Tuesday, November 29, 2022

November Vignette - "Beaver Moon" by Linda Mooney

Posted by: Linda Mooney

"Beaver Moon" 

            They slipped underneath the chain link fence that separated the village from the outer regions of the city that was off-limits. Ignoring the sign that read DANGER! RADIATION ZONE!, they remained hunched over as they scurried over the barren ground until they reached the dark shadows cast by the tall, crumbling buildings. The weather had turned unusually cold, which meant the guards were huddled inside their little sentry shacks, trying to keep warm. That had given them the advantage they’d been hoping for.

            Aris stopped at the end of one street and dropped to his knees. Famke crouched behind him to keep watch as he checked the map. “Can you read it?” she whispered. They didn’t dare use the flashlight they’d brought with them for fear of having the light spotted within the dark ruins, and the laws were very strict about people trespassing.

            “Yeah.” He pointed skyward. “The moon’s bright enough to see by.”

            She glanced overhead. The milky orb looked huge where it hung just above the rooftops. It was so bright, she could read the names on the buildings. “Can the guards see us here?”

            “Not unless we walk out so it shines on us,” he remarked. “As long as we stay in the dark, we’ll be okay.” He checked the map again, then grunted. “What’s the name of this street? Can you tell?”

            They both squinted at the rusted sign poking out of the crumbled cement slab nearby. “I think it says Borleans. B-o-r-l-e-a-n-s. Is there an Borleans on the map?”

            “Yeah! That’s it!” He threw a grin at her. “That’s the street!”

            “Which way do we go?”

            He gestured to their right. “That way, I think. If the next street isn’t Tumball, then we need to backtrack and go left.”

            Famke snorted. “What if Tumball is two streets that way?”

            “It isn’t because this road beside us is Dekker. We’re on the right block.” He turned the old paper map around. “I just can’t tell which side of the block we’re on.”

            They went right. It was approximately fifty or so feet before they reached the next intersection, but by then they no longer had to check street names. Their destination lay right in front of them.

            Famke gasped as she stared at the ornate carved stone edifice of the building. She would have been satisfied to stare at it longer but Aris grabbed her hand and pulled her inside with him. “I thought you said it was safe to be outside if we keep to the darkness!”

            “From the perimeter police, yeah! But there’s still the outcasts we hafta watch out for!” he hissed.

            She cast him a wide-eyed look of fear. Outcasts were those people who’d been thrown out of the villages, condemned to survive on their own, God knew how. Word was most of those poor souls took refuge inside the radiation zone and hid inside the buildings. Neither Aris nor Famke knew if those stories were true, but they didn’t want to take the risk.

            Aris waited until they were inside the building before pulling out the flashlight and turning it on. Even though they were no longer outside, he kept his hand over the end, shielding the beam so it wouldn’t reflect off the grimy windows. Despite the dim glow, they were slack-jawed at the sight in front of them.     “Have you seen so many books in all your life?” he whispered.

            Famke shook her head. “It’s like paradise! This must be what heaven is like. Full of books, and all of eternity to read them!”

            Simultaneously, they turned to look at each other, identical grins on their faces.

            “Where do we start?” she softly asked.

            “I dunno.” His eyes darted to something over her shoulder, and he pointed. “There’s a table with some books on it. Let’s check those out first!”

            She agreed, and they hurried over to the nearest long wooden table. Dragging an extra chair next to her, he sat on the dust-covered seat and focused the flashlight on the tome.

            “What’s it about?”

            “Umm…” She checked the title on the cover, sounding out the words. “As-tron-o-my. Astronomy. What’s that?”

            “I think it’s the study of the stars and planets. Does it have pictures?”

            She flipped through the pages. They both oohed and awwed over the colorful photos.

            “Man, wouldn’t it be something if we had books like this back at the village?” Famke wished aloud.

            “We can’t,” he reminded her. “The leaders say it’s because of all this knowledge that our world was destroyed. That’s why books are no longer legal.”

            “It’s not fair.” She blinked away the tears rising in her eyes. “Not all books are bad. Many of them have beautiful stories in them. And pictures, like these. Oh!” She stopped and poked a photo of a creamy white circle. “That’s our moon right now!”

            Aris peered over her shoulder. “Yep, that’s it! What do the words say under it?” Although he had the required rudimentary reading skills needed to get by, Famke was a lot better at it than many people he knew, including himself.

            “Uhhh…” She ran a finger down the list. “It’s about all the full moons. Wow. Did you know every month the moon has a different name?”

            “It does?”

            “Yeah!”

            “What does it say about this month’s moon? Does it have the name for November’s moon?”

            “Uh-huh. Right here. It says the full moon in November is called the Beaver Moon. It’s named after beavers who build their winter dams this time of year. It is also called Frost Moon and Mourning Moon.”

            “Frost Moon I can understand because it’s cold this time of year, but why a moon in the morning?” he interrupted.

            “Not morning like when the sun comes up,” she corrected. “Mourning as in feeling sad when someone dies.”

            “Oh. Why is it called that?”

            Famke shrugged.

            “Well, why would it have all those different names instead of just one?”

            She read a little more of the description. “It says the name depends on the winter solstice.”

            “On the winter what?”

            “Solstice.”

            “What’s that?”

            “I dunno, but I bet it’s explained somewhere in this book.”

            “I’ve heard about beavers but I’ve never seen one,” he confessed. “Have you?”

            She shook her head. “No.” She grinned. “But I bet there’s a book about ‘em here!”

            They both chuckled when an unexpected sound made them immediately seek cover underneath the table. Aris shut off the flashlight, and they nervously waited in the darkness for the sound to come again.

            Pressing her lips to his ear, she murmured, “Think it’s outcasts?”

            “I dunno, but it’s too dangerous to stay here any longer. Let’s get back to the village.”

            They crawled out from under the table, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for any sign or sound of movement. Famke gave the book they’d been perusing a final look. “I wish we could take it with us.”

            “So do I, but you know the instant someone else sees it, they’ll report us and destroy it. And that’s just for beginners.”

            She nodded. They’d heard horror stories about what happened to people who’d been caught with illegal contraband. Sneaking into the forbidden zone was one thing. Having possession of a banned object, like a book, was an entirely different and more serious matter.

            Aris noticed her sad expression. Reaching out, he took her hand and squeezed it. “Hey. We’ll come back and read some more.”

            “Really? When?”

            “As soon as I think it’s safe enough. I dunno when that’ll be, but I promise we will.” He smiled. “Hopefully next month. Then we can find out what the December moon is called.”

            She leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. Grinning from ear to ear, he led her out of the library, and together they hurried back to the outer perimeter where they managed to sneak underneath the fence and make it home before anyone realized they’d been gone.

Monday, November 28, 2022

HERE BE NEWS for Monday November 28, 2022

Posted by: PG Forte

 




 Monday November 28, 2022 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:


Tuesday November 22, 2022: PG Forte reflects on her latest release and what it means.


               




The Rental
 
(Book 1)
Linda Mooney
Sci-Fi Romance
Word Count: 31.4K
$2.99 e

In need of extra income, Dane Caravelle applies for a new program that allows other people to “rent” her and lets them essentially live her life. This groundbreaking scientific technology is meant to allow those who may be disadvantaged or disabled to experience a normal life. Although it requires rigorous testing to become a rental, Dane is ecstatic when she’s approved.

She’s nervous in the beginning and is assured she won’t even know when her renter is observing her unless she checks the app, but that hasn’t been her experience. Nudges here and there. Feeling as if someone is watching her. And was that a man she saw reflected in her eyes when she looked in the mirror? The program promised only females would be paired with females. Who is he? Or rather, 
what is he?

The nudges turn into phone calls, then voicemails, and she quickly learns that we’re definitely not alone in this universe. There are others other there, other species from other worlds, and they’re just looking to survive…or so she’s told. Despite warnings from her friends, she agrees to help the stranger. But is this “alien” real, or is she being led on? Either way, she discovers she’s grown to care for him.

And that’s just the beginning of her problems.

Warning! Contains two-second voicemails, strange science, stranded aliens, a phone app, grocery shopping, once for yes - twice for no, and an improbable love that began galaxies apart.

       

There are several Holiday-themed PNRs to be found here (along with pretty much EVERYTHING else). Happy book hunting!





Saturday, November 26, 2022

New! THE RENTAL, Book 1, a Sensuous Sci-Fi Romance by Linda Mooney

Posted by: Linda Mooney

New!

THE RENTAL
Book 1
Sensuous Sci-Fi Romance
by Linda Mooney

Word Count: 31.4K
$2.99 e / $9.99 p 

In need of extra income, Dane Caravelle applies for a new program that allows other people to “rent” her and lets them essentially live her life. This groundbreaking scientific technology is meant to allow those who may be disadvantaged or disabled to experience a normal life. Although it requires rigorous testing to become a rental, Dane is ecstatic when she’s approved.

She’s nervous in the beginning and is assured she won’t even know when her renter is observing her unless she checks the app, but that hasn’t been her experience. Nudges here and there. Feeling as if someone is watching her. And was that a man she saw reflected in her eyes when she looked in the mirror? The program promised only females would be paired with females. Who is he? Or rather, what is he?

The nudges turn into phone calls, then voicemails, and she quickly learns that we’re definitely not alone in this universe. There are others other there, other species from other worlds, and they’re just looking to survive…or so she’s told. Despite warnings from her friends, she agrees to help the stranger. But is this “alien” real, or is she being led on? Either way, she discovers she’s grown to care for him.

And that’s just the beginning of her problems.

Warning! Contains two-second voicemails, strange science, stranded aliens, a phone app, grocery shopping, once for yes - twice for no, and an improbable love that began galaxies apart.

Excerpt and Buy Links:  https://lindamooney.com/TheRental.htm 

Tuesday, November 22, 2022

Christmas Came Early

Posted by: PG Forte


I am not here today to humble brag. I'm here to outright squee. Earlier this month Let's Get Naughty, an anthology I have a story in, hit the USA Today Bestseller list. And I couldn't be happier.

 I know, however, that there've been some authors lately who've voiced the opinion that Bestseller status shouldn't count if the book's an anthology, or if multiple authors are involved, or if the price is too low.  Honestly? I think that's nonsense. Even more honestly? I really don't care.

Did it take a group effort to make the list this way? Absolutely it did. It also took a fabulous cover, a perfect title, a lot of strategizing, marketing, advertising, a seemingly endless amount of promotion, and everyone involved working in tandem to achieve our goal. In other words, not all that different from what it would take for any book to hit a list. 

I think most authors tend to see themselves as lone wolves. There's a sense that we produce our best, most creative work when we lock out the rest of the world and self-isolate ourselves. And I know that for myself and my fellow introverts, that's very true. There's also the fact that, while you can outsource everything else, no one else can write the book but you. 

BUT... there's writing the book, and then there's publishing, marketing, promoting and selling the book. And most of those aren't even possible to achieve in isolation. It takes a village to publish and successfully market a book. 

That sense of community is something I've missed. I liked being traditionally published. I liked the camaraderie, the sense that I was part of a team. I liked knowing that my editor had faith in my book, that I wasn't the only one who liked it. I liked that there were other professionals involved, that other people--with knowledge and skills that I lack--were taking some of the weight, making some of the decisions, taking a lot of the profit...well, I didn't love that, of course, but it felt like an okay trade-off at the time. I liked not having to do everything myself. In part because doing All The Things takes away from the time I can spend writing. And in part because no one is going to be good at everything. 

I think it's silly to (and not a little entitled) to suggest that success only counts if A) someone else (a publisher) is footing all the bills, or if B) your pockets happen to be deep enough that you can afford to pay for everything yourself. 

There is another way. You can join forces with other authors and work together to achieve success. And frankly, to me, that seems like the best of both worlds.

I've been published for quite a while now; long enough to know that there will always be someone questioning someone else's success and the route they followed to get there. Everyone's got an opinion--and you probably know how the rest of that quote goes. 

First they said ebooks weren't real books. Then it was, indie publishing isn't real publishing. Then, you're only successful if you make a certain amount of money from a single book. 

The rules to making a bestseller list are simple and arbitrary. It's a race. You have to sell a lot of books in a set period of time (Monday through Sunday) across multiple platforms. How many books?  That's impossible to say. Just like it's impossible to say how fast you have to run, on any given day, in order to win a marathon. That depends, in large part, on who's running against you and what kind of race they're having.  

In the week leading up to November 9th, out of all the books out there, only 85 books sold more copies (in the USA) than Let's Get Naughty did. We didn't make the rules of the game, but we played by them and won. And that feels very freaking cool. 

So thank you to everyone who bought a copy. I hope you enjoy it. Obviously, I especially hope you enjoy my contribution, Christmasing With You. I had a lot of fun writing it. I  had (very surprisingly) a lot of fun marketing and promoting the anthology. And if you're interested in seeing what we come up with next year, Volume Two is already available for pre-order. Woo-hoo!




Let's Get Naughty 2:

A Limited-Edition Romance Anthology 

If you think it's too soon to get on Santa's naughty list...think again. It's time for volume 2!

Cancel your plans and spend this holiday season with 26 romance authors who have teamed up to bring you a delicious holiday treat.

 

Releases October 23, 2023. Available for pre-order now! 

https://books2read.com/letsgetnaughty2/


Includes my story, Last Room at the Inn which features April and Zach from Love, from A  to Z.

Monday, November 21, 2022

HERE BE NEWS for Monday November 21, 2022

Posted by: PG Forte

 




 Monday November 21, 2022 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:


Thursday November 17, 2022: Deborah Bailey discusses the use of quotes in her Worlds of Fire series.


                

Light Up the Night is now available for preorder. Only .99


https://books2read.com/u/m0En1l


Her love will light up his night. If they can both survive that long. 

Heather is having the worst Christmas ever! Or, at least, the worst Christmas since she was forced to become a vampire. Her sire's distracted, her nestmates have forgotten her, weirdos have taken over the lair. The only bright spot in her life right now is Drew--who didn't even used to like her! She knows he's fond of her now, but that's not good enough. She wants more. She wants everything. She wants him. And she's not giving up. 

Drew Geiger gave up on love a long time ago. Such tender emotions have no place in a vampire's heart. But, somehow, the girl he once described as a "feral kitten" has got her claws in him, and she's not letting go. That would be fine, if only someone didn't want her dead--and if her sire didn't recall that it was Drew who once suggested that maybe she'd be better off that way.

 

Releasing December 13, 2022 


           


 I feel like I've posted this before. Because Thanksgiving is coming and this is my favorite (for which read ONLY) Thanksgiving Day scene. I do have a book in the works that is actually set at Thanksgiving, but until that's done, I'll just have to make do with Grumpy Vampire Thanksgiving. It's from In the Dark (still one of my favorites, still not a romance) the very first book in the Children of Night series. ALTHOUGH...there's a prequel of sorts in the works. If all goes well, that will release next September as part of the Rejected by the Immortal anthology (available for preorder now. links below). And I  do have a new vampire Christmas story releasing next month...more about that Tuesday. 

But, for now, Happy Thanksgiving from Conrad and crew!


When you live forever, a few mistakes are bound to happen. 

Vampire Conrad Quintano has been around for centuries -- long enough to know falling for a human is a terrible idea. Much less falling for adventure-seeking hippie Desert Rose and agreeing to raise her babies. 

Raised in virtual isolation, Marc and Julie Fischer have never known their unique status in the world. But once they're in San Francisco, the family reunion is nothing like they anticipated and they're thrust into a world they're completely unprepared for.

Buy it here: https://books2read.com/u/49nGpX


Exerpt:Thursday, November 28th, 1968

Thanksgiving Day

“All I’m saying is that the picnic in the park was a total blast and you missed out on a really great party today.”

Desert Rose was pouting. Arms crossed, her posture rigid, she glared sullenly at Conrad from one end of his couch. Lying comfortably against the cushions at the other end, he smiled back at her indulgently. He hadn’t been expecting to see her here this evening. Even though she’d taken to spending nearly every weekend with him, tonight was Thursday—definitely part of the week, as far as he was concerned. In her mind, however, the fact that it was Thanksgiving apparently made it the start of the weekend. 

“I told you all about it when I was here last weekend. I was really hoping you’d show. You’d have liked it.”

“Yes, I’m sure I would have.” Enough talk now. Conrad reached for the girl and pulled her toward him. He rearranged her limbs until she was reclining against his chest with her head resting on his shoulder, her long, dark hair swept to one side. Unexpected, yes, he thought, as he began to lick lazily at her neck. But definitely not unwelcome.Three days was long enough to go without. He’d grown quite addicted to the taste of her over the course of the past month—which would have worried him, if he’d been planning on turning her. He wasn’t. “I’m sorry I missed your picnic today. It sounds like it was a…real happening scene.” 

A strangled noise, emanating from the vicinity of the secretary desk on the other side of the room, greeted Conrad’s observation. He glanced up, his face breaking into a wide grin at the sight of Armand’s pained expression. 

“A happening scene? Mon Dieu.” 

“Well, it was,” Desert Rose insisted as she settled deeper into Conrad’s embrace, her eyes closed, her neck exposed. “With music and dancing and...just crowds of people. And more food than…well, than you’ve probably ever seen in your life.” 

Armand’s eyes grew smoky as he gazed at the girl. His tongue danced lightly across the points of his teeth. He looked mesmerized, enchanted. He looked hungry. 

Mine. Conrad stilled. It took a conscious effort to tamp down the unreasoning jealousy that was once again threatening to burn holes in his gut. Luckily, Armand seemed to collect himself before too much time had passed. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head and went back to work, writing checks to pay the monthly bills. Conrad relaxed as well, and quietly sank his teeth into the girl’s waiting neck.

“Corn and beans and squash and cranberry sauce and those little pearl onions,” she continued her recital, in the slightly dreamy tone that indicated she was so relaxed she hadn’t even noticed Conrad’s feasting at her throat. “And mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, peas, three kinds of pie, a big chocolate cake. Not to mention homemade bread and biscuits and pumpkin soup. Oh, and there was even an entire turkey made out of tofu.”

“It sounds delightful.” Conrad raised his head. “Armand?”

Oui?” 

Qu’est-ce que c’est…toe-foo?”

Armand looked up again, his face perplexed. “Je ne sais pas,” he replied with a shrug. Then, his face clearing, he snapped his fingers.  Ah, non, non, non. Il est Chinois. It’s something to do with soybeans. A kind of a paste, I think?”

“Soybeans? Vraiment?” Conrad shook his head and went back to his meal. Soybean turkeys. What would they think of next? He could still eat human food, if he had to, but it had very little taste and no nutritional value for him, so he rarely bothered. In the past, of course, things had been different and he’d frequently been forced to eat regular meals as part of his attempts to pass for human. He hadn’t felt the need for such subterfuge in quite some time, however, and being as he was now a man of some means and could afford not to eat, he no longer did.

“I wish you’d been there,” Desert Rose murmured, still pouting. “You could have met some of my friends.”

“I’m sure that would have been very charming,” Conrad lied and, sensing she was growing restless, quickly licked the wounds shut and released her. “But, you know, mignonne, Armand is Canadian and they don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving in his country. It would have been rude to leave him alone.”

 “Well, you could have come too,” she said, sitting up and gazing earnestly at Armand. “All sorts of people were there.” 

Merci, chérie.” Armand smiled at her. “And, for the record, we do celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada. It’s just not all about the food for us.” He cast a sly glance in Conrad’s direction. “But, you know, Conrad is not from this country originally either. So you can’t really expect him to appreciate the delights of all your traditional American dishes. Like tofu, for example.”

“You’re not American?” Eyes wide, she stared at Conrad. “Where are you from?”

“Originally?” Conrad frowned. He had to think about that for a moment. The part of Europe he hailed from had been called many different things over the centuries, most of which would mean nothing to her. “Rome,” he answered, finally, taking the easy way out.

“So, does that mean you’re like…Italian?” 

“Close enough,” he said, ignoring Armand when he muttered, “…but no cigar.” 

“So, what do you like to eat on Thanksgiving then? Spaghetti, or pizza, or lasagna or something?”

Conrad grimaced as thoughts of garlic, and other unpleasant spices, threatened to sour his stomach. “I don’t really care for any of those.”

Cocking her head to the side, she frowned thoughtfully. “You know what’s funny? Now that I think about it, I never see you eat anything. Why is that?”

From across the room, Armand choked back a laugh. “C’est parce que vos yeux sont fermés, chérie,” he answered. That’s because your eyes are shut

“That’s enough out of you,” Conrad growled, throwing a pillow at his head. 

“What did he say?” the girl asked, her gaze shifting back and forth between them both.

Conrad shrugged. “He said it’s because I’m always on a diet.”

“What?” Her eyebrows rose. “You? But, you don’t need to diet, you’re perfect!”

Conrad pulled her close again and kissed her, flashing a smug smile over her shoulder at Armand. “Thank you, chérie. So are you.”

An avaricious little thrill pulsed through him as she clung to him, sighing happily against his mouth. Mine. He tightened his arms around her. One kiss was not enough. The taste of her mouth was an easy match for the taste of her blood—he was addicted to both and unable to get enough of either. Angling his head to the side, he plundered her mouth, loving the way her hands crept shyly up to frame his face, the eagerness with which she snuggled against him. Soon he was rolling her beneath him on the couch and stretching himself out on top of her, wanting, needing more. 

In the long run, his dual obsession with both her body and her blood was a very bad thing. One that would surely lead to trouble when he lost control of either his temper or his jealousy, as had happened with the last person he’d craved in this fashion. In the short run, however, it was perfect. As he tangled his legs with hers, he allowed himself a single depraved fantasy of what it would be like if he could have them both together in his bed. Both of his dark-eyed beauties, gazing at him adoringly…

It would be…nice. Very nice. But it was never going to happen, if only because, for safety’s sake, he’d have to turn her first. And that was such a very bad idea he wasn’t even tempted by it. Much.

“So, what holidays do you celebrate?” she asked, pressing her hands into his chest in an attempt to push him away. 

She’s pushing me away? He glanced down at her, surprised by her unexpected resistance. Is there a problem here?The furtive glance she cast in Armand’s direction, however, made the source of her discomfort clear.

Conrad sighed. He rolled to the side, giving her the space she so clearly desired. He’d been forgetting how very young she was. Young enough to still be self-conscious about being observed at play. Far too young for the fantasies he’d been imagining. Far too young for him. Yet another reason things would never work out between them. “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Holidays. There’s gotta be some you celebrate, right?”

“No, not really.” 

She looked surprised. “Not even Christmas?” 

“Not even Christmas.”

“That’s a shame.” She nodded at the big bay window, heavily swathed in velvet curtains to keep out the sun. “Because, you know, that would be a perfect place to put a tree.”

“A tree?” The grounds were full of trees—which was exactly where they belonged. “Why would I want a tree in the house?” It would have to be a very hardy specimen, something that could flourish in the dark.

“A Christmas tree, silly. You know, all done up with tinsel and pretty lights? If I had a house like this, I’d sure have one.”

He smiled at her. “So, you want a tree now? Is that what you’re saying?”

The girl sighed wistfully. “Well, who wouldn’t? But I don’t have any room at my place. I mean, I don’t really even have a place—not of my own. So, you know, there’s not much point in thinking about it, is there?”

“No, I meant here. Would you like me to get a tree for you to decorate?”

The look in her eyes gave him his answer. “Really?”

Conrad raised his head. “Armand!”

Oui!

“We need a tree!”

Eh?” Armand glanced up, confused. “Comment? A…tree?”

“Yes, a tree, you heathen. For Christmas. Get one for us, will you, mon cher?”

Raising one eyebrow, Armand stared at him. “Ah, oui. Très bien. And would you be wanting the little colored lights, too?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “You could wrap them all around the house, perhaps—up on the roof and around all the doors and windows?” 

Conrad looked at the girl. She nodded eagerly. He smiled. “Oui.” 



Want to read more about Armand? His origin story will be the focus of Dancing in the Dark: 



Sometimes living forever is not all it's cracked up to be. 

1956 Winnipeg, Canada. Once Armand Renaud realizes that eternal youth is a real possibility, nothing will deter him from achieving his goal. And after one hundred years of solitude, Conrad can’t bring himself to resist the handsome young dancer who’s hellbent on being turned. 

They both know they’re not destined to be the great loves of each other’s lives, but there are worse ways to pass a long and lonely decade or two than in the arms of a passionate stranger. 

Living forever might not be everything they’d hoped for. But, at least they can still get a few things right. Can't they?

Scheduled for release September 19, 2023 as part of the  Rejected by the Immortal anthology.


PREORDER IT NOW:  https://books2read.com/rejectedimmortal


And why not spend this Christmas with a vampire...or two?


Her love will light up his night. If they can both survive that long. 

Heather is having the worst Christmas ever! Or, at least, the worst Christmas since she was forced to become a vampire. Her sire's distracted, her nestmates have forgotten her, weirdos have taken over the lair. The only bright spot in her life right now is Drew--who didn't even used to like her! She knows he's fond of her now, but that's not good enough. She wants more. She wants everything. She wants him. And she's not giving up. 

Drew Geiger gave up on love a long time ago. Such tender emotions have no place in a vampire's heart. But, somehow, the girl he once described as a "feral kitten" has got her claws in him, and she's not letting go. That would be fine, if only someone didn't want her dead--and if her sire didn't recall that it was Drew who once suggested that maybe she'd be better off that way.

 

Releasing December 13, 2022 

Available for preorder now: https://books2read.com/u/m0En1l

Saturday, November 19, 2022

Bring It Back(list) In the Dark by PG Forte

Posted by: PG Forte

 I feel like I've posted this before. Because Thanksgiving is coming and this is my favorite (for which read ONLY) Thanksgiving Day scene. I do have a book in the works that is actually set at Thanksgiving, but until that's done, I'll just have to make do with Grumpy Vampire Thanksgiving. It's from In the Dark (still one of my favorites, still not a romance) the very first book in the Children of Night series. ALTHOUGH...there's a prequel of sorts in the works. If all goes well, that will release next September as part of the Rejected by the Immortal anthology (available for preorder now. links below). And I  do have a new vampire Christmas story releasing next month...more about that Tuesday. 

But, for now, Happy Thanksgiving from Conrad and crew!


When you live forever, a few mistakes are bound to happen. 

Vampire Conrad Quintano has been around for centuries -- long enough to know falling for a human is a terrible idea. Much less falling for adventure-seeking hippie Desert Rose and agreeing to raise her babies. 

Raised in virtual isolation, Marc and Julie Fischer have never known their unique status in the world. But once they're in San Francisco, the family reunion is nothing like they anticipated and they're thrust into a world they're completely unprepared for.

Buy it here: https://books2read.com/u/49nGpX


Exerpt:Thursday, November 28th, 1968

Thanksgiving Day

“All I’m saying is that the picnic in the park was a total blast and you missed out on a really great party today.”

Desert Rose was pouting. Arms crossed, her posture rigid, she glared sullenly at Conrad from one end of his couch. Lying comfortably against the cushions at the other end, he smiled back at her indulgently. He hadn’t been expecting to see her here this evening. Even though she’d taken to spending nearly every weekend with him, tonight was Thursday—definitely part of the week, as far as he was concerned. In her mind, however, the fact that it was Thanksgiving apparently made it the start of the weekend. 

“I told you all about it when I was here last weekend. I was really hoping you’d show. You’d have liked it.”

“Yes, I’m sure I would have.” Enough talk now. Conrad reached for the girl and pulled her toward him. He rearranged her limbs until she was reclining against his chest with her head resting on his shoulder, her long, dark hair swept to one side. Unexpected, yes, he thought, as he began to lick lazily at her neck. But definitely not unwelcome.Three days was long enough to go without. He’d grown quite addicted to the taste of her over the course of the past month—which would have worried him, if he’d been planning on turning her. He wasn’t. “I’m sorry I missed your picnic today. It sounds like it was a…real happening scene.” 

A strangled noise, emanating from the vicinity of the secretary desk on the other side of the room, greeted Conrad’s observation. He glanced up, his face breaking into a wide grin at the sight of Armand’s pained expression. 

“A happening scene? Mon Dieu.” 

“Well, it was,” Desert Rose insisted as she settled deeper into Conrad’s embrace, her eyes closed, her neck exposed. “With music and dancing and...just crowds of people. And more food than…well, than you’ve probably ever seen in your life.” 

Armand’s eyes grew smoky as he gazed at the girl. His tongue danced lightly across the points of his teeth. He looked mesmerized, enchanted. He looked hungry. 

Mine. Conrad stilled. It took a conscious effort to tamp down the unreasoning jealousy that was once again threatening to burn holes in his gut. Luckily, Armand seemed to collect himself before too much time had passed. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head and went back to work, writing checks to pay the monthly bills. Conrad relaxed as well, and quietly sank his teeth into the girl’s waiting neck.

“Corn and beans and squash and cranberry sauce and those little pearl onions,” she continued her recital, in the slightly dreamy tone that indicated she was so relaxed she hadn’t even noticed Conrad’s feasting at her throat. “And mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, peas, three kinds of pie, a big chocolate cake. Not to mention homemade bread and biscuits and pumpkin soup. Oh, and there was even an entire turkey made out of tofu.”

“It sounds delightful.” Conrad raised his head. “Armand?”

Oui?” 

Qu’est-ce que c’est…toe-foo?”

Armand looked up again, his face perplexed. “Je ne sais pas,” he replied with a shrug. Then, his face clearing, he snapped his fingers.  Ah, non, non, non. Il est Chinois. It’s something to do with soybeans. A kind of a paste, I think?”

“Soybeans? Vraiment?” Conrad shook his head and went back to his meal. Soybean turkeys. What would they think of next? He could still eat human food, if he had to, but it had very little taste and no nutritional value for him, so he rarely bothered. In the past, of course, things had been different and he’d frequently been forced to eat regular meals as part of his attempts to pass for human. He hadn’t felt the need for such subterfuge in quite some time, however, and being as he was now a man of some means and could afford not to eat, he no longer did.

“I wish you’d been there,” Desert Rose murmured, still pouting. “You could have met some of my friends.”

“I’m sure that would have been very charming,” Conrad lied and, sensing she was growing restless, quickly licked the wounds shut and released her. “But, you know, mignonne, Armand is Canadian and they don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving in his country. It would have been rude to leave him alone.”

 “Well, you could have come too,” she said, sitting up and gazing earnestly at Armand. “All sorts of people were there.” 

Merci, chérie.” Armand smiled at her. “And, for the record, we do celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada. It’s just not all about the food for us.” He cast a sly glance in Conrad’s direction. “But, you know, Conrad is not from this country originally either. So you can’t really expect him to appreciate the delights of all your traditional American dishes. Like tofu, for example.”

“You’re not American?” Eyes wide, she stared at Conrad. “Where are you from?”

“Originally?” Conrad frowned. He had to think about that for a moment. The part of Europe he hailed from had been called many different things over the centuries, most of which would mean nothing to her. “Rome,” he answered, finally, taking the easy way out.

“So, does that mean you’re like…Italian?” 

“Close enough,” he said, ignoring Armand when he muttered, “…but no cigar.” 

“So, what do you like to eat on Thanksgiving then? Spaghetti, or pizza, or lasagna or something?”

Conrad grimaced as thoughts of garlic, and other unpleasant spices, threatened to sour his stomach. “I don’t really care for any of those.”

Cocking her head to the side, she frowned thoughtfully. “You know what’s funny? Now that I think about it, I never see you eat anything. Why is that?”

From across the room, Armand choked back a laugh. “C’est parce que vos yeux sont fermés, chérie,” he answered. That’s because your eyes are shut

“That’s enough out of you,” Conrad growled, throwing a pillow at his head. 

“What did he say?” the girl asked, her gaze shifting back and forth between them both.

Conrad shrugged. “He said it’s because I’m always on a diet.”

“What?” Her eyebrows rose. “You? But, you don’t need to diet, you’re perfect!”

Conrad pulled her close again and kissed her, flashing a smug smile over her shoulder at Armand. “Thank you, chérie. So are you.”

An avaricious little thrill pulsed through him as she clung to him, sighing happily against his mouth. Mine. He tightened his arms around her. One kiss was not enough. The taste of her mouth was an easy match for the taste of her blood—he was addicted to both and unable to get enough of either. Angling his head to the side, he plundered her mouth, loving the way her hands crept shyly up to frame his face, the eagerness with which she snuggled against him. Soon he was rolling her beneath him on the couch and stretching himself out on top of her, wanting, needing more. 

In the long run, his dual obsession with both her body and her blood was a very bad thing. One that would surely lead to trouble when he lost control of either his temper or his jealousy, as had happened with the last person he’d craved in this fashion. In the short run, however, it was perfect. As he tangled his legs with hers, he allowed himself a single depraved fantasy of what it would be like if he could have them both together in his bed. Both of his dark-eyed beauties, gazing at him adoringly…

It would be…nice. Very nice. But it was never going to happen, if only because, for safety’s sake, he’d have to turn her first. And that was such a very bad idea he wasn’t even tempted by it. Much.

“So, what holidays do you celebrate?” she asked, pressing her hands into his chest in an attempt to push him away. 

She’s pushing me away? He glanced down at her, surprised by her unexpected resistance. Is there a problem here?The furtive glance she cast in Armand’s direction, however, made the source of her discomfort clear.

Conrad sighed. He rolled to the side, giving her the space she so clearly desired. He’d been forgetting how very young she was. Young enough to still be self-conscious about being observed at play. Far too young for the fantasies he’d been imagining. Far too young for him. Yet another reason things would never work out between them. “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Holidays. There’s gotta be some you celebrate, right?”

“No, not really.” 

She looked surprised. “Not even Christmas?” 

“Not even Christmas.”

“That’s a shame.” She nodded at the big bay window, heavily swathed in velvet curtains to keep out the sun. “Because, you know, that would be a perfect place to put a tree.”

“A tree?” The grounds were full of trees—which was exactly where they belonged. “Why would I want a tree in the house?” It would have to be a very hardy specimen, something that could flourish in the dark.

“A Christmas tree, silly. You know, all done up with tinsel and pretty lights? If I had a house like this, I’d sure have one.”

He smiled at her. “So, you want a tree now? Is that what you’re saying?”

The girl sighed wistfully. “Well, who wouldn’t? But I don’t have any room at my place. I mean, I don’t really even have a place—not of my own. So, you know, there’s not much point in thinking about it, is there?”

“No, I meant here. Would you like me to get a tree for you to decorate?”

The look in her eyes gave him his answer. “Really?”

Conrad raised his head. “Armand!”

Oui!

“We need a tree!”

Eh?” Armand glanced up, confused. “Comment? A…tree?”

“Yes, a tree, you heathen. For Christmas. Get one for us, will you, mon cher?”

Raising one eyebrow, Armand stared at him. “Ah, oui. Très bien. And would you be wanting the little colored lights, too?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “You could wrap them all around the house, perhaps—up on the roof and around all the doors and windows?” 

Conrad looked at the girl. She nodded eagerly. He smiled. “Oui.” 



Want to read more about Armand? His origin story will be the focus of Dancing in the Dark: 



Sometimes living forever is not all it's cracked up to be. 

1956 Winnipeg, Canada. Once Armand Renaud realizes that eternal youth is a real possibility, nothing will deter him from achieving his goal. And after one hundred years of solitude, Conrad can’t bring himself to resist the handsome young dancer who’s hellbent on being turned. 

They both know they’re not destined to be the great loves of each other’s lives, but there are worse ways to pass a long and lonely decade or two than in the arms of a passionate stranger. 

Living forever might not be everything they’d hoped for. But, at least they can still get a few things right. Can't they?

Scheduled for release September 19, 2023 as part of the  Rejected by the Immortal anthology.


PREORDER IT NOW:  https://books2read.com/rejectedimmortal


And why not spend this Christmas with a vampire...or two?


Her love will light up his night. If they can both survive that long. 

Heather is having the worst Christmas ever! Or, at least, the worst Christmas since she was forced to become a vampire. Her sire's distracted, her nestmates have forgotten her, weirdos have taken over the lair. The only bright spot in her life right now is Drew--who didn't even used to like her! She knows he's fond of her now, but that's not good enough. She wants more. She wants everything. She wants him. And she's not giving up. 

Drew Geiger gave up on love a long time ago. Such tender emotions have no place in a vampire's heart. But, somehow, the girl he once described as a "feral kitten" has got her claws in him, and she's not letting go. That would be fine, if only someone didn't want her dead--and if her sire didn't recall that it was Drew who once suggested that maybe she'd be better off that way.

 

Releasing December 13, 2022 

Available for preorder now: https://books2read.com/u/m0En1l

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