October Country


“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . .”

Ray Bradbury, The October Country

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Whatever He Needs it OUT! #Review


Dimmy can’t trust the people who are supposed to love him and can’t wholly love the man who has stolen his heart.

Nightclub dancer, Dimmy Cirillo, is living a nightmare. He doesn’t want to be the boy-toy his father is pimping him out to be, but he has no way out.

Construction-company heir, Liam McAllister, wasn’t looking to become anyone’s white knight, but he couldn’t stop himself from helping the willowy, tattooed man who takes his breath away. But Liam isn’t out, and he won’t tell his father – the repercussions would be disastrous. His only truth is found in Dimmy’s love. 

If Liam waits too long to be the man he knows he should be, he risks losing Dimmy. Worse, Dimmy might fall back into his father’s clutches.

Both men have to face standing up for themselves and for their love. It’s the fight of their lives, and they have to win.

Here is an excerpt:

I slam my beer bottle on the bar and drop from my stool. I shove a path through the glittering rainbow bodies on the dance floor until I reach the center where Dimmy is crouched on the floor at the older man’s feet. His shiny hair is still snagged in the asshole’s fists, his head jerking back and forth with the guy’s annoyance.

“First the piercings and all the tattoos, and now this,” the older man shouts, so he can be heard above the Thompson Twins. “Come on, Dimitri. Why do you have to do shit like this? You’re always forgetting I gave you this,” he gestures to the cube, “and I can take it away.”

“I just—”

“Look at me and listen carefully. This is my hair, Dimitri.” He leans down and grasps Dimmy’s face in his hands, holding it so Dimmy is forced to gaze into the man’s eyes. The older man’s volume remains steady. “You should have asked me before you changed it.” He has the gall to chuckle. “I’m the only one in this family with an eye for color, right?”

“Sorry.” I strain to hear the meek response. “I-I’ll change it back, Dad.”

Dad? So this creep is the “big deal” manager of All the Feels Lounge. Dimmy’s soon-to-be pimp—if Alva’s got it right—and his father. Gregory Cirillo, trying to impose his will on such a free spirit.

“Okay, one more time because you’re a little bit…um, challenged. I let you know how to groom yourself.” His speech is insultingly slow. Apparently, Gregory doesn’t care who hears him chastise his son. He softens the verbal blow by once again laughing and even winking at Dimmy. “For Christ’s sake, kid, you wouldn’t know when to wipe your ass if I didn’t give you the green light.”

Dimmy closes his eyes, and it’s like somebody stuck a pin in him. He deflates into a pile of skin and bones on the floor. It kills me, and I don’t even know him.

“Now get back to work. Meet me in my office when you’re finished. Cash is tight this week. Your tips better impress me.”

The kid huddles on the floor until his father strides away. None of his fans from earlier in the night approach to help him to his feet, but I do. I step close and bend enough to offer my hand, which Dimmy accepts after glancing nervously around him. Once standing, he brushes the sticky hair from his face. This is when it happens. His hollow gaze meets my heated one. It’s like somebody struck a match in my heart and set it ablaze.

Now I know exactly what my type of man is.


Mia Kerick does not disappoint!

Mia kerick has long been one of my go-to authors when I want something special, and once again she delivers with Whatever He Needs. Dimmy is the beautiful, sensual go-go dancer at the bar Liam frequents, brave and broken, who yet tries every day to break out of the chains of abuse and exploitation his father binds around him. Liam, successful and self-confident, becomes a father figure to Dimmy, saving him from his father’s cruelty. And yet, as they come to know each other better, they realize their friendship and love has grown into something more. They not only complete each other, but raise each other up to become their more authentic selves. This is a story of how friendship and understanding can heal, and that even opposites can find lasting love.

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LUKA #booktour #giveaway! #fantasy

Welcome to my book tour for LUKA! I will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to one randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Follow the tour for more chances to win!

April 5: All the Ups and Downs
April 6: Books to Light Your Fire II
April 7: Kit ‘N Kabookle
April 8: Viviana MacKade
April 9: The Avid Reader
April 12: Romance Novel Giveaways
April 13: Long and Short Reviews
April 14: Gina Rae Mitchell– review only
April 14: Author Deborah A Bailey
April 15: Fabulous and Brunette
April 16: Dawn’s Reading Nook




Luka makes a desperate wish and the earth shifts to his will. Regretting it immediately, he tries to undue the sorcery, but it is too late. He asked for hope, and to his horror, all the hope in the world is given into his keeping. He desires nothing more than to return this gift to the world.

Aethan wants to get his hands on the Well of Hope in Luka’s keeping. If he can ransom out hope to others at his whim, the world will be at his feet. Where it belongs.

With the aid of his lover, Rhys, Luka stays one step ahead of Aethan. But Rhys has his own enemy in Aethan, his estranged father.

Rescued by Luka, his sweet, gentle witch, Rhys now stands with him against Aethan. They have vowed to return the Well of Hope to the earth despite all odds, or die trying. For what is life worth, for anyone, without hope?


Luka settled cross-legged on the hearth with a murmured word of gratitude to the fire as its warmth surrounded him. Keeping a veiled eye on the woodpile, he crumbled a crust of bread and honey onto the stones. The animals had grown skittish of late, and he missed their company on his long tramps through the forest. The cabin had grown lonely without Rhys’s vibrant presence.

The thoughts of his lover sent his gaze to the small stack of books he kept close at hand to leaf through during the long empty nights. He’d rescued the young man from a brutish existence at the hands of a madman, and the stories were all that would ease his frantic, tortured mind. Rhys would sit close to Luka while Luka read the heroic tales until his head would nod, and he’d slump into Luka’s arms, a warm, living presence in his solitary life.

Luka raised his head, attentive. Winter gathered outside the latched door, wind howling through the trees, sending their limbs scratching along the roof. A shiver traveled up his spine. Something darker than the storm was coming.

The fire snapped in a shower of sparks, recalling his attention. He drew a small bundle of twigs from a pocket, cupped it in his worn, nut-brown hands, and breathed in the scent of juniper and sage. Chanting the words his mother had taught him long ago, he tossed the clump into the flames. A tendril of smoke rose, twirled in lazy circles in the air and brushed against his face.

He breathed deeply, holding in his lungs the heady smoke of the sage and grasses he’d gathered by the stream last autumn. His thoughts cleared. He saw everything! Snow whipped through the darkness between the trees, carried on the fierce wind. His beloved animals huddled in the scrub brush for safety and warmth. The village beyond the forest barred its doors, fires lit, safe inside while the storm raged.

His thoughts soared, bursting into the moonlit landscape above the clouds. Laughing aloud, his spirit flew in wonder, heart aching at the beauty of the night. But something tugged at his heart, his name shouted on the wind. He blinked at tears, bringing the fire back into focus, the cabin solid around him. Night pressed on the shuttered windows. Something was in the night…

Luca’s heart leaped. He comes! A soft cry of joy escaped him, and he rose in one fluid motion to his feet. He’d sent Rhys away to find love elsewhere than in the arms of a lonely witch, and yet he came, daring the storm.

“Come to me,” he urged the solitary figure in his mind’s eye, struggling up the path to reach him. A tremor seized him. Long years of bartering his herbs and potions to the villagers had passed while he waited with hope and dread for Rhys’s return, darkness at his heels.

He crossed the wooden floor of the cabin, logs he’d hewn and planed himself, lighting the candles with a word as he passed, filling the room with light. Luka paused at the door, hand hesitant on the latch. He had enemies beyond this safe threshold. What if Rhys had gone to them in his bitterness and returned now for revenge? Luka closed his eyes, seeing again the pain on Rhys’s youthful face, the confusion in his eyes when Luka told him to go, and closed the door on his anguished pleas.

A rap on the door sent his pulse racing. Love and doubt warred inside him, but he had to know, see the truth of it. He opened the door a crack; icy wind whistled in. A figure stood on his step, the heavy cloak clutched against the cold obscuring his features. Who was this? He swung the door wider. The energy was all wrong. But Luka would welcome him in whatever guise he wore.

He opened his hungry arms, but Rhys shook his head and looked up, candlelight spilling on his pale face, grown older. “You sent me away—brokenhearted.” Rhys’s voice was deeper than he remembered. “If I cross this threshold, I won’t leave again. Be very sure.”

Luca trembled, searching the beloved features, and mourned the sweet innocence that was missing. Snow sifted through the trees adding to the weight on Rhys’s shoulders, and Luka swallowed his doubts. “Come inside.” He tugged on Rhys’s sleeve, unable to mask his eagerness. His heart stumbled, then leaped, seeing a flash of elation in Rhys’s eyes.

Rhys stepped into the cottage in a flurry of cold air and snow, and Luca hastily closed and latched the door behind him. He turned, and his lips parted in a startled gasp. Rhys had removed his cloak, snow already melting on the warm floor. His golden hair fell loosely to his shoulders, and his body filled out the tunic and trousers he wore in a way it hadn’t five years ago. He had grown into a handsome man, the fine wool of his clothing attesting he’d done well in the village.

Suddenly conscious of his frayed sleeves and ink-stained fingers, the silver now threading his dark braid of hair, Luka glanced away. His gaze fell on the books and parchment littering every surface, candle wax spilled on the tabletops. A thick layer of dust covered the bookshelves, except for the volumes he used for reference. He chewed a lip, troubled.

“Come to the fire,” he offered, taking Rhys’s cloak to hang on a peg. “There’s a stew simmering on the hearth.”

Rhys touched his shoulder, halting him. “A moment. I’ve come to warn you. Your old enemy—”

 “Is coming. This I know. We’ll talk of it later. Please, come to the fire. You must be cold.”


Luka swiveled sharply at the command in Rhys’s voice, a thrill rushing through him. So much courage from his once timid lover. Was this the same man he’d rescued? The young lad of seventeen years, chained and beaten in a dank cellar? Rhys wouldn’t speak of his parents back then, saying only he’d lived on the charity of others. Until he’d been snared, captive to a cruel man’s dark appetites.

Rhys’s soul had cried out in anguish from his prison, finding Luka’s heart, drawing him deep into the forest to the monster’s isolated hut. Luka had eluded the dark sorcerer, freeing the lad and taking him into his home. And later, into his bed, a moth to Rhys’s bright flame, his heart opened for the first time in uncounted years to love and promise.

He tucked a hand under Rhys’s elbow. “Come to the fire, dear heart. Let me see you in the light.” He dropped his gaze again, unaccountably shy. “I’ve missed you.”

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BIRTHDAY PRESENTS is out! #suspense #lawenforcement #mm #serialkiller



Crimson loves to dance. He adores watching the pretty boys grind to the frantic beat of the music and picking out his lover for the evening. But more than that, he lives for his birthday, that one day a year he gives into his darker impulses: choosing a young man to lure into the alleyway with promises of sex, then slitting his throat in the midst of their passion and reveling in the hot blood on his hands.

For Tracey Winston, life has become a nightmare. Kidnapped from a nightclub in Boulder, Colorado, brutalized and raped by Crimson, he’s held captive in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains along with sweet Kyle, a young man Crimson keeps chained to his bed and is slowly torturing to death. Though Tracey manages to escape with Kyle’s help, he has to leave Kyle behind in Crimson’s cruel hands.

Detective Gene Mallory has never stopped looking for his brother Kyle, kidnapped from a nightclub seven months previously. The case breaks open when Tracey Winston comes forth at the urging of his new boyfriend, claiming to have knowledge of where Crimson is hiding out. A manhunt begins with Crimson continuously slipping through their net. Lives are on the line, with both Gene and Tracey being targeted by the killer. A traitor in their midst tips Crimson off to their plans.

Crimson’s birthday has come and gone, and he will kill again.


Gene stared at the golden-brown liquid swirling in the shot glass as the bartender filled it yet again. Maybe he’d had enough. God, he was tired. He rubbed his gritty eyes, the techno music blaring through the crowded room throbbing in his head.

He turned on the stool to the small dance floor and watched a young man gyrate to the pounding beat. Strobe lights caressed the man’s pale skin and dark clothing. The sleek body twirled with flowing, sensual movements. With a graceful twist, the guy’s black hair swept like silk across his white cheek. Achingly young and beautiful. Gene noted the men standing back, drinks in their hands, watching the dancers. His suspect could be any one of them. Or none.

He picked up the shot glass and held it up to the flashing lights. How many nightclubs exactly like this one had he been in these past six months? It felt like hundreds, with him no closer to finding Kyle’s abductor. If he’d even been kidnapped.

Gene put the glass to his lips and tossed back the whiskey, savored the burn in his throat. Most members of the police force believed Kyle had been bored with his life and simply walked away. He was nineteen, after all. Even Craig had backed off the search as more pressing cases took precedence.

But Kyle would never have done that. Gene knew his brother. Sweet and shy, Kyle would never have gone willingly with a stranger, without a word to his family, leaving his parents in this nightmare.

“But he never told you he was clubbing either,” Craig would remind him.

Gene set the glass on the sticky bar, and after a brief hesitation, motioned the bartender for another. It was Kyle’s birthday and maybe the alcohol, if only for a few hours, might numb the helpless certainty and horror that Kyle was held captive in some sadist’s basement. The fear of every cop in a kidnapping situation. Besides, he wasn’t on duty. Had never officially been on the case in the first place.

Leaving the new shot untouched, he swiveled back to the dance floor, allowing his gaze to wander the sea of young bodies writhing to the thumping music. Kyle had been in a gay bar like this one when he’d been taken, the couple of witnesses that came forward claiming he’d left with an older, hot as hell, dark haired man. But even that was sketchy. They’d all been drinking, after all.

He sat up as the young man who’d been dancing earlier caught his attention. The guy stood on the edge of the dance floor, his gaze fixed on a man leaning against one of the pillars staring back at him. Gene caught a glimpse of the man’s face, cold and beautiful, before the dancer stepped between them, swaying seductively toward him, clearly bent on arousing the man’s interest.

On instinct, Gene collected his credit card and moved to a spot along the wall where he could watch them. The older man kept his eyes on the dancer and, holding his gaze, reached down and stroked the bulge in his pants. Oh, he’s good, Gene thought. And he fit the description of Gene’s suspect. The young man’s eyes widened, startled, interested.

A new song erupted from the speakers and Gene pushed off the wall. The older man’s gaze flickered to him, returned. Gene knew he looked good, the tight jeans and cropped shirt clearly showing his intent for a hookup that evening. The dancer scowled as he came up to them but flounced away to join the crowd as the older man’s eyes slid appreciatively over Gene. He smiled a secret smile and motioned him closer, placing his hand on the small of Gene’s back. He leaned close to his ear to be heard over the pounding music. “I’m Crimson. Would you like a drink?”

Gene blinked at his name but nodded, and Crimson guided him to an empty table against the wall. Drinks appeared from the attentive waiter, a whiskey for Gene and something clear, probably vodka, for Crimson. Crimson slid a bill across the table and the waiter’s eyes widened at the amount.

Crimson scooted his chair closer to Gene, watched him indulgently while they sipped their drinks. “What is—”

No way would Gene give his name. Playing the game, he cut off his words with a kiss, tasting vodka and lime. Seeming caught off guard, Crimson moaned into his mouth, plunged his tongue in, the invasion tickling Gene’s gag reflex, but he managed to check it.

Crimson leaned back, biting gently on his bottom lip before releasing him. “Your name?”

Gene curled his lips into a lazy smile. “Does it matter?”

Crimson threaded his fingers through Gene’s dark hair and tugged it back, lowering his head to lick his neck, nuzzle an ear. “Want to get out of here?” he asked, nibbling along his jaw.

Gene met his gaze and suppressed a shudder when Crimson dropped his hand on Gene’s thigh. Taking a quick breath, he gave a soft moan. “Yes.”

“Finish your drink.”

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NICOLAS is only $1.99! Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays! My NICOLAS is on sale for $1.99, just in time for the season. Come meet Piter, my Krampus…

Piter’s voice rose to a shriek, his face blotched with fury. “You wanted to kill me! Murder me without remorse.” He pushed up from the couch and stood, a vengeful angel hiding its corruption in beauty. “You haven’t begun to suffer, Nico. I want you on your belly, sobbing for my mercy. And even then I’d spit on your pitiful soul.”

Piter lunged, grabbing Jamie’s chin, nearly crushing his jaw. The green jewels of Piter’s eyes gleamed with a wild light. “When you tire of chasing this stronzo, this piece of shit, come to me,” he commanded and crushed their lips together. The kiss lasted for seconds of pain and exquisite pleasure, then Piter let him go, and Jamie watched, dazed, as he swept out of the room with a mocking laugh.

Jamie giggled at the dramatic moment, overcome with confusion and fear. Nico sighed, head bent as he stared at his clasped hands. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I tried to shield you from him.” Jamie sat back in his chair and gave him a cool look. “Really? I thought you handed me over to him very nicely. Might as well have trussed me up with a ribbon on my c*ck for his pleasure.”

#krampus #MMromance #erotic #paranormal

Betrayed by a lover, Jamie rents an isolated cabin on Lake Huron, wanting only to be left alone. Instead, he is pulled from his solitary existence as an artist and tumbles headlong into the legend of Saint Nicolas.

As a young man, Nicolas accidentally killed a man intent on murdering three children, only to have the man’s malicious spirit rise up against him. Fleeing through the centuries from the Krampus, the evil troll-like creature that dogs his steps, Nico finds refuge with the young artist who takes him into his home and bed. But Jamie has questions. Who is Nicolas, and why does the Krampus want to destroy him?

When the Krampus begins to torment and torture anyone Nico comes in contact with to punish him, Jamie’s life is put in danger. And Jamie isn’t sure whether he can help Nico defeat his nemesis or if he’s merely a pawn in the Krampus’s game.


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The October Country


“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . .”

Ray Bradbury, The October Country

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The Man from Milwaukee is out! by Rick R. Reed #newbook #giveaway #horror

The Man From Milwaukee
by Rick R. Reed
Genre: Horror, LGBTQ
It’s the summer of 1991 and serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer has been arrested. His monstrous crimes inspire dread around the globe. But not so much for Emory Hughes, a closeted young man in Chicago, who sees in the cannibal killer a kindred spirit, someone who fights against the dark side of his own nature, as Emory does. He reaches out to Dahmer in prison via letters.
The letters become an escape—from Emory’s mother, dying from AIDS, from his uncaring sister, from his dead-end job in downtown Chicago, but most of all, from his own self-hatred.
Dahmer isn’t Emory’s only lifeline as he begins a tentative relationship with Tyler Kay. He falls for him, and just like Dahmer, wonders how he can get Tyler to stay. Emory’s desire for love leads him to confront his own grip on reality. For Tyler, the threat of the mild-mannered Emory seems inconsequential, but not taking the threat seriously is at his own peril.
Can Emory discover the roots of his own madness before it’s too late and he finds himself following in the footsteps of the man from Milwaukee?
**Get the book for 40% off when you buy from the publisher !!**
Book Trailer 1
Book Trailer 2
Real Men. True Love.
Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Find him at http://www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

$20 Amazon, Ebook copy of my horror novel, THIRD EYE (1 winner each)

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

The excerpt below reveals the affinity our main character Emory Hughes feels for notorious serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer around the time of his arrest in July of 1991.

Just before he got to the Grand Avenue subway and the smelly stairs that would take him down to its subterranean world, he came across one of those squat boxes from which one could purchase a newspaper. The blue box was dedicated to the Chicago Sun-Times and the picture on the front page made him stop, suck in a breath. He looked around a little before stooping down to look at the paper behind the Plexiglass window.

There he was, once again, Jeffrey Dahmer. He’d been lifted from obscurity, from the darkness of his private deeds, to national headlines. He looked so—what? Deer caught in the headlights? Nonplussed? Afraid? No, not afraid, just maybe, well, resigned.

He had to have known this fate was coming. He couldn’t have expected to go forever without being caught.

He gleaned a few more details—how Dahmer had a fifty-seven-gallon drum for bones from the bodies he cut up, how he’d sprayed skulls he kept on an altar gray to make them look like plastic replicas, even how he’d admitted to frying up and eating the bicep of one of his victim’s—before standing up and wiping his hand on his pants.

He groped in his pockets for change, but had none.

He walked away, thinking he’d read enough anyway. No one was watching him standing there, absorbed by the article. He glanced around to make sure of it.

Down the damp concrete stairs and into the subway he went. A phalanx of commuters, a mix of races, ages, and sexes filled the platform. It must have been a long time since the last train had rolled into the

station. Emory leaned against a tile wall, trying not to breathe in the musty air, but grateful for the mildewed chill being underground provided.

Or was he feeling a chill because of what he’d just read? He shook his head. Leave it to the media to play up the most horrific details, to call Dahmer the Milwaukee Monster, to revel in the salaciousness of it all.

He pushed the thoughts out of his head and forced himself to move from the security of the tiled wall to the edge of the platform, where he could peer into the blackness of the empty tunnel to look for any sign of an imminent train. He looked down as movement caught his eye—a rat scurrying along the tracks.

He hoped it wouldn’t be electrocuted by the third rail. He watched as it progressed into the tunnel, the shadows swallowing him up.

He felt more than heard the rumble of the oncoming train. Because of the number of people already waiting, he knew he’d be crammed inside a car, body-to-body, with a bunch of sweaty strangers. There’d be no seat for him. He’d be lucky if he even was able to squeeze into the open doors.

The prospect made him feel a little sick to his stomach.

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I love Gardening! #giveaway #mmromance

cb2It’s my day!!

This month a bunch of my author friends and I have put together a big giveaway. There are two grand prizes and many individual ones. Come join me at Cathy Brockman’s HERE to see what I’ve done to handle staying at home more than ever.

Be sure to enter the rafflecopter to win! $45 value 🙂


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BELEGA Book Tour and Giveaway!

Welcome to the Other Worlds Inc. book tour for BELEGA! Visit each stop for a chance to win a $20 Amazon Gift Card!!

April 2 – Thursday:   Phoebe’s Randoms (was Phoebe’s Rainbow World) 

April 2 – Thursday:   MM Midnight Cafe 

April 2 – Thursday    Cajun’s Cabinet for Reviews&Blog

LOGO-Other-Worlds-InkApril 2 – Thursday:    Drops of Ink

April 2 – Thursday:    Queer Sci Fi 

April 2 – Thursday:    QueerRomance Ink  

April 3 – Friday:          Never Hollowed By The Stare 

April 4 – Saturday:     Mickie B. Ashling 

April 5 – Sunday:     Ilovebooksandstuffblog   

April 6 – Monday:    Nicolie-Olie’s Meanderings   

April 7 – Tuesday:      kittenwylde 

April 8 – Wednesday:  Love Bytes

April 9 – Thursday:   Sharonica Logic

April 10 – Friday:   J. Scott Coatsworth

April 10 – Friday:  MM Good Book Reviews

April 11 – Saturday:   Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author

April 12 – Sunday:    Boy Meets Boy Reviews

April 13 – Monday:   Matt Doyle media

April 14 – Tuesday:   Stories That Make You Smile 

April 15 – Wednesday:  Bayou Book Junkie 

April 16- Thursday:  Joyfully Jay 



The Karthagans have regained their ancient powers of manipulating nature, but at the price of madness. In their lust for control they’ve destroyed their island and most of their race. They come now to Belega where one of them, Camron, seeks domination over the known world. The Mage has come from the northern continent of Sennia to bring peace, but finding his strength no match for the coming struggle, he passes his abilities on to Natan, who only desires a simple life. Now only Natan has the ability to stop Camron, but the personal cost is more than he imagines. It is only with the combined strength of his friends, his Karthagan lover, Kavi, and his deep desire to bring peace to the earth, that he finds the courage to overcome Camron and restore balance to the world. The power of the mind is immense. In this world, mankind has learned to gather the energies of creation to use at their whim. But absolute power corrupts absolutely.


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#Free Book! Happy St. Patty’s Day!!

Trails of a Lonely SpecterTrials of a Lonely Specter


March 16-17



A reluctant ghost at best, Quinn doesn’t like the haunts to which Liam takes him, always fearful of encountering a true medium in the paranormal groups investigating the houses, bent on seeing a ghost.

When Liam sets him up for such a meeting, Quinn breaks from him, not fully understanding the apparition’s cruelty. He’d thought they were friends. But despite his anger, when he believes Liam will go to the manor house without him, a house known to be haunted by a fearsome ghost, Quinn joins him, hoping to keep him from danger.

But it is Quinn himself who is in danger, not only from Betterford’s ghost, the mediums stalking him, but also from a secret Liam’s been keeping, making Quinn wonder if he’ll survive the longest haunt of his life.


Liam swept passed him, his skin luminescent in the pulsing blue light he’d created. Quinn watched enviously as he crossed the hallway and glided up the swaying staircase. His own efforts to produce an aura only resulted in dim blobs that people dismissed as figments of their imagination.

His friend’s glowing figure disappeared through the door at the top of the landing, and he hurried after him. His foot caught on a loose board as he entered the room and his dignity was bruised as he sprawled on his face. Liam’s amused laughter did nothing to help.

He climbed to his feet and stalked across the bare floor to a mirror propped against the wall, the only piece of furniture in the room besides a dusty wooden chair. He scowled at the mottled surface. “May I go home now?”

Liam appeared in the mirror and Quinn stared at his reflection. The same old questions raced around in his head. They were hard to ask with Liam’s mocking eyes on him. He swallowed nervously. “Am I a vampire?”

The unique eyes blinked, and then a grin flashed over the attractive face watching him. “Why do you ask that?”

Quinn gestured to the mirror. “I don’t see my reflection next to yours. I never do.”

Liam shrugged indifferently. “Your point?”

“I…” Quinn bit his lip, knowing it was now or never. “Were we ever alive?”


“Damn it, Liam! Why don’t I have a reflection?”

“You do. You choose not to see it. Maybe you don’t believe you’re really dead.”

Quinn sputtered at that, but fell silent when Liam lifted a hand for quiet. Glee suffused the ghost’s face. “They’re here,” he murmured portentously.

Quinn made a grab for his fading body. “You can’t leave me alone with them!”

Liam chuckled as he disappeared. Quinn braced as footsteps rustled on the staircase like scurrying rats.

“Liam?” he tried again.

“Hush,” the voice in his head warned him. “Don’t let them see you talking to yourself. It’ll scare them away, and the ladies from the Paranormal Club Auxiliary deserve a better haunt than that.”

“But…” Quinn shut his mouth and backed fearfully against the wall when the door flew open. There might be a true medium in the group, and sometimes their insistence on seeing him could tear his soul apart. He thanked God Liam had never exposed him to an exorcist. He winced at the rude laughter inside his head.


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