Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes J. Scott Coatsworth and Kim Fielding to the blog. This is a new release for Search for the Lost the second book in Chaos and Order series. This is a romantic fantasy with bouts of humor, road trip vibes, and body swapping. Lets check it out.
BOOK BLURB
SOMETIMES ORDER BECOMES CHAOS…
Leopold Lane—after being “collected” for the Office of the Lost by Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin—is tucked away cozily with his beloved office fae in their treehouse. Happily ever after, right? Not so fast.
Before Leo can even get settled, Crispin’s mother disappears, leaving Crispin in charge and his brother Aspin in a panic. As Queen of the Fae, she has also left them a little surprise: a bit of oxymoronic magic that turns their world upside down.
Crispin and Leo set off in search of the queen and a solution to their predicament. Aspin tags along, with some less-than-helpful friends. On the way they will discover important family secrets and learn new things about each other… and themselves. Nothing is simple when Chaos and Order get involved. Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper quest if it was straightforward, would it?
Note: Book One is On Sale Everywhere for just 99¢ from October 1st-31st:
Crispin and Leopold are poorly matched. They’re nothing like one another – Crispin is Order personified, while Leo’s nothing but Chaos. So of course, they are perfect for each other. Now they just have to figure out why the Universe has thrust them together – and how not to get themselves killed (or murder each other) in the process.
A sharp banging at the door brought Crispin back to the present. Or rather, to the past, when Leo had been taken away from him by Juzir and Qyl.
They shared a look. Leo was clearly thinking the same thing.
Wordlessly, he gathered up his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, snicking the lock closed.
We have a bathroom lock now? Crispin brushed away the thought. “Coming!”
He hoped Leo wasn’t in trouble again. After all, they’d fixed everything. There were no more flattened citizens aimlessly lying about. Well, except on Tarkon, where most of the wildlife and half of the people were naturally pretty flat. And they’d thrown a big party to smooth the waters with all their new friends, including the Mucklins, even though Molly the moth-woman had planned to feed Leo and Crispin to her children. But that was all in the past.
He opened the door, half expecting an angry mob. Instead it was his annoying older brother, Aspin, staring at him forlornly. “Hey, Elly….”
The old much-hated nickname—derived from his middle name, Eladrin—brought a rebuke to Crispin’s lips, but it died when he realized how dejected Aspin looked. “All clear!” he called over his shoulder. Crispin made way for Aspin to enter. “Come in. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Aspin nodded, looking as if he’d eaten a canary—or Minkis, Crispin’s pet squirrel.
“Who is it?” Leo had appeared, dressed formally for company—which for him meant flip-flops and a loose white T-shirt that he’d made a half-hearted attempt to tuck into his jeans. His hair, which usually stuck straight up, was slightly more tamed. “Oh, hey Aspin!”
Even though Aspin clearly despised him, Leo never held a grudge, one of the many things Crispin loved about him.
Aspin threw his arms around Crispin. “She’s gone, Elly. She’s gone.”
“Who?” But then it dawned on him: Aspin had only one her. And Aspin confirmed it with a single word. “Mother.”
Crispin stiffened. “Mother is dead?” Oh sordid heavens. I’m not ready to take over yet.
Aspin ended the embrace, returning to form. “No, you idiot. I said she was gone, not dead. Three days ago, and no one knows where she is or if she will come back. You have to help me find her.”
“Gone.” Crispin eased himself down onto their newest piece of furniture, the hideous old couch from Leo’s Earth apartment.
Leo stared at him, blinking, then sat on the cushion next to him. “She’s gone. So that means….”
Aspin sank down onto one knee. “Hail to Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin, King of the High Holy Fae.”
Oh flack. If there’s one thing that Crispin was positively absolutely emphatically five-thousand-percent not ready for, it was to take his mother’s throne. He had no aspirations to power, and he certainly didn’t share his mother’s proclivities for seducing mortals. Well, maybe just the one.
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a small Italian villa outside of Sacramento, California. 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.
Kim Fielding is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. She writes fantasy, mm romance, science fiction, horror, and whatever else her muse demands.
Winner of the 2021 BookLife Prize for Fiction, a Lambda Award finalist and Foreword INDIE finalist, she has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and now lives in Oregon, where she will never have enough bookshelf space.
She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full time. She also dreams of having two daughters who fully appreciate her, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.
J. Scott Coatsworth and Kim Fielding has a new MM romantasy book out, Chaos and Order book two: Search for the Lost.
SOMETIMES ORDER BECOMES CHAOS…
Leopold Lane—after being “collected” for the Office of the Lost by Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin—is tucked away cozily with his beloved office fae in their treehouse. Happily ever after, right? Not so fast.
Before Leo can even get settled, Crispin’s mother disappears, leaving Crispin in charge and his brother Aspin in a panic. As Queen of the Fae, she has also left them a little surprise: a bit of oxymoronic magic that turns their world upside down.
Crispin and Leo set off in search of the queen and a solution to their predicament. Aspin tags along, with some less-than-helpful friends. On the way they will discover important family secrets and learn new things about each other… and themselves. Nothing is simple when Chaos and Order get involved. Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper quest if it was straightforward, would it?
Series Blurb:
Crispin and Leopold are poorly matched. They’re nothing like one another – Crispin is Order personified, while Leo’s nothing but Chaos. So of course, they are perfect for each other. Now they just have to figure out why the Universe has thrust them together – and how not to get themselves killed (or murder each other) in the process.
A sharp banging at the door brought Crispin back to the present. Or rather, to the past, when Leo had been taken away from him by Juzir and Qyl.
They shared a look. Leo was clearly thinking the same thing.
Wordlessly, he gathered up his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, snicking the lock closed.
We have a bathroom lock now? Crispin brushed away the thought. “Coming!”
He hoped Leo wasn’t in trouble again. After all, they’d fixed everything. There were no more flattened citizens aimlessly lying about. Well, except on Tarkon, where most of the wildlife and half of the people were naturally pretty flat. And they’d thrown a big party to smooth the waters with all their new friends, including the Mucklins, even though Molly the moth-woman had planned to feed Leo and Crispin to her children. But that was all in the past.
He opened the door, half expecting an angry mob. Instead it was his annoying older brother, Aspin, staring at him forlornly. “Hey, Elly….”
The old much-hated nickname—derived from his middle name, Eladrin—brought a rebuke to Crispin’s lips, but it died when he realized how dejected Aspin looked. “All clear!” he called over his shoulder. Crispin made way for Aspin to enter. “Come in. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Aspin nodded, looking as if he’d eaten a canary—or Minkis, Crispin’s pet squirrel.
“Who is it?” Leo had appeared, dressed formally for company—which for him meant flip-flops and a loose white T-shirt that he’d made a half-hearted attempt to tuck into his jeans. His hair, which usually stuck straight up, was slightly more tamed. “Oh, hey Aspin!”
Even though Aspin clearly despised him, Leo never held a grudge, one of the many things Crispin loved about him.
Aspin threw his arms around Crispin. “She’s gone, Elly. She’s gone.”
“Who?” But then it dawned on him: Aspin had only one her. And Aspin confirmed it with a single word. “Mother.”
Crispin stiffened. “Mother is dead?” Oh sordid heavens. I’m not ready to take over yet.
Aspin ended the embrace, returning to form. “No, you idiot. I said she was gone, not dead. Three days ago, and no one knows where she is or if she will come back. You have to help me find her.”
“Gone.” Crispin eased himself down onto their newest piece of furniture, the hideous old couch from Leo’s Earth apartment. Leo stared at him, blinking, then sat on the cushion next to him. “She’s gone. So that means….”
Aspin sank down onto one knee. “Hail to Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin, King of the High Holy Fae.”
Oh flack. If there’s one thing that Crispin was positively absolutely emphatically five-thousand-percent not ready for, it was to take his mother’s throne. He had no aspirations to power, and he certainly didn’t share his mother’s proclivities for seducing mortals. Well, maybe just the one.
Author Bios
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a small Italian villa outside of Sacramento, California. 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.
Kim Fielding is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. She writes fantasy, mm romance, science fiction, horror, and whatever else her muse demands.
Winner of the 2021 BookLife Prize for Fiction, a Lambda Award finalist and Foreword INDIE finalist, she has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and now lives in Oregon, where she will never have enough bookshelf space.
She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full time. She also dreams of having two daughters who fully appreciate her, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.
Please welcome returning author Mell Eight to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Divine Judgment. If you like paranormal romantacies, this is for you. As a side note, I liked the blurb enough while posting this that I picked it up on Kobo. ☺️
Title: Divine Judgment Author: Mell Eight Publisher: NineStar Press Release Date: 03/10/2026 Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex Pairing: Male/Male Length: 43908
Ves’s life has always been a troubled one. An orphan growing up on the streets and imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit, Ves knows how bad things can be. When he’s chosen to go before the God of Judgment to be judged for his crimes, Ves knows the result of that will either be insanity or death. Except, Judgment doesn’t go as anyone expected when, instead, the God chooses Ves to be his head priest.
Settling into his new life as priest to a God is strange, but being around Rais, the God of Judgment, is no chore. Spending time together as Ves learns what it means to be a Priest of Judgment is wonderful, until people from Ves’s past realize where he is. Ves must decide whether he wants the past he didn’t realize he had lost, or the future he was just starting to build with Rais. Presuming the other powers at play allow him to live long enough to make that decision.
Ves’s side of the room was small with no windows and a single chair in the center of the stained wood floor. The walls had been white originally but were now a murky shade of brownish gray. The guard behind him grunted pointedly, so Ves made his slow way to the chair. He gratefully sat down and placed his crutch on the floor next to him before looking across his portion of the room to the other side. A high wall separated his dingy room from the court judge in his comfortably padded chair behind a carved wooden desk. The upper half of the wall was open like a long window and high enough anyone from Ves’s side would require a few extra seconds to climb, which was more than enough time for the guard standing behind Ves to stop them. Not that Ves could climb like that, of course, but Ves doubted the judge or the guard cared.
The judge had a steaming mug of tea at one hand, a folio in front of him, and a fancy quill in a stand to his right. The walls in his half of the room were painted a cheery yellow, which augmented the afternoon light streaming in from the glass-paned window.
“You have been recommended for early release,” the judge said. He didn’t look up from the folio, nor otherwise acknowledge Ves was in the room. “Based on your criminal history and your behavior while incarcerated, the court is willing to consider this sentence reduction.”
Ves swallowed down his growing hope, knowing better than to say anything or let any budding happiness show on his face in any way that could be seen by the guards or the judge. In this world of prison bars and shackles, hiding emotion was much safer. Besides, Ves had always been skilled at discerning the truth hidden behind the words. In this case, the truth was the prison was overcrowded and funding was limited. Thanks to his injury, Ves wasn’t likely to repeat the crimes for which he had been convicted, and providing medical care and accommodations for him was expensive. Tossing him out on the street and hoping for the best was far more economical for the courts than keeping him for the full term of his sentence.
“However, there are requirements that must be fulfilled prior to certifying your release,” the judge continued. “Per our laws enshrined in the annals of the divine accolades, first, you must go before the God of Judgment and beg for absolution of your crime. Should the God grant mercy, you will be released from prison. Second, should you be granted release, you will be provided housing for one week, after which you must obtain lawful employment. You must be gainfully employed for the remaining time left on your sentence. A gap of longer than a week is grounds for reincarceration. Third, you will be assigned a liaison officer with whom you must meet weekly. This officer will assess your activities and provide reports to the court regarding whether you should return to prison. Lastly, commission of any crime is grounds for immediate cancellation of your early release.”
The court judge picked up the fancy quill, dipped it in ink, and signed something at the bottom of one of the papers in the folio. He dusted the ink with sand before closing the folio and passing it to someone standing by the door, likely a secretary. Once that was done, he looked at the guard.
“Next case. I would like to have this chore completed in time to be home for afternoon tea.” The judge still hadn’t looked at Ves, more interested in the contents of his cooling teacup as Ves picked up his crutch and struggled to his feet.
Ves followed the guard out the door and back into the prison, trying not to let hope take root in his chest. He had no idea what obtaining a divine Judgment required, but felt safe assuming he didn’t have enough money to bribe the priests in the temple of the God of Judgment to agree to his release. Even if he did manage to get through Judgment, getting a job with his injury was going to be next to impossible. Ves didn’t remember the stabbing or know why he had been targeted by another inmate, just that when he woke in the prison’s medical wing, he had lost the use of his right leg as a result. The leg was still attached, but he could only bend his knee, feel his foot, or wiggle his toes about 10 percent of the time. The other 90 percent, his right foot hung like a deadweight. There was no way to know whether the stabbing had been the cause or whether the incompetent medical care Ves received afterward was the problem, but he was restricted to the speed of his crutch and only had one free hand to carry things while he was upright. Most ex-convicts found work at the docks unloading ships. Ves wouldn’t be able to do that, which limited his options severely. Regardless, even a few days of freedom would be a nice vacation from the hell that was prison.
“Do you know when I’ll be able to request absolution from the God of Judgment?” Ves asked the guard, who grunted in response.
“Today’s Moonsadai. Convict absolution is always the morning of Raisadai, so in two days. Don’t be in a rush to meet this God though.” The guard smirked at Ves. “If you’re lucky, you’ll come back here more injured than you left. If you’re not lucky, you’ll be dead.” Still smirking, the guard stopped at the first set of doors leading into Ves’s shared cell. He pulled a lever, and the first barred door slid aside. Ves stepped through the doorway and the first door slid closed, locking him into the two-by-two-foot space. The guard pulled the lever again, and the second door slid to the side, revealing the nine-by-nine-foot square cell he shared with three other inmates.
The man Ves only knew as Fang grinned at Ves as the second door closed behind him. Both of Fang’s pointed incisors, sharpened prior to his arrest for ripping out chunks of people with his teeth, were prominent in his mouth, so the grin was equally a threat and a welcome.
“Well, you getting out of here?” Fang asked, watching from where he was sitting on his bottom bunk as Ves slowly made his way to the other bunk bed. Ves got the bottom of his bed thanks to necessity, since he couldn’t climb. Fang liked Ves for some reason, so it was thanks to his influence over their other two cellmates that Ves hadn’t been challenged for the better bed.
“I get to have a hearing with the God of Judgment in two days. I’m not sure that means I’m getting out of here though.”
“If you only get to see one of the priests, you’ll be back here in an hour,” Omnit called from where he was flopped out on the bed above Ves.
Fang nodded and ran his hand over his mouth. “Maybe. If you actually get to go into the temple to get a Judgment directly from the God, though, I’ll bet you’ll be freed. You’re one of the noble mistakes, right? I’ve heard the God of Judgment doesn’t care about rank or money, just whether you actually committed the crime.”
“And I’ve heard people who go see the God come back missing limbs or go straight to the crazy house ’cause their heads got messed up instead,” Omnit added. “They spend the rest of their days laughing at blank walls or screaming at the air. Better to see a corrupt priest instead.”
Ves sighed and lay back on the thin mattress, staring up at the straps holding Omnit’s mattress in place. One of the noble mistakes. In the prison system they were so common they had a name, and people who fell into that category tended to receive a bit more leeway from the other inmates. They weren’t usually randomly stabbed like Ves. The guards didn’t care, but Fang had defended Ves on multiple occasions because of it. When nobles broke the law and got caught, that mistake was rectified with money put in the right hands and a scapegoat going to prison instead. Ves hadn’t even had a trial but was now seven years into a fifteen-year sentence, convicted of two attempted rapes, the last one resulting in manslaughter of the victim. He would be turning twenty-one years old in two days, Ves realized as his gloomy thoughts identified something else depressing to focus on. When people reached the age of majority, they visited the temple of the God of Life to pray for guidance as they stepped into adulthood. Hopefully visiting the God of Judgment, instead, wouldn’t be yet another black mark against him.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” Ves finally responded. “The court judge signed some paperwork, so I’ll be dragged to the temple whether I like it or not.”
Fang let out a barking laugh. “That’s the world of the Gods, I guess. All we can do is hope they don’t make us suffer too damned much.”
Before Ves could think of a response, the afternoon klaxon went off, echoing through the prison as it did twice every day—first thing in the morning and now. Ves’s ears continued to ring for a few seconds after the klaxon stopped. By the time he could hear again, he could also hear the squeaky wheel from the meal cart in the hallway. A moment later a slot opened above the small table in the corner, bolted to the wall so they couldn’t move it, and someone pushed four trays filled with their dinner onto it. Omnit scrambled down from his bed and returned holding two trays, one of which he passed to Ves. Fang grabbed a tray, and the fourth man in their cell climbed down from his bunk over Fang to get his as well. The man never spoke, ever, so Ves didn’t know his name, but he also never caused problems, so he wasn’t the worst roommate Ves had endured in his seven years here.
Dinner was boiled chicken, boiled potatoes, and boiled beans, each portioned exactly so every tray had the same amount of bland, lifeless grub. At first, Ves had been excited about the prospect of regular meals, since that wasn’t something he had enjoyed before his incarceration, but that minimal silver lining had faded away fast. He ate the food, tasting nothing the entire time, and let Omnit return the empty tray to the table next to the slot for the workers to remove later. With nothing else to anticipate before the morning klaxon announcing breakfast, Ves curled up on his bed and pulled his thin blanket over his shoulders. Sleeping wouldn’t end his misery or allay his worries about the impending temple visit, but at least he could turn off his brain for a few hours. After seven years of long practice, Ves forced himself to sleep, knowing everything would still be waiting for him to dwell on in the morning.
When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.
