Title: The Breaths We Take

Series: Season of Chadham High, Book Three

Author: Huston Piner

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 19, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 101100

Genre: Contemporary YA, LGBT, historical/early 90s, YA, high school, first love, coming-of-age, aging relative, family issues, weddings, HEA

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Synopsis

It’s 1992, and seventeen-year-old Ben Carpenter has everything all figured out. He’s gay, with a supportive family; he makes decent grades; and in Ted, Hope, and Doris, he’s got three great friends he can always depend on. If he only had a boyfriend, life would be perfect, and he’s working on that. But things are getting complicated. First, Doris drags him into an ill-fated matchmaking scheme that could destroy their friendship with Ted and Hope. Then, Grandpa Marty moves in, throwing the whole Carpenter household into a total uproar. If that’s not enough, the only way for Ben to get in his community service hours is to volunteer at the senior center, even though old people give him the creeps. And then there’s that little matter of his feelings for Ted’s brother Adrian that confuse him and threaten to expose a secret Ted must never know. Ben’s journey is littered with misunderstandings, tender moments, and unexpected ghosts from the past that reveal a two-decades-old mystery. As events unfold, Ben is forced to reevaluate what friendship, family, and love are really all about, and he discovers that, sometimes, there’s more to life than a happy ending. Seasons of Chadham High explores the evolving experience of gay teenagers in different eras—from the psychedelic sixties, through the me generation seventies and eighties, to the nihilistic nineties and beyond.

Excerpt

The Breaths We Take Huston Piner © 2018 All Rights Reserved Chapter One September 1992 There are certain days when everything just seems to come together. Then there are those days when things all fly apart. Well, there’s also the kind when things begin to change. For me, a sunny day at the start of my junior year of high school was such a day. It began like any other, but before it was over, my life had taken a turn, and soon, everything—from my relationships with friends and family to what I thought I knew about love—would be changed forever. So there we were, at one of the tables outside the lunchroom, just back from Labor Day weekend. Doris and I were sitting across from Hope and Ted, all of us soaking up the sunshine. The wind was a little gusty, but nobody was complaining. At least it drove the stench off. (Only Chadham High would put the dumpsters right around the corner from the school’s one outdoor eating area.) “Hey Ben, pass the salt.” I cut Ted a reproachful glance. The only shaker was two tables away. “Why am I always the one who has to get the salt?” “Don’t be such a whiner. It’s like social contract theory. You do little things for us, and we all do little things for you.” “Such as…?” Hope flicked sandy-brown bangs out of her face. “Such as making sure you find the right guy to hook up with.” “The right guy?” I said, depositing the shaker just out of Ted’s reach. “What do you mean the right guy?” “Oh come on, Ben. You know when the right guy comes along, we’ll all chip in to help you get him.” “Yeah, yeah, like that’s ever going to happen. Here. At Chadham High. In this lifetime.” Doris nudged me in the side. “You’ve just got to be patient.” “Patient? My high school career’s already halfway over, and I’ve got nothing to show for it. ‘The right guy.’ At this point, I’d be happy to have any guy show even a hint of interest in me.” I hadn’t even finished speaking when Grant Framingham shuffled past us. Doris raised a sarcastic eyebrow and snickered, watching me grimace at his weasel-like nose and mousy brown hair. “Really? Any guy?” “Uh, no. On second thought, I’ll wait for the right guy.” “You mean Colby Ryder,” Hope said in a playful, mocking tone. As if on cue, Colby emerged from the lunchroom, that luxurious ebony hair of his floating in the breeze, those dark-chocolate eyes gleaming in the sunlight. My heartbeat quickened, and my skin tingled at the very sight of him. He was so hot you could get burned by just touching him—not that I’d ever had that opportunity. I watched him pass us, my shoulders slumping, while various fantasy images danced through my head. “Oh God, what I could do to that boy. Why oh why couldn’t he be gay?” “Benjie,” Doris chirped in a singsong voice. “Whining.” “It’s just not fair,” I said peevishly. “And I’m not a whiner.” They all laughed. Okay. The truth was, maybe I did whine a bit—every now and then. But whining just came with the territory when you were seventeen years old, gay, and devilishly handsome, and you had about as much chance of finding a boyfriend as winning the lottery. My problem was a question of demographics. Chadham High was one of those places where everybody fit into neat little boxes. We had the snotty I’m Involved in Everything and All the Teachers Love Me association. Then there was the I’m a Jock and I’ll Punch Your Face if I Want To crew. We had the obligatory I’m Smart and You’re Not guild, the My Religion Says You’re Going to Hell congregation, and any number of the I’m a (fill in the demographic group of your choice) and I’m Better Than You societies. And of course, what self-respecting high school would be complete without the Dude, Pass that Joint tribe? As for the rest, they all fell into the Please God, Just Let Me Live Long Enough to Get Out of Here nation. That’s the box Ted, Doris, Hope, and I were all in. But what we didn’t seem to have at good old Chadham High, at least as far as I’d been able to tell over the past two years, was more than the one lone gay student—me. Now, they say statistically, at least five percent of any given population will be homosexual. That meant there should have been about a hundred or so young gay people running around, and therefore, at least a few of them should have been healthy gay males. But if there were any other queers at Chadham High besides me, I’d long since come to the conclusion they were masters of disguise. I mean, sheesh. Talk about keeping a low profile. I plopped my elbow on the table and cupped my chin in my hand. “Why can’t any of the beautiful guys around here be gay?” “Well,” Ted said, “good looks are God’s compensation for not giving us straight guys a good sense of fashion.” Doris leaned back in her chair with her mouth hanging open and stared at him. “Oh Ted, I’m so sorry, and you lost out on both.” She burst into a fit of laughter, and Hope and I snickered. Ted ignored her, stretched for the shaker, and sighed when he had to half stand to reach it. Then he unceremoniously dumped an ungodly large mountain of salt on his food. Doris scowled. “Ted, I swear you’re going to give yourself a coronary.” He raised a sodium-laden fork to his mouth. “It’s the only way I can stand to eat this crap.” She shook her head as Hope picked up the shaker and poured a liberal mound of salt onto her own plate. “You know, you could just get an apple or an orange.” “Even the fruit here stinks,” he said through a mouthful of whatever it was he was eating. He was right. I glanced at the orange peel lying in my tray. There’s sour, and then there’s sour, but the sour in that orange had just been plain off. Doris twiddled a strand of wavy black hair. “Has anybody had any luck finding something for their community service project?” “I was hoping to do the Y,” Hope said, “but they told me all their volunteer openings were already filled weeks ago, and they’ve got a waiting list a mile long.” “Yeah,” Ted said. “I got the same answer when I called the city park service Friday afternoon. Apparently, the school board didn’t take into consideration there are only so many volunteer positions available in Chadham County. Adding juniors and seniors to the number of underclassmen already required to do CS was an idea bound to fail.” “Well,” Doris said with a grin, “I’ve got mine all set and ready. I talked with my priest, and she said I could help out preparing the Saturday meals-on-wheels plates.” “Hey,” Hope said, “do you think I could help out there too?” “I can ask. I don’t know how much help they need though. She told me they’ve got a pretty large group of people working it. But yeah, I’m sure they’ll let you. And even if they don’t, if I drive you there Saturday, they’ve at least got to give you credit for the time you’re there with me.” Hope smiled. “Cool. What about you, Ben? Are you having any luck?” I folded my arms and sighed. “Oh yeah, I’m having great luck—all of it bad. Last week, I went to city hall, and they said no to everything, even the neighborhood beautification program. Apparently, you’ve got to have some kind of advanced degree in agriculture just to pull up weeds around here. And Saturday, I even checked out the library. Nothing.” “Well,” Doris said, “you’d better come up with something. Two hundred hours is a lot of time to fill, especially if you’ve got to limit it to weekends and after school.” “Don’t rub it in,” Ted said. Hope patted him on the wrist. “Aw, I’m sure you’ll both find something.” I scoffed. “Tell me something, Hope. Your middle name wouldn’t happen to be ‘Springs Eternal’ by any chance, would it?”

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Meet the Author

Huston Piner always wanted to be a writer but realized from an early age that learning to read would have to take precedence. A voracious reader, he loves nothing more than a well-told story, a glass of red, and music playing in the background. His writings focus on ordinary gay teenagers and young adults struggling with their orientation in the face of cultural prejudice and the evolving influence of LGBTQA+ rights on society. He and his partner live in a house ruled by three domineering cats in the mid-Atlantic region.

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Title: The Love of a Woodsman

Author: Gregory L. Norris

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 19, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 17400

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, Paranormal, demons, shifters, holiday, romance

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Synopsis

Teddy Saunders wakes from a trance, trapped in a car speeding through a snowy December landscape, the prisoner of a sinister monocled man and his servant. His captors’ intentions soon become clear—Teddy is to be sacrificed to weaken magical wards surrounding a realm of sacred woods. Gable Flanigan, the handsome protector of those woods, foils their plans and rescues Teddy, taking him to his home deep in the forest. There, Teddy witnesses even greater mysteries and wonders than his demonic pursuers, including Gable, a man pledged to watch over the woods and all they shield from the rest of the world. In Gable’s home, the secret of their dark enemies deepens, as does the attraction between Teddy and his rescuer. But Teddy soon finds himself again in jeopardy—can the woodman’s love save him?

Excerpt

The Love of a Woodsman Gregory L. Norris © 2018 All Rights Reserved The car accelerated. From the corner of his eye, Teddy watched the speedometer’s numbers creep past seventy on a winding country road posted at thirty. Tires squealed across uneven pavement and frost heaves, but he barely felt the jolts. The drive was eerily smooth, as though the car was gliding just above the ground instead of traveling over tar. Then the man in the ski mask behind the wheel banked left and the illusion ended. Gravity tossed Teddy against the front passenger’s door. The car shook with a guttural ka-thunk, proof of the wheels striking a rut. Wind shrieked around the car. At first, Teddy thought the scream had come from him, but his lips, like most of his body, were paralyzed. The car shot into a snow squall. The world went dark around him. Frozen until the next second, when his cheek hit the cool glass, even Teddy’s thoughts came with difficulty. The man sitting directly behind him in the black sedan’s backseat, a well-dressed magician, had done something to him. A whammy, some kind of spell, screamed the voice in Teddy’s head. His thoughts unstuck from their disconnected state, sounding as intense to his inner ear as the December wind. He imagined the magician: pallid-faced, with short silver hair, dressed in a pinstriped gentleman’s suit and spats. What was it about those shoes that didn’t seem natural or right beyond their hopelessly outdated style? The man held a wooden walking stick, mahogany or… no, rosewood, like the walls in Clarke’s office. He remembered thinking the heel of the stick was scuffed, showing plenty of mileage, the crown capped by a large red jewel. And the magician wore a monocle. The monocle! Right as he’d heard the tap-tap-tap of the walking stick on the ice-crusted pavement in the parking lot of Howard, Canley, and Associates, Teddy had turned, and the man with the monocle glided up behind him, perhaps one of Clarke Howard’s clients, a fat cat investor. Or worse, one of the many foreclosed upon former owners evicted from their homes. The man with the monocle had turned out being neither, and he remembered two additional details, including what it was about the spats that so unnerved Teddy. As the car keys dropped from his hands, probably still sitting in the slush beside his car, he saw that the man’s spats were levitating several inches above the ground. “Boo,” he’d said. Teddy had gazed into the man’s monocle, thinking the eye behind it didn’t look right, didn’t look human, and then he’d lost the ability to command his own body beyond breathing and blinking. The sedan broke through to the other side of the squall. The road beyond the windshield leveled off, taking a clear shot through a dense belt of conifers. The forest of sap pines and hemlocks smeared into a wash of greens and grays as the speedometer jumped another three miles. Teddy’s ears popped. The wind screamed. “Do it, Smokey,” said the magician. A shiver teased the nape of Teddy’s neck, delivered on an icy finger of breath from the sedan’s backseat. Unable to fight it, Teddy surrendered to the ghostly caress, which tumbled down his spine. Smokey. The Monocle was speaking to the driver, the man in the ski mask. Teddy didn’t know how he got the nickname but guessed the reason was bad. Really bad. The man in the black ski mask tensed. Teddy imagined him applying the full weight of his foot on the gas pedal while his grip on the steering wheel tightened. In his terror, Teddy hadn’t realized how pale Smokey’s fingers were before now. Not simply white, but gray and tattooed in bruises. Smokey was dressed all in black. What Teddy could see of his face through the slits of the ski mask looked worse. Mottled and unhealthy, his was the flesh of a corpse. “Hurry up and do it, Smokey!” the Monocle said, the crispness of his voice falling apart, with burbles and croaks filling the gaps between words. “Kill him if you want to live!”

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Meet the Author

Raised on a healthy diet of creature double features and classic SF television, Gregory L. Norris is a full-time professional writer, with work appearing in numerous short story anthologies, national magazines, novels, the occasional TV episode, and, so far, one produced feature film (Brutal Colors, which debuted on Amazon Prime January 2016). A former feature writer and columnist at Sci Fi, the official magazine of the Sci Fi Channel (before all those ridiculous Ys invaded), he once worked as a screenwriter on two episodes of Paramount’s modern classic, Star Trek: Voyager. Two of his paranormal novels (written under my rom-de-plume, Jo Atkinson) were published by Home Shopping Network as part of their “Escape With Romance” line — the first time HSN has offered novels to their global customer base. He judged the 2012 Lambda Awards in the SF/F/H category. Three times now, his stories have notched Honorable Mentions in Ellen Datlow’s Best-of books. In May 2016, he traveled to Hollywood to accept HM in the Roswell Awards in Short SF Writing.His story “Drowning” appears in the Italian anthology THE BEAUTY OF DEATH 2, alongside tales by none other than Peter Straub and Clive Barker.

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Title: New Year’s Shippin’ Eve

Series: Until You, Book 1.5

Author: Karrie Roman

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 19, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 15400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, pets, holiday, new parents, adoption, musicians, Australia, New Year’s Eve

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Synopsis

A Holiday Sequel to Shipped Lucas Evers and Ryan Lowe thought they had it all: successful careers, good friends and, most importantly, each other. The one thing left was to start a family of their own. Now seems a perfect time. The danger that stalked them is in the past, they’ve settled into their celebrity roles and the love between them continues to burn. They’ve signed all the paperwork to adopt a child and now await their longed for child to come along. Down Under for a traditional Aussie Christmas, Lucas receives some unexpected news they both thought would be months, even years, away. It’s the kind of news that will change their lives forever. What better time to share it with Ryan than New Year’s Eve? As they settle in to watch the fireworks over Sydney Harbour, Lucas tells Ryan the news, knowing that midnight will not just chime in a New Year but also new lives for them both. New Year’s Eve is their chance to put the past behind them and welcome their future.

Excerpt

New Year’s Shippin’ Eve Karrie Roman © 2018 All Rights Reserved “You’ll be here in ten minutes?” Ryan gasped in disbelief and looked around him. Over the phone line, Lucas chuckled. “Yeah, ten minutes. Is that okay? Or would you prefer me to stay away longer?” “No. No, it’s just that I thought you’d be at least another hour or two.” Ryan stood back from the carnage and wiped his brow. Sweat trickled down his cheek and between his shoulder blades, pooling in the swell of his lower back. It was hot today, uncomfortably, stinking hot, but that was summer in Australia for you. He took a deep breath and then another, fighting not to let the scene he surveyed disquiet him too much. He was filthy and the room he stood in looked like Dorothy’s tornado had recently blown through. Ryan had been on disaster movie sets that didn’t look as apocalyptic as this. He swept his gaze to Lucifer. The black kitten was reclining on the kitchen countertop like he was a regal deity. His yellow eyes were glaring at Ryan with a look that was a cross between boredom and bloodlust. Ryan didn’t trust that kitten not to sink his claws into him, given half the chance. Lucifer was supposed to be his cat, a Christmas gift from Lucas, but he was convinced the cat, at best, held mild disdain for him, and at worst, was plotting his imminent downfall. On the other hand, the cat adored Lucas. Its nights were spent curled on Lucas’s lap or in the crook of his neck. He’d hiss and spit at Ryan if he got within a half foot. Their intimate encounters had become less spontaneous and more well-planned undertakings since the obstinate little feline’s arrival in their lives only a week ago. “You know, I’m gonna tell Luke this was your fault,” he mumbled to the moggy, who answered him with a yawn. The kitten then stretched and turned his back to indicate his total disinterest in whatever Ryan had to say. Cats! Or maybe it was only this cat who was definitely not one to turn to if he was after a little affection. “What did you say?” Lucas asked. Ryan turned his attention back to his lover but didn’t take his eyes off the cat. “Sorry, I was thinking out loud. How come you’ll be home so early?” “We finished the interview early… You know, I can hang around here a bit if you need more time to get rid of the hot lifeguard.” Lucas’s tone was cheerful; there’d been many emotions shared between them but never jealousy. Lucas was aware of how much Ryan adored him and vice versa. “I told you it wasn’t me he was ogling, Luke. He couldn’t keep his fucking eyes off you.” “Oh, yeah,” Lucas laughed. “Then why the hell did he spend all day chatting you up every chance he got?” “Well, that’s simple. Because, like everyone who encounters you, he was in mute awe of the gorgeous, talented, kind, sweet, and amazing Lucas Evers, Hollywood megastar.” Ryan would have batted his lashes if Lucas had been there to see him. Lucas’s throaty chuckle was loud in his ear, and Ryan thought for the millionth time that it was the best sound he’d ever heard. “You are so good for my ego, Ry. Now let me hang up so I can get home to you. Ten minutes, remember. Ten minutes too long to have you in my arms again, if you ask me.” “Flatterer,” Ryan replied. “See you soon. I love you.” “Love you too, Ry.” Lucas murmured. Ryan hung up and put his phone on the countertop. Unfortunately for him, no fairy godmother had worked her magic while he’d been on the phone so the ruined mess of what had been their meal was still waiting for him. How had things gone so wrong? It had started out as such a simple idea. Something lovers had been doing for their partners since time immemorial. But Ryan hadn’t factored in a tiny black kitten with a superiority complex and a fondness, bordering on obsession, for seafood. Now, thanks to Lucifer, and a little bit of Ryan’s own culinary incompetence, he stood in the ruins of what had once been an immaculate kitchen and their delicious dinner. They’d been in Australia for three weeks. Lucas had wanted to spend a Christmas “Down Under” and had been able to tie their trip in with a couple of interviews and other publicity work for his latest movie. Ryan liked to think he’d shown Lucas the best of what Australia had to offer for a summer Christmas. Though having never really celebrated Christmas before, he’d had to google the most Australian things to do for the special day. In the end, he’d taken Lucas to Bondi Beach for Christmas Day. There’d hardly been an inch of sand to spare with all the other revelers. They’d met a lot of people that day and not one of them had been Australian. They may have spent Christmas Day on an Australian beach, eating Australian food, and drinking Australian beer, but they’d done it with a beach full of fellow Northern Hemisphere tourists, who were likewise here for a summer Christmas. The massive crowd had been intimidating at first, but Ryan was an expert at handling his anxiety these days, so he had managed to enjoy the day despite the vast number of fellow revelers. Lucas had proudly marched onto the sand in his Australian flag board shorts and matching terrycloth bucket hat Ryan had given him for Christmas that morning. Gold and green zinc had been smeared across his nose, and he’d looked adorable. His flight through the crowds while being chased by a flock of seagulls he’d foolishly tossed a chip at had been not quite so adorable, but definitely amusing. Cold meats and salads had replaced Lucas’s traditional turkey and baked vegetables. They’d sipped ice cold beers from their cooler, and Ryan had introduced Lucas to the great Australian pavlova. While Australia and New Zealand had fought for bragging rights over the dessert for years, Ryan had assured Lucas that it was most definitely Australian, which the Kiwis who’d overheard had vehemently, though good-naturedly, argued against. Regardless of origin, Lucas had taken to the dessert with an unhealthy flourish, devouring most of it easily. He’d spent the night nursing an upset stomach and claiming it wasn’t only the animals that tried to kill you in Australia; the food was gunning for you too. But, as much as Lucas had grumbled about the dangers of Australia, Ryan was touched to see his lover embrace his homeland. Dark sunglasses and large bucket hats had mostly kept them from being recognized, even when they joined a somewhat cutthroat game of beach soccer. For once, they’d simply been part of the crowd. They’d stayed well into the night, only leaving when alcohol-inspired singing had become too painful to bear. It had been a day Ryan was unlikely to forget. This was only the second Christmas Ryan hadn’t spent either alone or with only his drunkard father for company, such as that was. He didn’t honestly think a man passed out, usually in his own vomit, could be counted as company. Christmas had also been the day Lucifer had come into his life. He’d named him—unfairly Lucas thought—not long after the tiny kitten had climbed his body as if he were a tree and attacked his exposed throat. Lucas had tried to claim a loud bang had frightened the cat, but Ryan had not heard any bang, and he’d seen the fury and dislike in the pale-yellow eyes. A week later, Lucifer still seemed no closer to tolerating Ryan any more than he had to in order to ensure his survival. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, and Ryan had wanted to surprise Lucas with a special dinner for two before they saw in the new year together. And he didn’t want to go out to do it. They were staying in a penthouse apartment on Sydney’s North Shore, overlooking the harbor and city. The Harbour Bridge was so close to their right that the giant steel structure took up most of that side view. In fact, it almost seemed like the cars on the Cahill Expressway would burst right through their living room if they veered even slightly off course. The city of Sydney was like a sparkling jewel every night, but tonight when the fireworks would light up the city, the harbor, and the bridge, Ryan expected it was going to look particularly spectacular. It was a perfectly clear evening which promised the ideal backdrop for the pyrotechnic display. Ryan had hoped to be dining on the balcony in time for the 9:00 p.m. family fireworks and then in bed with Lucas watching the midnight fireworks from the enormous picture window of the main bedroom. If they timed it right, he’d have Lucas inside him—or vice versa—precisely on the stroke of twelve. “Well, Lu, are you gonna help me clean this up?” The cat gave him a side-eye and continued with his nap. The tiny feline may be plotting the downfall of mankind, but he was still adorable, and Ryan loved him.

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Meet the Author

Karrie lives in Australia’s sunshine state with her husband and two sons, though she hates the sun with a passion. She dreams of one day living in the wettest and coldest habitable place she can find. She has been writing stories in her head for years but has finally managed to pull the words out of her head and share them with others. She spends her days trying to type her stories on the computer without disturbing her beloved cat Lu curled up on the keyboard. She probably reads far too much.

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Title: Killian

Series: : Whispers From a Hidden World, Book 1

Author: TN Tarrant

Publisher: MLR Press

Release Date: 26 Oct. 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 76,065

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Science Fiction

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Synopsis

Regent Killian Larrestes survived a harrowing attack and the betrayal of his family by his mother, and has since worked to help them all recover, learning the complexities of protecting and commanding a large, sprawling Clan. Shiloh Zahirris is seeking Sanctuary from a marriage he doesn’t want when he ends up under the protection of Killian Larrestes. Killian takes him in, and they find themselves falling in love. But will social objections, personal insecurities, and someone seeking revenge destroy their chance at happiness?

Excerpt

His mother, Janet Larrestes, stood up behind her desk, with a surprised look on her face, when he and his father came in. “Killian, what happened? Were you attacked?” He nodded grimly. “Yes, Senki, I have been, but I fought back well enough to escape Anan.” “Anan?” Janet’s expression was puzzled. She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Are you saying Anan attacked you?” Killian nodded as his father put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Yes, Senki, Anan attacked me. She attempted to rape me, Senki.” “Surely there must be some mistake, Killian. Anan is your fiancée. This marriage has been arranged for a year now. I thought the two of you liked each other.” Janet sat down again, not even bothering to ask how bad his injuries were. Killian nodded again. “I thought so, too, Senki. I mean, I liked her. She has always acted properly, even if I haven’t always liked the way she treats me. But this is different. This isn’t a misunderstanding of two people needing to learn how to deal with each other. She tried to rape me. I had to walk home from the park in the square because I wasn’t getting back into that car. Who knows what she would have done then? I had to slash her face with my dagger to get her off of me long enough to get away.” His knee really hurt, but his mother had not given him leave to sit. His father had taken the first aid kit out and had busily began to clean Killian’s face, and carefully removed Killian’s shirt to look at his shoulder. “Janet, this wound on his shoulder needs stitching,” David Larrestes told his wife softly, as he gently checked the wound. Killian hissed and barely managed not to say every cuss word he knew. “That can wait until we settle this.” She picked up the phone. “I’m calling Anan here. We’re going to sort this out.” “Can I at least take the boy to get him cleaned up and dressed properly?” David asked, silently warning his son to be silent. Killian obeyed, giving his mother a respectful look. She was a good woman, but a bit of a martinet. Janet held her hand up for silence. She spoke briefly on the phone, ordering Anan and her mother to come to the house to sort out this obvious misunderstanding. A cold chill went through Killian as he listened to those words. Surely, his mother believed him, didn’t she? Janet hung the phone up and looked at her husband and son. “Anan is getting her face stitched up. Apparently, you’ve done some damage to your fiancée.” She spoke sourly. “Good, maybe she’ll learn that no means no,” Killian said. “There’s no misunderstanding, Senki. On my honor, I promise you. She attempted to rape me. I ran as soon as I was able to get away, and the only way I could make her let me go was to use my dagger.”

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Meet the Author

TN Tarrant is a hard-working single mom living in the wilds of Wyoming, who enjoys embarrassing her child with bright red lipstick prints to the forehead. When she isn’t embarrassing her child, or hunting, killing and dragging groceries home through the snow, she loves to write romantic stories with hot lovers. She suffers from a love of extremely bad jokes and has a tendency to inflict them on innocent bystanders. She has recently been accused of developing an unhealthy yarn addiction, merely because she has bought enough of the stuff to start her own store. She notes that this does not keep her child and others from enjoying the products of that yarn addiction in the form of scarves and blankets. Other issues facing this poor soul are the continuing threats of books and nail polish overtaking the entire household and burying her amongst themselves. We won’t get into her child’s rocks…

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