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This Week #BRVL Author Spotlight Recap


#BRVL Author Spotlight BL Maxwell

Green Eyed Boy

All American Series: MM Small Town Romance

BL Maxwell

BRVL Author Spotlight Lynn Michaels

Summer Blood – Carolina Sky Book 1

Their music is tuned to the supernatural

His life is finally coming together, Matthew has confronted his personal demons, stepped into his role as the leader of the band Carolina Sky, and found love he’d never dared to dream of.

#BRVL Author Spotlight BL Maxwell

Preorder Now! April 28th Release!

The Ultimate Sacrifice

Four Packs Trilogy Book Two

Nic Starr &  BL Maxwell

#BRVL Author Spotlight Brina Brady

Buried Secrets Series Box Set is LIVE!

#BRVL Author Spotlight Lynn Michaels

Love isn’t part of the game plan.

❄❄New Audio Release!❆❆

Freezing Aversion

Consortium Series Book 2

BL Maxwell

#BRVL Author Spotlight Brina Brady


Steamy, Age Gap, Enemies to Lovers, Suspense, Organized Crime, Hurt and Comfort, Forbidden Love, Contemporary, BDSM, Spanking, Russian Mafia, Italian Mafia

Box set for the three-book series.

Read three books for the price of two.

Available on KU

#BRVL Author Spotlight Lynn Michaels

From the best selling author of the Holeshot 

comes a new series…

Sports String #1 

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Releases May 20

Magazines and Motorcycles

#BRVL Author Spotlight Brina Brady

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜Available on Audio Now❤️🧡💛💚💙💜


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Hosted by #BRVLBookReviewVirginiaLee

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Release Blitz

My Trip to the Fair


A Journey Through the Handicrafts of India

Children’s Picture Book, Age group 3-8 years

Date Published: April 10, 2022

Publisher: Serapis Bey Publishing

A boy and his mom are on a vacation to India. Curious to learn the story of some unique toys at his grandparents’ place, the boy follows his mom to a local fair that showcases ethnic arts. What does the child find there? What memories does he bring back? Does he want to revisit India? This richly illustrated book is a perfect way to let your child discover the experience of a bustling Indian fair, replete with a multitude of colors and sounds, and the aromas of yummy food!

About the Author

Mallika Appana was born in Hyderabad, India. She now lives in the United States with her husband and toddler. Raising her child in a foreign country, she feels a strong urge to keep kids connected to their Indian heritage. An engineer and an MBA by training, she developed a fondness towards ethnic arts and crafts due to her parents’ keen appreciation for them. The book is a culmination of her passion for storytelling and illustration, and she hopes that it will foster interest in traditional art forms among the next generation.

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Blog Tour

Playing With Fire

Title: Playing With Fire 

Series: Hearts.Flames and Hoses

Author: Fern Fraser 

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

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♥ It’ll take all my willpower to resist him. But I can’t risk my job for a chance at something more…can I? ♥


The sexy firefighter makes my heart race with his rugged good looks and protective nature. Wounded heroes might be my catnip, but he’s Dad’s neighbor…and my new client.

There’s no way I’m falling for Leo. No matter if my body catches fire and threatens to burn everything down, I won’t let him into my house, or my heart.


I volunteer for anger management before I do anything I’ll regret. Following my principles leads me to Everley, a therapist with curves and sass galore. 

She’s the woman of my dreams, but she’s a stickler for following the rules and won’t date a first responder. 

When I see an opportunity to win her heart, all bets are off. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine. 

Playing with Fire is a standalone steamy sweet instalove short romance with no cheating and no cliffhanger. Love strikes when you least expect it and when it does, it hits hard and ends in a sweet & satisfying happily ever after. 


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Fern Fraser is a steamy short contemporary romance author who knows love at first sight is real. Fern’s books feature possessive Alpha Heroes and the Strong Sassy Women who bring them to their knees.  The path to true love isn’t always a straight line, but with laughter and steam, happy endings are real. Every Single Time. 


Fern Fraser: Short Romance with Heart and Hot Happy Endings.


Fern Fraser is a steamy short contemporary romance author who knows love at first sight is real. Fern’s books feature possessive Alpha Heroes and the Strong Sassy Women who bring them to their knees.  The path to true love isn’t always a straight line, but with laughter and steam, happy endings are real. Every Single Time. 


Fern Fraser: Short Romance with Heart and Hot Happy Endings.

If you love swoon worthy, steamy short instalove romances with alpha men, curvy women and no cheating, please follow this link to get your free story. SEDUCING THE CEO.

Join Fern’s newsletter and receive regular updates on freebies, giveaways, promotions, new releases and preorders. Don’t miss a single alpha curvy woman instalove short romance that you love to crave. 

If you’d like to be a part of the ARC (advance review copy) team, apply here.

Want to connect with Fern and other readers? Join Fern’s Fabulous friends on Facebook!

Find all my books on Amazon. 

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Release Blitz

Abolish the Rose by Alanna Irving

Title: Abolish the Rose
Author: Alanna Irving
Genre: Adult Women’s Fiction
Release Date: April 10, 2022
Cover Design: Matthew Fielder

“Surely I have better things to do with my time.”

Camille Addison resents the hand life has dealt her. Enrolling in an evening class to distract herself from memories of frustration, she finds herself instead turning to face the tumult of relationships, loss and love that has led her to where she is.

Abolish the Rose takes us on a journey through the traumas of the past in search of meaning in the present. Through a vivid catalogue of heart-warming and harrowing life experiences, we are drawn to question, along with Camille – how much control do we have over the path our lives take? Would we change the past if we had the chance? What is a life well lived?

Content notes
Trigger warning: miscarriage (non-graphic)

Week Two

In the second class I sit next to Alberta. She’s a fifty-two-year-old housewife suffering – as she keeps telling us – from empty nest syndrome.

‘Adrian, my oldest, is in his third year at Warwick,’ she boasts, and I can almost see her fluffing her feathers, ‘and Heather went off to Durham this September.’ She wears a lot of headscarves and headbands and other assorted headwear, which sort of jar with the rest of her image, but in a good way. In a very her way.

I find I like sitting next to Alberta most. She is by far and away the most talented of the group. Her paintings are of things, as opposed to Becca’s abstract shapes and splodges of colour. She paints landscapes, trees, beauty. She shies away from praise though, it makes her uncomfortable.

‘My pictures are too static,’ she says. I have given her a compliment, not knowing yet that she likes to be unrecognised. ‘I want it to tell a story, I want people to look at them and think about what’s going on.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s stupid.’ The phrase grates on me. It sounds like a line from an American sitcom. It’s stoo-pid.

But Alberta I like. She seems shy, she’s like a child trying to discover herself.

‘I’ve been a wife and a mother for so long,’ she says. ‘And don’t get me wrong –’ American phrase again ‘– I love it, but now the kids are grown up, I want to find out who I am on my own again. I mean, not on my own, I’m still married, but Jonathan works all day, and I have to be by myself, I have to have things for myself now. Does that makes sense?’ I nod, but she doesn’t need me to say anything. ‘Do you have children?’

I look down, unscrewing the paint.

‘No, I don’t,’ I say. ‘No children.’


I wish I could say I looked into the cot and felt nothing. 

I was very aware of the noises around me. Beeping and whirring and the squelch of a mop in the corridor, the undercurrent of murmuring voices and shoes tapping or squeaking or scuffing. I was alone in the room, I remember, though I don’t know where everyone else was. A nurse would enter in a minute or two and ask if I wanted to hold him, but for that minute or two, it was just him and me. 

I looked at him.

He was small and red and a little crusty round the edges. His tiny limbs moved jerkily, as though separate entities from him. His mouth opened and closed. I didn’t know what newborns were meant to look like. His head seemed very large and heavy – but wasn’t that normal? His ears were a little small, I supposed. His eyes were very small, and far apart, squinted into deep creases. One of his hands stretched out towards me, like a miniature high five. I looked at it, tiny lines and tiny nails and tiny knuckles.

I looked down at him and I hated him.


As a child, I had a new dream every week. I wanted to be an astronaut, a chef, a ballet dancer. None of them were really serious. For a while in primary school I insisted I was going to be a nurse when I grew up, but that was only because I wanted to be like my mum. I wanted to impress her, to make her proud of me. I never really had the temperament for a caring profession; too impatient, too rough, too squeamish. In the early years of secondary school I toyed semi-seriously with the idea of being an illustrator, but, having no idea how one would go about earning a living illustrating, decided that success was too unlikely, and probably I wasn’t good enough anyway. When people asked, I would shrug and scuff my toes on the floor and say I didn’t know what I wanted to do after school.

I was smart enough and well-off enough to go to University, and it seemed a good way to put any career decisions off further. Out of my little gang of schoolfriends, only myself and my best friend Maria were aiming for higher education – the rest went to work in a dress shop, as a nanny, or got engaged. Maria and I sat at the back of our class and looked at hairstyles in magazines and tried to meet the others for coffee or a cigarette or to discuss wedding dresses, but the times never seemed to work out. We stayed behind after school to do our homework together, and watched the boys from the boys’ school down the road play rugby on the sports field.

History was my best subject, and my most encouraging teacher, and so I applied to do History, not really knowing where I could go with it, but not caring too much about that either. I had no destination in mind, but my horizon was limitless.

Maria wanted to be a nursery-school teacher, had been decided on it for as long as I’d known her. Her path was as clearly mapped out for her as mine was hidden from me. We said a tearful goodbye at the end of our last summer as we set off in different directions, promising to write and visit and keep in touch. The promises were empty, and they broke easily. 


Our mid-way perambulation. I find myself falling into step with Eamonn.

‘You know,’ I say after a beat. ‘Sometimes, I’m not entirely sure if you’re running an art class or a therapy session.’

Eamonn smiles benignly at his boots.

‘Does it have to be one or the other?’


I got pregnant, once. 

I’d had my suspicions for a while; I’d done the maths. My husband – though we weren’t married yet – had to go away, for a funeral, and was going to stay on for a fortnight to help out his family. I took the opportunity, when I was alone, to make an appointment with the doctor. I was in the shower when my hand strayed to my abdomen. Was it a phantom swelling I was feeling? I imagined the baby, a perfect human in miniature, an entire tiny future-person beneath my fingers. I wondered if it was something I could do, raising a baby. Again. 

First, I thought I could. I felt those maternal feelings I’d always heard of rise in my breast. I imagined a child of mine and his, to love and raise and be a part of us. 

And then I knew it was stupid. We couldn’t afford it, the time or the money, and – though it was the hardest thing for me to admit – I didn’t want to. I had spent my early twenties being kept awake by a crying baby, and now, as a more mature thirty-something-year-old, I didn’t want to shackle myself to that, again. I wanted to move towards independence, not away from it. I didn’t want to lose myself, sacrifice myself, again. I didn’t want the exhaustion and the worry and the mess, I didn’t want any of it. 

But I wasn’t imagining it. It was happening. I knew there were options, I knew I could get rid of it – but I also knew that I wouldn’t. Leaning against the sink, I saw my mother looking back at me from behind the fogged mirror. I couldn’t do that to her. And could I do that to him, my boyfriend, my one-day-to-be-husband? Could I deny him the chance of being a father?

I wondered how I was going to tell him. Would he be excited? Would he be angry? Anxious? Was this something he wanted to do with me? Would I dare bring up the idea of adoption? I couldn’t bear to spark hope in him only to snuff it out again. 

Sometimes, just sometimes, I caught myself daydreaming about a little girl, a daughter. Our daughter. 

It happened in the night. Four days before my appointment, I was woken by stabbing pains in my lower back, and lay there for a moment, clutching the edges of my mattress like I was going to fall off. Another cramp shot through me and I cried out, then bit down on my pillow and prayed I hadn’t woken anyone. 

I sat on the toilet and squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe through the pain. I tried not to think about what was happening, about what was leaving my body. I was being emptied, and the void hurt.

I took a shower afterwards. Red ran down the insides of my legs and pooled around the drain. I let hot water drip down my face and stood there until it was over. Almost over. It didn’t completely stop for days. I stripped my bed and scrubbed at the stains until my hands were raw. I cleaned the bathroom. I bought new sheets. I didn’t attend my appointment. When two months had passed, I knew I was sure. There was no baby.

I still didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t find the words. There was nothing to be done about it now, anyway. There was no point in telling my boyfriend, giving him the pain of losing something he hadn’t known he had. I fed Robert and cared for him and cooked for my father and saw my boyfriend and went to work, and life carried on.

My overwhelming feeling was relief, and I was scared of being judged for it.

What inspired you to write this book?
I actually started writing it out of petulance. I couldn’t find anything I wanted to read in the library, and I felt like every blurb I read was the same: „X was perfectly normal….and then something horrific happened!“ Or sometimes, „X seemed perfectly normal, but something horrific had happened in the past!“

I told myself, if this is what I need to write to be published, I’ll come up with the most horrific thing I can and write about it. As it turned out, I did have a story to tell, and some themes I wanted to explore, and I think it turned into the best novel I’ve written so far.

How long did it take you to write this book, from the first idea to the last edit?
I wrote the first draft in a little over a month in about 2015. I then worked on it for six months or so, didn’t get anywhere with it, and put it away. I spent another few months tinkering with it in about 2017/18, then put all my writing on hold while I did my Masters degree. I returned to writing in 2020 and started a completely different novel, but I still felt like I wasn’t finished with this one, so I came back to it again. From starting with Atmosphere Press to release date will have been about 7 months. So, overall, a long journey!
Who would enjoy reading your book?
I write the kind of books I’d want to read, which are books with real, flawed characters, difficult topics, and no guaranteed happy ending. I like books that don‘t spell everything out for me; the reader has to do some of the work, join the dots, form their own opinion.

What’s something you hope readers would take away from it?
I want readers to take away whatever message it is they find or need to find – one of the beautiful things about stories is that they can speak to everyone differently. For me it’s a message about the constant pressure we’re under these days to be happy, to fulfil dreams, to be constantly productive and filling our time with worthwhile, soul-nourishing, Instagrammable activities. Sometimes life doesn’t go to plan and time is wasted and there isn’t a shiny happy social media feed, and maybe that’s ok too.

Do you have a favourite quote or scene in the book that you find yourself going back to?
I loved him, I did. I just also blamed him for stealing thirty-three years of my life.
I love a short, punchy ending to a chapter. At this point in the book you don’t know who she’s referring to, and it really sums up the main character’s struggle with her conflicting emotions.

What’s the best piece of advice you have received?
The best advice I ever received was when I first started dancing salsa. My teacher said there are only two things you need to do to be a good dancer: „Relax, and keep moving.“ It’s great advice for salsa and it’s great advice for life.

If you could give a shout out to someone(s) who has helped in your writer journey, please feel free to mention them below!
There have been lots – my endlessly supportive parents, my highschool English teacher, the publisher I met who said my books weren’t right for his publishing house but spent months working on my manuscripts with me because he saw potential in them. Even my Director of Studies at university, who told me I was unteachable, at the wrong university, and had no talent at writing – that just made me even more determined to prove her wrong!

Blog Tour

The Glass Stone by Sara Michaels

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This is my post during the blog tour for The Glass Stone by Sara Michaels. The Glass Stone is a magical tale of hope and love inspired by the traditional story of Cinderella. Sometimes, just a little bit of magic is all you need to change the world.

This blog tour is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours and the tour runs from 5 till 25 April. You can see the tour schedule here.

The Glass Stone
The Glass Stone (The Jeweled Fairytale Retellings #3)
By Sara Michaels
Genre: Fantasy/ Fairytale Retelling
Age category: Young Adult
Release Date: 5 April

Power can take many forms, but sometimes the greatest magic comes from inside you.

Asha has been a servant for the cruel Duke Bryce for as long as she can remember, and when he married Queen Ilma of the Wind Kingdom, she was dragged to the castle with him and his daughters.

Now, the death of the queen has thrown the castle into panic: if her son, Prince Aither, doesn’t marry before his 18th birthday, the throne will go to Duke Bryce.

Prince Aither knows he must choose a wife, and he’s resigned to his fate. But Duke Bryce has his own ideas about who his bride should be, and if he gets his way, no one will be happy.

Asha is used to watching everything unfold from her place in the kitchen, but she soon finds herself on an unexpected quest set to change her life forever.

Meanwhile, Prince Aither must find a way to make the best of what seems like a hopeless situation and use his powerful magic as a force for good in the kingdom.

The Glass Stone is a magical tale of hope and love inspired by the traditional story of Cinderella. Sometimes, just a little bit of magic is all you need to change the world.

Lose your head in the clouds with Asha and Aither on their magical journey.


Earlier books in the series:
The Chaos DaughterThe Order Revived

The Chaos Daughter (The Jeweled Fairytale Retellings #1) by Sara Michaels
The Chaos Daughter is an action packed adventure of self-discovery inspired by the tale of Anastasia. Question everything, and trust no one: what Nastasya’s about to discover will change the world forever.
You can buy The Chaos Daughter here on Amazon

The Order Revived (The Jeweled Fairytale Retellings #2) by Sara Michaels
The Order Revived is a thrilling quest into the unknown inspired by the empowering story of Mulan. When your true calling is so clear, the only thing you can do is follow your heart.
You can buy The Order Revived here on Amazon

About the Author:
Sara lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. A lover of the written word from an early age, Sara reads everything from middle grade to young adult and adult novels. She loves genres ranging from science fiction and fantasy to contemporary and historical fiction, which is why she writes and plans to publish across several genres, including contemporary, romance, young adult fantasy, and science fiction.

When she’s not writing, you can find her playing video games, reading way too many books at the same time, singing to music, or riding her motorcycle around a beautiful Washington backdrop. She also writes for several online blogs and newspapers.

Author links:

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Release Blitz

Lady Troubles

Title: Lady Troubles

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: April 8, 2022

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 267 pages

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Bisexual, Multiesexual & Pansexual, Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures, Transgender, Single parent/Pregnancy, Werewolves & Wolf Shifters

Add to Goodreads


Sonya’s straight. And terrified of wolves. So what’s she doing falling for a trans werewolf? Technical Difficulties: When Sonya’s forced to work with a male-to-female transgender wolf, the last thing she expects is to fall in love. And love with a werewolf means living in her pack, where first-time sex equals mating for life. Practical Difficulties: Sonya’s pregnant, and she’s starting to wonder whether Maxine’s loyalties lie with her or her pack. It’s beginning to look like sabotage from all quarters. Tactical Difficulties: Work and pregnancy are driving Sonya crazy, and Maxine’s overprotectiveness isn’t helping. But when Sonya’s kidnapped, she finds strength in their mating bond she never knew existed. Publisher’s Note: Lady Troubles Box Set contains the previously published novellas Technical Difficulties, Practical Difficulties, and Tactical Difficulties.


Copyright ©2022 Emily Carrington Excerpt from Technical Difficulties The dragon had been brutalized. As Medical Technician Sonya Johnson worked over the corpse, she couldn’t miss the signs. The poor dragon-in-human-guise was female. She’d given birth recently. Her distended stomach, open cervix, and other signs all bore witness to this. Sonya whispered, “I think you were dead when most of these were inflicted.” She’d quickly discovered the cause of death: a crushed skull that had occurred while the dragon was in human form. Now all she wanted was to be done chronicling the postmortem atrocities and see to it that the poor soul had a decent burial. Sonya smiled just a little. Thinking of any dragon as a “poor soul” was a little like calling a lion a kitty cat. Dragons, like werewolves, she thought with a shudder, were known for taking care of themselves. Both apex predators of the magical world, for slightly different reasons, they were treated with respect and almost obsessive politeness by other magical beings and the few humans unlucky enough to know about their existence. “Humans like me.” Her smile was gone as she finished cataloging the last injury. Shaking her head, Sonya covered the body with a sheet and left the autopsy room. She locked the door before heading into her office. All right, so it wasn’t technically “her” office any more than the autopsy room belonged to her. But she thought of both as her property because she spent more time in them than anyone else. That was thanks to the doctoral-level degree she was seeking from SearchLight Academy in Reptilian Magical Creatures: Treatment and Dissection. Unlike those who studied humans, magical creature experts were expected to have a wider knowledge base. The closest comparison Sonya could make was a general-practice physician. And even they weren’t responsible for both the living and the dead. She had just finished her second year of postgraduate work. It was May. She had a blissful ten weeks off for the summer. Of course, she was still expected to work on her dissertation, so “rest” wasn’t in her vocabulary. But she wouldn’t be attending biweekly meetings with this or that professor to discuss her research. She might even have considered a week away from the city of Tampa, where she worked, and its lesser cousin, the city of St. Petersburg, where she lived. But she hadn’t scheduled any time off because she’d been too fixated on her dissertation to think beyond the next few days. Someone knocked on the office door. Not closed completely and made of a light pressboard, the door opened a little more. Sonya caught sight of a skirt in a bold print and a tapered shoe. She called, “Come in.” A woman stepped inside, saying simply “Sorry to disturb you” — and Sonya’s mind went sideways. Not because there was anything particularly wrong with the voice. It was just that she wasn’t used to hearing a slightly male-sounding voice coming out of a woman’s body. Transgender. That’s what they call themselves. And, on the heels of that, I hate it when someone says “they” about my people so I will not start out by thinking of this person as a part of “they.” She’s dressed as a woman. I’ll call her “her.” “Um,” she said uncomfortably, “you’re not. Please sit down.” The transgender person — the woman, Sonya scolded herself — didn’t sit. Neither did she shut the door. “Thanks, but…” She looked briefly discomfited. “I’m Agent Brown. Maxine.” That surely wasn’t the name you were born with. Oh, shut the fuck up! She doesn’t want you staring, and you will get over yourself. Sonya realized Maxine was waiting for a response. Her small, delicate and frankly attractive nose was turning slightly red, just like Sonya’s did when she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said, rising and extending her hand. “I’m Sonya Johnson, one of the medical techs.” The moment their hands touched, the hair on the back of Sonya’s neck stood up. She pulled back rather quickly. “Um… um…” She looked away from the hand she’d shaken and into eyes that were startling in their beauty. Honey-brown and shadowed by long, thick lashes, they took Sonya’s breath away. She forgot for a moment that her neck was prickling and smiled. “How may I help you?” Maxine, who had taken a step forward to grip Sonya’s hand, retreated at least that far. “Agent Wellington wants to see you when it’s convenient.” She hesitated before adding, “He’s the head of Werewolf Watch.” Sonya shivered. She couldn’t help herself. She hated werewolves. They were the craziest, most terrifying — Oh, get ahold of yourself. If you’re being called, you specifically… She met Maxine’s eyes. “You are looking for me, right? Because Jenny Davis could –” “I’m sorry. He wants you personally.” She really did look empathetic. “If it helps, it will just be him, you, and me in a large conference room.” Sonya’s particular skills were needed. She specialized in dragons and basilisks. What could she possibly do for a werewolf? Because Wellington had to be a werewolf. Unlike in the Department of Dragons, with which Sonya worked on a regular basis, Werewolf Watch was stuffed to capacity with, well, what else? Werewolves. Shit. That probably means this woman is a werewolf. She looked directly into Maxine’s eyes, needing to know. “You’re a werewolf too?” Maxine nodded. “Agent Wellington said to tell you he understands your circumstances, whatever those are, and that he wouldn’t call for you unless it was absolutely necessary. He also promises you can have a large conference room and it will only be the three of us; Agent Wellington, you, and me. We want to make you as comfortable as possible.” Whatever those are. She doesn’t know. Sonya felt a little better. “Can he give me fifteen minutes to… to…” She glanced down at her report. To finish my work flashed across her mind, but it would take at least two hours to do that. “I’ll tell him you’ll be up in thirty,” Maxine said gently. Feeling a little more comforted, Sonya said, “Thank you. I’ll be up soon.” Maxine left, closing the door behind her. Black, like me. But transgender and werewolf. The three modifiers to the name Agent Maxine Brown hit one right after the other. Sonya sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. If she was going to have a prayer of working with werewolves…


Changeling Press LLC | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender erotica. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. Fantasy creatures not your thing? Emily has also created a contemporary romance world, called Sticks and Stones, where she explores being “different” in a small town.

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