When vampire Beau Hollings falls into rodeo clown Leon Lavoie’s arms as he comes off a bull, he’s more than grateful for the save.
Sparks fly when Beau meets the sexy vampire clown after the event for drinks, and a night of passion makes the night complete. But what should have been a one-night stand turns into something more when Leon reveals that they were matched by Cowboy Magic, a dating service for paranormal rodeo performers.
Wolf shifter Rhody Tallwood, one of the famous Tallwood brothers of bronc riding fame, put in a request with Cowboy Magic, then forgot — until he’s told to watch the bull riding.
Now he’s got to juggle not one, but two vampire mates, as well as his brothers’ displeasure, because the three of them together are magic, and each of them wants their relationship to last a lot longer than eight seconds.
TRIGGER WARNING: Rodeo Clown, may be a trigger for those with clown phobia. Adult language and situations.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Each book in the Cowboy Magic series contains stories of queer cowboy/cowgirl/cowthey love across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum.
WM Kirkland loves the smell of the forest after a thunderstorm and listening to the pounding of hooves as the horses come to the fence for attention. A pen name for a prolific author, WM focuses on writing stories of steamy queer love between shifters, magical creatures, cowboys, and the occasional time-traveling gladiator. They’re proud to have been telling tales for the past two decades and hope for many more.
David Cortez, a decorated US Marine, is now on the run from his own government after escaping a top-secret CIA lab when an experimental medical procedure turned sour.
While lying low in Mexico, an assassin sent from British Intelligence tracks him down. However, Sonny from MI6, a British-Iranian with a cockney accent, offers David a choice: join his team, or be killed.
David chooses to work with Sonny, not only because he wants his life back, but because he feels a kinship with the man.
They’re also both in the unique position of being the only living test subjects with alien DNA in their blood. Could that explain the strong attraction between them?
Audio Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Renegade By Patricia Logan
Trackers, Book 2
Though Raven Mathis and Miguel Huerta have recently opened their new recovery business, mimicking things they used to do on their own, things haven’t been going so well. They’re getting accustomed to working as partners, but business is slow. Some things have gone right. They’ve settled down in Nana’s house and are deeply in love. When they get a call asking if they can help recover a valuable pigeon’s blood ruby, they jump at the chance, even though they’re told they should probably carry guns.
When the man Miguel left for dead in the desert long ago unexpectedly shows up at their first meeting with their new client, the request that they come armed, suddenly becomes a harsh reality. Miguel is in total disbelief, suddenly faced with a ghost who might be out for blood, and when a dark stranger suddenly shows up with more threats, things start spiraling out of control. Miguel hates the fact that Raven is in terrible danger, but he can’t understand how his former lover is involved.
Figuring out how to navigate Miguel’s past may prove harder to overcome than they realize but they’re sustained by their love for each other. The rush to figure out why operatives are targeting them becomes a necessity, and though Miguel hates it, he realizes he may just have to rely on a few new colleagues to help.
He knows one thing though…killing the man he’d once been in love with, might be the only way to save Raven.
I ran down the stairs and stopped to take a deep breath before pushing through the door into the bright sunlight. It was nearly three, having spent hours discussing everything we’d talked about. I pulled out my phone when I got to my truck. I was glad for the shade I’d parked in. It was February, but it was a warm day, and my air conditioning wasn’t that great in the old truck. As I looked down at the phone, keys in hand, I suddenly felt all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
A second before I could react to pull my gun, I was body slammed front first into the driver’s side door. My keys dropped to the pavement. Steely arms closed around my midsection, but I reacted without thinking, slamming my head back as my training kicked in. I heard a sickening crunch as the back of my head caught my attacker in the face. The pain in my skull was jarring and I shook my head as I heard the curse.
“Trigg! Motherfucker! Stop!”
I stilled instantly, hearing the voice I hadn’t heard in eleven years. I pushed back, feeling the person separate from my body, and turned. Standing a few feet away from me, looking stunned in a tattered ballcap, blood dripping from his broken nose, stood John Sutter, watery green eyes streaming, as he tried to stem the blood sliding down his face.
“God damn you, Trigg,” he gasped. “That fuckin’ hurt.”
I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with muscles and a handsome face. If that makes me sound shallow, maybe I am. I’ve never had a real relationship, unless you consider the guys in my Marine Corps Recon unit. I had a great relationship with those guys. Yeah, yeah, I know we’re splitting hairs. These days, long after my retirement from active duty, the only kind of relationships I really do now are with fictional characters. I love to read, and in fact lately, I’ve been frequenting the pages of my favorite blog, Bestreads, to escape my real-life job, one I’m not very well suited for. One reviewer on there—Nightcrawler—absolutely slays me. He always makes me laugh, steering me clear of some of the worst trash out there when I’m not trying to earn money as a bounty hunter. Maybe someday the right man will come along, and he won’t simply be a book boyfriend. Someday. Lately, I can’t get intrigued by any of the guys I’ve met in bars. Hookups are becoming less and less interesting for me. I’m a reader and of late, I’m also a half decent reviewer. I work exclusively for a blog called Bestreads, working under the name of Nightcrawler and I’m not ashamed to admit, I try to make them funny. In my line of work as a recovery agent for a big insurance company, I’m finding my off hours much more pleasurable. I think about my next review and my next blog post all the time. Whenever I put up a funny two-star review, I dream of the guy who might be at home reading it, but pretty sure the kind of man who reads me, is probably living in his mother’s basement. Still, I’m a romantic at heart. Someday I might just run into him in one of my stories. Someday.
International bestselling author Patricia Logan, resides in Los Angeles, California. The author of over 75 books and nearly 65 audios including several #1 bestselling gay romances, lives in a small house with a large family. She loves to write about male heroes and the men who love them. Found families are a particular theme throughout her books. She likes to think that she infuses a wide variety of life’s experiences in every book and please trust her when she says all her books come packed with emotion and unbridled humor.
When she’s not writing her next law enforcement mystery, her next paranormal, or her next BDSM romance, she’s watching her grandchildren grow up way too soon and raising kids who make her proud every day. One of her favorite tasks is coaxing nose kisses from cats who insist on flopping on her keyboard while she types. Married to a wonderful man for nearly 40 years, she counts herself lucky to be surrounded by people who love her and give her stories to tell every day.
Pick up your favorite Patricia Logan Book from Amazon
MM Romance | Part 2 of 2 | Second Chances | Irish Mafia | Family | Hurt/Comfort | Age Gap | Revenge When two broken hearts have reached their limits, it’s time for a mobster to play dirty in order to let the healing begin. Don’t worry, Alfie has a plan.
That very second, the moment West said those words…I almost shattered. Again. I’d put myself out there. I’d begged him for a second chance. I’d told him I’d give up everything for him and our kids—but he’d shot me down. And now, when I let him know that I was changing my last name back to O’Dwyer, he had the balls to say his name suited me better. He stood there in front of me, trying to act like his eyes weren’t burning with unshed tears, and admitted that he didn’t know how to let me go.
Not long after, I nearly broke into a million pieces again, when Dad called and said that Mom was in the hospital. That she’d been assaulted.
No words could describe the rage that flooded me, and I couldn’t hide it from West either.
He was about to find out just how far the Sons of Munster would go to avenge their own.
—————-
Alfie belongs in the Irish of Philly universe by Cara Dee. However, Alfie and West’s story has been written so it can be enjoyed to its full extent as a stand-alone.
Excerpt
West Scott
We automatically snuck around the corner of the house, where we’d have more privacy. If Trip came out, we’d hear him and have time to hide the evidence.
It wasn’t our first rodeo.
“Colby mentioned you look like shit lately.”
I frowned. “Pardon?”
“Not in those words. He said you’re tired.”
Well, thanks a lot.
I swallowed uncomfortably and pretended to find the hedges interesting. They needed trimming soon.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Fuck, not that question.
No, I wasn’t fucking okay, and it wasn’t okay that he looked to be okay.
The pressure on my chest increased, and I took a quick pull from the smoke.
“It’s been a lot at work before my vacation,” I said. That wasn’t too much of a lie.
“Oh, right. You’re off for five weeks now.” He exhaled some smoke. “Any plans?”
I shook my head and peered down at his wrist. I wanted to give him the watch.
Would he find me utterly insane? I had no real reason, aside from missing him. Missing the days we sometimes surprised each other with little gifts, missing the days he casually adjusted my tie for me, missing the days of closeness and intimacy.
I just plain missed him.
“Would, uh…” I cleared my throat. “Would you accept a gift from me?”
“Huh?” He looked over at me.
“Or is it too weird?” I wasn’t sure. “I saw something after a meeting in the city last week, and I—” I stopped short, my heart rate picking up, and I handed him my smoke. “I’ll be right back.”
I rounded the corner again and walked briskly toward the guest room’s terrace door. I’d left the box on the bed—
“Yeah, it’s kinda weird!” I heard Alfie holler.
Right, but it was too late now. I was committed. I needed his reaction to it, because a gift like that would evoke his unfiltered honesty. That was what I was after. My initial sentiment about the gift was genuine. I’d simply wanted him to have it. But now, I…I couldn’t cope without something changing the status quo, and I was too chickenshit to do it myself.
I’d brought this misery upon myself. I’d left his house. I’d set boundaries. Respectable boundaries, in my opinion. Boundaries my mind was set to keep, whereas my heart wanted to flush them down the toilet.
I grabbed the box on the bed and walked out again.
I was an idiot. More than that, I was selfish and disrespectful and downright heartless, because this would undoubtedly trigger anger too. Rightfully so. He’d view it as my toying with his emotions.
Deep down, what I really wanted was for him to save me from myself.
Alfie waited for me around the corner, and he extended the smoke to me.
“Here,” I said. “I saw it in a store, wanted you to have it, ordered it, and…so, here.”
He had suspicion and weariness written all over him as he accepted the box. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was. I hadn’t gift-wrapped it, so the brand was embossed on the surface, and—
“Vacheron…” He trailed off and shifted where he stood. “Are you fucking kidding me, West?” There was no heat to his question, only exhaustion.
I took a quick drag from the smoke, unable to speak.
“You don’t just see this kind of watch in a store,” he told me, lifting the lid. “You find it online and order it, usually for a CEO in the private sector who’s retiring after fifty years of making everyone rich.”
He trapped his smoke between his lips and picked up the leather pouch the watch came in, and he detached the strap.
“I did see it in a store,” I said. “In a catalogue picture they had on display.”
He rolled his eyes but said nothing.
I stubbed out my smoke and stashed it in the tailpiece of the drainpipe for later.
My nerves were officially shot, and if I spoke, emotional nonsense would fly out. I wasn’t much of a crier, but I’d reached my fucking limit for what I could handle. My stomach felt tight and unsettled, I couldn’t escape the pressure on my chest, and my eyes burned.
Alfie swallowed as he saw the watch, and without thinking, he dropped the smoke and put it out under his shoe.
Say something.
“No, you know what?” he said without looking away from the watch. “This is the kind of gift a wife gives a random cabana boy to piss off her cheating husband.”
His comment did something to the air around us, deflating it somehow, and it sucked the words out of me before I could think twice.
“That’s specific. But a cabana boy wouldn’t care about something so classy.”
“It’s probably the cheating husband’s favorite brand.” Alfie didn’t miss a beat, and he glanced up at me. “Who’re you tryna piss off, West?”
Wait, what?
“Nobody.” I frowned.
“Try again.” He pinned me with an intense stare I wasn’t sure I’d ever received before. “You don’t give someone a sixty-grand watch for nothin’. Are you fucking with me? I can think of one gift you’d give your ex-husband, and it’s a Father’s Day present from the kids.”
The fact that he was in the right ballpark of what that watch cost put me on edge for some reason. I hadn’t expected him to expose me to that degree, and it threw me off.
“Happy early Father’s Day, then,” I replied stiffly.
“Quite the fuckin’ upgrade from the perfectly acceptable mug you had them give me in June,” he snapped. “I guess I’ll tell them to choose something other than a tie for you next year? Maybe a yacht would be more appropriate? You have a birthday comin’ up too. You want a house in the Hamptons?”
I gnashed my teeth. “If it bothers you so much, I’ll return it—”
“Fuck no! You gave it to me—it’s mine.” As he spoke, irritated and ever so unpredictable, he removed his old watch. “It’s mine. Put it on me. Fuck me, it’s breathtaking—but you’re off your damn rocker, West. Tell me why you gave me this.”
Roll with the punches, roll with the punches, roll with the punches.
“I wanted you to have it.” I got to touch him again, even if it was only his wrist.
“Bullshit. We’ve been over this. Is this platinum?”
I had to take a calming breath and slow things down. When Alfie grew heated and started thinking out loud, it was too easy to get swept away by his ranty monologue.
“It is. And I did want you to have it,” I insisted. “But yes, I anticipated a signature Alfie Scott reaction to go with it.” I pretended to struggle with the double clasp of the watch, just so I could brush my fingertips over the ink around his wrists.
Since the first time I’d seen his inked body, I’d discovered numerous designs I wanted to ask him about. I’d spotted our children’s birthdates, of course. Ireland, Puerto Rico, and Italy were heavily represented in the artwork. But so was I, which meant he’d chosen to eternalize memories from our years together even when he’d been trying to recover from our divorce.
I remembered the restaurant I’d taken him to for our first date, and it couldn’t be a coincidence he had the street sign for that address inked right there on his arm.
“O’Dwyer,” he said quietly.
No.
I swallowed hard. That was a gut punch. Nausea crawled up my throat.
“You changed it back?” I finished fastening the watch and had to withdraw my hands.
He studied his watch and brushed his thumb over the crown. “Not yet, but it’s on my list for next week.”
Fuck.
“Scott suits you better.” I had absolutely no right to say that.
He chuckled and peered up at me with the biggest fuck-you smile I’d ever seen.
“If it wasn’t for this watch, this is where I woulda told you to go fuck yourself,” he said. “Don’t do this to me, West. Just don’t. It’s cruel.”
I knew it was, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit on earth.
I was desperate, though. I woke up broken, and I went to bed broken. I’d made a decision that made it impossible for us to get another chance, and yet that was all I wanted.
I had to clear my throat as more emotions threatened to surface, and I didn’t know how to be honest with him without losing my composure.
Fuck composure.
“I…I don’t know how to let you go,” I managed to get out. He immediately clenched his jaw and looked away. “I can’t even fake it anymore, Alfie. I can’t sleep, I have little to no appetite, and I—”
About Cara
I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.
There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.
I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
Getting a boner for the monster who saved us shouldn’t make sense in any universe. But here we are.
When a piece of Earth gets ripped into a monstrous new world, I barely have time to panic before I’m fighting for my life—and for Jamie’s. Terrafeara isn’t just dangerous; it’s a nightmare brought to life, where humans like us are hunted, enslaved, or worse.
Then there’s Solan. A beast of a warrior with horns I want to ride, fangs I want to lick, and a body built for war—and for wrecking me. He swears he’ll protect me, but his idea of protection comes with possessive touches, growled promises, and a claim I’m not sure I can resist.
But I don’t have time for this. I have a kid to keep safe. And with monsters, mercenaries, and power-hungry rulers after us, staying alive is hard enough. The only way to survive is to trust Solan, trust the rebels, and trust this connection between us that’s stronger than fear.
Because in a world designed to break us, maybe love is the sharpest weapon of all.
Charlie lives in England with her husband and two cheeky dogs. She spends most of her days wrangling other people’s words in her day job and then trying to force her own onto the page in the evening.
She loves cute stories with a healthy dollop of fluff, plenty of delicious sex, and happily ever afters — because the world needs more of them.
Charlie has very little spare time, but what she does have she fills with baking, Dungeons and Dragons, reading and many other nerdy pursuits. She also thinks that everyone should have at least one favourite dinosaur…
Wanted: A Way To Control My Jealousy So I Don’t Get Sin-Binned
When my best friend goes on a date with a mutual acquaintance, I’m supposed to be happy for him, not so angry I want to start screaming.
Devon and I have been close ever since we were children, but I’ve never been possessive of him. Until now.
Seeing him with another man makes me want him in ways I’d never imagined wanting anyone before, and now all I can think about is having him in my arms. My jealousy is starting to get the better of me, both on and off the rugby pitch, and I can’t stop losing control. And Devon has noticed.
Maybe it’s time I come clean and tell him just how much I want him.
Release Date: February 12, 2025 Cover Design: Story Styling Cover Designs Genre: M/M College Romance Standalone Novella Trope: Opposites attract, you’re mine
Synopsis
DASH
Archibald Levine the third is a pain in my ass. Rich, cocky and the closest thing to a prince that our school has.
I hate everything about his entitled attitude and the stupid Kappa crown he wears.
I also hate the gigantic crush I have on the guy.
One night, backed up by the courage of tequila, my mouth gets away from me and I offer him the one thing he can’t stop thinking about.
Me.
On my knees.
Because Archibald Levine also has a secret, and one kiss between us seals his fate.
The fling between us can never go anywhere, not with his powerful and homophobic father, but we don’t let it stop us from indulging at every opportunity that we get.
I also don’t let it stop me from falling stupidly in love with the guy.
He’s always made it clear he can never come out and I know we’re destined for destruction.
After all, happily ever after doesn’t exist between a prince and a scoundrel.
Fated Mates 
Kelli Maree PA 