Eran’s Release #rainbowsnippets #amwriting #amediting #lgbtqia+

RAINBOW SNIPPETS (1)Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! enjoy snippets from a cool group of writers and bloggers. You might find historical fiction, YA, something sweet or something spicy, but the common thread is that all main characters will identify as LGBTQIA+

Today, I’m still posting from Eran’s Release, a contemporary romance I’ve just finished 1st round edits on…

*  *  *

“Oh, right. Eran, this is my co-worker, Shelton. We work in the loan department at the same bank.” Paul motioned in Shelton’s direction, sure he was babbling. “I’m keeping him company while his lover’s out of town.” He rushed on as Shelton snorted and Eran raised a brow. “I mean, we’re just friends. If you were wondering,” he added lamely.

A smile touched Eran’s face and he leaned over and tucked a strand of Paul’s hair behind an ear. “In that case, the shop does close in five minutes, if you want to meet me out front.”

*  *  *

sheltonPaul’s falling in love with the barista at the new-to-him coffee shop. He can’t help it. Eran’s shy smiles and heated gaze across the room is driving him wild.  Now to convince the beautiful, intelligent guy to go out with him.

But Eran’s shyness has been painfully earned. Physically and emotionally abused by his Father and then again by his sister’s brutish boyfriend, he’s wary of intimacy. He jumps at shadows, expecting violence, and is convinced he’s undeserving of anyone’s love.

Paul is determined to show him otherwise. In fact, his friend Shelton agrees that Eran is lovely enough to be a model, and that with a little confidence, he believes Eran can be anything he desires. With the help of a counselor and attending self-defense classes, Eran is making progress, but it just might take Paul’s love to uncover the bold, sexy man hiding inside him.

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Eran’s Release #rainbowsnippets #amwriting #amediting #lgbtqia+

RAINBOW SNIPPETS (1)Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! enjoy snippets from a cool group of writers and bloggers. You might find historical fiction, YA, something sweet or something spicy, but the common thread is that all main characters will identify as LGBTQIA+

Today, I’m posting from Eran’s Release, a contemporary romance I’m doing 1st round edits on…


“Anything else, sir?”

Paul looked up into pale blue eyes, clear and earnest as they met his. Men shouldn’t be allowed to have such pretty eyes. Especially not when they were surrounded by soft layers of dark hair cut in a bob at the chin, giving the man an almost feminine beauty.

“Can I have another espresso?” he asked, cursing himself for not requesting Eran’s phone number instead. Eran was the main reason Paul had started favoring this coffee shop. He’d chatted the young man up, soon realizing he was both witty and friendly, though he danced around any personal questions. That had only intrigued Paul further. What was his story?


sheltonPaul’s falling in love with the barista at the new-to-him coffee shop. He can’t help it. Eran’s shy smiles and heated gaze across the room is driving him wild.  Now to convince the beautiful, intelligent guy to go out with him.

But Eran’s shyness has been painfully earned. Physically and emotionally abused by his Father and then again by his sister’s brutish boyfriend, he’s wary of intimacy. He jumps at shadows, expecting violence, and is convinced he’s undeserving of anyone’s love.

Paul is determined to show him otherwise. In fact, his friend Shelton agrees that Eran is lovely enough to be a model, and that with a little confidence, he believes Eran can be anything he desires. With the help of a counselor and attending self-defense classes, Eran is making progress, but it just might take Paul’s love to uncover the bold, sexy man hiding inside him.



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THE BASEMENT is out! #newbook #ghosts

the basement-001THE BASEMENT


Alex is haunted by visions of the dying, but now it seems the ghosts he’s seeing are real as well.

In this sequel to ALEX and THE SHED, Alex wonders if he’s seeing ghosts. His friend Justin has bought the Fulton place, a beautiful old mansion on the edge of Oakton. But something’s wrong in the house. Alex has visions of a small boy, trapped in the basement, and a man at the top of the stairs who won’t let him leave.

And Logan Fulton has come to town, Helen Kramer’s cousin, a psychic medium who wants something from Helen, whatever the cost. He and Helen had spent time in the Fulton house as children and Alex suspects Logan has something to do with the spirits now awakening in the old mansion. But whether Logan is calling them forth or if something else is controlling them, Alex can’t be sure.

The child’s spirit calls to Alex, as do others trapped in the house. There is a dark entity holding them there, keeping the child forever in the basement, the others for his amusement. But Alex has never believed in ghosts, so what is really going on? As he strives to learn the boy’s secret, his friends are one by one pulled to the Fulton place and put in danger while Logan works against Alex, having an agenda of his own. Will Alex be able to solve the haunting of the old house, or will he and his friends be taken one by one, doomed to walk the dark hallways forever?


Cold air swept onto the porch, heavy with the threat of rain, smelling of damp and rotting things. Alex shivered, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets. The nights were growing chilly with the promise of snow in the coming week. He’d love to go inside and sit by the fire he’d started earlier in the living room, cozy on the hearthrug with Jane wrapped in his arms. But Christopher McAllan had another twenty minutes to go on his lesson, and the last thing Alex wanted to do was disturb him. He’d taken time off work at the bookstore to be there Friday evenings. If painting with Jane gave him some comfort, Alex was glad for it.

The wind picked up, a roar in the pines circling the garden, the caw of crows riding the air. Alex braced himself against the rain splattering his face like the brush of icy fingers in a dark room. He started as a shadow formed beside him, blacker than the night, growing tall, looming over him…

A whimper escaped him, and he cringed back, hugging his small, starved body as he waited for the blow. It never fell. The dark thing moved away without a word, shuffled up the stairs, leaving him shivering on the cold cement floor.

“Papa?” he called, but only silence answered, and no one came to wipe his tears and keep him safe.

Alex caught back a sudden sob, blinking his stinging eyes. He’d been learning to anticipate his visions, but this one had struck hard, without warning. Should he call Doctor Reid? No, he’d see him in the morning. Besides, it was Friday night. His psychiatrist was probably on a date with Art Peters. A smile tugged at his lips. Peters owned the art studio in Fort Collins where he and Jane showed their work. Scott Reid had been dating the flamboyant man for the last month, two lonely souls who’d found each other.

He glanced at the house behind him. Kind of like him and Jane. Though he’d been the lonely one. Jane could have had her pick of husbands. In fact, she’d almost married someone else. Why she’d chosen him…

The light went on in the kitchen, and Alex hurried across the porch to join them inside, the unsettling images already fading. He let them go. If they meant anything, they’d resurface. His new motto in life was to enjoy every minute he had free of visions, since clairvoyance seemed to be a part of him. There was no escaping it. Scott Reid concurred and was currently helping Alex learn to control his visions. Before, Alex would blindly follow where a vision led him, without thought. Using Scott’s suggested techniques, he hoped to keep from doing that.

The back door squeaked on its hinges as he opened it and Jane and Christopher glanced up from the table. Jane looked as lovely as ever, dark hair sweeping her shoulders, her blue-green eyes like gems in her pretty face. Christopher’s hair, dyed a rich auburn this week, was held back with a rubber band. His blue eyes were startling in a pale, thin face. He’d been kidnapped and spent weeks imprisoned at the bottom of a dry well, on the edge of death when Alex and the police finally found him.

That had been a month ago, and his clothes still hung loosely on his too thin frame, but it would take a long time for Christopher to recover. Nightmares stalked his sleep. Nick Kramer, a former detective on the Gibson Murders’ case last summer, had abducted him and his brother Caleb for no other reason than to draw Alex to him. Kramer believed Alex had been working with Jack Gibson when Gibson tortured and killed his daughter, Mariam, though Alex had tried to save the victims. Kramer had killed Caleb in a fit of rage, but through his visions, Alex had been able to track Kramer down before Christopher had lost his life as well.

Christopher jumped to his feet when Alex entered the room, but he settled back down into his chair, the fear slowly leaving his eyes as Alex crossed over to them. Alex sighed inwardly, noting the blue aura surrounding Christopher was still bruised by his ordeal.

“What are we working on?” he asked gently, careful of Christopher’s taut nerves. Alex had seen him take a breath, the trembling lips firm, the moment Christopher was no longer a victim. He liked Christopher, admired his courage. They’d buried Caleb a few weeks ago, and Alex recalled Christopher’s grief-stricken face as he stood over his brother’s grave. He still jumped at shadows but continued doggedly to put his life back together. Alex would help him all he could.

Giving him a shy smile, Christopher turned the still wet canvas on the table toward Alex, who made a sound of surprise. Where he and Jane used bold strokes and vivid hues in their work, Christopher painted in pastels. The field of iris was done in watercolor, delicate, sweet. Though Christopher had only met with Jane twice before, there was promise in his use of light and shadow and the depth caught in the picture.

“This is very good,” he murmured, tilting the canvas carefully to the light. “What’s the plan for next week?”

“We’ll add the final touches to this picture, and then I’d like Christopher to make a charcoal sketch of the iris for me.”

“She wants me to practice shading,” Christopher put in before Alex could ask why, and they grinned at each other. At times, Christopher seemed able to complete his thoughts. Alex wondered if his time alone in that terrible well had made him more empathetic to those around him. Whatever the case, Alex welcomed it. There were so few people in his life who got past the wall he’d put up against a world that was often cruel. Most people didn’t bother.

A sudden thought struck him, and a shiver of apprehension crept up his back. He’d made a connection with Christopher while he was trapped in that well, at one point his vision so intense he’d actually joined him in that terrible place, spoke to him, touched him. Was that the reason Christopher could read him so clearly now? What did that mean for them?

He must have been staring too long because color tinged Christopher’s cheeks and he glanced aside. Oh, shit. The last thing Alex wanted to do was make him feel uncomfortable in his house.

“Hey, why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll give you a ride home?” he offered, wanting to talk with him alone, voice his concerns. Jane lifted a brow in question, but Alex gave her a slight shake of his head. He’d had his license for over a week now. “I’ll drive like an old grandmother,” he promised her.

Christopher snorted. “What else is new?” he muttered under his breath, though his teasing smile took the sting out of his words. While he fetched his backpack from the living room, Alex pulled Jane into his arms.

“I’ll come right home,” he promised against her lips.

“I could drive him—”

“He’s been on his own for a week now. I want to see his apartment and ask him how he’s doing. It was probably hard moving out of his parents’ place, whatever he says.”

“You think he’ll open up to you?”

“I hope so.” Alex studied Jane’s lips, then kissed their softness. She murmured encouragement, and he pulled back with an unsteady laugh. “I’d better get going.”

“If you say so,” she teased, placing her hands on his hips, pulling him against her.

Alex caught his breath. “I’ll be right back,” he growled, letting her go with reluctance. Christopher was putting on his coat by the front door, and Alex joined him, pulling a thick sweater over his head. For early December, it was already dipping below freezing at night. Seemed it would be a hard winter in Colorado this year. No big surprise. The year had been difficult all around.

“Ready?” he asked, disconcerted when his head breached the sweater, and he found Christopher’s gaze on him. He looked quickly away, but Alex frowned to see his cheeks redden. What was going on with him?

Christopher hitched his backpack on his shoulder, and Alex led him outside. Cold air struck them, and they hurried to the small sedan parked at the foot of the porch stairs. Christopher scooted into the passenger seat while Alex rounded the driver’s side, turning up the heat as soon as he had the car started. Having driven it earlier to pick Christopher up, the car quickly warmed, and Alex eased the sedan into reverse, turning to take the gravel road into town.

The wooden planking on the bridge thumped loudly as they crossed it and Christopher made a soft sound. “The infamous bridge, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“I felt the echo of an old fear from you as we crossed it. Is this where you kept hearing Bobby Gibson this past summer, even before his dad tossed him in?”

Christopher alluded to the murders last summer and the time Alex rescued Bobby from drowning under the bridge. Jack Gibson had tied him in a sack and thrown him in the river for spying on him with his victims. Alex gave Christopher a sharp look, but couldn’t see much in the dark. “You felt that from me?”

Christopher lifted a shoulder and Alex frowned. “We need to talk,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. They reached Oakton in short order, and Alex’s heart sped up as they turned onto Christopher’s street. Homes that had been set aside as low-income housing for college students rested between tall maples and pine. Kyle Bronsin had taken Alex to his rooms here once last summer and kissed him. Before Gibson murdered him in the park. Alex touched his lips with his tongue and tasted wine. The coppery stench of blood filled his nostrils, and he forced his hands to relax on the steering wheel, not daring to look at Christopher and pass on the heart-wrenching emotion.

They pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex at the end of the street, and Christopher tentatively touched his arm. “Will you come inside, just for a few minutes?”

“Of course. I haven’t seen your apartment yet.” And we really need to talk.

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Happy October!


fall2fall“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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IMPACT: Queer Sci Fi’s Fifth Annual Flash Fiction Contest plus giveaway!

impact BANNER-fb-etcimpact COVERAuthor Name: Queer Sci Fi 

Publisher: Other Worlds Ink 

Release Date: Thursday, July 26 2018 

Format: Paperback, eBook 

Is This Book Romance?: No 

ASN: coming soon 

Price: 3.99, 14.99 

Story Type: Novella 20k-50k 

Word Count: 33,700 

Cover Artist: Lex Chase 

 Genres: sci fi, fantasy, paranormal, horror 

Pairings: Some stories are romance, with various pairings 

Keywords/Categories: gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, asexual, pan, demisexual, queer, non binary, genderqueer 

 Series Title: Queer Sci Fi’s Annual Flash Fiction Contest 

Position (Number) in Series: 4 

Necessary to Read Previous Books: No 

Other Books in Series Available for Review?: Yes 

 impact MEME-blurb

Warnings: This book contains 110 stories of 300 words or less each. 

 Book Blurb: 

 IM * PACT (noun) 

1) One object colliding with another 

2) An impinging of something upon something else 

3) An influence or effect on something or someone 

4) The force of a new idea, concept, technology or ideology 

Four definitions to inspire writers around the world, and an unlimited number of possible stories to tell, but only 110 made the final cut. 

 A difficult choice to be made. An object hurtling recklessly through space. A new invention that will change the world. So many things can impact a life, a society, or a planet. 

 Impact features 300 word speculative fiction ficlets from across the queer spectrum from the minds of the writers of Queer Sci Fi. 


Welcome to Impact

 impact author-badge

My story Jealousy (Or Why Joe Can Never Keep a Lover) is included!

Series Blurb: 

 It’s hard to tell a story in just 300 words. Each year we ask writers to take the challenge, turning in stories across the queer spectrum. The rules are simple. Write a complete sci fi, fantasy, paranormal or horror story, include LGBTIQA characters, and do it all with just 300 carefully chosen words. 

Buy Links:  

Amazon Kindle: 

Barnes & Noble: 



Angus & Robertson: 




Queer Sci Fi is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win: 

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link:

 About Queer Sci Fi: 

At Queer Sci Fi, we’re building a community of sci fi, fantasy, paranormal and horror writers and readers who want a little rainbow in their speculative fiction. We run a great discussion group on Facebook, a twitter feed, and have a website full of useful materials, news, and announcements for readers and writers of queer speculative fiction. 


Facebook Discussion Group: 

Facebook Page: 


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Midnight Twist is Out!!

Midnight Twist

Title: Midnight Twist

Author: Rian Durant

Genre: Paranormal, Romance, Comedy

Pages: 54

Publisher: Nine Star Press

Buy links: NineStar Press || || || Smashwords


Jaydon can’t afford to lose a bet he’s made, so when the sweet as sin Eluin offers him The Contract, it may be exactly what he needs. Or is it? Things get a little twisted with the cheeky demon being around.

The number of demons in Jaydon’s apartment grows, with Eluin’s big brother Eluel and his wayward lover Sam showing up. The couple is at a breaking point in their own on/off relationship and this time getting back together seems as probable as hell freezing over.


It all started with an espresso machine, even though I’d seen him drinking espresso only once in all the time we knew each other. Then he complained for three days that he hadn’t tasted such swill in his whole life. The fact that I’d made it for him with all my love didn’t cause him to show an ounce of tact.

I felt in my gut it was a tremendous mistake to enter the mall, but even if I’d tried to avoid it, I doubt he would’ve taken my opinion into account. He would’ve thrown a temper tantrum of magnificent proportions, which wasn’t a pretty sight. I’d been a witness and a victim of such antics once, only it was in front of a restaurant, which I hadn’t dared come close to ever since.

The glowing look in his eyes while we passed by the shop windows made my heart sink, because I couldn’t afford most of the things he stared at, especially with the plans we had for the rest of the week. My lovely boyfriend possessed a seductive appearance and a good heart, but his perceptions were terribly distorted due to eighteen years of systematic spoiling at the hands of his parents. He used to reassure me this wasn’t going to come between us since he was madly in love with me, but he couldn’t be further from the truth. After the ironic remarks I had been subjected to in the past few weeks, I knew I wasn’t going to get away with it.

I didn’t want to lose him, but it was clear that if I didn’t overcome my financial issues, his love for me would vanish into thin air together with his rebellious spirit, and he’d settle with any of the “appropriate partners” his parents tried to match him with. Once, one of his father’s business tycoon friends with his three hot lovers landed in front of my door and pounced on me, obviously not familiar with the appearance of his intended chosen one. I led a fierce battle using all means possible, which ended up being the shoehorn lying next to the shoes at the front door, in order to preserve my honor. Things deteriorated when Lyte came out of the bathroom in his short, sexy bathrobe to check why I was wreaking such havoc. We had to barricade the door and listen to a serenade for more than an hour before the police came to take them away.

I turned to Lyte with a smile, intending to remind him of that time the tycoon came calling, but when I caught his hand, he didn’t react at all. He had already seen it. He gazed at the window with an oblivious smile, and then raised his finger and pointed at it. A second later he issued a brief statement with a determination I’d rarely heard in the voice of another human being.

“I want it!”


Author Bio

Rian Durant is a writer roaming the MM fiction sphere but doesn’t like being confined by (sub)genres and categories. The only rule she believes in when it comes to life, love and writing is to do everything with passion or not at all.







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NICOLAS is 30% off!


Dreamspinner Press

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.


Jamie startled awake. “What?”

He had trouble breathing, the crushing weight on his chest seeming to have followed him up from his dreams. But that couldn’t be right. He’d rented the cabin for its isolation. No one should be there. Did he still dream?

A warm breath brushed against his cheek, sending a shiver of dread and strange anticipation through him. “Easy, baby,” a silky voice whispered in the darkness. Sharp teeth nipped his earlobe and pleasure and pain sparked along his nerves. His eyes adjusted to the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains, and he stared in amazement at the man gazing at him with wild green eyes, long pale hair, high cheekbones and a slender neck he craved to run his tongue along.

The stranger laid his weight on him, driving the air from his lungs and making Jamie struggle for every breath. Shifting position, the man sealed his full lips over Jamie’s, drawing a long groan from Jamie when an impossibly large cock slid against his. In sudden panic he reached to shove his unknown visitor away and touched hot skin and lean muscles. Of their own volition his hands roamed lower, following the curve of the stranger’s back to the rounded swell of his ass. He drew a quick breath and the man laughed into his mouth, pushed his tongue deep, thrusting inside to match the movement of his hips as he ground against Jamie’s aching dick.

Heat pooled in Jamie’s stomach. God, what was happening? The thing in his bed looked like a man, but his every instinct shouted otherwise. His skin was warm when it should have been cold from being outside. And how had he gotten in? All the windows and doors were locked tight against the winter storm. It was as if he’d just materialized in Jamie’s bed. “Who—”

He cried out when a hand pushed between them and grabbed their cocks, stroking them together until he lost the ability to think. So close! He grabbed onto the man’s firm ass and yanked him tighter against him, rising up to shove into his strong grip.

The triumphant hiss in his ear shot ice through his veins. “So naughty.”

“No!” Jamie struggled to sit up, scrambling back against the headboard. He blinked, finding himself alone in the room, only his ragged breaths disturbing the silence of the cabin. A forgotten anxiety knotted his stomach. Naughty. He hated that word, tossed about by the boys he once knew in school. The ones he’d suck off behind the gym, desperate for a gentle hand in his hair, balm against his loneliness. He’d been terrified his parents would find out he was different, that he liked girl things and found boys much more exciting than he should. They would know he was gay and there would be hell to pay for their freak of a son.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. God, that had been ages ago. The last shreds of the dream dissipated, and he reached for the bedside light, fumbling in the darkness for the switch. Low light stung his eyes and he blinked at the empty bedroom, unable to believe the attack hadn’t been real.

He flung off the heavy quilts and slid to his feet, clinging to the post at the foot of the bed as a wave of dizziness struck him. Laughter from the other room jolted him. Heart pounding, he bolted for the door and it crashed into the wall as he flung it open. The reddish glow from the banked fire on the hearth lit the main room of the cabin, though the kitchen area remained in shadows.

Jamie’s gaze swept the rooms, focusing on the dark corners.  No one jumped out at him. Nobody sat on the couch. His coffee cup remained undisturbed where he’d left it on the hearth. Of course. The cabin was isolated, miles from the nearest neighbor. Who would bother to come way out there, especially with the threat of another snowstorm on the way?

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, pushing the sweat-drenched bangs from his forehead. Christ, the dream had seemed so real. The cold of the great room finally registered, creeping up from the hardwood flooring. Shaking, he crossed to the fireplace and stirred up the coals, adding another log.

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BIRTHDAY PRESENTS! #booktour #goddessfish



Join the tour for a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

December 4: Erotica For All
December 4: Fabulous and Brunette
December 5: Christine Young
December 6: Straight From the Library
December 7: Lock That Door!
December 8: Sharing Links and Wisdom
December 11: It’s Raining Books
December 12: Romance Novel Giveaways
December 13: Long and Short Reviews
December 14: Readeropolis
December 15: Emily Carrington – review only

BirthdayPresents-4For Tracey, life has become a nightmare. Kidnapped from a nightclub in Boulder, Colorado, brutalized and raped by the killer known as Crimson, he’s held captive alongside 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 is forced to leave Kyle behind.

Gene has never stopped looking for his brother Kyle, abducted from a nightclub seven months previously. The case breaks open when Tracey comes forward, claiming to have knowledge of the whereabouts of Crimson’s hideout.

A manhunt begins, but Crimson’s birthday has come and gone, and he will kill again.

Less Than Three Press        Amazon 


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callum's fate nspCALLUM’S FATE

Amazon     NineStar Press


In 1780, Scotland, following a harsh year of drought, Callum Mackenzie is forced from his father’s farm in the hopes of finding work. But as fate would have it, Callum is lured onto the moors by the will-o-the-wisp. Lost in the dark, he falls into enchantment, encountering faeries and nymphs, until he stumbles into the arms of a licentious Barrow-Wight who lays claim to his soul.

Hearing his silent pleas, Donal sends Liam the gruagach (faery) to rescue Callum and bring him to his farm, a place of refuge from the Fae. Callum is happy working on Donal’s farm, slowly falling in love with the beautiful, silver-haired gruagach.

Yet there’s something wrong in the nearby forest… Despite Donal’s warnings, Callum is lured into the forest and becomes tangled in its magic, easy prey for the Barrow-Wight. Will Liam be able to strike a deal with the Barrow-Wight to save Callum’s life, or has Callum found his last resting place instead?


Callum ran until his lungs burned, every breath ragged and painful. Fear spurred him on, though fog began to cling to the rough mounds of the barrows, making such flight dangerous. Stones stabbed through his worn boots with each footfall, but he daren’t stop. There had been voices in the shadows…

Exhaustion slowed him, his chest heaving as he fought for air. Dusk spread its dark mantle on the landscape, and he shivered as a finger of dread traveled up his spine. Perilous to be on the moors at night without shelter. He cursed the misfortune that had sent him this way, but he was hungry and ill. He’d followed the will-o’-the wisp, thinking they were the lights of a farmhouse. His brothers would crudely have called them swamp gas and continued on the road, but Callum had always been the fool.

An owl hooted in the semidarkness, making his skin crawl. “Sweet Lord,” he muttered, heart thumping. “Protect me—”

He stumbled on a loose stone and fell heavily against a dark mound of earth. Oh, God! The ground caved in under him, and he dropped into the barrow in a shower of dirt.

“Save me!” he sobbed as he scrambled to his knees.

Sinewy arms reached up from the blackness and twined around him. Callum screamed, but no sound escaped his throat, choked with terror. He was yanked against a hard chest and hands ran over him, disembodied in the darkness.

“Soft. Sweet,” a voice sliced the silence, and a cold breath washed over his face. He gagged on the waft of rot and decay. The tip of a dry tongue scraped along his jaw, and he shuddered against the body under him. “Nice strong bones to gnaw,” the voice continued. “Sweet marrow to suck and swallow. Shall I eat you, my lovely one?”

Callum whimpered as the low tones wound through his head. The mists parted, and moonlight filled the barrow, showing him the creature. He gasped at the cold beauty of its face. Eyes dark as pitch burned into him and brushed against his soul. Lush lips, dripping honey, overripe, took his mouth in a kiss that sent his pulse into a riot of hunger and desire.

A vague warning sounded in his head, urging him to run. The wight slid its hands down Callum’s back and squeezed his ass, and Callum groaned as he was rocked against the long, hard length of the creature’s erection. His own cock grew heavy, aching as it rubbed along the impossible thickness of the ghoul’s shaft.

Nimble fingers pushed against his balls and sensitive hole through his clothing, and Callum’s deep moan spilled into the lush mouth sucking his tongue. There’d been a boy back home he’d touched on occasion, but they’d never… He never… Even so, the thought of the wight’s huge cock sliding into him, stretching him open, filled him with a wild lust he couldn’t control.

He trembled and sobbed with need as the creature masked as a man trailed kisses down his neck. It moved his long hair aside to nibble at his collarbone. The thing reached a hand between them and clutched Callum’s cock, and pleasure, hot as fire, swept through him.

The wight returned its plump lips to his ear. “Stay with me,” it whispered as it stroked and squeezed him into a frenzy of bliss.

Callum fought to catch his breath, dizzy. “Yes.” He panted. He’d promise anything to keep the creature stroking his dick. The wight snaked its other hand into his trousers and tugged his balls, and he cried out as he came, his orgasm ripping through him in waves of ecstasy. His seed spilled in a warm gush into the creature’s hand. Even when he was spent, the thing continued to pull on his sensitive cock, sending unbearable sparks of bliss through him. He fell weeping against its chest, begging to be let go.


The wight’s whisper nudged Callum from the dream into which he was falling. What?

“No!” He pushed up in a panic. What had he sworn to do? Large hands reached for him, but terror gave him strength and he scrambled for the ledge above him. Catching hold of the crumbling lip, he swung his legs over and rolled from the barrow. The wight’s screech of fury chased him across the glen. Running in terror, he skirted the remaining mounds and fled onto the moors.

Merciful Lord! He’d been with a barrow wight, allowing the wicked thing to slide its tongue into his mouth and touch his cock. Was his soul now tainted by this ghost guarding a long forgotten grave? Was he doomed?

Mists closed around him and hid the moon in a veil of cold gray. He came to a stumbling halt, fear pounding through him in time to the wild beat of his heart. As he caught his breath, he heard the unmistakable sound of flowing water, perhaps a creek winding through the heather. Callum gnawed his lips. Danger lurked on the water’s edge for an unwary man.

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Once Upon a Rainbow with Sidney Blackburn!

Good morning! I’m very excited to have the lovely Sidney Blackburn on my blog today talking about her stories. Take it away, Sidney!

*  *  *
OnceUponARainbowVolOne-f500Once Upon a Rainbow was just released on Monday, and I’ve already spoken a little about the inspiration for my story in the NineStar Press anthology during the release party on Facebook. Apart from very obviously being inspired by Aladdin, “Morning Star” also incorporated my addiction to history and all things Morocco. Some of the names and incidents referred to in my story are real, but I used my artistic license to weave in so many fictional elements, the story is pure fantasy. (Visiting Marrakesh is on my travel bucket list, though!).
The anthology contains so many good stories, it’s grand company to be in!
My fascination with m/m takes on fairy tales didn’t start with writing “Morning Star,” though it remains truest to it’s inspiration. It all began…(wavy lines as we FLASH BACK to A COUPLE YEARS EARLIER:)
prince_revI was reading a story about a king who arranged a marriage for the crown prince–his heir–to another prince in a neighbouring kingdom. Which on the surface is cool, but the whole thing with kings and kingdoms and crown princes and heirs is that heirs generally don’t come from same sex unions. The story never addressed this, never mentioned if the king himself had a same sex marriage and if so where his son the crown prince came from, etc, and that detail… well, it bothered me. Stuff like that gets in my head and worries at me, like the pea under all those mattresses.
I wrote Prince of the Stable as an exploration of a prince marrying a man with no expectation of heirs. It has fairies and a curse, but isn’t based on any particular fairy tale.
Then I wrote City of Dreams for Less Than Three Press. Funny story, I wrote it for acityofdreams400 specific, fairy tale themed anthology and…was rejected. I revised it and resubmitted it for another of fairytale anthology and… was also rejected. However it was accepted for publication as a stand alone short story in a collection of other urban fantasies. The setting of City of Dreamsis more modern than most fairy tales, more 17th century than 10th century. It’s an attempt to progress a society from the tenth century in an alternate world where magic is a fact of life. Also a love story. Because that’s what I do.
(wavy lines as we RETURN TO PRESENT: )
I love the idea of taking fairy tale subjects and turning them around. I did a Cinder-fella (who hasn’t though, really) and I’m currently working on a m/m version of Snow White and a steampunk m/m take on Hans Christian Anderson’s The Nightingale. (Hold me accountable! My muse is fickle…)
I want to thank Dianne for letting me on her blog to blabber on and on, she’s an amazing person!


Sydney Blackburn

“I was hoping for more drama and speeches. I do love villainous speeches.”
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