of following in his grandfather’s virtuoso footsteps, had chosen to while away his time in a mediocre albeit popular metal band, making record after record of predictable drivel. He could do so much better.
“Maybe if you two walked a mile in each other’s shoes, you’d get along better. Speaking of which, do you have to wear those shoes?”
I looked at my feet and back at her. “My Chucks? Of course, I’m wearing my Chucks. They’re custom-made. Most comfortable shoes I own.” I’d chosen my gold sparkly ones tonight to match the tuxedo, so they really stood out.
She exhaled through her nose and raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome,” she said as she fastened her dangly diamond earrings. “You get away with a lot more that way.”
“And you wouldn’t let just anyone escort you tonight. Right. You said that already.” She could tease me all she wanted. I knew how much she loved me.
“Are you almost ready? Or do you have more metal to put in your head?”
She smiled sweetly at me and I rolled my eyes. I adjusted my septum piercing and ran my fingers over the thick silver rings in both ears. I had a stud through my tongue as well.
“I think I’m good.” I crossed my eyes at her and she wrinkled her nose. Then her smile morphed into that grandmotherly look I recognized.
“How about you, Boone? How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. All good.”
I’m not changing the shoes, though. I mentally stuck my tongue out at her.
Gran slipped her hand through my offered arm and I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.
“Chin up, tits out,” she muttered.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
She subtly hip-bumped me and put on her most dazzling smile, no doubt practicing for the evening ahead.
I loved this woman, owed her my life, and I would stand by her side no matter what. I wanted her to be happy. She deserved happy.
As for me? I just needed to survive without making a fool of myself. I knew I was good enough to keep up with the likes of Bruce Duncan, but he’d rattled me more than I let on at that rehearsal. The idea that I wouldn’t do my grandfather’s music justice terrified me.
Papa taught me everything I needed to know to launch my career. I would do him proud tonight.
And if that meant dealing with the likes of Bruce Duncan or his aggravating grandson, Shane Butler, so be it.
Whether she’s writing contemporary romance featuring quirky and relatable characters or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, R.L. Merrill loves creating compelling, diverse, and inclusive stories that will stay with readers long after. Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Rockstar Romance for You Can Do Magic, and Daphne DuMaurier finalist for Connection, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after. You can find her connecting with readers on social media, advocating for America’s youth, cruising around town with Great Dane Velma, cuddling with twin black cat familiars Frankenstein and Dracula, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more…
This month, I have Together as part of the freebie giveaway if you sign up for QueeRomance Ink’s Newsletter. These stories are more towards romance with MM characters and Gay literature.
Together is the first story I wrote and published with Amazon and was part of a people of color charity anthology back in 2017-2018 originally called Beautiful Skin. I was proud to be a part of it because stories about people of color, or written by people of color, are beautiful and make the work richer. The anthology is out of print now, but the story is still available. A couple of years later, I wrote a flash fiction ficlit, an epilogue of sorts, as part of a blog tour I did August 2020. Thank you again to Sharita for the idea so many years ago. You will need to read Together in order to enjoy the vignette below.
While re-reading it for this post, I did a little more editing on it so it would flow a bit better. This is version two of the teaser that hasn’t been published before. -wink- Eventually, I will re-release Together with the epilogue. Perhaps I can get my act together this year. 🙂
~Eloreen
Saturday Night Date Night
Victor
It was Saturday morning and my turn to pick what we were going to do for our date night tonight. I thought making plans for two people for semi-regular dates was nail-biting. Try planning a date for three people regularly. We all have such different tastes and personalities that it can be a challenge. Luckily, we took turns choosing. If I had to do this every time, I’d go crazy and probably flail.
“Whatcha doing?” Enrique Cruz, my little writer said faintly but rapidly getting closer, startling me slightly. I quickly closed out of the browser I was looking at so he wouldn’t find out my plans and ruin the surprise. I had set things up to do this thing a few weeks ago with my best friend and business partner, Angela Carter, since I was neck deep on some major software updates that we’d rolled out for our mobile game we had first released a couple years ago. This Saturday night date night was special and too important to not have help. It was the one-year anniversary of myself, Enrique, and our other partner, Miguel Armenta, finally getting together as committed partners to each other. If the three of us could legally marry, I would have popped the question a while ago.
When he got close enough, I turned around in my chair and quickly pulled him into my arms and lap for a quick peck on the lips as a distraction. Except, it wasn’t quick. At all. He deepened it and claimed my mouth like it was going to disappear. Silly man. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Someone moaned. Might have been me. Then I felt another set of hands sliding down my naked chest as I had just gotten up from our bed earlier and didn’t bother to put a shirt on to finish the plans.
I gasped a mumbled explicative as my senses fired up when Miguel’s hands found my nipples and started rubbing them just like I like them. Something was nagging at me though. Something important.
Suddenly, I wrenched my now swollen lips away from En’s assault and placed my hands on El’s to stop his movement. I panted a little while I waited for my brain cells to get online and thing again. Fuck, we didn’t have time for round two.
“Stop.”
They tensed, stilling instantly.
“Sorry, nothing’s wrong, loves.” I kissed En first to reassure and then turned my chair, vaguely noticing that at some point the screensaver had kicked in and my chair was sideways. Someone must have moved me to get to me, the little minx.
“Mornin’,” I gave El a kiss on his impish lips to reassure him as well. They both relaxed and then I had a double lap full of my men. Good thing I had splurged for a high-weight computer chair.
“I’m sorry, my dears,” I started after they settled. “While I would love to go back to bed, we need to get ready for tonight’s date.”
Miguel glanced at the clock on the screensaver. “It’s only 11 am.” He turned back to me, confusion in his blue eyes. Then they cleared and narrowed. “What did you plan?” He stood up to get a better look at my facial expressions.
I was so close. I really couldn’t hide anything from El. Both of them really, but especially El with his sharp litigator mind. It’s why I had Angela make the arrangements in the first place. I was about to see the details of said plan when En came into the room.
“Nothing,” I said innocently. Not really, and it wasn’t working for either of them if their disbelieving expression where anything to go by.
“Uh, huh,” En said flatly, and stood up too. Yeah, that didn’t work either. En was a sharp observer too. They put their crossed arms on their equally naked chests nearly at the same time. That was hot.
I broke down. “Ok, there is something going on with tonight’s date night, but I actually don’t know what the details are yet.” I looked at them sheepishly. Out of habit when I got embarrassed about something, I looked down pulling my dreads forward and tried to hide behind them.
“Look at me,” El said with love and reassurance in his voice. I felt his hand gently lift my chin so I would look at him. When our eyes met, he continued. “I love you. You know we will love anything you have planned for us.”
“Yes, but I wanted it to be a surprise,” I sighed. “It’s why I had Ang make all the arrangements with my contingencies in case there was something on my initial list that wouldn’t work.” I had several options and back up plans to keep this particular date a surprise that I had to keep myself in the dark too.
En interjected, “You are fine, honey. I love you, too.” He put his hand on my neck and his forehead to mine. I closed my eyes content as they both returned to my arms and lap.
Speaking of lap, we needed to get moving if we were going to get started on this afternoon’s activities. “Let me up,” I said as I gently pushed them to their feet.
“There’s stuff starting in an hour or two and we are ending at The Melting Pot downtown.” I said the last thing absently missing the expressions on my men’s understanding faces as I went back to the computer.
“Fuck me, he’s proposing,” En blurted out at the same time El sucked in a breath shocked.
I paused from logging in. Damn, they really did know me well.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes AG Meiers. She has a new gay romantic suspense in her Jake’s Bar series Book 4: Down the Line.
BOOK BLURB
Revenge is a Dangerous Obsession.
Dean Hunt needs the story of a lifetime—Since his uncompromising attitude got him fired, the investigative journalist is hell-bent to expose the powerful and corrupt Conway family. It’s a career move, and absolutely not a vendetta against the oldest son Noel, who ghosted Dean after a mind-blowing weekend together.
Noel Conway needs a new start—After years away, Noel has come home to rebuild the bridges he’s burned. Too bad his past caused a ripple effect he can’t outrun. Now, he’s asked to save his family from the one man he never expected to see again but can’t forget.
Dean is chasing front-page news, and Noel is trying to protect the ones he loves. But the line between enemies and lovers gets blurred when a dangerous criminal from Noel’s past resurfaces. Will the truth shatter their tentative trust? Or do they have a shot at happily ever after?
But none of that matters when suddenly Noel disappears…
Down the Line, the final book in the award-winning Jake’s Bar series, is a spicy, M/M romantic suspense featuring a rainbow-colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle. So, download today, and get ready to fall in love with Jake’s Bar.
Warnings: smoking cigarettes and weed in the hot tub, kidnapping (on page scenes restrained), verbally abusive father
The award-winning Jake’s Bar series is a set of steamy, M/M romantic suspense novels, featuring a rainbow- colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle.
As Dean reached the top of the staircase, a man stepped out of the shadows in front of his door. Dean straightened his shoulders. “Detective Conway.”
“Hunt.”
In a parallel universe, they might have been friends. They were fighting the same fight. Had the same enemies. In this world, they weren’t brothers in arms. In this world, Dean had been cast as the villain.
“How can I help you this fine morning?”
“Open the door. We gotta talk.”
“Look, it’s been a long night—”
“Just open the damn door.” Conway snarled, pushing into Dean’s personal space.
Dean stood his ground. “Are you here in an official capacity? Because then, the answer is no, I won’t let you in. You have no warrant, no permission to search my property. I don’t consent—”
“Just shut the fuck up. None of us wants this shitshow to be on the record,” Con growled.
Dean, curious, took a step back and raised his empty hand, palm up. “Okay.”
He fished for his key, pushed open the door, and quickly disarmed his alarm system. Conway didn’t wait to be invited in, just crossed the living room, dropped his shearling coat onto the sofa, then walked over to the large window overlooking the river.
The view was the only redeeming feature of Dean’s otherwise-generic apartment. The mess didn’t help. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink, a pizza box on the breakfast counter separating the cramped kitchen from the living room, and an unmade bed in the other corner of the room.
“For a guy who anxiously waited at my doorstep, you’re awfully quiet.” Dean smirked. “Coffee?”
“No.” Conway turned his back, now studying the row of framed newspaper front pages Dean had hung on the apartment’s interior wall. His personal collection of historic headlines—headlines that changed the world.
The oldest was from July 6, 1776. The Pennsylvania Evening Post, printing the Declaration of Independence on its front page. Next to it, the Daily Telegram, declaring the end of the Second World War. The two most recent, the New York Times’ “OBAMA: Racial barrier falls in heavy turnout” and, of course, the front page the day after 9/11.
Dean had added a few more personal favorites, like Moneta J. Sleet’s photography of Coretta Scott King at MLK’s funeral. The first Black man to win the Pulitzer for journalism.
Conway took his time examining each framed newspaper. Dean already regretted allowing the intrusion into his space. He felt exposed—vulnerable—under silent scrutiny.
Irritated, he started banging around the kitchen. He was in no mood to explain that looking at those headlines every day fueled his ambitions and inspired his dreams. Dean believed with every fiber of his being in the power of a free and independent press.
He turned on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter. As if Conway felt Dean’s angry glare across the room, he finally turned and stared right back. For a moment, they engaged in a silent standoff.
Unease flittered through Dean. Camille had been right. Her brother was seething with anger. And Dean had no fucking idea what he’d done to piss him off. He sighed and shook his head, then took two mugs out of the cabinet and put them onto the island. “Miguel, have a damn coffee. You look like you need it.”
“Says the man who clearly slept in his party clothes and crept home at sunup.”
“Guilty as charged.” Dean shrugged.
Conway curled his lip. “I do not know what my sister sees in you.”
It wasn’t a question, so Dean didn’t bother with an answer. “You wanted to talk? So, talk.”
Instead of talking, though, Conway pulled out a stack of papers. Pushing aside the coffee cups to make room, he spread them out over the counter.
Dean froze. The first blurry photograph featured Dean in another man’s arms. In the next, the same man was pressing Dean against a white porch railing, his own hands tangled in the man’s messy curls. Conway fanned the stack, revealing nearly a dozen more.
Dean and Noel Conway, kissing.
Suddenly, he was there again, the ocean breeze tugging on his clothes. Noel’s warm skin, tasting like sunshine and a hint of salt, his eyes blown with desire. Goddamn, so fucking beautiful, with that shy smile, whispered promises—
Dean’s throat was desert dry. His ragged breath and the hissing of the coffee machine came together like a fucking symphony. “I—”
“Save it. My sister thinks you’re this hotshot journalist. Full of passion. Braving adversity. Motivated by a noble cause. Yeah, fuck that. You’re after my family because Noel pounded your ass, then dropped you like he does everybody else. Your pride—your precious ego—is hurt because you’re just another notch in my brother’s carved-up bedpost.”
Conway grabbed his jacket and walked to the door. He turned and added, “Watch it, Hunt. You got no job. No friends. No prospects. But if you think you’ve reached rock bottom, think again.”
Dean contained himself until he heard his door close with a soft click. Only then did he allow himself to swipe papers, cups, and the fucking photos off his counter. The cups shattered on the tile floor.
Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her husband and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends and family, and writing.
When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people and amazing locations.
Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict and heartbreak, before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes R.L. Merrill today. She has a new contemporary MM romance out, in her Forces of Nature series, Book 3: Earthquake Ethan.
Book Blurb:
The Earth shook the morning actor Ethan Bradley arrived in Los Angeles looking for a second chance. He hoped his former producers Reese Matheson and Toby Griffiths meant it when they said to look them up if he were ever in LA because he had no other options. The pictures the paparazzi took at the wrap party for their London show made sure of that. What he wasn’t counting on was the reception he got from their manager, Arthur Frye. He was absolutely the kind of together guy Ethan wished would notice him, and for more than his pretty face and talent. Too bad Arthur only sees Ethan as a complication.
Arthur Frye has his hands full with his best clients—and best friends. The last thing he needs is another diva to care for, especially one who has a reputation for causing trouble. He has a strict rule against getting involved with the talent, no matter how pretty they are. Only Ethan Bradley shines for real, and when Arthur realizes his nice-guy innocence is genuine, he’s ready to do anything to help Ethan get his career back on track and get him out of LA. He’s too much of a temptation, and Arthur can’t afford to lose focus…not even for a chance at happiness for himself. Especially not when his star clients are about to risk their professional and personal happiness with their newest creation; a musical about two boys falling in love in the 1960s featuring music written by Reese’s grandfather, whose health is in decline.
Ethan Bradley shakes things up wherever he goes, and Arthur Frye is afraid he’ll be left in the wreckage if he gets too close. Can these two opposites find love on solid ground?
Warnings: implied sexual abuse off page
About the Series
Forces of Nature follows a group of talented men who are natural disasters, and the men who love them.
The morning after Ethan Bradley landed at LAX the earth shook. Literally. Being from Iowa, he’d always been afraid of earthquakes. He remembered watching footage when he was a little boy of the one that hit Northridge and it stayed with him. He’d even turned down a part in the film San Andreas because he was terrified of the real thing.
Plus—at the time—he’d wanted to be considered a serious actor, and accepting a role in a Hollywood disaster blockbuster didn’t fit in with his professional goals. Instead, he’d ended up going to London to film a clever romantic comedy. Then came the stage and more accolades at the age of twenty-six than he’d imagined possible.
When his hotel room rattled his first morning in LA and sent him diving under the desk in the early hours, he’d wished he’d stayed.
But London had nothing to offer him after the paparazzi ruined his life, and he couldn’t go home. So there he was, back in the states, and ready to grovel before his former producer—and crush—for a role, any role, that would allow him to get back to doing what he loved…acting, singing, performing.
Love was a strong word. It was what he knew, what he was good at, where his God-given talents lay.
He’d come to LA with a plan. Sort of. Go see Reese Matheson. Pray he opened the door and took pity on him. And that he didn’t hold a grudge.
He plugged the Malibu address he’d gotten from his London manager’s office into the Lyft app and went outside to wait for his ride. And prayed.
If Reese wouldn’t see him, he had a plan B.
He’d go to see Reese’s business partner Toby Griffiths. Which was probably a terrible idea, but the best he had.
Because there was no plan C.
He had exactly fifty dollars cash on him and a credit card dangerously close to being maxed out. Rock bottom was flying up to meet him fast.
The Lyft driver dropped him off at the end of a long driveway leading to a quaint little house that backed up to the Malibu shoreline. He knew nine o’clock on a Sunday morning was early, but the earthquake had shaken him so much, he couldn’t wait to get out of his room at the Holiday Inn. He’d been to LA before to promote his films, but he’d never felt comfortable among the glitz and glamour of Hollywood and Beverly Hills.
Malibu had the scenery people thought of when they imagined Southern California. Palm trees, mountains that broke off into the sea, miles of sand with beautiful people jogging along the water’s edge. It was picturesque, and sometimes cliché. For Ethan, it represented his last hope.
He climbed the steps, cleared his throat, reached for that enthusiastic confidence that used to come so easy for him once upon a time—
The door opened before he even had a chance to knock.
The short Filipino man standing there in a pair of scrubs had one eyebrow raised and a hand on his hip.
“Can I help you?”
His tone didn’t come across as helpful, despite his words.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m looking for Reese Matheson? My name is—“
“I know who you are.” The man’s raised eyebrow turned into a frown. “Just a minute,” he said before closing the door with a little less force than a slam.
Breathe. It’s fine. Reese is a good guy. He won’t be angry that I showed up. He’s a generous, kind person—
R.L. Merrill brings you stories of Hope, Love, and Rock ‘n’ Roll featuring quirky and relatable characters. Whether she’s writing about contemporary issues that affect us all or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, she loves creating compelling stories that will stay with readers long after.
Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Foreword INDIES finalist for Summer of Hush and RONE finalist for Typhoon Toby, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after.
She writes diverse and inclusive romance, contributes paranormal hilarity to Robyn Peterman’s Magic and Mayhem Universe, and works on various other writing and mentoring projects that tickle her fancy or benefit a worthy cause. You can find her connecting with readers on social media, educating America’s youth, raising two brilliant teenagers, trying desperately to get that back piece finished in the tattoo chair, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more Rock ‘n’ Romance.
Two strangers, an online dating app, and a chance at forever…
Chance
After months of online correspondence with a sexy businessman, we’re finally meeting in person—in London, no less!
Okay. It’s a casual meet-up. Nothing to get excited about. I fully understand that online connections don’t always translate in person. Roman could be pompous or worse…boring.
Wish me luck!
Roman
Dinner with my online “friend” doesn’t go well. I shouldn’t be disappointed. That’s life.
But just as I’m ready to write our peculiar acquaintanceship off, Chance turns up unexpectedly at a karaoke bar. Don’t ask what I’m doing there. I have no idea. However, I don’t mind at all. It feels like the universe is giving us a cosmic redo. Sure, Chance lives in California and my home is in the UK now, but this feels like the real thing. Something worth taking a chance on.
A forever chance.
The London Chance is an MM, bisexual romance featuring an American, a Canadian, a dating app, and an unexpected HEA.
Excerpt
“What time is it?” I grumbled, rubbing my stubbled jaw.
“Half one,” a deep, rumbly voice replied.
I spun on my heels with my mouth wide open, unsure where to begin. An apology, a thank-you, maybe even a fuck-you.…Words weren’t my friend without caffeine and if it was really one thirty in the afternoon, I was going to have a difficult time navigating this one.
If I was going to unravel in a foreign country, was an audience necessary? And better question…did it have to be this man?
Roman stepped into the room, instantly taking over the space. The combination of his height, broad shoulders, and broody presence made him seem intimidating as fuck even in a navy V-neck sweater, casual jeans, and bare feet. His hair flopped roguishly over his right eye, which should have softened his sharp features, but…it didn’t. He was devilishly handsome and sexy and— I think I puked on his shoes last night. Oh, please let this be a bad dream.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping for a scene change and a new cast when I opened them again.
Nope. I was still in Roman’s guest room, standing three feet from the man himself, wearing his T-shirt and—
“Are these your boxers?” I asked, plucking at the silky red fabric.
One corner of his mouth twisted in wry amusement. “They were a gift. You can have them. How are you feeling?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’ve been better. I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He waved dismissively and moved to the doorway. “Would you like coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
He smiled kindly. “You got it. I’ll make toast and bacon too.”
“Thank you. Coffee is fine, but—” I paused to look around the immaculate room. “I need my clothes.”
“Trust me. You don’t want your clothes.”
“Huh?”
“I threw your socks and underwear in the wash, but your suit and shirt needed to be dry-cleaned. They’ll be ready tomorrow. I’ll grab a pair of sweatpants and socks for you. You’re welcome to shower. The toothbrush on the counter is the one you used last night. I’ll leave clothes on the banister for you. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.”
Roman was gone before I could thank him or protest. I decided I wasn’t ready to deal with the fuzzier parts of last night that had resulted in my clothing immediately needing to be dry-cleaned. I headed for the bathroom instead.
The deliciously hot shower under a wide spray felt so amazing, I never wanted to get out. And the thick towel on the warming rack was a slice of nirvana. I dried myself, then wrapped the towel around my waist and wiped steam off the mirror. I scanned the marble-and-glass haven as I brushed my teeth, sighing at the very unwelcome memory of kneeling on the tiled floor in front of the porcelain god.
How was I going to face this man? I’d been a fucking mess last night. Running into traffic, dancing in the rain…and oh…shit. I’d called him daddy.
More than once.
Heat bloomed across my cheeks as I rinsed and patted my mouth dry, but I couldn’t exactly hide in here. I slipped the boxers and tee on and found a pair of gray sweats and black socks perched on the banister post where Roman said they’d be. I finished dressing, finger-combed my short hair, and took one last cleansing breath before following the scent of coffee downstairs.
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
This is a blog hop from the Marketing for Romance Writers Book Hooks Blog Hop promotion that happens on Wednesdays. Since this weekly Blog Hop coincides with the last day that the Together eBook is free on Amazon, I thought I would participate. If you have Kindle Unlimited, it’s free to borrow as well. There is also a paperback format if you would prefer to hold it in your hand. Below is an excerpt from the story. Enjoy!
Excerpt
I’d returned to Atlanta the month prior to meeting up with El and En again that sunny day a week ago. I needed to do the final touches on the youth center I’d helped create before the official opening the following week. Angela Carter, my best friend from college, followed me, helping with my new software creation business and the volunteer work I did including the LGBTQ+ youths the center focused on. I’d gone out on my own as a game designer consultant about a year ago when flexibility and opportunity landed in my lap. The financial aspect wasn’t too shabby either. The game I’d helped create then would release soon, and preorders were looking promising. I had other software projects in the works, but the game was the first where I was part of the full cycle. I was pleased with my stable finances, but my thoughts went back to El and En. I had kept my contact with them to the bare minimum since their marriage weekend. Enough contact that I hadn’t quite disappeared off the face of the planet, but not as much as I’d had when I’d gone away for college.
“You are such a coward, Vicky boy.” Angela startled me out of my musings.
Considering we were meeting up for the post mortem on the fundraiser for said youth center she partnered with me, it was a wonder I had forgotten where I was.
“I know,” I agreed with her.
Angela and I had briefly dated while at college. She in her tailored, tan skirt suit—a six-foot, blonde-haired Amazonian woman with legs for miles and a heart of gold—to my introverted, brooding, and muscled sport-jacket-and-slacks self. While I was attracted enough to go on a few dates, my heart belonged to my men, and our dating relationship never went further. She had wheedled the story out of me not too long after our second date over drinks at a bar, and we had been friends and business partners since.
She stepped away from the conference table in the office we rented in Midtown. Since that was where we’d opened the center, it was the best location to have it all. I had a place not two blocks from both the center and the office. The commute was great.
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
