I started this post ahead of the day I had planned to release it on November 1st. Go me. I thought I had gotten this post scheduled but looks like I didn’t. Oops. I probably thought I would do a one last pass and then actually schedule it to post, then promptly forgot thinking I had already scheduled it. I did get sucked into editing mode so that’s probably why I thought I would get back to this. Welcome to my ADD moments.
I got my partner’s taxes submitted on October 15th. For a friend, I looked into laptops—if you weren’t aware, my working career started in IT/computers before I shifted to legal tech work. I have not made a profit on writing, yet, but I’m ok if I don’t, now or in the future. I started publishing a few of my writings 12 years ago because I wanted to see more stories I like to read, and a few authors I had beta read a couple of my stories encouraged me to just write. I did a few freebies for a couple of years, and flash fiction mostly annually for the next ten years. As the wheel of time progressed, other authors in the LGBTQ+ space became more prolific faster than I could write/publish, providing a plethora of stories for me to read, and that’s alright too.
It’s been a while since I had the motivation to pick up writing something new, but I’ll get there. I’ve been working through health items, and I think I’m getting there with the medication cocktail I’m on, and I’m getting some energy back enough to do normal things like laundry and cleaning. There’s hope yet.
I started blogging and reviewing books before I started writing 14 years ago. I started this blog on July 8th, 2013, and took the first steps to blogging about my writing then. November 2012 is when I started writing my first story (that is still languishing in stasis due to lack of inspiration to continue the plot). I didn’t start reading MM romances until I stumbled upon them in November 2011. I still read mainstream MF romances but only a select few authors’ consistently.
I went back to editing Charon’s Dilemma. It felt great to finally have the spoons, and time, to work on polishing a previous story again. I started on it earlier this year but never quite got back to it. I’m hoping that means I can finish it and send it off to the editor for final polishing and republish it. Not sure how I’m going to do that yet, whether on my own or through a publisher of some kind. I will probably do a new cover for it too. I do like the one I have but it probably needs to be updated.
While I didn’t start the next Bobiverse book on Audible yet (still figuring out if I’m on book 3 or 4), book 6 in the series released a bit ago and I did purchase with my Audible credits. I did start a Kobo Plus audiobook mid-October: A Baby for Christmas by Keira Andrews. I listened to about 20 minutes before I was off doing something else. I’ll probably start listening on my phone. I did just get the audio in Kobo Plus for a book I’m reading in Kindle. That should be interesting since you can’t sync across platforms. I presume there is an eBook version there and I might just add that to my library and read there.
Because I’m posting this later than I expected, it’s after the US mid term elections. I’m hopeful now that there is a blue wave in the works. I don’t talk about political things much because that is a very personal thing, but I’m glad its heading in a different direction.
Since this is the month of the US holiday for Thanksgiving, I’m going to give three things I’m thankful for. This something the family does during the holidays, although sometimes we limit to one thing depending on how many people, before starting on our big meal.
Family, who put up with me constantly working, blogging, and the occasional writing when I can get there.
Gaining prominent work certifications and the time to get them done.
My RGR/Author friends for the chats and communications over the years that encourage me to keep going on this writing journey.
Like the photo below, what is your favorite part of Thanksgiving Day for those who celebrate? For me, my favorite part of Thanksgiving Day is to spend time eating a great meal with family and friends. What is your three things (or just one) you are thankful for this season? Feel free to comment here or on the social media posts. If you rather not post in a public forum, feel free to email me or send a message through the form on the about me page.
So far, so good. We’re in month ten of the year and it’s kind of crazy how fast this year has been. I’ve managed to write this post on the first Sunday of the month. Progress. I might get the last two months scheduled. Maybe. End of year holidays are always chaotic between work and family. Let’s just say that I’m not holding my breath on that. I’m at least keeping once a month posts so there is that too.
It is the month of October and Halloween is around the corner. It falls on a Saturday so trick or treating will probably be a thing with the family. No plans yet but there’s and annual Trunk or Treak in Woodstock that we’ll probably end up going presuming there’s interest. The under 18 crowd, i.e., one left, is officially in his teens. He may not want to go anymore. There is the grandchild, so there’s that, and likely an evening with them.
Writing or editing hasn’t been a thing since work has been taking up most of my time when the family hasn’t taken my attention. Eventually, I’ll get back to it. I did want to write, or edit, tonight but it looks like I only have spoons for this post and possibly schedule a couple future blog posts for book tours or blitzes.
I have been reading a lot of eBooks. Sometimes that’s all I can do. I might go back and pick up the Bobiverse series where I left off in audio. I typically only listen to audio while driving by myself. Maybe I’ll listen while at home. I do like my eBooks though.
Please welcome returning author Stephanie Burke to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Shelby’s Angels, the first book in a box set collection series of the same name. It is a Paranormal, Romantic Comedy spanning multiple LGBTQ+ identities and orientations! Let’s check it out!
Once upon a time, there were seven ex male models turned exotic dancers, all unique and beautiful in their own way.
Adan, the fiery Spaniard, is a master of disguise. Barika, the dangerous African Flower, can make any computer obey with a mere touch of a keyboard. Shen, my delicate Chinese Warrior, speaks several languages fluently and knows how to use his pretty face to get what he wants. Blain is my temperamental Irish poet, with the soul of an artist, and the right cross of a heavyweight champ. Nalu, a large chunk of Samoan perfection, knows anything and everything about plants and poisons. Delsin has a way with numbers that is damn near erotic to watch and an understanding of the world that makes me believe his tales of being the offshoot of a rampaging Indian war-god. And then there’s Raidon, my sexy Japanese Shogun. Skilled in several forms of martial arts, Raidon is the smallest — and the most dangerous one of all.
Along with my lover Will, a hand model, we form the best detective agency ever! We take on the most obscene and dangerous cases ever to develop in the Red Light District of Baltimore. From cross-dressing vampires to dangerous warrior cults, we’ve seen and done it all.
Call me Shelby. And these bold and beautiful men who obey my will, most of the time, are my Angels. And here are our stories.
“This is the third such death in five months. Police are baffled as to who could be doing this… and why. The Irish Eyes Conglomerate, producers of the ever-popular line of skin care, hair care, and waxing products directed toward men, is scrambling for answers, and its investors are scrambling to keep their heads above water.
“This is Denise Robberston reporting live at the site of the Fifth Annual Microbrewery Convention. Dick, back to you.”
Shelby used the remote to shut down the television and its disturbing imagery.
There was silence for a full minute after the screen went black — total silence.
She turned to face the group of men sitting around the downstairs boardroom — okay, living room — of Club Angels. All seven of her boys, plus her man, sat with faces twisted in an array of emotions from shock to disgust.
“Well?” she asked, feeling that maybe something had gotten through to them, that they were no longer wrapped up in their own petty concerns, realizing there were things out there that mattered, and the world didn’t revolve around them.
She stood back and waited to hear about the injustice of it all.
“Oh my God!” Delsin started, with a toss of his yards-long hair.
“I know!” Adan exclaimed, his voice breathy in horror as he stared wide-eyed at the blank screen. One hand was balled in a fist pressing against his chest while the other reached for Nalu, who was just shocked into silence. Like some of the others, he stared out at nothing.
“Did you see?” Delsin whispered again, turning wide eyes to his compatriots.
“She was wearing red lipstick and blue eye shadow! Those color combinations are so not in this year!” Adan said. “And they do nothing for her complexion, like that burgundy shirt. You’d think that someone would have told her it would make her look more ruddy than she already does!”
“And who styled her hair?” Raidon chimed in. “That just makes her look bloated! If you’re heavy like that, you pick a haircut that doesn’t make you look like a reject from parochial Samurai school in Neo Tokyo.”
The others — even William, usually uber-intelligent — for a model — nodded in agreement. Of course, then he flushed in embarrassment as he took in the red that had begun to stain Shelby’s cheeks.
“And that’s all that you got out of it?” Shelby nearly shouted, arms akimbo, indignant that this group couldn’t pull it together and see the big picture.
“That and the co-announcer should be named dick-less,” Shen almost timidly announced. All the others turned to stare at him as silence filled the room. “What? I dated him before his male pattern baldness caught up to him — but for the grace of the Lord we go.” All the men sucked in a fearful, shocked breath that he would even mention that out loud. “And he got the bad toupee and the cheesy voice. He’s every size queen’s nightmare.”
“And you still went out with him?” Adan leaned forward to get the good gossip. He ignored the auburn-highlighted black curls that fell endearingly into his face as his accent purred around the room, sending an erotic shiver down more than one back.
“I don’t put out on the first or second dates,” Shen responded. “Besides, I thought he was a grower, not a shower. Boy, was I wrong.”
They all ah-ed in understanding as Shelby finally reached her boiling point. “Hello? Narcissi on speed? A man was killed! Now’s not the time to discuss dick size! There’s murder afoot!”
“And his feet are big so there goes that foot-as-a-ruler thing.” Shen nodded his head with authority before smiling up innocently at his benefactress.
“I need a drink!” Shelby sighed, looking toward the heavens for help as she shook her head at the insanity that she willingly surrounded herself with.
“It’s not noon yet, Shelby,” William told her with a frown, taking her at her word. “But I can make you an Irish coffee.” His smile was both innocent and charming. “Coffee’s a morning kind of drink.”
“And it’s much later than that in Ireland!” Blain chimed in, all smiles and helpfulness. “And there’s always a good reason for a shot of good Irish hooch!” His accent made the words seem cute even though they were the most idiotic thing she had ever heard.
“Don’t you people understand?” Shelby growled. “People have died!”
“I know!” Barika sighed, looking sad. “I don’t think anyone can recover from such a bad public appearance. You’d think they would have dressers or someone to help them out.”
“Too much alcohol.” Will’s mind was still on Irish coffee in the mornings, but the others agreed.
“Turning into a lush can do that to you, make you forget your appearance and things,” Shen agreed with Will, silently wondering how such an intelligent man didn’t get wrinkles from thinking such deep thoughts. “It’s an angle we can look into.” He smiled at Will. “An alcohol breakdown’s something you can really never overcome. Even with the help of Betty Ford, your image would be… irredeemable.”
Solemnly, the other seven nodded, then dropped their heads, giving the fallen-from-grace reporters a moment of silence.
Giving up on trying to make them see her point of view, Shelby walked over to the low coffee table and snatched up a file folder.
“Okay, Angels, listen up.” When you can’t beat them, move on, was her motto. “There’s a mystery to solve, and we have been hired to crack this case.”
“Somebody hired us? After that Jacuzzi incident?” Will asked, shock in every line of his body, as a fire suddenly lit in his eyes. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Model or PI?”
“PI,” she assured, then sighed as several masculine exclamations of delight floated around her, accompanied by hand slaps and high fives.
“And if we’re all finished celebrating, I think I should inform you of the particulars.”
Suddenly, they were all business, attentive as a pack of puppies fresh from obedience school.
Excellent.
“Okay, Angels, here are the facts. Irish Eyes stock’s going to start to plummet, despite the fact that several important celebrities endorse them. The scandal’s good for sales with the gory set, but we’re all sure that won’t last. They need answers and they need them fast. That’s where we come in.”
“We get to sleuth?” Adan asked, almost wriggling in delight in his seat.
“We get to sleuth and model and crack this case. I’m sure you are all qualified and we’ll wrap this up quickly.”
She smiled at the pride that beamed from her seven boys and one man. This was a good thing she was doing. It was the right thing, giving them something rewarding to do with their lives. And it was better than shaking their asses and having drunken rowdy women shove dollars down their G-strings.
“Who does what?” Barika asked, placing a calming hand on Adan’s shoulder.
“Well, I have broken this down as I see fit. If there are any objections, please let me know and we’ll discuss it. I’ll give you my reasoning as well.”
There were nods of agreement, and Shelby looked down at her file folder and began to read.
“Adan, Blain, and Raidon, you will play model this trip. No fighting, Blain, but feel free to defend any of the guys, not that they’ll need it. You fit the traditional look they’re going for, and you have the accent.”
“I have the lilt in my voice and the face to pull it off.” He smiled. “Plus, I really am Irish, Shelby! I’m authentic! Don’t be forgetting that!”
She nodded, then carried on. “Adan, you can be anything so be more European. Foreign buyers relate to that and Americans find it sexy. Not only that, but while Blain distracts them, you can ferret out inside info from the people behind the scenes.”
“Right, Boss,” he agreed, already planning his persona for this job.
“Raidon, you’re going because you can kick ass and take names.” They all laughed at that and a rare blush, a flush of delight, spread out over the Japanese man’s face. “That, and I need you to back up the guys, to keep anyone from getting too close, and see if you can use that brain of yours to find any underworld connections.”
“Mafia, Yakuza, or Tong?” he asked. No one questioned how he would know. Hell, Shelby wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But he was on their side, and that was good enough for her.
“Any and all, and if there are organized, non-familial groups too. You’re good at that sort of thing.”
“I’m great at that sort of thing,” he corrected, and it wasn’t bragging, it was just the pure and honest truth.
“Barika, I want you on computers. I want you to dig up anything you can about Irish Eyes and its parent company, Green Isles Industries. Make it thorough.”
“Give me time and I can tell you what color underwear the president wears and his sperm count.”
“Um, do it fast and you can keep the sperm.”
“Good for the skin, ain’t that right, Shen?” he chuckled, and Shen blushed red as a beet.
The rest groaned.
“Nalu, if I get you the autopsy reports, can you tell me what’s going on?” Shelby continued.
“Yes.” Then he was off in his own little world again, probably dancing with dolphins or something.
“Delsin and Shen, you guys are backup. I want you to be communications for the inside guys — be boyfriends, best friends, makeup people, entourage, or something. But you’ll be the only connection between them and me and any help they may need. I’m counting on you two.”
“Do we get that neat spy stuff that William’s always buying and refusing to let us touch?” Rika asked, his eyes bright and hopeful.
“Um, yeah!” Shelby laughed as William paled.
“But those are my babies,” Will nearly whimpered, thinking of his precious electronic devices in the hands of those two.
“And they’re designed to do a specific job, babes.” Shelby chuckled. “I’m sure these guys will take good care of them.”
“They’d better,” Will whined, resigned. “Because if they don’t, I’ll add alcohol to their skin creams and piss in their hair tonics.”
They all blanched at that declaration.
“We’ll be good,” Delsin promised, eyes wide in horror. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout,” Rika snorted as he rose to his feet, smoothing his dreads neatly back into his ponytail.
“Only because they wanted me to cut my hair.” He sniffed. “I don’t know why I wanted to join. Those uniforms are so tacky.”
Then the conversation turned toward uniforms, men in uniforms, and how terribly gay the new Marines’ uniforms were — in short, another beautiful day in the basement.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Shelby sighed, then grinned as Will presented her with a steaming hot mug of… Irish coffee.
She hadn’t even noticed him leave the room to fetch it. But she smiled as she took a sip.
He was good, in more ways than one, she decided. She licked a bit of whipped cream from her upper lip and smiled as he shot her an evil smirk. He was damn good.
And he had trained the boys, so all would be well. What could possibly go wrong?
Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.
From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.
Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.
Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.
Please welcome returning author Will Okati to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Because It’s True, a novel of Magic, Romantic Comedy, and Sorcery. Let’s check it out!
Title: Because It’s True Author: Will Okati Cover Art: Bryan Keller Genres: New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Romantic Comedy Themes: LGBTQ+ Gay, Magic /Psychics /Sorcery /Witchcraft Book Length: Novel Page Count: 233
Believing in love and in luck is something Gavin swore he’d never do again — until he meets Ford.
After being left at the altar by his former fiancé, he’s a firm disbeliever in good fortune and love. Though there’s an immediate attraction between himself and Ford, they’re just too different to make a relationship work. The sex is explosive and despite himself Gavin even grows to like Ford’s quirky sense of humor and skewed view of life. Isn’t that good enough?
Not for Ford. A happy-go-lucky diviner of fortunes and omens, he’s sure from what he’s seen that Gavin is the love of his life and the man he’ll marry. He makes it his mission to overcome Gavin’s doubts and fears and teach him how to love again. Never giving up in his enthusiastic pursuit of the once-burned twice-shy secretary, he brings Gavin back to life and helps restore him to the man he used to be.
Ford makes Gavin want to believe in love again. But when Ford begins to lose his faith, it’s up to Gavin to save the magic they have between them and blaze the trail toward their happily ever after.
“Were you talking to me?” A fun-sized blonde deliverywoman, no one Ford had met before, juggled her armload of Flowers Fast! boxes to pop out her iPod earbuds.
Ford grinned up at her from where he’d crouched to study the sidewalk perpendicular to the museum service elevator he, and presumably she, was waiting on. “Sorry, no. I wasn’t talking to you. Not that I wouldn’t. Everyone I’ve ever known swears you can’t shut me up for love or money. They’re usually right.”
The deliverywoman looked like she couldn’t decide between aww, cute and running. “You’re a little crazy, aren’t you?”
“So I’m often told.” He’d bet this woman was one heck of a character herself. She’d made some, er, interesting fashion choices involving calf-length striped tights and patchouli hair wax. “I’m Ford.” He offered her a hand from below. “Come down here and check this out.”
“This isn’t some kind of cheesy pick-up line, is it? I’d be flattered, but… okay, wow. From the look on your face, I can answer that one myself. So not a pick-up line. If you were any less into women, you’d be a gastropod.”
Ford laughed. “That’s a new one on me.”
“If the shoe fits. I’m Kayla.”
“Ford.”
“Like the truck?” The deliverywoman crouched beside him. Good. Ford liked her, and her coming along for the ride was an excellent sign. Something wonderful and something unexpected were set to happen today. “You deliver for Rush Plus, right?”
“Packages where you want them to go as fast as you want ‘em to get there. Or as fast as I can pedal.” Ford patted his heavy messenger bag.
“Pleased to meet you. I could use a pick-me-up. Delivering flowers is surprisingly thankless work. What’s this good thing that’s going to happen today?”
“I don’t know yet.” Ford waved up from their spot on the sidewalk at the weird door to the external service elevator and the five floors of refurbished mill-cum-museum it had to sledge its way down at the speed of thick molasses. “It’s complicated. If you’re up for it, there’s time for me to explain.”
“God, tell me about it.” Kayla scowled at the stubborn doors.
Ford had started to feel the burn of his crouch, the solid weight of his body not really best designed for sitting this way, but he could take it a little longer, and he had a good example right in front of him. A penny, less than a foot away on the sidewalk. “Do you believe in magic?”
“Wait, what? Do you mean stage magic? Illusions and that kind of thing?”
“Not exactly.” Ford nudged the penny with the tip of his finger and waggled his eyebrows at her. He liked playing over the top. Made people less nervous of the giant with his crazy talk.
“Ohh, I get it. See a penny, pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck?”
“Exactly.” Ford levered the penny off the sidewalk.
“Ugh!”
“Hey, don’t knock it just because it needs a little TLC.” Ford balanced the penny in his palm, where it looked lost and tiny in the breadth and width of his hand. Or, depending on your point of view, safe. Protected. “It’s heads up, even. Extra good luck.”
“Yeah, but where’s the proof?”
“You don’t need proof if you believe. And I do. Because it’s true. This penny means it’s my lucky day.” Ford shifted and winced. His knees had had enough of bearing all his weight. Time to stand. “I need to stand up. Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Why would that tweak me?”
“You’ll see.” Ford stood slowly to give her time to adjust to his size. At six feet nine with a proportionate build that could only be described as solid, he liked to make sure people knew in advance he wasn’t a threat.
Kayla’s eyes widened. She took a step back, then forward, her chin up. “Holy cow. Sorry, just… wow, man. You’re huge.”
“And you’re itty-bitty. I won’t hurt you.”
“A gentle giant, huh?” Kayla studied him with her head tilted to one side. “Okay. I believe you.”
“You’d be surprised how many don’t. Thank you. May I?” Ford took her hand to kiss the back of it.
“Touché, Mister.” Kayla fiddled with a strand of her spiky hair. “So you really, really believe in luck? What about omens and good signs and that kind of thing?”
“Yes, yes, yes, and all of the above, yes. And you don’t, right?”
When Kayla shook her head, a ladder of silver rings running along the outer shells of her ears jingled. All positive signs that pointed toward good fortune. Better and better. “Don’t shun me or anything. I’ve just never seen any proof that all those old wives’ tales are more than just stories.”
Ford grinned broadly at her. He loved it when someone was willing to be convinced. “If it’s proof you want, I can do proof. Prepare to be amazed.”
Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of the quiet ones to watch out for, but life — like storytelling — is always a work in progress.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes J. Scott Coatsworth and Kim Fielding to the blog. This is a new release for Search for the Lost the second book in Chaos and Order series. This is a romantic fantasy with bouts of humor, road trip vibes, and body swapping. Lets check it out.
BOOK BLURB
SOMETIMES ORDER BECOMES CHAOS…
Leopold Lane—after being “collected” for the Office of the Lost by Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin—is tucked away cozily with his beloved office fae in their treehouse. Happily ever after, right? Not so fast.
Before Leo can even get settled, Crispin’s mother disappears, leaving Crispin in charge and his brother Aspin in a panic. As Queen of the Fae, she has also left them a little surprise: a bit of oxymoronic magic that turns their world upside down.
Crispin and Leo set off in search of the queen and a solution to their predicament. Aspin tags along, with some less-than-helpful friends. On the way they will discover important family secrets and learn new things about each other… and themselves. Nothing is simple when Chaos and Order get involved. Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper quest if it was straightforward, would it?
Note: Book One is On Sale Everywhere for just 99¢ from October 1st-31st:
Crispin and Leopold are poorly matched. They’re nothing like one another – Crispin is Order personified, while Leo’s nothing but Chaos. So of course, they are perfect for each other. Now they just have to figure out why the Universe has thrust them together – and how not to get themselves killed (or murder each other) in the process.
A sharp banging at the door brought Crispin back to the present. Or rather, to the past, when Leo had been taken away from him by Juzir and Qyl.
They shared a look. Leo was clearly thinking the same thing.
Wordlessly, he gathered up his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, snicking the lock closed.
We have a bathroom lock now? Crispin brushed away the thought. “Coming!”
He hoped Leo wasn’t in trouble again. After all, they’d fixed everything. There were no more flattened citizens aimlessly lying about. Well, except on Tarkon, where most of the wildlife and half of the people were naturally pretty flat. And they’d thrown a big party to smooth the waters with all their new friends, including the Mucklins, even though Molly the moth-woman had planned to feed Leo and Crispin to her children. But that was all in the past.
He opened the door, half expecting an angry mob. Instead it was his annoying older brother, Aspin, staring at him forlornly. “Hey, Elly….”
The old much-hated nickname—derived from his middle name, Eladrin—brought a rebuke to Crispin’s lips, but it died when he realized how dejected Aspin looked. “All clear!” he called over his shoulder. Crispin made way for Aspin to enter. “Come in. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Aspin nodded, looking as if he’d eaten a canary—or Minkis, Crispin’s pet squirrel.
“Who is it?” Leo had appeared, dressed formally for company—which for him meant flip-flops and a loose white T-shirt that he’d made a half-hearted attempt to tuck into his jeans. His hair, which usually stuck straight up, was slightly more tamed. “Oh, hey Aspin!”
Even though Aspin clearly despised him, Leo never held a grudge, one of the many things Crispin loved about him.
Aspin threw his arms around Crispin. “She’s gone, Elly. She’s gone.”
“Who?” But then it dawned on him: Aspin had only one her. And Aspin confirmed it with a single word. “Mother.”
Crispin stiffened. “Mother is dead?” Oh sordid heavens. I’m not ready to take over yet.
Aspin ended the embrace, returning to form. “No, you idiot. I said she was gone, not dead. Three days ago, and no one knows where she is or if she will come back. You have to help me find her.”
“Gone.” Crispin eased himself down onto their newest piece of furniture, the hideous old couch from Leo’s Earth apartment.
Leo stared at him, blinking, then sat on the cushion next to him. “She’s gone. So that means….”
Aspin sank down onto one knee. “Hail to Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin, King of the High Holy Fae.”
Oh flack. If there’s one thing that Crispin was positively absolutely emphatically five-thousand-percent not ready for, it was to take his mother’s throne. He had no aspirations to power, and he certainly didn’t share his mother’s proclivities for seducing mortals. Well, maybe just the one.
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a small Italian villa outside of Sacramento, California. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years.
Kim Fielding is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. She writes fantasy, mm romance, science fiction, horror, and whatever else her muse demands.
Winner of the 2021 BookLife Prize for Fiction, a Lambda Award finalist and Foreword INDIE finalist, she has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and now lives in Oregon, where she will never have enough bookshelf space.
She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full time. She also dreams of having two daughters who fully appreciate her, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.
J. Scott Coatsworth and Kim Fielding has a new MM romantasy book out, Chaos and Order book two: Search for the Lost.
SOMETIMES ORDER BECOMES CHAOS…
Leopold Lane—after being “collected” for the Office of the Lost by Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin—is tucked away cozily with his beloved office fae in their treehouse. Happily ever after, right? Not so fast.
Before Leo can even get settled, Crispin’s mother disappears, leaving Crispin in charge and his brother Aspin in a panic. As Queen of the Fae, she has also left them a little surprise: a bit of oxymoronic magic that turns their world upside down.
Crispin and Leo set off in search of the queen and a solution to their predicament. Aspin tags along, with some less-than-helpful friends. On the way they will discover important family secrets and learn new things about each other… and themselves. Nothing is simple when Chaos and Order get involved. Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper quest if it was straightforward, would it?
Series Blurb:
Crispin and Leopold are poorly matched. They’re nothing like one another – Crispin is Order personified, while Leo’s nothing but Chaos. So of course, they are perfect for each other. Now they just have to figure out why the Universe has thrust them together – and how not to get themselves killed (or murder each other) in the process.
A sharp banging at the door brought Crispin back to the present. Or rather, to the past, when Leo had been taken away from him by Juzir and Qyl.
They shared a look. Leo was clearly thinking the same thing.
Wordlessly, he gathered up his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, snicking the lock closed.
We have a bathroom lock now? Crispin brushed away the thought. “Coming!”
He hoped Leo wasn’t in trouble again. After all, they’d fixed everything. There were no more flattened citizens aimlessly lying about. Well, except on Tarkon, where most of the wildlife and half of the people were naturally pretty flat. And they’d thrown a big party to smooth the waters with all their new friends, including the Mucklins, even though Molly the moth-woman had planned to feed Leo and Crispin to her children. But that was all in the past.
He opened the door, half expecting an angry mob. Instead it was his annoying older brother, Aspin, staring at him forlornly. “Hey, Elly….”
The old much-hated nickname—derived from his middle name, Eladrin—brought a rebuke to Crispin’s lips, but it died when he realized how dejected Aspin looked. “All clear!” he called over his shoulder. Crispin made way for Aspin to enter. “Come in. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Aspin nodded, looking as if he’d eaten a canary—or Minkis, Crispin’s pet squirrel.
“Who is it?” Leo had appeared, dressed formally for company—which for him meant flip-flops and a loose white T-shirt that he’d made a half-hearted attempt to tuck into his jeans. His hair, which usually stuck straight up, was slightly more tamed. “Oh, hey Aspin!”
Even though Aspin clearly despised him, Leo never held a grudge, one of the many things Crispin loved about him.
Aspin threw his arms around Crispin. “She’s gone, Elly. She’s gone.”
“Who?” But then it dawned on him: Aspin had only one her. And Aspin confirmed it with a single word. “Mother.”
Crispin stiffened. “Mother is dead?” Oh sordid heavens. I’m not ready to take over yet.
Aspin ended the embrace, returning to form. “No, you idiot. I said she was gone, not dead. Three days ago, and no one knows where she is or if she will come back. You have to help me find her.”
“Gone.” Crispin eased himself down onto their newest piece of furniture, the hideous old couch from Leo’s Earth apartment. Leo stared at him, blinking, then sat on the cushion next to him. “She’s gone. So that means….”
Aspin sank down onto one knee. “Hail to Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin, King of the High Holy Fae.”
Oh flack. If there’s one thing that Crispin was positively absolutely emphatically five-thousand-percent not ready for, it was to take his mother’s throne. He had no aspirations to power, and he certainly didn’t share his mother’s proclivities for seducing mortals. Well, maybe just the one.
Author Bios
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a small Italian villa outside of Sacramento, California. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years.
Kim Fielding is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. She writes fantasy, mm romance, science fiction, horror, and whatever else her muse demands.
Winner of the 2021 BookLife Prize for Fiction, a Lambda Award finalist and Foreword INDIE finalist, she has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and now lives in Oregon, where she will never have enough bookshelf space.
She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full time. She also dreams of having two daughters who fully appreciate her, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.
Well, I didn’t get this posted the first Sunday of September. It’s past the Labor Day holiday and Dragon Con. Atlanta lived up to her nickname of Hotlanta as it was record-breaking temperatures Georgia hasn’t seen in over 10 years. We hit over 100 most days with “feels like” temperatures.
Work threw me a curveball with a mandatory opportunity I couldn’t get out of. I was the only one with the correct certifications and had to attend. Things worked out and I could prepare for it, barely. I won’t know if we got the opportunity until I’m back at work next week.
I was planning on attending some writing panels over at the Writers’ track, but other things got away from me and I didn’t make it. Hopefully, I can see about making a point of doing that next year. It helped me pull on my bootstraps and see about getting back into editing, at least. I’m going to do that with the last of my vacation in the next few days.
Today is also the 25th anniversary of 9/11 and the destruction of the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers in NYC. In some respects, it’s fitting that I could not post my monthly blog post until today instead of my usual first Sunday of the month. The world forever changed that day, and we should remember with a moment of reflective silence.
Stay safe everyone. Hug your loved ones, as you never know when you will have the time to do so again.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Rose Titus to the blog. This is a new edition for Night Home, the first book in The Vampire Next Door trilogy. This is a speculative fiction novella with genres of fantasy, horror, thriller, and mystery. Check it out below.
BOOK BLURB
When college student Muriel Aubrey inherits an old house in a small town, she imagines that moving into the rural community will be deathly dull. But the old house once belonged to her eccentric granduncle, a professor said to be researching something mysterious before his untimely death.
Then Muriel finds the research notes that had been hidden away in the old Victorian; and she discovers what the professor was researching: vampires. It isn’t long before Muriel meets residents of the small town who knew the professor almost a century ago, and learns that everything he wrote in the notes he kept is true.
And then she finds herself stalked by a vampire hunter.
There was the usual convenience store stuff on the rack: Tabloids, celebrity gossip, fashion magazines, newspapers. The store sold lottery tickets, junk food, candy, beer, a few grocery items, even a few small appliances. She noticed the guy who owned the place was watching her. It made her nervous. Not because he watched her, but because he was so pale. He did not look unhealthy. It was like he just never got out into the sun.
“You must be the new girl.”
“Huh?” She spun around to face him.
“You’re new in town. You just moved into that old house.”
“H-how do you know?”
“Well, how could I not know? I live across the field and saw the light was on for the first time in a long time.”
“Oh,” she felt silly. “Yeah. That’s right. I’m new in town. The house will need some work, but it’s not really that bad. My eccentric old uncle owned it a long time ago and—”
“I know. Professor Aubrey. He was a good man,” there was sadness in his voice.
“Yeah, that’s what they say—” how the hell would he know if he was a good man? This guy looked no more than thirty. The old guy had been dead for at least since 1936, according to the old newspaper clipping.
“Elton.” He seemed to smile as he introduced himself. “Elton Masaryk.”
“Muriel Aubrey.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
She went up to pay for the magazine she picked.
“You let me know if you need anything over there, all right? I live just across the field. If you need anything, don’t hesitate. Really.”
“Thank you.” She went for the door but turned around. “You sound as if you know something about Professor Aubrey?”
He hesitated. “A little. Why?”
“He was related to me, but I hardly know anything about him. I heard he was murdered by his colleague from the University and—”
“Yeah. That’s right. The same guy who murdered your uncle also killed three other people too. They gave him the chair. Bastard deserved it.” But then he was silent. He was beginning to sound as if he knew more than he could tell. As if it still angered him somehow. “Oh well.” Then he went silent.
“Okay. Thank you.” She left. She returned home as the sky began to brighten, and finally slept.
Rose Titus resides somewhere in cold, dreary New England with two manipulative cats and a very out of date computer with which she creates horror and fantasy fiction. She also has a restored classic Buick to ride around in while in search of adventure.
For travel she has stayed the night in an allegedly haunted castle, has taken a boat ride on Loch Ness, and has visited the Bermuda Triangle — without getting lost.
Her work has previously appeared in Lost Worlds, Lynx Eye, Bog Gob, Mausoleum, Weird Terrain, Descend, The Dead River Review, and other literary magazines. She also writes regularly for Blood Moon Rising Magazine.
When she’s not working or writing or messing with her old car, she waits by the mailbox for her Fortean Times to arrive.
Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Meg Macy to the blog. On June 1st, 2026, she will release P.S. I Love You, book three of the series called Love Is Love. It’s an across-the-LGBTQ+-spectrum romance, including poly elements. You do need to read the prior two books in the series before reading this one.
BOOK BLURB
Jackson Riley and Juliette (aka Jules) Baxter are enmeshed in new situations. Jack fled his latest trauma to act in a rom-com film, taking a break from his relationship with Reese, but now regrets his impulsiveness. His ex-lover Kyle is the least of his problems when odd things happen on set and off.
Jules and Chris are committed to their new love affair and in charge of the breakfast café and a new bakery, but keeping on top of employees and finances is not yet a “piece of cake.” Family problems also plague Jules and Reese, while Jack discovers that acting in a film is totally different than acting on the stage.
Will he ever answer Reese’s barrage of texts and voicemails? Will Reese solve the mystery of Jack’s mysterious past?
Warnings: Past trauma
SERIES BLURB
In the Love Is Love series, these LGBTQA+ contemporary romance novels explore past hurts, healing, and the vulnerability of gay love and acceptance. Friendship, trust, courage, and resilience unite to combat fear and homophobia in reshaping lives and communities.
Life sometimes throws you a curveball out of nowhere. You either react fast and catch it, or you’re blindsided when it smacks you in the head. The latter applies to Jack Riley’s man, for sure. Reese Baxter missed the worst signs of trouble in their relationship.
Jack knows all about those curveballs, too, after surviving on the streets. He shivers after stepping out of the shower and checks the new tattoo on his upper arm. It’s healed, for the most part, but his skin has raised goosebumps. Michigan ain’t that far from Ontario, but damn. It’s fucking cold in Canada. When he first woke, he caught a glimpse of fat snowflakes outside the window against the darkness. Back in Ann Arbor, he wore shorts and a tee in a string of days with upper sixties temperatures. No need for a coat or a hoodie.
“Jesus. I’m gettin’ to be an old man bitchin’ about the damned weather.”
The patio installation at the café must be almost finished for the one year celebration. Jack wouldn’t blame his bestie and co-owner, Jules Baxter, for going ahead without him. Not that he knows what’s happening, since he ain’t answered any anyone’s texts. After packing a suitcase, donning a sweatshirt he stole from Reese, Jack rode with Kyle Kingston to this town in Canada to share an old house with his ex-lover’s friends. At least until they find out where they’re gonna be sent for the film production.
After toweling dry, Jack dons boxer briefs, jeans, a tee shirt, plus a wool and cashmere ice blue hoodie sweater he bought in Vegas. Takes out his makeup kit, adds moisturizer and bronzer. When his phone on the counter buzzes with a text, his hand slips. Cursing under his breath, he ignores the phone and wipes off his ruined eyeliner. Decides to go femboy with shimmery lavender shadow on his eyelids, contour and blush, then uses setting spray. He brushes and styles his hair, applies lip oil. At a loud crash, Jack rushes out of the bathroom.
“What the hell, King! You okay?”
Muffled mumbling reaches his ears. Kyle rises from the floor, hands blindly groping, and slides back under the covers. “Do I look okay? Goddammit,” he grumbles. “You didn’t have to insist on twin beds, Tink.”
“Fuck off. You’re gonna be late if you ain’t got an alarm set.”
He throws a pillow at Jack. “Go fuck yourself. I need more sleep.”
“’Cause you got drunk last night.”
Kyle pulls the covers over his head. Jack chose to ignore everyone last night, since the table read today is stressful enough. Jack kept waking up, the party keeping him from much needed sleep. Deep snores from the other bedrooms reach his ears now. He failed to memorize his dialogue due to the noise. Hope he don’t bomb today. Reese always helped him relax, rubbing his back, huggin’ or kissin’ him. Jack misses seeing his man’s deep blue eyes, dark hair, scruffy jaw, that broad smile. He inserts his earbuds and chooses a playlist.
After tossing his kit on the flimsy bed, Jack heads to the kitchen. Good thing he set the machine up last night to brew at five a.m. Yawning, he fills two paper cups with black coffee. Adds lids to each… Until their production assistant can find a better place, he’s stuck here with actor friends of Kyle’s. Decent guys but total slobs.
Having to share a room is another bone of contention. No way is Jack gonna film all day for two or three months with his ex-lover and deal with him all night, too. He wants privacy to chill on his own. That better happen, or he’s gonna pitch a fuckin’ fit.
But Jack smiles to hear Conan Gray’s song, “Maniac.” Perfect choice, given how he ended up here with Kyle. His ex abandoned him, then turned up again outta the blue. Wantin’ him back, despite Jack bein’ with Reese now. He shoulda never let him get under his skin.
Donning his boots, heavy parka, and gloves, Jack slings his backpack on one shoulder and carries the coffee cups into the cold. His breath steams in the air. He curses when a sip of coffee burns his tongue. It’s a ten minute walk to the table read location, but he ain’t in the mood to wait for Kyle. Too restless, Jack figures the fresh air will help clear his head. And bein’ early might make a good impression on the director.
Whatever that’s worth.
His homesickness keeps getting worse, his misery deep. Jack tramps on. Every step fails to ease his jumpy nerves. Why did he agree to do this film? For the money, of course, helping the café survive. They got so far in the red, Jack worried they’d lose everything. Until Reese stepped up and took over without telling him, renovating a building on the other side of the café’s parking lot into the Sunshine Bakery. That was a smart move. Less than a month after it opened, profits are paying off some of the debt.
But his man stepped over the line, not telling him he paid half the new patio’s cost with Jules. “Too fuckin’ late to quit this rom-com,” Jack says aloud. “I’m an asshole, lettin’ Kyle talk me into it. I should be at the café, not a stupid table read.”
Jack wished he listened to Stevie’s advice before running off. Regret hits him now. He misses Reese, bad. Seeing his man, sharing meals, cuddling after sex and playing with his chest hair, waking early to see him, his cheeks flushed, hair mussed, naked under a sheet. Or without anything covering his muscular shoulders, arms, and ass. Jack loved to watch Reese sleep or wake up, grumpy and silent, until he drinks coffee.
“Dammit. Stop being so fucking stubborn and text him…”
National bestselling author Meg Macy first dreamed of seeing a book with her name on it in the school library. She’s always found comfort, adventure, and connection in books—which might explain why she now writes stories that offer all three.
Meg writes LGBTQIA+ romance with a touch of spice, intrigue, and plenty of emotional payoff in the LOVE IS LOVE series. M/M romance and M/F polyamory, her stories are comfort reads with a twist. She’s also written cozy mysteries for Kensington, the Shamelessly Adorable Teddy Bear series, and is one half of the D.E. Ireland team for the Agatha-Award nominated historical mysteries featuring Eliza Doolittle & Henry Higgins.
She lives with her writing companion, Mr. Whiskers the cat, and prefers pages to parties.
It’s the first Sunday of August. Happy Lamas (Lughnasadh) yesterday on the Celtic calendar of holidays. First harvest is among us and it’s been a nice summer into fall so far. School starts tomorrow and all that entails. It’s nice to rest from work but I need a three-day weekend or longer soon.
Beginning of next month will be the annual Dragon Con event here in Atlanta, and I’ve taken off two weeks. I will need it by then probably if works goes the way it has been for the last two months.
Still haven’t worked much on writings, mostly reading to relax from work. Eventually, I’ll get there. One day at a time.
I have been doing some gaming with the family. Sometimes, it’s table top card games, and other times is computer gaming on Steam and Discord. I’ve set up my gaming laptop downstairs next to my work computer setup since I had to dismantle my KVM switch. Truthfully, it’s probably better this way. I can mentally switch between work and home that way.
This will be a short one too. Not much else to talk about this month. Fall equinox is around the corner and with it all of the school things to do. Pretty soon it will be Fall break, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year. Time keeps marching on.
