BLURB: Thinking his duty and heart lead in different directions, what will Prince Korin of Nilan’dane decide to do? A letter arrives from Korin’s father, summoning him home for the Choosing after a year’s freedom in the desert, and Korin must face the fact that he is deeply in love with his best friend, the captain of his guard, Ansen. Ansen has known for years that he loves Korin but never spoke of his feelings because he knew the duty Korin must perform, marrying and producing an heir for the kingdom. He never dared hope Korin would not only return those feelings, but actually be able to choose him. Their brief happiness is ripped apart through the machinations of the twisted brother of one of Korin’s other suitors, and they must fight to hold on to the hope that they will see each other, and the baby Korin was carrying, again.
REVIEW: I will admit that I was not a fan of the medieval type fantasy world and didn’t give this book a second glance when it was first published. It was suggested by a friend that I give it a try. I decided that I would take the time to read this because this particular author has written other books that I’ve enjoyed. That combined with an Mpreg in the storyline really helped pique my interest. I am so glad that I made the decision to read it because I truly enjoyed this book.
Prince Korin is summoned by his father , the King return home to Nilan’dane after spending the year in the desert. It was time for him and his brothers to choose makes that they can live with so that they can produce heirs. It was in the desert that Korin and his guard and childhood best friend Ansen realize their feelings for each other went beyond friendship but They felt they couldn’t be together because of the prince’s obligation to the kingdom. Korin realizes at the last minute that he and Ansen could in fact be together and Korin chooses his best friend and the man he loves, Ansen to be his consort.
Korin becomes pregnant and just when he and Ansen are about to become a family and live their lives, the prince is kidnapped and held captive by the brother of a rejected suitor. I must say that this story was a delightful surprise. As usual this author puts her clean writing style on display for us. She is able to, and quite successfully I might add, to write multiple characters with multiple points of views and do it as such a way as to not confuse the reader. She transitions perfectly from one character to the next. This is made easier by alerting the reader at the beginning of each chapter exactly which character we are reading about. The author brilliantly created a cast of characters that held my attention from the first word on the first page to the last. I would definitely recommend this book and I am excited to see how these wonderful characters play out.
ANAN EASED into bow range. He’d been hunting for a fingercount of days and stalking this daggerhorn since the early gray of predawn. He waited until the animal turned away before rising to a crouch. The lethally armed grazer would feed him and his mate for days. He brought his bow up slowly and drew the bowstring to his cheek.
His body convulsed with pain that felt as if he’d been stabbed with a red-hot iron blade, and his arrow shot several lengths above his quarry, which disappeared into the deep grass.
In the next instant, Anan knew. His mating-bond with Silbre had snapped. Agony filled him, sending him to his knees as the bow slipped from his numb hands. Gasping for air, he dropped forward onto his hands as waves of loss and pain overwhelmed him.
I have to find Silbre. What happened? Our mating-bond can’t be broken. Unwilling to believe the horrible truth, Anan had to find his mate.
He staggered to his feet, looping the bow over his shoulder as he took the first stumbling steps toward home. The surety of his pace came back to him, and he gained speed until he was sprinting toward the clan’s encampment. Time became irrelevant. He walked when his legs refused to run and ate when his body demanded it.
Dusk came on him stealthily, but he refused to stop. Silbre can’t be gone. We’ve been together since our adult velvet. Anan’s chest tightened at the thought of losing his mate. His mind swirled with fear, horror, and anger. If their teachers hadn’t sent him on yet another hunting trip, maybe he could have saved Silbre. No, he refused to believe he’d lost Silbre. There must be another explanation. He pushed down the rush of emotions and focused on the run as night deepened. With the rise of the moons, he picked up speed, desperate to reach home.
Anan neared the last of his endurance when he saw the familiar featherleaf trees that lined the river bend where the Kuri clan spent its summers. He topped the river embankment and dropped to his knees at the sight before him. Complete devastation. The warm morning breeze carried the scent of death. The raucous voices of carrion birds as they fought over bits of his clan reinforced his horror.
He struggled down the steep embankment to splash through the shallow river that circled most of what had been the Kuri’s summer encampment. As he waded to shore, he found the eyeless face of a childhood friend. Anan stumbled to one side and emptied his stomach. He retched again and again as he surpassed the limit of his emotional endurance until each twist of his stomach yielded nothing.
Silbre! Where’s Silbre? Anan renewed his headlong flight to find his twining mate.
He ran through the devastation, sending flocks of birds into the air. With each heartbeat his desperation grew as he ran to their tent. He has to be alive. I can’t survive without him. He rounded a pile of debris and found the familiar woven pattern of their summer lodge. His world died. Entangled in the remains, Silbre’s body bristled with a fingercount of crossbow quarrels. Varas slavers. Those are their bolts. The iron heads and spiral fletching left no doubt. But they had never come this far into Talac territory.
Anan dropped to his knees and pulled Silbre tight against him. Anan’s breath rasped between clenched teeth, his chest tight with grief as he rocked with his mate in his arms. A freshet of tears rolled over the plush hair covering his face. The dull drone from hordes of green burrowing flies and the cries of carrion birds surrounded him. But grief paralyzed Anan.
His sorrow merged with anger, and he screamed toward the implacable sky. “Why have you let this happen? Why did you cut his threads so short?”
Anan dropped his chin against his chest and sobbed. He rocked his mate slowly, tracing the tips of his fingers along the swirls of a spellweaver created in the short tan and brown hair covering Silbre’s face while he fought to ignore the fatal wounds. Anan’s throat tightened as more tears rolled down his cheeks. He lowered Silbre gently, as if he were sleeping.
The aftermath of the attack must be dealt with. He had no choice. He steeled himself to the carnage around him and struggled to understand. How did the Varas unravel the protective web that surrounded the village? Especially those of the Kuri clan, who have some of the most skilled spellweavers of the Talac people. Even if they had broken the spell, a warning would have been felt, and people would have boiled out like stingers from their nest. Something in the web of Anan’s reality shifted as he wondered how the Varas were able to decimate a Talac village.
Anan called on his spell vision and tried to trace any threads, but they were gone. If there were survivors, they were no longer connected to the village weaving. He began moving in a haze of disbelief.
All the people he’d grown up with were gone. Saritua who taught him his first weavings, Trebea who knew the perfect day to harvest wood for bows that wouldn’t wrack in the fall rains—gone. He’d never hear Poza talking with her imaginary friends as she toddled from one rug to another pretending at grownup, or her wonder when the spring gliders migrated across the savanna.
He’d seen the carrion birds pecking the flesh from their lifeless bodies. The horrors no longer registered, as his surroundings became part of an unending cascade of atrocities. At some point he would break and mourn. But not now; he was too numb, too overwhelmed. The bits of his being that weren’t focused on what he had to accomplish in this moment hid in the corner of his mind, gibbering in near madness. Silbre couldn’t come to the rescue this time. The task fell on his shoulders. There was no one else.
Screaming birds took off and revealed the burned arms of a spellspinner. With this final revelation, the last warp threads of Anan’s reality snapped. All the Kuri spinners would be dead. When spellspinners in battle ripped the matama from the attackers, they condemned themselves to death. Akhir gave their attackers a painful end, but the backlash left the spellspinners burned and dead. He moved closer and saw the velvetless skin that marked them from birth as spellspinners. But the curse, or gift, of akhir created the final separation between the Talac spinners and weavers.
Anan’s questionable skill at spellweaving didn’t matter any longer. Without a spinner, there was no one to take the deathspinner eggs and harvest silk for the matama threads he needed for his weavings. Only the spinners knew how to combine matama with silk harvested from the most feared animals of the savanna. Without spun threads, Anan’s years of training didn’t matter.
Lucid thought came to an end with yet another gruesome discovery. His mind rebelled, and the final threads of his former life broke one by one. He locked away his emotions to sort through them when he could take the luxury.
Anan recognized the end of his second day when the sun’s deep red orb rested on the treetops, covering his world in the color of fresh blood. Darkness would come soon and with it the possibility of larger predators. With the clan spell webbing gone, nothing would keep them out.
He knew his duty. He must gather the dead and perform the most sacred of weavings. He would create the final unraveling ceremony for most of the village.
Anan struggled to his feet and began his task. Taking Silbre first, he carried his mate’s body to the center of the camp. He ran the back of his fingers over his twining’s face, the cold ache of loss constricting around his chest until his breath came in gasps and tears rolled down his cheeks again.
Hesitant at first, Anan carried the remains of each member of his clan and laid them side by side. Lastly he moved to the spellspinners’ tents. He understood their importance in the clan, but their aloof manner and vanity over their birthmark velvetless skin had been reason enough for him to avoid them in the past. But his duty was to the village, and his personal disdain had no place. Following the sense of duty hammered into him by his parents, he afforded the spellspinners the same reverence as the other lost.
As he moved toward the final dwelling, and its content, he couldn’t help but note the remains of Varas attackers littering the encampment. Some resembled colorless grubs, the sign of a spellspinner calling akhir. The pale Varas bodies also meant there would be a burned spellspinner close by. Akhir extracted a horrible toll. Only in the legends of First Spinner and First Weaver did anyone survive calling akhir.
He grabbed the wrists of a spinner and found the touch of bare skin against his palms… odd. Anan had never touched a spinner before. There had never been a reason to do so. They didn’t encourage contact. After steeling himself, he squatted to gather the last of the bodies, when he heard a moan.
Anan spun, knife in hand. When he realized the sound didn’t come from attacking Varas, he sheathed his knife and waited, listening for signs of life. A few heartbeats later another barely audible sound leaked from the wreckage. Anan dug through a pile of tent cloth and found a storage cache. Another groan drifted from inside the partially exposed opening, followed by rustling as if a mouse ran across a stretched kuri-skin drum.
Anan eased himself forward, peering into the opening. At first he could see nothing but darkness, but then two brilliant blue eyes peered up at him.
He waited, recognizing the color of a spellspinner’s eyes. How did this spinner survive? Why did he hide? Compassion returned to Anan. Regardless of how this spinner survived, he is also Talac.
“You hurt?” Even to Anan’s own ears, his words sounded brittle and desolate of emotion. He waited for a response, but when none came, he reached inside.
“Here. Let me help.”
Smooth skin slid under Anan’s palms, the first time he’d touched a living spinner. Surprise raced through his system when he found the contact… pleasant. As he helped the slender figure, he recognized this spinner, but not for a reason he might have hoped. The spinner standing before him was the most reclusive. He always avoided contact with any of the Talac who were normal. Who were velveted.
He studied Anan with the suspicion of a young night-hunter, complete with the twitch of his nose. He took the offered hand and scrambled up the side of the cache.
The tension between them grew as their gazes locked. This isn’t about my feelings for the spinners. I must perform the unraveling. He waited a moment, took in a breath, and calmed himself.
“Can you walk?”
The spinner wiped a grimy arm over his forehead, leaving streaks of filth as he tucked his dark hair behind his ears. An instant later he nodded silently.
“I’m Anan.”
This time the young man trembled. “Terja. I am a spinner.”
Anan’s brow lifted. “Yes. I see you.” He considered asking the questions swirling through his mind, but waited.
Terja shuddered again and turned his head slowly. He seemed lost, but Anan granted him time to adjust and waited until the spinner’s focus returned. “Where is everyone?”
“Dead. Or taken as Varas slaves. I found only a few bodies from Kuri our age.”
Terja’s eye’s widened. “Slavers? The screams. I heard… it was….” He stared at Anan.
Anan wondered if this spinner still functioned or if the trauma had overwhelmed Terja. Regardless, he continued. “Varas slavers attacked the village. Everyone is either dead or captured. I don’t know why the web didn’t sound an alert. The herds are scattered. All the Talac clans are in jeopardy.”
“Our kuri and herdweavers? Gone?” Terja’s voice broke at the news.
Anan stared at him. The herds were the least of his concerns. The herdweavers had either died fighting or were captured. But he knew they hadn’t deserted the kuri. They took their role as guardians seriously. But he needed to finish his task, and Terja acted too overwhelmed to help.
Though he moved toward the nearest body, Anan couldn’t stop staring at Terja. The irrelevant question wiped out the last of his restraint. “Why were you hiding? The Varas attacked. Why’d you do nothing?”
Tears flooded from Terja’s eyes. With his breath coming in gasps, he tried to explain. “I tried. Had my staff. People dying. Father put me—” Terja broke into inconsolable sobbing. Anan knew he would get no more information from the spinner.
“At nightfall we’re doing an unraveling for the dead. You’re helping.”
Terja looked shaken, as if it had never occurred to him a spellweaver would address him in that manner. He began to speak, but when Anan glared at him, Terja pressed his lips tightly together.
Anan motioned to the body of one of the older spinners, and Terja moved to stand at its feet. He clamped his eyes shut as he groped for the ankles, shuddering when the tips of his fingers made contact, and hesitated. Anan allowed him what time he could, but before he had to jar him into motion, Terja clenched his teeth and grabbed the dead man’s ankles.
He opened his eyes and glared at Anan, but Anan was far past being affected by anything so minor as the anger of a young spellspinner. With Terja’s help, the last bodies were gathered. Exhausted mentally and physically, he still refused to allow Terja to perform any of the ceremony.
“We need to make a final check. It’s close to nightfall. I don’t want to leave—” Anan stopped and swallowed hard to regain his control. “I want to be certain we’ve taken care of everyone. We can go opposite directions and meet back here. Hopefully, there’s nothing to find.”
Anan waited for Terja’s nod, then started through the encampment. Hesitant at first, he covered the area with speed and resolve. I don’t know how many more victims I can deal with before my mind snaps like a weak warp thread. As he worked through the smoldering remains, he began to think they’d recovered all the bodies.
He returned to the center of the encampment and found Terja hadn’t arrived. Anan moved to locate the spinner. Close to the spinner’s lodges, Anan found him, crumpled into the dust, holding the body of a small child.
His heart cracked when Terja’s eyes met his, tears running down his red cheeks. He held the broken body like a precious jewel, cradling the kit who was long past the issues of this world. The spinner ran his fingers over the deep brown velvet covering the kit’s face as if he were sleeping. He reached down to touch Terja’s shoulder.
“He’s gone, Terja. Add him to the ceremony so his strands can rejoin the others in the Great Weaving.”
Past reason now, Terja’s sobs echoed across the scene of desolation. The darkness flowed over the pair, its edges seeming to ripple in response to Terja’s grief. “You don’t understand!” he yelled, his face contorted with anger. “Akra and I were friends. His father died when a longtooth pack attacked him. We broke fast together each morning. Why would they kill a kit?”
Anan hardened. “You know why. Akra was nothing more than an animal to them. They don’t follow the teachings of First Twining, and we are nothing more than mating slaves to feed their addiction.”
“Akra was a sweet kit. Just a toddler.”
Anan squeezed his shoulder. “Come. It’s time.”
He forced Terja into motion. They came to the central area, and Terja turned to Anan. “Clean him. Please. I know it will take some of the spinnings you have, but please. I cannot stand to think he’s going to the Great Weaving like this. He worried so much about how he looked.”
“Terja….”
“Please. I’ll replace the spinning. The spell panels on your kilt are close to full. You have enough matama to do this.” Terja turned ashen. “Please. This will be the last thing I ask of you.”
Anan sighed and ran his hand over the complex matama patterns stored on his kilt. Although his state of exhaustion diminished his focus to the point where he had to touch the threads. He deftly created the weaving in the air from the matama stored in his kilt panels. Soon he had the simple weave completed. Once he did, Anan struggled through the ritual steps drummed into him to release the spell and clean the lifeless body. The small weaving dissipated, and Anan let his vision slip away.
The kit before them now could have been sleeping. Anan normally would have refused to use a spellweaving on someone beyond its reach, but he admitted, if only to himself, this final visage of the kit was much preferable to the blood- and gore-splattered toddler that had lain before him a short time earlier. He stared at the kit, then at Terja.
“It’s time to do the unraveling.”
About the author:
Jon Keys’s earliest memories revolve around books. Either read to him or making up stories based on the illustrations, these were places his active mind occupied. As he got older the selection expanded beyond Mother Goose and Dr. Suess to the world of westerns, science fiction and fantasy. His world filled with dragon riders, mind speaking horses and comic book heroes in hot uniforms.
A voracious reader for half a century, Jon recently began creating his own creations of fiction. The first writing was his attempt at showing rural characters in a more sympathetic light. Now he has moved into some of the writing he lost himself in for so many years…fantasy. Jon has worked as a ranch hand, teacher, computer tech, roughneck, designer, retail clerk, welder, artist, and, yes, pool boy; with interests ranging from kayaking and hunting to drawing and cooking, he uses this range of life experiences to create written works that draw the reader in and wrap them in a good story.
Where to find the author:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jon.keys.773
Twitter: @Jon4Keys
Website: http://jonkeys.com/
Goodreads Link:
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Paul Richmond
Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy of ‘Home Grown’ by Jon Keys
Excerpt from Lust and Ice
“You have the devil’s own luck,” Jordan groaned.
“Actually, that’s Kain. I’m still behind him by two virgins.”
“How do you find these guys?” Allen complained. “I’ve only managed to find two!”
“Oh shut up. You’re one ahead of me.” Jordan rolled his eyes.
“Back on subject, fellows. Did I mention how sweetly he cried?” Hugh smirked. “And get this… he’s thinks I’m going to keep calling him now, be his boyfriend. Seems like he was waiting for that special someone, the love of his life.”
“Yeah, right. What a loser.” Allen sneered. “How often did you have to tell him you loved him?”
“Too many times.” Hugh’s disgust was clear as he raised his glass and winked. “Like I’d be caught dead outside of a bedroom with someone like that.”
“Goes without saying.” Kain sprawled in his chair. “So, how’s it looking down there? Fill me in.”
“Jordan and I have a bet going about who’s going to do that redhead on the dance floor first,” Allen said. “He’s the one with the green shirt, there in the middle.”
“Why not do him together?” Hugh asked.
“We plan to.” Allen winked. “I said I’d do him first. We’ll tag team him later. Been awhile since Jordan and I got to do a double penetration.”
Kain’s hearty laugh boomed out, drawing attention from those around them. “I almost feel sorry for the guy.” Kain glanced around the group; several pairs of disbelieving eyes stared back at him. “Okay, no I don’t.”
“The legendary Ice feels sorry?” Hugh’s lips twisted. “That’ll be a cold day in hell.”
“Hell wouldn’t have me.”
“Oh yeah, it would. Personally, I think we’d end up ruling hell.” Allen smirked at Kain.
“Ah, someone has that position, remember?” Jordan shrugged.
“We could be kings, or lords.”
“There’s supposed to be seven princes of hell. One for each deadly sin.” Hugh rolled his eyes as his friends stared at him. “What?”
Excerpt from Into the Darkness
“Same plan as usual?”
Allen waited until Jordan turned and looked at him. “Why mess with what works? I’ll move in first, then you come in after I set him up. We’ll get him all hot and bothered, then take his ass home. I bet we have him in bed before the hour is out.”
Jordan slapped Allen on the back. “I agree. If it isn’t broke, why fix it? Although it would be nice, for once, if our marks didn’t just fall to the floor and puddle at our feet.”
“Are you nuts? Besides, what do you expect out of these sluts?” Allen shrugged. “And by the way, I will fuck him first.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Got a feeling he’s going to beg me to do him first.”
Allen rolled his eyes. They’d just see about that. “My place or yours this time?”
They lived just a block apart. Allen had tried to buy an apartment in the same building as Jordan, but there had been nothing available that was as nice. Allen ended up purchasing his own place as close as he could to Jordan.
Jordan shrugged as he searched the dance floor. “Doesn’t matter to me, but my place is probably cleaner. The maid came yesterday.”
“Fine by me, we’ll do him at your place then. Besides, you have more toys. And a bigger bed.”
“Thought you took care of that little oversight?”
“My new bed will be arriving next week. Plus, I want you to go with me to check out some of the toys I found at this new place that just opened up. You have a better feel for things like that.”
“Competitive asshole.”
Allen chuckled. “Pot… meet kettle. You went out and bought a new BMW just because I got one. I’m not even going to mention the hair.”
Jordan shrugged, then stepped aside as someone — a tiny blond who looked entirely too young to be allowed in the club — passed him. “I liked yours better. Hey Allen, did you see that little blond twink?”
Allen raised an eyebrow as he looked in the direction Jordan indicated. “Hmm? No, I didn’t. But a blond? Really? Are you feeling okay?”
“Not for us, you shit. I was thinking that was more along the line of what Hugh likes — young, sweet, and innocent. Even though he doesn’t look old enough to be in here.”
“Playing matchmaker now, are you?”
“Fuck off.” Jordan laughed as he pushed Allen toward the dance floor.
Excerpt from Haunting The Night
Hugh sat at the table watching as Kain, Jordan, and Allen made their moves on the prey they’d picked out. He’d checked the dance floor, and not one guy he saw impressed him so far. He needed a change — something or someone to break the monotony. With a sigh, he picked up his glass. Before he could take a drink, that feeling of being watched hit him square between the shoulder blades again. His shoulders tensed and chill bumps broke out over his flesh.
“What the hell?” While he was used to being stared at, and even got his own fair share of attention from the paparazzi, this was different. More intense, more… threatening, almost. Unease flooded him, and he couldn’t shake the recurring feeling of danger. Hugh glanced around, but didn’t see anyone taking an undue interest in him. Maybe a family member of one of the defendants they’d gotten off was stalking him. Hugh dismissed the idea immediately; that was just silly.
More likely his old man had someone keeping an eye on him. Now that he could believe — the nosey old bastard. “Fuck this.” The whole night had been off from the get-go, and he’d had enough. He rose, with every intention of leaving, when the overhead lights spotlighted someone at the bar below.
“Well, hello,” he murmured as he stared at the young man at the main bar. Jesus, how had he missed this one? He was perfect. Damned if he was leaving now. The night was suddenly looking up.
Dressed simply, in faded jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather bomber jacket, was a stranger, one of the most gorgeous men Hugh had ever seen. He was everything he wanted in a man — cute, small, and blond. The perfect twink. Actually, the tiny blond looked entirely too young to be in Night Moves, but he was sure the guy wouldn’t be allowed in if he was underage. To make things even better, his target was staring at him. Even from this distance, he could see the hunger dancing in the stranger’s eyes. He was a little more blue-collar than Hugh normally went for, but what the hell. Hadn’t he just been thinking he needed a change?
“Yeah, why not?”
Hugh had taken no more than a few steps when the man at the bar winked at him. Most of the twinks he picked up were either drama queens or shy little guys. There was certainly nothing shy about this man. Hugh raised an eyebrow. He’d have to show the stranger who was in charge, of course, then they could have some fun. At least it looked like he wasn’t going to have to put out much effort tonight, and that suited him just fine. Hugh made his way downstairs to the main bar and to the guy waiting on him.
About the author:
M.A. Church is a true Southern belle who spent many years in the elementary education sector. Now she spends her days lost in fantasy worlds, arguing with hardheaded aliens on far-off planets, herding her numerous shifters, or trying to tempt her country boys away from their fishing poles. It’s a full time job, but hey, someone’s gotta do it!
When not writing, she’s exploring the latest M/M novel to hit the market, watching her beloved Steelers, or sitting glued to HGTV. That’s if she’s not on the back porch tending to the demanding wildlife around the pond in the backyard. The ducks are very outspoken. She’s married to her high school sweetheart, and they have two children.
She was a finalist in the Rainbow awards for 2013. Drop by her blog at http://machurch00.blogspot.com/
 Excerpt:
“This is a dream,” Ian said and tried to sit up. The svarta moved forward, placed his hand on Ian’s chest, and pushed him down. His palm nearly burned an imprint into Ian’s skin.
“Go away,” Ian said as firmly as he could.
“Why? I feel a strong connection between us. Don’t you feel it?”
“Only because you hexed me.”
“I did no such thing. You sought me out. You drew me here.” The svarta slid his hot hand up to Ian’s neck and traced a finger along his jawline. “Invite me in and know ecstasy.”
Ian shuddered and tried to sit up again. The svarta leaned over him, two hands pressing now against Ian’s shoulders. He ran his hand up and down the arm cuffed to the bed. His incredible eyes held Ian’s like a snake mesmerizing a mouse. He kissed Ian on the lips, gently at first, tongue exploring, probing, before forcing Ian’s lips apart and plunging his tongue deep into Ian’s mouth. Not only did Ian not fight it, but he kissed back, sucking amazing dark energy from the svarta’s rough, wide lips.
It was, after all, only a dream.
About the author: Alexis Duran was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. At the University of Oregon, her fascination with people and relationships led her to major in Sociology, but her main love has always been creative writing. She’s worked in museums, fashion, finance and film production. Her favorite job so far was inventorying the collection in a haunted Victorian Mansion. She’s had several short stories published in the mystery, horror and literary genres and is the author of the Masters and Mages erotic fantasy series. Her fiction has won several awards including the Rupert Hughes Award from the Maui Writers Conference. She lives with one dog and four and half cats. She is currently working on the next Masters and Mages novel and several other erotic novellas.
Tom, museum curator and expert in Renaissance jewelry, doesn’t think his boyfriend Peter is “The One.” Peter is perfectly happy with Tom, but Tom is obsessed with the artist Benedetto Emilio Nesci—exciting, passionate, extraordinarily talented… and dead for over 400 years.
Tasked with researching a bejeweled codpiece, Tom abandons his professional ethics—and his sanity—to try on the codpiece and is transported halfway around the world and back in time, right into Florence, Italy and Nesci’s workroom.
After his initial panic subsides, Tom seizes the opportunity to allow Nesci to seduce him, but Tom discovers not everything about the sixteenth century is as romantic as he’d imagined. Getting back to the modern world and Peter becomes Tom’s only wish, but desire and reality are two completely different things, and Tom might not get what he wants this time around.
Review
Tom is given a codpiece from an “old pervert”’s estate. The piece is actually a museum quality artifact with a special “magical” quality. Somewhat like a strange lamp, when rubbed it takes the wearer to the maker back in time, in Italy.
Tom’s experience there shows him just how lucky he is to live where and when he does and most importantly, with whom.
**
What I really appreciated about this short story was the sensory information distilled. Through Tom’s exploration we move from the visual through the tactile to the auditory and finally olfactory. Tom is vaguely put off by his lover’s unwashed hair at the beginning of the story and by the end he realizes that the healthy “musk” of his lover is actually a turn-on when you love the guy.
I thought the story was clever and unique though I never quite got to the point that I liked Tom a lot. He was a dick – his word – throughout most of the story and though it looks like he makes a complete turn around by the end, I never quite got to the point with Peter of forgiveness.
Alexandra Monzelle is a hard-fighting, heat-packing Seattle vice cop, and she’s not much interested in being protected. Her short skirt and sex-kitten heels are tools to lure her suspects into talking about the deadly new drug hitting the streets. She can take care of herself and then some. Unfortunately, she can’t seem to get that through to Kellach Dunne.
Kellach is a fresh import from Dublin, and he’s landed at the heart of a vicious motorcycle club that deals in guns, narcotics, and mayhem. He’s all male, all rough power—and all interference in her damn investigation. Maybe he’s one of the good guys. Maybe not. Lex knows an affair with an immortal like him would risk everything. No matter how delicious he looks…
Review
Another departure (for me) from m/m. Rebecca Zanetti has been another of my favorite romantic paranormal writers for a long time. I love her “Dark Protector Series” and this is a spin-off, but the same universe and still some of the same characters.
In this case: Alexandra is a vice cop in Seattle and Kellach is a witch and an enforcer in Seattle. Both are trying to get the drug Apollo off the street, but for different reasons.
At first it is the simple misunderstanding keeping them on opposing sides: she thinks he’s a bad guy, he thinks she’s hot.
Then, she thinks he might be a good guy, he’s pretty sure she’s hot.
Then she knows he’s a good guy, but he’s still keeping secrets from her; he know’s she hot, and he’s keeping secrets from her.
Finally, they get together and BAM – he accidentally … uh – well now that’d be tellin’ – but something happens and now she knows he’s keeping things from her and that he’s a good guy and he has hell to pay; he can’t believe what he did – thank god she’s hot.
After a bit more waffling about they finally manage to defeat the bad guy, give in to true love and chemistry and with a slight little twist at the end, all’s well that ends well.
**
As far as this series goes: it was great seeing the other folks from the Dark Protectors. I wasn’t too impressed with either the hero or the heroine, though the Grizzlies – Bear, etc; seem very intriguing.
I got frustrated with Alex’s repeated trust issues and wonder why in the world Kell would put up with all that. On the one hand she seemed to swallow the paranormal stuff super easy, but at any hint that Kell may have a different agenda then what he’s told her – she’d jump off the deep end into distrust.
I also would have liked to see more of her special powers… that’s the fun part of paranormal romance – the cool crap you can do!
All in all it was good, but not great. I’ll still read the next book because it was definitely good enough.
Assassin. Soldier. Arrow. That is who Vasic is, who he will always be. His soul drenched in blood, his conscience heavy with the weight of all he’s done, he exists in the shadows, far from the hope his people can almost touch—if only they do not first drown in the murderous insanity of a lethal contagion. To stop the wave of death, Vasic must complete the simplest and most difficult mission of his life.
For if the Psy race is to survive, the empaths must wake…
Having rebuilt her life after medical “treatment” that violated her mind and sought to stifle her abilities, Ivy should have run from the black-clad Arrow with eyes of winter frost. But Ivy Jane has never done what she should. Now, she’ll fight for her people, and for this Arrow who stands as her living shield, yet believes he is beyond redemption. But as the world turns to screaming crimson, even Ivy’s fierce will may not be enough to save Vasic from the cold darkness…
Review
Yet again – I had a craving to re-visit some of my favorite m/f authors and Nalini Singh and her Psy-Changeling series is one of my all time favorites!
This is definitely one of those books where if you haven’t been reading along you will be totally lost. It is NOT a standalone. No matter what it might say anywhere else.
In this, the long awaited book, Vasic, the troubled and suicidal Arrow works with Kaleb as well as Judd to secure the re-introduction of the EPsy – the empaths – back into their powers. It is determined that the EPsy are what the NetMind has needed all this time to combat the illness.
What is left unknown is how these EPsy will take breaking Silence and just what is it they need to do and how can they be protected when those protecting them suffer just being in their presence.
Ivy is a strong EPsy whose Silence has been fractured for years. She assumes when Vasic comes to collect her that she is at last to be killed for her “faults”. From the moment they meet the two share a connection.
Then – for many pages – we work out who must do what and why for the NetMind to become fixed. Vasic and Ivy struggle with their feelings for one another – neither having any kind of experience in love/sex/relationships at all.
In the end thre is a race against time and more crushing blows to the NetMind, some reconnections with previous characters and a climactic finish setting us up for the grand finale – Shards of Hope – Aden’s story.
**
I have to admit I was disappointed in this book.
It took a lot of slugging through to reach the end.
I liked Vasic way more before he had his own book and Ivy was pretty MEH the entire time.
In previous books in the series the love was at least half the important part and I feel in these last few books, Kaleb, Vasic, Aden – more time is devoted to the greater story arc than the individual love stories.
As a fan I was glad to re-visit with Nalini’s Psy-Changeling Universe and I am excited to finally read the last story in this arc – but I am also kinda ready for it to be over.
Overall, the writing is good, I think it needed tighter editing, and maybe a more focused story line that equalized the love/romance part with the story progression.
Jin Church is back where he started, alone, wandering, and uncertain of his path. It’s not by choice but by circumstance, as he remembers he’s a werepanther… but not much else. He knows one thing for sure—he needs to find the beautiful blond man who haunts his dreams.
Logan Church is trapped in a living hell. His mate is missing, his tribe is falling apart, and he’s estranged from the son he loves with all his heart. His world is unraveling without his mate by his side, and he has no one to blame but himself.
If Jin can regain his memory and Logan can overcome the threats to his leadership, then perhaps they can resume their lives. The question is: Is that what they want? Back to the same house, the same tribe, the same troubles? They can choose from various roads leading to their future… or they can forge their own path.
(Beautiful art from Karrie Jax!)
Review
Wow oh wow! When I saw the excerpt for this I just knew Mary was gonna give us the ugly cry!
We start off with Jin separated from Logan and with no memory of him, his life, his powers, or even his SON!
(Mary – why do you separate our boys like that – it kills me!!!)
There is some weird tribal stuff that happens and apparently it is figured out that Jin belongs to someone and someone important. Finally, Crane comes around and Jin doesn’t even recognize him! (Oh, Mary, cruel, cruel Mary!)
Apparently Jin has to prove he and Logan are mated by recognizing him without being told who he is – another stinkin’ test! – but of course he does! However … he still doesn’t have his memory back – he just knows Logan is HIS!
(I love it when they go all MINE! on each other- so sexy!)
It has been rough on Logan to have Jin gone for so many months. His tribe is questioning his strength. His a-hole family is stirring trouble and it looks like there is going to be a big ol’ fight sooner rather than later to determine who is the rightful leader of the Mafdet tribe.
In addition, Domin has been trying to lure Logan to Egypt to lead a tribe there that would be both benefited by his leadership and serve to help Jin and Ilia train their own powers.
When Jin finally does regain his memory (So, so touching!) there is a huge fight and big trouble and much bloodshed. At one point I found myself yelling at Mary – NOOOOOOO! – but it all worked out in the end – as we knew it would.
**
Mary is my hero. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. She can write such amazingly diverse subject matter and do it so well. Kudos!
There is no way this story will mean much to you if you haven’t been reading the series, so I’m assuming you are all fans, like me.
I adored catching up with Jin and Logan and Crane and the gang. There are some new romances on the horizons, new babies, new deaths, more heartache – life.
I felt the end was a bit rushed for my taste. I got the abbreviated version of what’s happening with everyone in Egypt and a rough idea of what Jin and Logan will be doing there – I’m assuming (read: hoping!) that there is another book coming to take us through that experience more fully.
I highly recommend this to all the fans of the series 5 of 5 hearts
Blurb
First a soldier and then a diplomat, Juberi now spends his solitary days on a single ambition: trying to resurrect the phoenix, which has been extinct for centuries. He’s not pleased when he is obligated to attend a public ceremony in memory of an elderly friend and former colleague. But at the ceremony, Juberi meets the friend’s beguiling son, Desen. Despite being from a markedly different culture, Desen has much to offer. But after decades of denying his own desires, Juberi fears there is no alchemy that will reopen him to love. Review
Juberi has a passion for the Phoenix, an extinct bird that he believes he can resurrect. He’s devoted his life to studying the magic to do such a thing almost to the exclusion of all else.
In his past, he’s also been an ambassador to a country with far different rules than his homeland. There he was able to have his male lover and to drink alcohol and sleep on feather beds. When he’s called home from his service, his lover essentially breaks his heart and Juberi has never loved again.
We find Juberi at the funeral of an old friend from that time and we meet that friend’s son. The son, Desen, has heard all about Juberi and has had a virtual crush on the man for years. When they meet there is instant attraction but Juberi feels he’s too set in his ways and that to act on that attraction would be wrong.
It is Desen’s persistence and Juberi’s work on with the Phoenix that proves Juberi wrong.
**
Kim Fielding is an amazing writer and always manages to tell a great story – whether short or long. I love her ability to world build and to make the reader invested with a minimum of words.
Though I found this to be an engaging and wonderful story, it was not my favorite of hers. I loved the ending and was hopeful for the lovers, but I wish we’d seen just a bit more of the relationship between them. I didn’t feel that wonderful connection she usually shows us between the lovers nearly as strongly as I have in the past.
A relationship-challenged actor unexpectedly finds love in the arms of his childhood best friend.
“Sexiest Man Alive” and Golden Globe winning actor Ethan Baker lights up the screen but fizzles in his personal life. When his latest girlfriend breaks up with him, Ethan turns to his one “forever” person—Jude Harrison. But as Ethan makes the familiar drive to his best friend’s house, an unexpected detour and a bewildering passenger take him through places in time he’d long forgotten. Suddenly Ethan sees Jude’s actions over the years from a different perspective, but it’s his own reaction that’s the biggest surprise.
Review
This is a short story that recently got re-released.
Ethan is a self-centered actor, self-acknowledgedly so, who has been best friends with Jude most of his life.
Jude has been in love with Ethan since the moment they first met.
It takes a trip through time for Ethan to realize that Jude has feelings for him and that Ethan has feelings for Jude as well!
It’s a very short, sweet story that makes you smile and sigh and – just as all Cardeno’s stories do – feel good inside.
I loved that when Ethan finally figures things out, he and Jude just jump in, no questions asked.
