Release Blitz · Update · Wafflish




Just a little note hoping that you’re well and an update on my upcoming releases.

The Beast of Bodmin Moor will be released on the 8th and available free for 5 days on Amazon from the 9th. 

I’ve booked a Release Blitz with the wonderful Gay Book Promotions starting on the 9th. I’m chuffed to find that I’ll be here, there ‘n’ everywhere for a few days, so I owe huge thank yous to all the lovely folk who’ve signed up for my tour.

April 9

Gay Book Promotions 

Bayou Book Junkie

Books, Tattoos and Tea

Double A Author Services


LGB Blogger 

Matt Doyle Media

Never Hollowed By The Stare

Stories That Make You Smile

April 10

Eric Huffbind  

LGBT Book Promotions

Lily G Blunt 

Love Unchained Book Reviews

April 11

Drops of Ink

Gay Book Promotions Blog

Sharonica Logic

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author

Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews

Sur l’étagère, derrière la sirène en plastique

April 13

Maggie Blackbird


I’ve also – finally – started work on my last round of edits for Hangover The Rainbow, book #3 of the Hangover Series. I’m hoping it will be ready to send off to my publishers, MLR Press in a month or so.

I hope you stay well…thank you, as always, for all your support 🥰


Book Blast · Guest · New Release · Reviews

Book Blast: You’re My Everything by Lily G. Blunt


Today’s guest is Lily G. Blunt, one of my favourite writers, with her new anthology of short stories; the wonderful ‘You’re My Everything’. 




my-everything-pre-made-design-eBook-complete copy


Title: You’re My Everything

Author: Lily G. Blunt

Cover Design: Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art

Genres: contemporary, gay romance, short story anthology

Length: 52 000 words/172 pages

Release Date: March 29, 2018

Add on Goodreads


99c/99p from March 28 – April 3

Also available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK


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My Review ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐


The first story in this fabulous anthology; ‘Happy Anniversary Jasper’ snatched my breath away. There was I, thoroughly enjoying Nathan’s warm, wry, recollections whilst waiting for Jasper to arrive for their 10th anniversary dinner. Their depth of their love is tangible, beautifully written:

‘I never felt the need to look at another man. He was my first and last. He was my soulmate and would be for all eternity…’

I could scarce wait for the habitually tardy Jasper to turn up for his annual dinner date, so eager was I to meet the man Nathan adored. Then…Bam. My eyeballs nearly plopped on my laptop, my jaw dropped and I went all hot ‘n’ cold. I sort of sat, running the story through my mind, wondering where I’d gone awry or misread, missed something I should have seen. Of course I had. Plenty, but I’d overlooked it; too invested in their relationship and eager for Jasper to arrive to note the nuances so skilfully weaved into the words. This is the best opening story of an anthology I’ve ever read, it’s exquisite. I adored it.

The second story ‘Over the Rainbow’ made for a lovely contrast. A much welcome, lighthearted read in comparison, it was the perfect palette cleanser. I instantly warmed to both characters and enjoyed them enormously. Dorian and Mark are professional, urbane men, who couldn’t be more different from Andreas and Chris in ‘Opposites Attract’ Theirs is a far more quirky coupling. Chris is an extroverted adventurer and Andreas, an introverted homebody, happiest amidst the things he treasures. Both have many frailties, despite the fact Chris seems so…sorted. It takes a bit of a mishap in a winter wilderness for his truths to surface…and for Andreas and Chris to find their way back to one another. In every sense.

‘You Can’t Stop Loving Someone Like That’…is a less conventional love story, with a twist I’d now become a mite more prepared for. These stories delighted in taking a turn I hadn’t expected and, true to form, this one didn’t disappoint. While I couldn’t applaud Corey’s choices, they felt oh, so human, fallible. His journey followed the beat of its own drum and I enjoyed that fact. I’m fond of stories that have the courage to do their own thing and eschew a few conventions along the way.

‘Service With A Smile’. Phew… changing rooms should clearly come equipped with fans. Terry and Ash were an utter delight…as was the twist to their tale. Luscious.

‘Happy Anniversary Jasper’ made for such a memorable opener, I realised what I was about to be treated to in the very first sentence of ‘Without You’. I couldn’t have been more chuffed; it is an inspired conclusion to this anthology. An unexpected but exceedingly welcome way to round off an excellent collection of stories. Masterfully done, I loved it.



A Collection of Contemporary Gay Romance Stories from Lily G Blunt.

Six love stories.

Some sweet, some steamy, and one or two will bring a tear to the eye.


Happy Anniversary, Jasper

As Nathan waits for Jasper in a restaurant to celebrate their tenth anniversary, he recollects their past and some of the passionate moments he has experienced with the love of his life.

A heart-breaking yet erotic tale of love, romance and destiny.

Over the Rainbow

Dorian has been cast as Dorothy in his school’s production of The Wizard of Oz.

Like his character, Dorian is about to discover whether dreams really do come true.

Opposites Attract

Chris and Andreas are opposites in character. Both fear the other wants to move on.

Can being stranded on a mountainside resolve the doubt that is threatening to tear them apart?

You Can’t Stop Loving Someone Just Like That

Despite being besotted for years with Jack, Corey finds himself falling in love with Pierre, a foreign exchange student, who is staying at his home over the summer vacation. Up to this point, Jack has shown no sign that he was gay or that he wanted Corey as anything other than a friend. It is only when he sees Corey and Pierre together that Jack wishes he had acted sooner.

Service with a Smile

Terry visits a men’s designer boutique, and Ash gives him service with a smile…

Without You

Jasper is struggling to move on with his life without Nathan by his side. If only he could touch his lover one more time…



Excerpt from


JASPER AND I first became friends at school. He moved into the area when he was thirteen and, as he was shy, I took him under my wing to protect him from the school bullies. No one dared mess with Nathan Collins and his gang. We hit it off straight away and became best buddies within a matter of weeks. The other lads, especially Kieran and Jack, were pissed off at first, but what could they say? Jasper became part of our clique, and there was nothing they could do about it. Well, they could take a hike, but I knew they wouldn’t do that.

Sometimes, it would be a group of us hanging out, but more often, it became just the two of us. We completed our homework together in our bedrooms, spent weekends in the woods hiking, or camping out in the summer months. We did everything together. Hell, we even volunteered to sweep up the autumn leaves for our parents so we could spend an afternoon with each other. Nothing could separate us. We remained friends at school for the next five years. We didn’t want or need girlfriends. We never argued. We never fell out. We just wanted to spend time together.

There were whispers, of course, but I ignored them. I knew there was nothing funny going on between us—we were best buddies. Jasper surprised me when he punched Kieran on the nose because of some snide comment he’d made. Luckily, Kieran didn’t snitch on Jasper to the headmaster. He claimed he’d bumped his nose during basketball training. However, there were no more mutterings about us from that day onwards.

We were seventeen before we had our first major disagreement. Jasper wanted to go out with a crowd of students to celebrate the end of the school year. I wanted the two of us to go to the cinema. Sulkily, I said I’d give the evening a miss. I could see he was cross with me, but he let it go without saying another word.

In the end, nearly everyone backed out for one reason or another, so it was just Jasper and Sean who planned to go alone to a pizza restaurant. I don’t know why I did it, but I decided to call another friend, Carlton, at the last minute to see if he wanted to go to the cinema with me. As luck would have it, Jasper and Sean decided to go to the cinema after their meal as well. I didn’t realise until much later that they were sitting about ten rows behind us all night.

After dropping Carlton off, I pulled into my driveway and saw Jasper waiting for me in his car. I could tell by his face he was seething but didn’t understand why. He got out and slammed the door shut before marching over to me.

“Did you have a good night?” He stared intently at me.

Puzzled, I said, “Yes, did you?”

He didn’t answer me as we made our way into my house. My parents were out, so we took some cans of soda from the fridge and headed to my room.

“So, Carlton’s your best buddy now, then?” His face settled into a nasty sneer. This was totally unlike Jasper.

“Err… no, I just went to see a movie with him. Anyway, you went out with Sean,” I hurled back at him. We were jealous, but at the time, we didn’t know what we were feeling.

I slammed the door. Jasper let out a sob, which startled me. Until that point, I thought he was angry with me. I’d never seen him cry before.

“Jasper, what’s the matter?” I moved nearer to him. He turned from me, shaking his head, and I assumed he was going to leave.

“Don’t go.” I reached out to him.

“Why? What do you care?”

Putting my hand on his shoulder, I eased him around and managed to pull him close. His head rested on my shoulder, and he held me against his body. We stayed like that for some time, neither of us saying anything or moving. It felt so good; I didn’t want him to pull away.

I felt a slight tickle on my neck at first, moving up towards my jaw before I realised what was happening. Jasper tilted his face towards mine. His lips brushed over my skin, leaving a seemingly scorching trail towards my mouth. He pulled back. His stormy blue eyes locked with mine, asking, pleading, questioning. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking, but I nodded, and his lips met mine hesitantly for a second or two. Pulling away slightly, he smiled before our lips connected again. This time it was for longer. It felt so right.

Jasper groaned. Our kiss deepened. The tip of his tongue sought entrance to my mouth, and I parted my lips to welcome him. My first kiss and one I will never forget. As our kissing became less awkward, our hands and hips moved, pulling each other closer. Soon we were panting. Our excitement rose as we crushed our bodies together.



About the Author


Lily G. Blunt enjoys writing contemporary gay romance and paranormal stories. She loves to explore the relationship between two or more men and the intensity of their physical and emotional attraction. Angst often features in her stories as she feels this demonstrates the depth of feeling for each other. Lily is forever writing imaginary scenes and plots in her head, but only a few ever make it to the page.

Lily launched Gay Book Promotions, an online book promotion service for authors of LGBT+ romance and fiction, in 2017.

Lily loves to hear from readers and other authors.


Author Links

Amazon | Amazon UK | Blog | Facebook | Facebook Profile

Goodreads | Twitter | Ello | Pinterest | Instagram


Hosted by Gay Book Promotions


Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here



Beast: Epilogue – The End

Hiya, this is the last part…thank you so much for reading.🥰



The Beast of Bodmin Moor



Phin. Part 2




Phin snapped his head around, heart rat-tatting like a drum roll to herald Jake’s arrival; the surface of his skin singing like a snare in response. As if a trickle of ghostly fingers had left shimmering in their wake.

There was a ripple of claps when his bashful face came into view, half-veiled by hair as he twerked his lips and lifted his guitar a little, as if to acknowledge the true recipient of the applause. Daftie. Half the room was filled with regulars Phin recognised—this being his third trip to the pub—so he did nodding ’n’ smiling. The rest seemed a smidge younger, closer to his own age. His first visit would be forever scored in his memory and the second had been a trial run a few days ago when Jake deemed him safe to be unleashed on the public. 

Even Mr Fuss-a-lot was forced to concede that nary a soul had done piquing Phin’s interest. In fact, the only tempting scent that did wafting his way (from elsewhere) was a sudden whiff of smoky bacon when a crisp packet had been cracked open. Phin’s nostrils had no sooner done flaring than his own burgundy bag landed beside his brandy, accompanied by a rakish wink from the foxy as fuck bartender with the tautest tush on Earth. The bending and stretching antics of Jake’s slinky spine had, in truth, played much more havoc with Phin’s appetite, but beggars can’t be choosers and all good comes to those who wait... So, Phin had scoffed his snackeroo and done practising his least practised virtue…

Despite the fact he’d watched Jake do getting dressed, the scoundrel had been gone for seven minutes. Plenty long enough for his reappearance to do snatching Phin’s breath away. The overhead spotlights behind the bar gave his hair a halo of amber bronze with glints of gold. It also made his collarless white shirt look luminous; so stark in contrast to his honeyed skin he looked more lickable than ever. Too much so for comfort in Phin’s best jeans. Jake’s were, as ever, so cripple-cock tight that, by the time his lower half rounded the bar, Phin could scarce do sitting. 

The rest of the room was, at least, lit more subtly; pubs (and posh restaurants) were oft cast in cosier colours than most public places. The low ceiling in the Albion made this intimacy all the more marked, so Phin couldn’t have been more comfy, all things considered.

The next hour was the most perfect Phin could have passed (dressed) and made all pesky discomforts pale into insignificance. Jake looked as devilishdivineas kissed by candlelight; illuminating his lethal allure and deepening his skin to a swarthy hue. Phin had to force himself to do concentrating on the red bandana wrapped around Jake’s wrist; a scarlet flag that felt far safer than staring into those bewitching blues. To Phin’s gaze they looked almost azure; ablaze with adrenaline and agleam with the passion Jake poured into every damn thing he set his mind…fingers…spine…hips, to. Remaining riveted to the seat was an (unparalleled in the last fortnight) feat after that. Staying in Phin’s skin was more than a tad tricky. 

The first notes that shimmered off the strings of Jake’s guitar made Phin’s eardrums do humming with a pleasure so pure he felt like a dog wind-bathing from a car window. By the time Jake did crooning the first line of the lyrics, Phin was too buttery-boned to do standing, let alone shifting

How he loved that velvet voice. It’s purple was so deep it made every tiny hair do tingling to attention and the knot of anticipation tighten in Phin’s guts. It was molten molasses, as rich as ruby wine and so resonant it did tugging on the dark need coiled, waiting… And yet, it’s effect on his jimjam self was hypnotic. So entranced was he, that Phin might’ve done forgetting the rest of Jake’s audience, if not for their appreciative racket. He had expected the claps Jake deserved, but the sudden whoops that did greeting the strum of some tunes made him feel a bit…brittle. As if he might do shattering despite…well, duh. 

It was easier to do getting used to the calls of ‘Jake! Play…’ this song or that; Phin couldn’t do caring as long as Jake was breathing life into its words. Nevertheless, he did remember all the melodies Jake had played for him at home…that would never do getting old. It was too precious, too improbable (homes don’t have barbed wire). Far too much for Phin to believe he’d ever done a thing to deserve it. Jake seemed to think he merited far more, which was demented, but mattered most all the same…and meant the world to him, with a cherry on top. And whipped cream. And sprinkles. Phin was starving. Jimjams was too punch drunk to even do insisting it was supper time. 

All too soon and forever after Phin went light-headed with hunger, a subtle shift in Jake’s stance made an expectant hush do shrieking into sudden silence. 

“Thank you…as ever, for being here…and being so bloody brilliant,” he grinned, inclining his head with an innate grace that suggested he’d done stopping by from centuries past. Or another species entirely. “And Alex, for inviting me back…again. It’s been a pleasure, as always. I’ve never sung this before…so I hope I don’t slaughter it.” Jake dipped his head, allowing his lush tumble of hair to fall forwards obligingly. His bashful flush still sent a rush of reciprocal heat tingling to Phin’s toes, even though it was hidden from view. 

Jake did focussing on his fingers as he picked out the first few chords…of a melody so mellifluous it did stroking Phin’s heart strings like a harp. A song so enchanting, he’d remembered every word after one listen, and the shiver of every note down his spine.  

You…” Jake lifted his head and Phin found himself ensnared by blowtorch blue as a violet voice did imploring: “‘with the sad eyes…don’t be discouraged...’” 

Phin scarce knew what to do with himself, he wanted to do leaping up and jumping Jake and melting in a buttery-boned puddle all at once. His blood was boiling through his veins like lava, his skin so skittery with static he might shock someone if they did so much as brushing him with a wayward finger. By the time Jake had bade him to show his True Colours, as beautiful as a bloomin’ rainbow, Phin was done for. He was too spellbound to even do blinking. So, he sort of sat, shell-shocked, which was p’raps for the best when he felt fit to burst with a joy as staggering as he was stunned. 

He couldn’t do remembering much after that. Phin shut down. His brain did blanking. All he could recall was stumbling about a bit and being enfolded in arms so strong he forgot to do worrying about falling apart. Unless p’raps he knew they’d hold him together, somehow… 

There were people and back claps that vibrated from Jake through Phin. Warm words and brighter light. Smiles and smells and faces that seemed familiar, or didn’t.  The heady scent of Jake, tethering Phin to himself. Holding him close, ushering him…somewhere.

Then, at last, a caress of cool air did filtering through the fog, blowing the cobwebs away. Phin did lifting his face into the wind and let his eyelids flutter shut. 

“Breathe…” That voice. Phin would do anything it asked, whatever it took; he could do breathing. The secret smells of the shadows did filling his lungs, as soothing as the sultry musk of his mate.  “Better…?”

“Hmm…thank you. Sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for…I don’t know how you did it.”

“Did what?” Phin wondered, because it sounded like a good thing, so he couldn’t have done spouting unfortunate stuff in front of folk. Or sprouting whiskers. 

“I don’t quite know…but you didn’t shift, when it was so close I could taste it…” Jake sighed, tightening his arms. It felt unconscious, like a sense memory. 

I didn’t do it, you did…” Phin told him. “I just did…blanking. Shutting down, that sometimes works when the scratchy gets too much. You did holding me together.”

“You give me way too much credit….” Jake murmured, pressing a kiss to the underside of Phin’s jaw.

“No, I don’t…which is dreadful when I haven’t even done thanking you, let alone telling you how brilliant you were and everyone thought so and I was so proud but then you did singing my beautiful song and I almost did bursting from too muchness and I haven’t said ’nuff thank yous cos I never could—”

Phin was cut off (way past his prime) by the lips Jake crushed to his own, stealing his very breath (a cunning plan indeed, it must be owned). He tasted of whiskey and want and far more than Phin could ever do finding words for, because there were no words in the world to colour Jake’s kisses. They were sorcery itself, sublime. Kaleidoscopic, too exquisite to capture. All he could do was pour every fibre of his being into his own and hope Jake might fathom them, somehow…with instincts as sharp as jackal teeth and a tongue like liquid flame. 

Just as he had Phin.


Even when their mouths did melting to stillness, they stood, pressed as close as clothes would allow, behind the Albion where Phin had first done meeting his fate. Mate. Jake’s sharp breath did scything through the silence, about an answering blaze of blue before he did grabbing Phin’s hand and gifted him the glinty grin he loved best.


They ran, fingers linked, laughing into the wind that did tugging them onward, as impatient as the self fit to burst from Phin’s body the moment we’re out of town. Promise. Running had fast become one of his favourite things to do (dressed) while human; even his legs seemed chuffed by the chance to do something well. Other than tripping him up. 

As if Jake had done hearing all of that (which he hadn’t but p’raps caught scent of its gist) he tossed another grin Phin’s way and sped up the second that houses gave way to hedgerows, and there was no whiff of human on the wind.

The night was lush with promise, the starlight as bright as the breeze was playful. Teasing Jake’s hair and whipping it around his face, radiant with the lure of freedom thrilling through his veins…even if he’d fought that truth until he saw it reflected back in Phin’s gaze.

“I love you…” Jake did flexing his fingers, tightening his clasp for the heartbeat it took for Phin to return it.

“I love you too…” Phin affirmed. In every way. It was always the last thing they said, in human. Like a starting pistol, or a prayer before lift off. Jackals Are Go. 

Oh dear, tragic that…They tended to do stripping off before shifting back at home, but they’d done dashing here from the pub so…oops. Jimjams thought it a better treat than dog chocs; so did Jack, much to Jake’s dismay. Black skinny jeans didn’t grow on trees. Nor in Cornish farm shops, for that matter.  

Phin was still snickering to himself when his own (not that skinny, scratchy balls would do driving him demented and relishing their nightly airing sure hadn’t helped) were but tatters on the breeze that rifled PJ’s fur when he did shaking it out. The bit in between never did differing; it was a bone-grinding, tendon-twanging, muscle-wrenching agony of ecstasy. Pain and pleasure both…a lot like loving someone.  

If you p’raps did revelling in all things gloriously gothic…and a smidge gruesome. 

The vision that did now standing before Jimjams was worlds away from that. Jack. Mine. From the tip of his tail to his noble nose. All PJ’s. As PJ was his. 

And Phin was Jake’s And Jake was Phin’s…if you were as daft as squirrel’s brush. Jack did slanting him a wry side-eye that suggested he’d been eavesdropping. Or Phin had p’raps done thinking too loud. Oops. Ja/ke just did a wink, not a jot miffed, then shot off ‘as if a hell-hound was hot on his heels’.  Scoundrel. 

Jimjams lolled a laugh and gave chase, his heart fit t’bursting with a too much consequence of being the luckiest jackal on Earth. Fact. 


Ooh, Mr Last Word as ever. And ever…Jimjams hoped as he did loping along to catch Jake up.  

Loping? Damn cheek. Ludicrous, those things are, that’s why… 

Big fat fibber.


PJ drew level and did swiping Jack a lick, content to remain at his side until they reached their happy place. They didn’t quite do scampering off into the sunset…it was better. The night belonged to them; to their furry time. Together. 

Forever? Spoke for itself. Jackals mate for life…




The End.


(112,000 w)




Beast: Epilogue Pt 1

Hiya, it’s getting out of hand😳 so here is the first half… I’ll post the final part asap.



The Beast of Bodmin Moor



Epilogue Pt 1 








Two weeks later… 




Phin could scarce stop from jigging in his seat as he did waiting for Jake to take his place at the mic stand. The Albion was as busy as can be with punters aplenty buzzing about like bees in Phin’s bonnet. He wasn’t wearing one of those, just fluffy earmuffs to do dampening their racket.  Splendid they were too, so he was glad his mum had bought them many moons ago, or Phin would’ve found himself plugged. Not in a fun way. By a certain foxy fusspot whose fretting made the muffs far more of a must than the clatter and chatter they were supposed to do drowning out. Ear-stuffer-uppers had sounded way more scratchy than a bit of hub-bub.

Phin didn’t mind the muffs one bit: Jake had refrained from plugging him, and better yet, Mr Fuss-a-lot might be able to do less fretting about Phin and more focusing on his music. 

As an added bonus, his trusty muffs were so fabulous they seemed to do calling for a feather boa to wear with them, as befitted such an auspicious occasion. Phin was about to see Jake play in public for the first time ever. He had done lots of listening at home but— A thought interrupted by a smile so creamy it was a wonder Phin’s whiskers hadn’t sprouted. Home. Jake and Phin’s home. Home sweet home. Home is where the heart is. Turns o’phrase that came as thick ‘n’ fast as… oh dear. 

Phin did crossing his legs and tugged his jumper down a tad. It was a good job Jake wasn’t standing at the mic stand or Phin might have needed to spring up and do catching it. Oh dear deux. What a t’do. I’m a poet and I didn’t know it. Tra la la boom de yay, my knickers flew away…in tatters yesterday… Crikey, his brain was having such a fizzy fit of the fidgets, Phin could scarce do keeping up. Cue Mutley snicker. It was ’nuff to cause whiplash; as-yellow-as-a-sou’wester-hat whiplash. Where was I?

 Ah, that was it…the muffs. He’d been gifted them by his mum when scratchy matters had run amok in Phin’s teens. He’d promised Jake he would do wearing them as a compromise after refusing the pluggers. The muffs were far preferable; Phin was accustomed to them and they also did pressing the sides of his head; a thing that oft helped when his marbles were pinging about too much. It felt…settling, similar to pressing the heels of his hands to his temples when the scratchiness got too much.

Anyhoo, Phin had assured Jake that the muffs were ‘mum approved’, which was surely proof of their pudding. That didn’t sound quite right. Not a lot did while sporting fluffy ear-flaps. Their fabulosity had proved so potent that Jake took one look at them and did blinking a bit when Phin rooted them out to show him. 

“I now find myself absurdly relieved by the brandishing of a pair of earmuffs…” Jake did rolling his eyes and sighed with weirdly gusty extravagance. “How long ago did you tell your mum?”

“I didn’t…the paediatrician did. P’raps when I was three?” 

“Three!? What the fuck made them so sure? Let alone tell your mum?”

Huh? Has Jake gone doolally? Isn’t that their job?

“Um…I didn’t do listening, which made them think I was deaf. So they did testing and came to the conclusion that I just ignored stuff I didn’t find interesting. And p’raps people too.”

“Tested?” Jake frowned. “Hang on, I’ve lost the plot…what were you tested for?”

“To see if I was deaf, I just told you…before they did deciding on Autism. It does my dad’s head in, but my mum’s always been supportive.”

Oh gawd…” Jake’s shoulders were quaking when he did what was called a ‘face palm’. The most literal turn of phrase Phin had ever heard in his life. Did that do disqualifying it as one?  “What I meant was: how long ago did you come out?”

Come out? Well, dang. Was there a kinktastic sex practice involving muffs Phin had missed in his many hours of research?

“I didn’t. It would have made her do worrying even more…in a Brokeback sort of way. She did very lots of crying when we saw it on telly.”

“Phin…I can’t help but suspect that…it’s a smidge too late to fret about worrying her. Or ‘coming out’. 

“She knows?” How!? Had she done finding the box of blue-eyed boys under Phin’s bed? Read his journal? His Kindle?  What made Jake so sure?

“Phin, she bought you rainbow earmuffs. I cannot think of another reason on Earth why she might have chosen a pair with an orange stripe. Nope, not even if you’d already okayed rainbows as the exception that proves the rule.”

“I like rainbows…” Phin heard himself say, from very far away. “They do neutralising…” 

He trailed off, too befuddled to do remembering the rest of whatever it was. She knows? Why hadn’t she done saying something, anything? Wasn’t she supposed to do sitting Phin down and telling him that it didn’t matter, it made no neverminds and she still loved him? 

Or had she? In her own inimitable way? His mum was quite mad, Phin was convinced of it—in the best possible way—but bonkers all the same. Had the muffs been a silence speaks louder than words sort of gift, when Phin himself had kept schtum on the subject? That seemed…probable. She was such a fountain of phrases, she even did spouting them in Latin.  Oh. 

‘Amor omnibus idem’…Love is the same for all. 

Virgil. 70-19 BC.  Her favourite font of wisdom.

‘Non omnia possumus omnes’…We can’t all of us do everything.

As she’d done reminding Phin over ’n’ over with so-soft insistence. P’raps when he’d had a bit of a fit of frustration…or done banging his head…or…um, ad infinitum.

Oh dear…he’d done wafting off. Again. Phin couldn’t even do remembering to concentrate on concentrating, of late. His mindset…didn’t. On anything. Else. It was a too much kaleidoscope of colour that never settled for long enough to do focussing on any one thing. Except…

Phin felt a smidge guilty for not minding one bit. He couldn’t do fretting about no sudden shrieks of scarlet. He liked red, but certain shades did setting off alarm bells in his head if they crept up on him while he wasn’t watching. It was also impossible to be bothered that a cloying cloud of khaki hadn’t done suffocating him in its noxious niff…but best of all? Nary a scourge of orange smog had made Phin scratchy with its skunky stink. 

Turning foxy may have made all this louder, brighter, stronger, smellier, swifter… more intense, but his brain had only done…shifting gear. It hadn’t split in two, nor did Phin feeldifferent’…or see the world through ‘new’ eyes. He’d just been gifted super-specs. They were even more splendid than his ear-muffs. As was their latter day significance in the scheme of thingsduhand future stuff he could do sharing. 

Phin wasn’t sure whether he was wired too wrong to find his foxiness freaky…or if following in Jake’s wake had paved Phin’s streets with gold and lit his way with a glow that made it the most sun-kissed spot on Earth. A happy place that logic seemed to suggest wasn’t all that far from ‘equatorial embarrassment’ but it sure felt a million miles away… 








Beastly Business


Just a little update…I do so hope you’re safe and well…and stay that way. 💙

I am still writing the epilogue, which is now about the length of a standard part, but I’ve barely begun. Oops…I may have to post instalments… 😳

I’ll leave it here till it’s published on 8th April, but it will be free for 5 days from 9th-13th, then available on KU thereafter.

Thank you for being here  xx 💙 xx


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Beast of Bodmin Moor…the end. Almost.

Hiya,  I added the final chapter – Jake – beneath Phin’s, as it insisted on being so brief.  We’ll be paying them one more visit for an epilogue. Thank you, as always for being here.🥰



The Beast of Bodmin Moor







“Hold on…” Jake instructed, after pressing a kiss to the tip of Phin’s nose. 

Scant seconds later, he’d done sitting up and shifted them round to plant his feet on the floor and push himself up. With Phin clinging on like a lanky monkey. He’d never felt so light, fragile, in his life, which was a bit bonkers when he’d never been less breakable. But, the fact still stood, despite being about five inches taller than Jake. It wasn’t a frequent thing to feel as weightless as a wisp of gossamer when lifted aloft, at six foot plus. Phin liked it. A lot.


Jake’s sharp inhalation made his eyes flare wide but, nose like a sniffer dog aside, Phin was pressed a smidge too close for jackal-in-the-box antics to go unnoticed.

“What on earth did you just think?” Jake chuckled. “Your scent spiked so sharply my knees nearly gave out.”

“Do I have to tell?” Phin asked, slamming his lids shut before cranking one open a smidge for a peep.

“No…but I’m now more curious than I was, which Jack finds frustrating.” 

“I think you use Jack like old folks use their age to suit themselves, so they don’t have to do remembering stuff that sucks rocks. Or ‘hearing’ it in the first place. It was p’raps about feeling as light as a feather—literally—when you do lifting me, and liking it. A lot.” 

“A lot, huh?” Jake grinned, rather than rebuff the blaming Jack part, as Phin had hoped. Bummer. “As for Jack…he likes that ‘snippet of info’ far too much. So, make what you will of that…while I go and run your bath and change the sheets…” Jake smirked, lowering Phin to the sofa. The second he was seated, the scoundrel turned tail and scampered off, leaving Phin far too foxed by Sphinxy riddles to do fathoming left from right. Or Jake from Jack…which was p’raps the point. Of what? Phin wasn’t sure. He was too flummoxed. 

Only one fact seemed certain; he would never do getting to the bottom of things that made Jake fascinating…or bored of the bottom that had just done slinking off with a wink of the dimples above its sumptuous swell. 


The scent of essential oils soon did wafting down the stairs…lavender, the sweet, herbal smell of chamomile…and one more, a minty woodsy whiff. Phin realised that he could hear the bath do filling up—not just the whoosh of the water from the tap—the sound was getting deeper, denser, as the level rose. His ears could still do picking up the noises from the bedroom as Jake rustled about; shaking out a sheet, having a scrap with the duvet cover. Phin was about to go and offer to do helping; it was his mess, but Jake was so super-swift he’d finished before Phin could do acting on the thought. 

The taps turned off and a few seconds later Jake reappeared in the doorway.

“Your bath awaits, sir…if it doesn’t smell orange. I hope?” 

“Nope…lavender, laced with chamomile…and…something else, just as green. Thank you, Jake…” Phin did smiling from under his lashes, blushing a bit. He’d come over all unnecessary. He liked that turn o’phrase a lot, but he’d never done feeling it before.

“Y’welcome…ready? Fireman’s lift or—” The fireman’s lift part ignited such a scorch of memory that Jake broke off on a rakish grin. Then did bending to clasp Phin’s right wrist and lift the arm aloft before tucking his tousled head beneath it. A snatched-off breath later, Phin was upside down with the best view in all of Kernow.  Nope, scotch that… watching it bunch, tighten and roll its way upstairs was sublime.  “There y’go…” Jake’s voice was raspy raw when he lowered Phin’s feet into the water. It did lapping at his calves in a silken caress, slithery with oil.  “Clary sage…that’s the other green smell. It’s an antispasmodic…I kept cramping for days…”

“After your first shift?” Phin wondered. When Jake just did a tight-lipped nod, a flicker of thought suggested a second question: “Did you try to do repressing stuff—fight it—next time?”

“Yeah…” Jake did a sigh so heartfelt it made Phin’s ache for him. Neither of them did acknowledging the cause and effect consequences of Jake’s answer aloud. They were as clear to Phin as the water rippling round his legs. Oh, he hadn’t done sitting down yet. Duh. 

Phin sank to his haunches and did parking his bum before shifting back a bit to make way for Jake. When he’d done stepping into the bath, Jake turned to present him with Phin’s favourite perspective on life, then clasped his bent kneecaps to do sinking between his legs.

“Mmmm…” That happy hum of sound happened on its ownsome when Jake did leaning against Phin’s chest. A sultry slip-slide of moist heat that was sheer bliss. A shade of buttermilk so luscious, he might get partial to baths for the first time in forever. Phin was too fidgety to ‘do relaxing’ and too clumsy to do reading while having a soak. That left one thing. Shooting yourself in the eye wasn’t a lot of fun, so Phin preferred to do showering, oddly ’nuff.

“Oh, I needed this…” Jake’s sigh was a spectrum apart from his last one. 

“Is it my fault?” Phin had to do asking because he dreaded the answer.

“No….far from it. It’s mine. You didn’t cause any of this, I did. I’m just tense, that’s all. Strung too tight, waiting for…the worst to happen.”

“What would the worst be?” Phin murmured, wrapping his arms around Jake.  

“Doing you irreparable damage…” Came the instant response. “Not just physical…”

“You were far too late to do damaging my head, y’daftie.” Phin assured him. “So you needn’t do fretting about that.”

“Your head isn’t damaged..or wasn’t until people tried to persuade you it was.” Jake grunted. “What is Mr. Neil supposed to help you with, Phin?”

“Cognitive behavioural malarkey. It hasn’t done making a jot of difference,” Phin admitted. “He’s very good at his job, I’m just a rubbish customer. P’raps it does working better when OCD is the issue, not a spin-off? I don’t know but my autism thinks it’s shady and does shooting it a suspicious side-eye. The colour stuff is separate…that’s just like being left-handed.” There. That was all of it…sort of. The rest was consequences…like cutting, but Jake knew about that.

“I suspect your instincts are too strong to slip anything ‘shady’ past them,” Jake chuckled. “Logic can’t touch ’em either, so I doubt it matters what’s drilled into your brain…” 

“It doesn’t have a hope in hell now…turning foxy is not a jot logical, is it?” Phin couldn’t help but do grinning. “Jake, can I ask something that does defying all logic to me?”

“Should I be worried?” Oops, it seemed to be Jake’s turn to do slanting a shifty side-eye. 

“It’s more a past thing, than a future fear?” Phin hedged. Jake didn’t do tensing in response, nor did his scent sour, so… “If jackals mate for life, why would she scarper after finding you at Glastonbury? ‘How’ makes even less sense…I’d rather die than do leaving you.” Phin felt as matter of fact about that as the clean duvet being claret. 

“It didn’t seem strange at the time…nor since, until we met. Now? I’d rather drop dead than abandon you, so…I have two theories: either she’s the anomaly, the exception that proves the rule, if y’like. That’s my preferred option. Or—how I hope this isn’t true—maybe she lost her mate? Grief’s a force as powerful as the love it mourns…if anyone hurt you I’d be quite capable of tearing them apart with my teeth and considering that justice. Unless it’s as simple as searching for second best…which never winds up feeling enough.” 

“I hope she finds someone she can’t do leaving, if that’s her story, it’s so sad. I wish you hadn’t suffered for her hurts but…” Phin trickled off, the rest of that sentence reeked all wrong and felt like rusty nails. Forgiveness was Jake’s to give.

“I know…walk a mile in her shoes, then judge her harshly, huh…?” Jake snuffed a sigh then did adding, “I’d rather she was heartless than heartbroken, t’be honest. Following in those paw prints is the last thing on Earth I’d want to do…”

“I can’t help but be glad she was a jackal…rather than say…a wolf.” Phin ’fessed up. “I would be a rubbish pack member. Having to follow lots of scratchy laws would do driving me demented. Too much bossing about would make me miffy…so I might forget to do remembering the rules and get bitted for being bad. Besides…I just want to be with you. I don’t want to do sharing.”

“I wouldn’t wish being stuck with me on my worst enemy, y’know,” Jake countered, which was the daftest thing Phin had ever heard anyone (else) do saying. It’s top spot was blink-n-miss it brief: “I’m fuck-awful company, and you deserve so much more…”  

“You’re the only company I’ve ever wanted to do keeping, so I feel m’self fortunate to be ‘stuck’ with it, you nutter. There is no more than you, and that’s that.” 









 “I’m the nutter? Thinking yourself fortunate for being stuck with me makes you certifiable. We should book you an appointment with Mr. Neil sharpish, see if he has any shady tips to imparrh fuck…” Jake tangled his fingers into the tufty hair hovering above his shoulder when the shell of his ear was accosted by a trickle of tongue. The lapping at its lobe ceased when teasing teeth sank into soft flesh and a feathery trail of fingertips started heading south, snatching away the last of Jake’s breath. Ah well…there was all the time in the world for talking. Surrender had never felt so sweet. Or permissible. Letting his lids glide shut, Jake inhaled a lungful of the most intoxicating smell of all, the mulled wine scent of his mate

“Kneel up, ’kay? I want to do washing you…” Phin murmured against Jake’s neck after leaving the hot imprint of his lips there. The blood that prickled to the surfaceblooming to a bruisewould be long gone before Jake made it to a mirror. 

Phin snaked out a long arm to snag the sponge when Jake grasped the sides of the bath to haul himself to his knees. A spurt of cherry almond preceded the slow sweep of soapy circles that spilled shivers of heat down Jake’s spine. He felt as fluid as the rivulets of water trickling down his skin, lapping at his legs. As languorous as the sultry air.

“Hmm…” Phin could pack more pleasure into a single syllable than ‘bliss’ could encapsulate. 

No one responded to stimuli with an absorption that could compare to Phin. Those inimitable eyes, as excessive as his thirst for more. He revelled in every touch, taste, scent, sight, sound, as if he might never know another. As if each was the first…and last. Wringing magic from the most mundane moments; infusing them with more. A self-sustaining energy source, personified.

Logic alone suggested that the flip side of this was—would be—brutal, which went a long way to explaining the ‘scratchy’ and Phin’s fear of it. If he could drink so much joy from things he delighted in doing, then—

You can’t control the air quality he breathes, you pillock. Nor would he thank you for it. In fact, quite the opposite, while we’re on the subject an’ all.

I know that, but—

But nothing. Just be there for him. Jump on the other end of the see-saw. Send him flying again. Obliterate the scratchy with a stronger ‘stimuli’, you fancy schmancy git. If anyone can… 

What if I fuck up, fail him?

If? You’re half-human, you lummox. Count on it. Of course you’ll fail him, he’ll fail you. We’ll fuck up. Together. I’d add ‘forever’ there, but it would sound too trite. 

You just did.  

With incorrigible Phinesse though, y’must admit…  


* * *

Fin…epilogue to come…






Guest · New Release · Release Blitz

Release Blitz: Like Father, Like Son


My week has been blessed with books that have made the mayhem bearable. This is the second of those; the latest release by Quin Perin, the fabulous ‘Like Father, Like Son’. 



Book Title: Like Father, Like Son

Author and Publisher: Quin Perin

Release Date: March 19, 2020


Genre/s: Taboo erotica

Trope/s: Enemies to lovers

Themes: Father/Son erotica

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 56 000 words/ 180 pages

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK


When the lines blur



Surprise, it’s a boy!

I never wanted to know him.

Never even suspected his existence. But once I knew, I had to see him. Had to see if it was true.

He has your eyes, your hair, your dimples.

Timothee is everything I used to be, full of life, full of joy. He’s also a sassy little sh*t.

He has me wrapped around his fingers, so damn easily.

My son? He’s trouble.

What we share is all kinds of wrong, even if it feels oh so right.

***LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON is a forbidden love romance, full of snark and kink. Please heed warning at the beginning of the book.





When he bent over the pool table, cue perched between his fingers, I positioned myself right next to Tim, my cue resting between my feet, tip pointing up. “You gotta go a little to the left,” I said and nudged him there. Tim shifted willingly, chest to the table, arms outstretched. “Aim for the ball in the middle, then touch it softly,” I added while I tried to keep my eyes from making a detour down his back to where his pants stretched tightly over his ass.

He made his move, which made the ball jump in the right direction but missed its aim completely. “You didn’t do it softly like I said.” Tim straightened up and smirked impishly.

“Next time I tell you to go softly, will you?” he asked.

I scoffed and, in a few, quick strides, rounded the table. Tim kept his smirk in place, gliding his hand up and down the cue so slowly it looked like he was stroking something else. God, this kid…

I bent over, hit the ball exactly how I’d showed him, and watched it pluck into the far right pocket. “That’s how it’s done,” I told him. Tim mimicked me childishly, waiting for me to continue. Someone approached him.

“Ohh, Dev, who’s this pretty little thing? Are you picking up whores from schools now?” Jason. I clenched my jaw as Tim whipped around and faced the man. Heavily tattooed, even more than me, blond hair pulled into a bun, and just as tall as Tim.

“Mind your fucking business,” I snapped while Jason studied my son’s face intently. Tim didn’t move. He just stood there staring at the man as Jason drew a thumb over his jaw. “Don’t touch him,” I snarled.

“Or what?” Jason lilted, his tone dripping with innocence. His father was Steven, the man who’d bailed me out of prison nearly two decades ago. Jason was younger than me, in his late twenties, and he had that bad boy charm that always had us on edge around each other. I hated him; he hated me. For various reasons. But for one in particular: his I-am-everything-and-you-are-nothing attitude.

“Or I’ll make you regret it,” I threatened, placing the cue on the table and stepping closer to them. Tim slowly emerged out of his trance, his eyes hooded when Jason flicked his thumb across his chin. Two men stood behind him, sipping beers, guns attached to their belts. The usual.

Jason dropped his hand, the chains around his wrist jingling, and hooked one finger in a belt loop of Tim’s jeans. “How much did you pay for him?”

I drew forward, grabbed Tim by his arm, and yanked him in my direction. “Don’t touch what isn’t yours,” I growled from between my teeth, fingers clenching around Tim’s biceps.

“Oh, so I was right?” Jason asked cheerfully. His lips curled into a smirk. The scar—from a fight I’d witnessed years ago—running from his right eye over his cheek turned his expression even more sinister, and it drove me crazy. It always did. I eased my hand off Tim’s arm and narrowed my eyes. “He looks delicious. Wanna play? Winner gets all.” That smirk broadened into a full-on grin. Jason was a good player, but this wasn’t like him. If he played, he played with guns, and death was on the table. Not some boy. Not my son.

“I wanna play.” A voice piped up from beside me, and I flicked my eyes in Tim’s direction. His eyes were dark and determined. “Winner gets all.”

“No way—”

“Oh.” Jason grinned, turning to Tim. “Why don’t we save everyone a lot of time and you just come home with me right now, huh?”

Tim smiled—fucking smiled. “You win, I go home with you, no charge. We win, you’ll leave us the hell alone and get out of the bar.”



About the Authors

As a pair of genre rebels, Quin and Perin—from the US and Germany—are constantly maneuvering time zones and plot bunnies to whip up Gay Novels. Expect plenty of heat and elevated smut. With a dash of drama, a pinch of sweet, and a hefty amount of kink on the side, they serve up stories that will leave you full and satisfied.



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Guest · New Release · Release Blitz

New Release: ‘When Are You?’ by Addison Albright:

MEME3 - When Are You


When I discovered that Addison Albright was releasing a new novel I could scarce wait to get my sticky mitts on it.  I’m so chuffed I did…and managed to snag the last spot on her Release Blitz Tour with OWI for this fabulous MM time travel romance 🥰

Please read on for my review and an exclusive interview with Addison on the subject of ‘stakes’ in When Are You?


COVER - When Are You?



They have to find him…but how?

A former member of an elite military special forces unit, Leo Bailey can handle anything life throws at him. Except maybe approaching a certain gorgeous, purple mohawk-wearing, heavily pierced artist. Not without his three eye-rolling wingmen along to push him in the right direction.

One look at the mouthwateringly muscled, military buzzcut-sporting man with the endearing blush, and Vincent Noland is in love. Or at least in lust. Love comes later. Then marriage…and sweet, adorable Oscar.

Life is perfect—the stuff of fairy tale happily ever afters—except for Arthur Fletcher, whose unsettling reactions to them threaten to upset the happy balance of their lives. But it isn’t Arthur who throws their lives into turmoil.

A freak event causes Oscar to go missing and leaves both men frantic to rescue their son. As they piece together the clues, they discover that Oscar isn’t somewhere. He’s somewhen. And Arthur Fletcher holds the key—or rather the glass beads—to their one chance of finding Oscar.

Will Leo’s training, Vinnie’s determination, and Arthur’s knowledge help them rescue Oscar, or is the little boy doomed to spend the rest of his life at the mercy of a primitive civilization? Could there be a third possibility?

Publisher | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

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My Review




When Are You? is a fantastic time travel tale that brought about a minor miracle: making sense to a brain that belongs at the back of the class, doodling on a desk as science takes a swift trip through one ear and out the other.

How wonderful it was not being clobbered by concepts I didn’t have a hope in hell of understanding. Instead, I found myself treated to a story that made time travel seem a reasonable proposition, and a tear in the air, as credible as lightning. A feat my utter lack of left brain was convinced could only be pulled off by the twinkle in David Tennant’s eyes.

This is Addison Albright’s first novel-length release since the fabulous To Love and To Cherish, one of my very favourite reads. The trilogy it completes is a brilliant, beautifully written castaway tale in which Addison’s incredible attention to detail and charming characters craft a story as fresh as it is captivating.

Thus, I was thrilled that she was again dipping her toe into waters she excels at. A world away from formulaic; Addison takes a trope and makes it her own with a unique tweak that reinvents a well-worn wheel. It was a delight to discover that in Where Are You? she has done it again…with utmost aplomb.

We are introduced to Leo and Vinnie on the day they meet, an irresistible encounter complete with incorrigible wingmen who all-but frogmarch Leo into Vinnie’s life. I was charmed from the first chapter: a superb introduction to our characters, the spark that flares between them and an insight into what makes them tick.

Although there is romance inherent in the depth of their love, this isn’t a ‘romance’. It’s an enthralling story about an established relationship that explores the boundlessness of unconditional love. Encapsulated by time travel. I loved it.




MEME2 - When Are You


Thank you so much, Zakarrie, for having me here and helping me celebrate the release of my new novel on your fabulous blog!

It’s a pleasure. Always.🥰  Thank you for being here…and particularly for pulling on your big girl panties to tackle those tricksy blog post questions… 😁


I came across a post, titled “6 Questions to Make Sure Your Story Has Stakes” after ”When Are You? was already submitted/contracted/scheduled. I was a bit reluctant to click the link since it was too late to make any significant changes to my story.

But I put on my big-girl panties and clicked anyway, because I was pretty sure the stakes in my story were high enough to pass any test. I did already understand the concept of needing some kind of stakes in the story, even though I hadn’t come across this specific checklist before.

Here are the six questions the blog post posed, and my answers:

If the protagonist fails, what happens? Something bad must happen if the protagonist fails to achieve their goal.

First, let me explain the “mission” our protagonists are facing. Leo and Vinnie were minding their own business, living the happy life, when they unwittingly ran through a rift in time (although they didn’t know that’s what it was while it was happening). Their young son, Oscar, is with them. In the mad scramble to backtrack through the portal, Oscar (and all but the handlebar of his stroller) gets left behind. They are cut off when the portal closes.

Most people think Oscar died in some kind of freak anomaly, but Leo and Vinnie know they were cut off from him, and Oscar was alive and well at that moment. So, their first goal is to rescue Oscar from “where”-ever he his.

Eventually they put together enough clues to figure out that Oscar isn’t somewhere, he’s somewhen, and not everything that was “supposed” to be left behind, was. They also figure out that due to how very long ago the rift opened at the other end, the butterfly effect could change literally everyone and everything in the countryand maybe the worldif they don’t succeed (meaning, if events don’t unfold precisely as the evidence indicates they already did). The fact they haven’t been zapped from existence tells them the timeline has not yet veered from course, and therefore the portal must reopen, and they will have their chance to rescue their son.

Is this the worst thing that can happen to the protagonist?

Yes. Even if the stakes were only about rescuing their son without any butterfly effect considerations, they consider not taking the risks inherent in their mission to be worse than everything they might give up if they become stuck there with Oscar.
But the stakes are indeed higher than that. If Leo and Vinnie decided not to try, and they missed the portal’s reopening, then they, Oscar, and everyone they know and love would likely all cease to exist.

Are the stakes tangible? Will an actual action happen if the protagonist fails to achieve his goal?

Yes. Although I suppose it could be argued that if you ceased to exist, you would no longer have any skin in the game.

Are the stakes worth fighting for? The protagonist can’t be ambivalent to the stakes.

Hell yes. Leo and Vinnie are grief-stricken to the point they’re going through with their plan for Oscar’s sake. The butterfly effect stakes are just a bonus consideration to them.

Who else cares about the stakes? If only the protagonist cares, the stakes may be too small. Stakes cannot be inconsequential.

A certain archeologist who knew (generally) what would happen before it happened, was terrified enough of the potential consequences of not letting everything unfold as he knew they must, that he fought against his ethical inclinations to forewarn the family. Otherwise, only friends whom Leo needs to help him prepare the rescue mission are shown the evidence to convince them of its reality. They don’t want to risk the timeline by informing the masses. But I’m pretty sure that anyone who knew and believed would very much care about the stakes.

If your protagonist succeeds, do they save the day? Avoiding the stakes must feel like a giant victory!

Yes, succeeding would save the day. And of course, they absolutely save the day…or rather the millennia. I can promise an HEA, but I can’t really share the details without getting too spoilery.


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They reached the quivering wall of air and rushed through it to the sound of the old woman on the bench screaming as their shoes found purchase on the park’s pervious rubber pathway, and they surged forward…then tumbled headlong onto the surface as the counterweight they’d been pulling vanished.

Leo grunted as his forearms scraped along the path. He stared uncomprehendingly at the stroller’s handlebar, still clutched in one hand. The handlebar and about six inches of pole on either side ending with a clean cut.

Leo gaped, unblinking and breathing heavily, at the path behind them. The wavering air…it was gone. The air was normal.

The woman hadn’t stopped screaming. Vinnie was panting—hyperventilating?—and snatching at bits of light green fabric that matched the stroller’s canopy.

“Oscar?” Leo’s voice came out in a squeak. Louder, he repeated, “Oscar?” He sat up and scanned the area. An unrelenting hand clutched his heart. Squeezed it. Squelched it. Liquified it. Oscar was gone. The entire stroller, other than the handlebar, was…gone.

Leo shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head. His breath caught in his throat, and he looked around again. He shouted, “Oscar!”

“No, no, no, no…” Vinnie chanted as he stumbled to his feet and spun around, fruitlessly looking everywhere…anywhere. He snatched another bit of green fabric floating on the air. “No, no, no, no…this isn’t happening.”

“Oscar!” Leo yelled again. His stomach lurched, threatening to heave because their actions were pointless. Wherever they’d been, that’s where Oscar still was. The portal had snapped shut, cutting them off, but every cell in Leo’s body screamed in denial of this reality. “Oscaaaaar!”

The woman stopped shrieking but sucked in rattling breaths behind her hands that now covered her face. Behind them on the path, voices broke through Leo’s focus.

“Oh, my God, did you see that?”

“What the hell just happened?”

“They just disappeared…into…thin air.”

“What happened to the kid?”

“Somebody call 9-1-1!”

In the field, the people who’d been kicking soccer balls had stilled and were staring, wide-eyed.

Vinnie crumpled to the ground, hugged his knees to his chest, bits of green fabric clutched in his hands, and rocked. Leo barely heard Vinnie’s words as they tore his heart in two. “No, no, no, no…”

Leo doubled over and retched. He’d failed Oscar. He’d failed Vinnie. He’d failed. Utterly and completely failed.

He hadn’t cried since middle school, but a garbled sob escaped him now. He dragged a forearm across his mouth and turned back toward where the wavy air had been. “Oscaaaaar!”

“Where did it go?” Vinnie choked on a rattling sob of his own. “Where did it go? We’ve got to go back and get him! Where did it go?”

Leo lifted his face to the sky. “Oscaaaaar!”

The faintest of echoes was the only answer to Leo’s agonized plea.


Author Bio

Addison Albright

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay romance in contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction genres. She generally adds a subtle touch of humor, a smidgen of drama/angst, and a healthy dose of slice-of-life to her stories. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, French fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

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Beast of Bodmin Moor 50

The Beast of Bodmin Moor






The sheer intensity of Phin’s kiss was too much for Jake’s subterranean self to take…sitting up. One second they were side by side on the sofa, lips locked, tongues entwined. The next, Phin was flat out, pinned beneath Jake’s bod—fuck.

“Shit, sorry!” So, so stupid. Careless…when he’d never cared so much in his goddamn life. About protecting Phin, keeping him safe, shielding him from harm; when the greatest danger to Phin was still, in fact, himself. The inability to control his base instincts…reprehensible, at the best of times. Unforgivable, when they failed Phin.

That was oblique. Am I to suppose it was aimed my way…or are you finally ’fessing up?


At least you’ve always owned that much. On the bright side, Phin doesn’t seem a bit bothered, you jim-jammy sod…so stop cussing and count your bloody blessings for once. Rather than ripping y’self a new one. Golden boy. Inside and out; despite your constant carping to the contrary. Unless Phin is colour blindwhich would be a bit bloomin’ ironic, y’must admithe clearly can’t see the black heart you’re hell bent on bemoaning. So, suck that up, shit for brains. 

Jake abruptly found himself too busy to argue when Phin clasped his nape to crash their lips together. The air slammed out of Jake’s lungs and he gasped, tasting the scent that now seemed a part of himself. The supple warmth of Phin’s tongue, the fierce tenderness of his kiss; as luxurious as the leg he hooked around Jake’s. It also made flipping them over as smooth as it was effortless; relieving Phin of his weightouching or notand well… Phin’s words had proved impossible to shift since…moments before he’d done exactly that.

‘Jimjams can’t do sitting on Jake’s…’

Jake was only human (most of the time) and Phin? As sure as everlasting legs was, now at least. The glint that gleamed in those stargazy eyes, staring down into Jake’s, suggested Phin hadn’t done forgetting either. A fact confirmed about a gleeful grin before he scrambled up and shot off, returning a few seconds later with the lube.

It was all Jake could do to hold still when slick fingers were curled around his cock, such was the force of his own feuding will. Finer instincts fighting the compulsion to seize control when Phin’s body could do with a break from further battering, Sire or no. Safeguarding his mate being the only battle Jake had a hope in hell of winning. Phin’s earlier wish was the ace card that froze Jake in place when his waist was bracketed by bent knees. 

Rather than sinking straight down as he’d steeled himself to expect, Phin bent to brush a kiss to Jake’s mouth and whisper words he would die to deserve. Whiskey warm, as intoxicating as Phin’s breath. Then sank down onto Jake’s cock (sitting up and all-but begging), engulfing it hilt deep with a sublime sigh. The absence of—now unnecessary—prep was still a shock to Jake’s system so intense it ripped a curse from his lips, and a plea from every fibre of his being. 

“Fuuck!” Jake gasped,  “Phin…please…” An entreaty met by a swish of hips, for all the world as if to make himself ‘comfy’. If the intent in those eyes proved as lethal as they promised, it would finish Jake off. All he could do, was abandon himself to the lissom sweep of lithe hips and hope he didn’t disgrace himself. A feat in itself against what had to be the very definition of too much—at which Phin excelled—not excessed. Too much to be gifted, or have done a damn thing to deserve…too much bliss to bear…ever losing him. 

Jake gritted his teeth, jaw locked as tight as the grip on his own spine, hell bent on surging off the sofa. Then slammed his lids shut against a sight that was truly too much for one man and his dog to endure without exploding, in one form or another.

Jake let his head fall back, luxuriating in the sinuous sweep of Phin’s hips, rolling as he sank and rose…over and over till Jake felt half-crazed with lust; for more, always more… He would never, could ever, drink his fill; never taste, touch, take, give too much.  Buried in Phin’s body as deep as the dragging heat in the pit of Jake’s belly…radiating from the base of his spine to lick, lava-like, along his veins. He ached to learn Phin; every secret place that made a small, sharp, gasp rip from rosebud lips. Know exactly what made those long, lean muscles spasm, lock. To taste the precise tipping point when the torrent of sensation was finally too much for Phin to take. 

He could no longer wrench his gaze from Phin’s face. Lust-heavy lids, feathery lashes fanned low. As entrancing as the play of light and shadow on porcelain skin, shimmering with the lustre of pearl. Impossibly perfect.

“Gnnrrr…please…” Jake groaned, “Phin…” A plea that prompted a secret smile when Phin canted his hips just so, prompting a bitten-off shriek that made his head snap back. 

“Jaaake…” The heady sound of his name; exhaled on a sigh when he curled his fingers around Phin’s cock and allowed himself one incisive thrust. It wracked Phin with a shudder that snatched off on a gasp as sharp as cut glass when pulsing warmth started spilling over Jake’s hand. Infinitely too much to take. His spine spasmed, locking, when a staggering bolt of bliss shattered Jake’s vision in a torrent of white heat. 

When Phin sank against Jake’s chest, the smear of sweat slick skin and welcome weight was soothing. Lulling Jake into a softer sort of pleasure, like waves lapping the shore. Phin nestled into the curve of Jake’s neck, nuzzling close. He felt a little flicker of tongue, tasting. “Hmmm…” The purr that rumbled against Jake’s chest made his entire self hum in response. Ridiculous. Still true. 

If it was possible to hurt with happiness, Jake did.

“You’re terrifying…” Christ, he’d uttered that, hadn’t he? Into Phin’s hair, which had tickled Jake’s face, so he must’ve let the inanity air itself. F’godsakes.

“In a good way…or bad?” Phin didn’t sound a bit bothered. Either by Jake’s idiocy, or his own reaction to it, which was…inimitable.

“Can fear be considered glorious?”  Jake grimaced.

Okay, you’ve lost the plot now. Just sayin.

“Well…they do build roller coasters?” Phin lifted his head to offer, for all the world as if said lunacy had merited a reply.

“Can I keep you?”  Jake actually asked that. Aloud.

Now that is a question most meritorious. I’d begun to despair of you, I must admit.

“I doubt you’d do getting a refund,” Phin noted with a grin as dazzling as those stargazy eyes. 

“Thank fuck for that…”  Jake chuckled, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Only cos you’re priceless sounded far better, y’know. Ah well, it was a tad schmaltzy, I suppose.

Just a tad.

Tragic, that.  

Yup, devastating. Humans, who’d have ’em…?

You’re stealing my lines now, I think I preferred you all snarly.

What happened to ‘us’? Liar.

Takes one to know one?