The Beasts of Saint Nell: An Excerpt

Kenny

I didn’t think much was gonna come from this year’s growth. Not with them skunks and demonic hoppers fucking with my garden. I assumed the worst, but thank the River Gods I was wrong. Digging up another perfect hillberry, my heart swelled. Folks loved Bilo’s berry pies, and that Hill Time special was one of our best sellers.
After loading another basket, I scooted on over and surveyed my beans. They were perfect for picking. I snatched them too. It’d be another week or so for squash, but them peppers were ready.
With gloved hands, I gently twisted, plucked, and pulled. Halfway through harvesting my yams, a howl echoed into the night. It came from the woods, beyond the clearing. On a slow rise, I watched the treeline sway in the early autumn breeze.
A second desperate wail startled me into motion. Not giving it much thought, I vaulted over the fence and ran for it. The wounded beast was in need of assistance. Something in my gut said go, so I went. Wasn’t no time to backtrack the moment I crossed that line.
The Wallow Wood wasn’t for the faint of heart. A lot of foul shit went on out here. Hell, I was a somebody once who quite possibly dumped other somebodies in a marsh few miles west. Mere feet from the commotion, I lifted my nose and scented dogs.
Hellhounds. Two males. One Female.
The thought urged me forward. I cleared stumps and booked it. I wasn’t no youngin’ but a motha fucka still moved.
Spotting the group, I waved a glowing hand and tossed one of two hounds across the woods. The other got buck, released the female’s hind leg, and growled. Most hellhounds were male, which made females rare in these parts. Nine outta ten, they’d attack a lone female from any species.
They were tussling over this one and her pups, hiding in their pouch. I smelled them too.
As I rolled up my sleeves, the giant canine with its barbed tail, flaming eyes, and venomous bite charged.
Palms high, I blasted the beast with red, crackling energy. Both strikes stopped the dark devil dead and sent them flying into the nearest tree.
They sizzled and smoked on the way down, which meant the bastard wasn’t getting up. Hellhounds weren’t like domestics. They hated anything with a pulse and only answered to demons. Even field wolves and lycans feared them.
The female was a Drear Fox. Large, with a thick onyx coat, massive paws the size of my head, and gold stripes. She was a special sort and sturdy. Built to rumble and kill.
“What you doin’ all the way out here, girl?” I inched closer and crouched. Bleeding profusely, she was on guard. Head down, Mama was prepared to fight yet again. My respect for the shifter mounted. “You got heart, I give you that.”
She snapped and snarled, hackles raised. I surrendered, palms high. It was dark, but she had perfect night vision.
“I ain’t gon’ hurt y’all. As you can see, I got rid of your problem.”
The moment I extended a hand, she nearly took it. Molten gold eyes trained on me, she retreated.
“If you need help, I’m right across the way in that red house. Free room, hot water, and food.”
A master in her element, she’d become a shadow and blended well.. When able, I backtracked and took my ass back home. Five paces and I smiled, facing The Wallows. There she was, couple steps behind but wary.
“Smart, you got them babies to think about.” Lowering her head, the fox growled. “I know when to take a hint.”
With Mama on my tail, I made way towards the house and left the gate open. I didn’t pay her mind but made it clear I wanted to help.
After filling two bowls, one with water and the other with leftover beef pot roast, I set it on the back porch and closed the door.

Frankie

My hind leg screamed over my babies whimpering. They were scared and hungry as I was. We’d been traveling since dawn and running on fumes. Stopping wasn’t an option til we reached Saint Nell. We were close, I knew that much. If not for the hellhounds, I would’ve made it.
They scented me quick and wanted my hide.
The babes wiggled in their pouch, making me slump. Eloise was the first to slip free, my curious girl. She bounded for the bowl of meat and attacked it. I lagged and felt bad for not sniffing the helpings first. The man mighta poisoned it, I didn’t know. Perhaps he’d like himself a new fur.
I gruffed and nudged Eloise with my snout. She growled and snapped at my nose. I forced her back and examined the helpings. Fatty beef, butter, herbs, and wine. It smelled delicious and arsenic-free.
When satisfied, I allowed Ellie to eat her fill and sat on my haunches, avoiding the bad leg. With little miss chomping, Earnest watched and waited. He was more cautious and observant. After Eloise yapped at him, Earnest crawled from the pouch.
As my babes filled their tiny bellies, I remained on lookout. The pain had spoiled my appetite and need for nourishment. Though if I didn’t eat soon, my children wouldn’t have much milk to calm them. At nine months, they were still on the breast and fed three times a day, but my supply was dwindling. We were down to an ounce a day and that wasn’t good for their shifter needs.
Hunger, thirst, and agony caused me to pant. Though apprehensive, I joined my children anyway.
That first drink of fresh water was heaven-sent. Without the rains, we’d have died due to dehydration. Every beast and shifter knew marsh water was toxic, unsafe.
Rot and waste had become a sediment. Bodies were dropped and left to decompose. The stench was unbearable and indescribable.
The bit of beef left was marbled with fat and iron. I savored each nibble and instantly wanted more. My kids had polished off most of it, which was fine, but I was ravenous for another helping.
The last thing I wanted to do was scratch and paw at this unknown magic man’s door. He was a stranger, and I didn’t trust anyone at the moment, but he had come to our aid.
He killed them hounds without hesitation and offered us shelter. I snuffled and limped on over to the door.
My babies nipped at each other and pranced in the garden, Ellie stomping all on the cabbage. Before they made a mess, I snarled and yapped, calling them over. They hustled into their pouch. The added weight put pressure on my wound. The stabbing sensation damn near toppled me as I scratched at the back door.
At this point, I didn’t give a shit if he was a stranger.
We needed help and somewhere warm to rest for the night. Weary to the bone, I had no fight left and was prepared to beg. Using both paws, I raked at the paint and howled like any fox shifter. Shrill and loud, it got his attention.
The door swung open and I dropped my front paws, stepping back to assess. Smokestack Lightening and sweet tobacco escaped into the night as he stood, filling the doorway.
He was a giant, but I couldn’t find him intimidating, even as he peered down at me. Amusement glinted in his topaz stare.
“Too smart,” he drawled. “Get on in here.”
When he side-stepped, I crept forward, sniffing for danger. Rich spices, floral notes, and lush plant life delighted my senses. The oxygen within his home was clean, free of city stink. No groundwater or rat piss around here.
Not only did it smell nice, but the furnishings were fine. Dolled up and expensive. They’d put money into this house. Wood paneling and fluffy rugs said so.
I wanted to bathe before touching anything else. My paws were filthy, claws caked with dirt and blood. No doubt my coat was matted. Them fleas picked at my twitching ears something awful.
“I suppose you ain’t got no clothes or a toothbrush?”
In this form, I hadn’t the ability to speak but gruffed anyhow.
“It’s okay, we have extras.”
The magic man went about his business, and I followed, of course. Like a lost puppy dog. My leg protested with each and every step.
With his home being so spacious, it took too long to reach the spare room.
“Here you go.” Mister listed against the jamb and pulled from a slim cigar. On a rough exhale, he said, “Go ahead, I won’t bother you. There’s a lock on the door, by the way. Give you peace of mind. There might be a gown or two in that dresser. Toiletries and such are in the bathroom. If you want me to patch up that leg, I’ll be close by.”
He didn’t linger and shut the door. Ellie was the first to pop out and go sniffing about. She was adorable with a glossy red coat, white stripes, and ears dipped in ink. She was older by two minutes, which was why Earnest always let her lead.
As I lay on my good side, Ellie babbled in baby Drear fox fashion and forced her brother out. He peeked before waddling free.
They were joyful balls of excitement in a safe space. Children were resilient, bouncing and roughhousing like the world wasn’t crumbling around them.
If not for my leg and their dirty coats, I’d never shift down. No matter how helpful he was, I was terrified he’d hurt us. My fox form was larger, stronger than my fragile human body. My other half was easily bested, scarred, and misused.
It’d take nothing for a mammoth like him to knock me out. Despite my worries, this leg wasn’t gon’ heal itself. Unlike most supernaturals, shifters didn’t have magical healing abilities.
On a sawing breath, I forced myself to stand on all fours. The pain had me seeing stars and spots. My babies ran circles around me as I focused on blooming.
Shifting was different for everyone. I thought of it as a night blooming jasmine awakening from its sunny slumber.
A icy chill flushed through my veins as I stammered on two feet. I caught myself before falling face-first.
“Yeah,” I rasped, working vocal cords for the first time in five days. “This hurts a lot worse now.”
The kids tussled and yipped, playing on a clean rug. “Y’all are making a mess.” Mud and bugs speckled the spotless fibers. “Get over here.” I snapped my fingers, and they bounded behind me. “He’s being nice enough to let us stay the night. We’re leaving at sunrise.”
Wobbling a few feet to the washroom turned into a ten-mile hike with my throbbing leg.
“Thank the gods.” The tub was deep, claw-footed, and matched the sea foam theme. “You two first. Let’s go.”
Ellie barked, catching an attitude.
“Baby, Mommy can’t chase you tonight. Please be good.”
Her ears flattened in defiance.
“Earnest?” He pawed at my shin and hopped. “My water baby.”
With the leg going numb, I rushed through our baths. Bubbles did it for Ellie. She wanted to play and swim with Earnest as the mound of white fluff grew. By the time I finished scrubbing the babies, I was too tired to wash my ass.
The thought of it made me cuss, but it’d have been rude not to. Plus, I couldn’t get in bed smelling like outside and must.
While the twins settled on the bed, I turned on the small clock radio. They loved jazz, and it often lulled them to sleep.
“My turn,” I whispered, pulling a pink gown from the drawer. It was too small and thinner than a dinner napkin. “You don’t have any other choice, Frankie.”
Shaking my head, I hobbled into the bathroom and vowed not to fall asleep in the tub.

This historical paranormal romance takes place in the fictional city of Saint Nell, Illinois, from 1958 to 1963. The setting is about two hours South of Chicago and where most supernatural call home.
Vampires, witches, and shifters live among humans, and not in secret. Their existence is well known and normal.
The Beasts of Saint Nell, is a story rooted in trust, justice, true love, and perhaps, redemption.
Come along with me as we explore these themes through the eyes of a reformed vampire gangster, a powerful shifter, and a hardy warlock.

Coming August 2026

Chapter 18: Of Teas & Curses

Buck

“Goddog,” Buck mumbled, missing the mesh bag by a whole hell of a lot. “Get off it, old man.” After the pep talk, he nabbed his pipe and puffed for a moment, glaring at a wooden box filled with bags. The festive months lifted his spirits, and typically, getting a head start on Chrismassy things made Buck happy. Of course, the women had ruined his favorite hobby. “Shiiiiiit.”
“What’s wrong, buttercup?” Totti asked, patting her ruffled skirt. “You love working on holiday specials.”
“I do, but it’s our house guest that’s got me in a tizzy. She’s working my last nerve, too.”
“He wants to fuck heeeeeeer,” Torti sang.
“I do. He ain’t lying. Thing is, she ain’t available.”
Totti shrugged and said, “Well, there’s other bees on the bud, honey. You know this.” The wee betty landed on the mushroom-shaped bowl of his pipe and placed hands on her narrow hips. “Y’all are mighty generous with your bed, never too picky either. Go find someone who is available.”
Buck canted his head, brows knitting. “But I don’t want nobody else right now. She’s my fancy at the moment, Totti. And you know how I get when someone grabs my attention.”
“True, but if she’s not into it, then you have no choice but to accept it.”
“You ain’t lying either.” Buck took to his pipe, and Totti pushed off, then flitted about. “I gotta respect her wishes, and I do, but she lost a bet.”
“What a fucked way to go about getting what you want,” Torti said, jumping into a pile of crackly mint leaves. “You’re an asshole.”
“And you a cunt.”
“Thank youuuuu, I love you too, Buckley.”
The mini man and miss wore the same attire at all times, preferring tunics and fluffy dresses. Because Nieema loved them more than most, she made their cute garments. Other sprites thought them weird for adopting “primitive fashion trends”. They were nudists by nature and didn’t see the point in covering their bodies.
Buck didn’t care, but not everyone shared their love of running ‘round the forest booty naked.
“She agreed to this bet,” Buck amended, setting his pipe on the table. “Jasper could’ve said no.”
“You could’ve not offered,” Torti said, grinning like Carl’s raggedy ass. The sprite ducked into the pile of leaves and popped up, tossing them in the air. “Ugggh, I love fresh mint. This shit clears my skin and guts.”
“I don’t need to hear ‘bout your guts, Torti. Please do shut the fuck up.”
“As much as I don’t want to agree with the village bitch,” Totti chimed, “I must say that was mischievous of you.”
“Would you look at that, I’m living up to Mama’s expectations.”
Torti and Totti spat in their palms and flapped their wings three times. “No, no. We shall not speak of her in our sanctuary. Don’t go there, buttercup.”
“Sorry,” Buck muttered.
He quieted and let nature speak for him. The homey treehouse was a living entity, groaning and shifting as Buck shuffled from shelf to shelf. He hummed and two-stepped as soft, deep lofi played from the small speaker on the kitchen counter. It was wedged between canisters, candles, and teacups.
The art of tea making soothed his spiraling thoughts. One-hundred sachets later, Buck yawned and scratched the base of his left antler.
“These ‘bouta shake loose. Another week or so.”
“Yaaaay!” Torti circled Buck and clapped in his line of sight. “You hear that, T? We’re getting new mattressessss.”
“That is lovely, mine is getting lumpy. I can barely sleep.”
Buck was all about resource and reuse. Nothing in nature goes to waste. Even the velvet on his antlers. It made for great bedding materials. The sprites loved how soft it was, and he didn’t need it after a time. Hank, on the other hand, hated how he gave it away for free… and to sprites of all people.
A repetitive tapping at the door made his mouth and ear twitch. “Come on in.” The visitor chirped and wobbled on through the revolving window pane made for avian and sprite folk alike.
“You late,” Buck snapped. The colorful bird didn’t pay him any mind, chasing Torti around the tree house. One day, they’d stop flirting and be done with it. Chessie was married but free to fuck. He was polyamorous; his husbands were not. Two men shared Chessie; they didn’t even live together. It wasn’t no shit Buck would volunteer for. Their polyam structure was completely different. They were on the same highway but in two different lanes.
Buck surveyed the spice wall and pulled a shimmering purple blend. Magical spices added a kick to his tea, and he thanked Maggie by giving her twenty percent of his earnings. Crystal powders carried magic well and were often safe to consume in small, measured doses.
“Chessie! Stop foolin about, now. I got shit to do.”
The twittering tropical sea bird trilled and flapped his wings until they were no longer visible to the naked eye. The frenetic motion helped the man shift. Watching his transformation was kinda like staring at the sun. Glaring and powerful, an impossible glowing orb evolved into Chessie Tideway.
He was a short, lanky gentleman with burnished brown skin and white freckles. His curly hair and eyes resembled the island waters in which he was born. Warm, shallow tides had been kind to him, giving his complexion a dewiness most paid for. The personable fellow had been his best friend for almost three hundred years.
“Woooo doggie, I tell you!” Chessie ambled on over to the icebox and grabbed them both a chilled longneck. He cracked them open with his sharp teeth and chucked tops into the bin. “Bruh, that house is a piece of shit. I mean, it’s ready for a nice wind.”
“I know it.” After sprinkling the powder over the basket of tea bags, he accepted the frothy, autumnal hops. Clove and Creme were his favorite. “Hawke gon’ catch his death one day behind his trickery.”
Chessie swigged and burped, sitting his bare ass down on the couch nearest to Torti. There wasn’t shit a sprite could do for him, at least nothing Buck could figure.
“So, what you find?” Buck asked.
“What didn’t I find? A charred wicker spider out back, your construction buddies milling about, writing shit down. Then, sometime after sunset, people start peeking into the house. You know that weird white lady who be giving vendors at the farmers market a hard time? Wushuname…uhuh—”
“Sissy Perkins.”
“That’s her, yeah. She was looking all in the window with some other folks. That didn’t seem odd to me until I noticed how all of them was wearing the same bracelets with scribbles on them. Prolly some cult shit.”
Buck snagged his pipe and added the magic powder, clove, Pixie Dash, and dried bubble flower to the bowl. He stuffed, struck a match, and puffed.
“What about the curse?”
“Ohhhhh,” Chessie tipped his beer and tapped Torti on his tiny head. The man screamed and bit the tip of Chessie’s finger. “Tell me you love me.”
Torti made a gagging sound, and his teeny body shuddered. “Even if I liked giants, you wouldn’t even make the top fifty on my To Be Fucked list.”
Buck leaned against the counter, arm under his elbow, holding the pipe to his lips. Smoking was another hobby, one to soothe and mellow. It softened the mind and body, allowing him to create in peace.
“The house got about five curses on it, I’d say. Residuals from the last done spoiled the soil and water. I took a sensor charm up in there, and that motha fucka turned red instantly. Ain’t nothing good ever happened in that house.”
Chessie scoffed and sprang to his feet, heading for the icebox a second time. He threw away the empty bottle, plucked another, and some fruit.
“Back in the day, a warlock lived there. They ran his unhinged ass outta town, but still, don’t nobody know what he did in there. For a while, the mayor wouldn’t let citizens anywhere near it. If I was Ms. Marrow, I’d bulldoze the whole thing, start fresh, and ward the grounds.”
Buck grunted at the thought of all that work. It’d be hell, but quite possibly worth it. Jasper’s safety was important, for whatever reason he’d yet to scrutinize, but refused to ignore what he felt when in her company.

Neon Red: Chapter One

“Okay, but caffeine is a controlled substance at this point, teetering on the edge. Let’s be for real. It should be just as, if not harder to get, ‘cause it’s strong as hell, I ain’t lying now, and you know this chile.”
Max stared at the sketch she’d been working on for two days and hated it. She hated a lot of her work. It was never bright enough, perfect enough, or even slightly artistic. At least, in her humble opinion.
“I love it when you talk like a grandma.”
Max smiled and put pencil to paper once more. It was tough to concentrate on the mermaid slash steampunk piece with Can’t Stop by After 7 blasting.
“That’s ‘cause I am, a grandma, Ndari.”
“No the hell you are not.” She chuckled and said, “You’d have to be a grandmother for that. And you don’t even have kids.”
“Annnnd I never will,” Max sang, meaning every word. Kids were a scary, sticky fingered bunch, plus the idea of growing another body inside of her own was revolting. She shivered, blew a huge Bubblicious sphere, popped it, and examined the girl’s face etched on white parchment.
“She looks like Gary Busey.”
“You always think they look like Gary Busey.”
“’Cause they do, bruh. Like, swear to god. Look!” Spinning the heavy book around on the glass counter, she shoved it at Ndari. The girl stopped with her broom work and glanced at the buxom mermaid.
“Nothing like him.”
“Lyin’ ass,” Max muttered.
Ndari giggled and returned to sweeping the two- hundred-square-foot waiting area. A high-gloss black floor meant everything was visible, and Ndari never missed a speck. Little miss was a bona fide neat freak. She peeped allllll dust, dirt, and debris.
The girl swept about twenty times a night, and the entire shop smelled like Lysol. Which, was actually a good thing considering their specialty.
Snagging her three-hundred-page drawing book, Max got back to business and shaded in her tail. The fins were adorned with bolts and wires. She loved mermaids, sirens, and the ocean. The mermaid thing was borderline obsessive.
“I have no appointments!”
“And here he goes…”
Max slammed her book closed, threw the pencil, and watched as Jordan stomped from the back and fell onto a fancy sectional.
“And whose fault is that?” Ndari barked.
His enormous frame filled a five-seater without issue. The six-foot-eight, two hundred and ninety-pound mountains Doc Martens stretched well past the arm.
“Shut up bitch, I am boooored, okay,” Jordan cried, while Max cocked a brow.
“Seeing as it’s June 3rd,” Max said, “you are ‘bouta be crying in two weeks. ‘Cause our shop will be booked to hell. So look here heffa, don’t come hooping and hollering now. Take this time, ‘cause yo lazy behind will be the first one moaning about how you’re tired and overworked.”
The man bolted upright and gasped, full on drama with a hand on his broad chest. “Why do you have to drag me like that, honey?”
“’Cause I love you,” Max chimed.
Jordan blushed and waved a hand. “And I love you, boss lady.”
“Move!” Ndari yelled, shoving at his foot with the broom.
“You know what? You can stop yelling at me, Cinderella.”
They both giggled while Jordan lifted his feet. Big mister had a voice like Barry White, a beard he kept braided Thor style, and perfectly tailored. Folks often assumed he was in a biker gang or a motorcycle club, whatever they was calling it these days.
“Can we play something newer?” Ndari groaned as she sprayed large, spotless windows with stank glass cleaner. “Like, Nsync.”
“Nsync?!” Max balked, recoiling at the audacity. “You know better Ndari, this ain’t an Nsync safe zone. It’s New Kids on the Block, or Backstreet Boys. Mint Condition and shit. Nsync is not welcome, and that ain’t news. You showing your age, now.”
Ndari cackled as she swiped and polished. “I am only forty-nine.”
“Girl, we got cougars up in here.”
Max ignored Jordan and his eighty-two-year-old ass. Pointing at her best friend, Max snorted. “Honey, forty-nine is edging fifty; you are almost a senior citizen.”
“Shhhh, don’t.” Ndari snickered and threw a paper towel across the room. It landed on the floor, she ran for the thing, and snatched it quick. “If any of you drop even a crumb my floor, you’ll have to see me in a duel.”
Of course, there was a clatter of metal on granite. Jordan emptied his pockets. He threw a handful of change and mints at the girl’s feet. Ndari screamed, jumped on his dumb self, and put him in a choke hold. She’d taken four years of Jujitsu and was not to be trifled with. Jordan, on the other hand, ain’t never been in a fight.
Standing behind the counter, Max booted the POS and clicked until finding their ordering database. She checked what was low and restocked, two of everything.
“Incoming!” Jordan shouted and hopped to it. Ndari went with him and hung from his neck like a pendant. “I’m ready! Move girl. I need to make some money.”
“Yes, you do.” Max peered through tinted double panes as two men approached in a hurry. They looked stacked from afar. “Damn.”
Ndari dropped the broom and ran behind the counter. She tended to her job, as a receptionist. Max slid in and leaned beside the woman who readied her tits and fluffed a cute pixie cut. It shooolll was a setup.
Heavy spice and blood wafted at the exact moment two fine men entered her tattoo shop. Ohhhh, yeah, those two would turn a girl out and into something nasty.
“Hay, you takin’ walk-ins?” The brunette asked, in a Goodfellas accent.
Ndari nodded. “Indeed, you lucked out. We don’t close ‘til four.”
The testosterone-heavy boys admired their high wall covered in art and drawings Max personally sketched. People liked her shit… ‘shit’ being the main word there.
“Cool, ‘cause we stopped on South Beach, at The Tatt-”
Max snapped her fingers, cutting off the insult. “We don’t say that name around here.” She smiled, showed and teeth ‘cause them was vampires staring at her.
“Oh, my fault.” That one was naughty as eyes found both sets of cleavage. Sex sells, okay. They’d booked so many clients after a glimpse of tiddie meat. “Anyway, they were closed, so we asked around. We were told, Ink In Hell was the next best thing.”
“I should turn you away for that, Paulie.” Max tsked playfully as the big ol’ hunk of muscle smirked. Those baby blues sparkled as she swung attention to his buddy. A spicy red he was. Taller too, six-five, maybe six. Wide, thick, and tatttted.
She clocked a couple of clovers weaved into ornate markings on his forearms. He was obviously Irish. As if his brazen, long mane wasn’t enough evidence.
Red nudged Gotti and whispered in his ear. They cracked in heavy masculine laughter. “Alright, alright. I don’t know what I want. Fuck outta he’.”
Jesus, he was a bold cliché.
“So, what do you two have in mind?” Ndari asked, in her ‘tryna fuck’ voice. “We have plenty of options.”
“I don’t know.” The Italian Job shrugged and went on. “I never even had a tattoo before. I’m old school, body is a temple, and all that. You know. I was raised Catholic. My Gma is gonna have a stroke if she finds out.”
Big Red turned and pinned eyes on Max. She wiggled a little. He was fine. Like, handsome in the extreme. A full-grown ass male like that was not going to bark up her tree.
Then he spoke.
“I’m hoping to pop his ink cherry.” Sex, his voice was a lengthy four rounds of deep and sweaty.
Max laughed and slapped the counter. “’Nough said, come here, church boy.” She gestured for their company and snagged another full sketchbook. Good lawd, they smelled nice. Cologne, aftershave, weed, and soap…male vampire. The latter got her carpet wet, honey.
“Okay, so you’re Catholic and Italian.”
“How’d you know, I—”
“Lucky guess, it’s your sense of humor.”
He grinned and tapped his buddy’s chest. “Look at this youngsta here. She got a mouth, don’t she?”
“I am ninety-eight years old, Frankie.”
“Aye, Frankie is my cousin, I’m Ines.”
Her brows popped. “Wow, not what I assumed at all.”
“Yeah,” Ndari hummed, considering Ines. “Thought you more of a… Giraldo, maybe.”
“That’s terrible, I’d slit my own jugular.”
Their quad chuckled as Jordan appeared and cleared his throat. “I’m ready when… ever. Hi…” He waved at Ines and…
“What about you? What’s your handle?” Max asked the handsome fellow. He dragged a low-lidded gaze over and smirked. Like a nasty Sphinx.
“Jaxon.”
“Ohhhh, kaaaayyy.” Jordan chimed in from behind and did everything to shove his big ass between them. Max brushed the wall and giggled. “That’s rustic and rugged.”
“I think it’s classy, my mom has good taste.”
“She does.” Jordan nodded and twiddled his braid.
“Okay, back to you, Ines.” Max pushed at her cock blocker… that was funny. No way in hell. “You’re Italian, catholic, and have a grandmother. So, I’d say, medium-sized, and nothing too flashy.”
“Yeah, yeah, exactly.”
Max chewed quickly and blew a bubble. She flipped plastic pages with vamp speed and stopped on an Italian flag number. The words, ‘Chaoi bella’ in cursive, were etched under it.
“Dai nemici mi guardo io, dagli amici mi guardi Iddio! I will protect myself from my enemies, may God protect me, from my friends.”
Max recited the words, and Ines tapped Jaxon again.
“You know Italian?”
“I do.”
“Il tuo un breve asno intelligente.”
“You are right on both accounts, I am short, and I am a smart ass.” Max shrugged and sighed. “Thanks for noticing.”
Another bubble emerged and exploded while he cackled.
“I like it, I wanna get that one. My Gma will approve, and it’s not so big.”
“Perfect,” Ndari said. She started the formalities of payment and such. “Have you fed within eight hours?”
“No.”
“Okay, great.”
“Alllrighty.” Jordan had to say something. “When you are done, Ndari will bring you into my office.”
The male spun on his heels, happy as hell. And so was Max, this guy was their third customer of the night. Summer was a pain in the ass. They had roughly five hours to work with, and humans weren’t allowed…sort of, so they were short on time.
Max watched them exchange money for services, and hot damn. They were a duo made for GQ or Vogue. Ines had a rough quality, handsome and dark, tanned. His other half was pretty, runway-ready, and fuckin’ seductive.
Being escorted, neither took a second look, and yeah… story of her life. Males like that never gave Max the time of day.
Ndari shuffled back in her Crocs and met Max face to face. “I am sweating… everywhere.”
“Shhhhh.” Max grabbed the girl’s hand, her vape, and ran out the door. They giggled into the night and flopped down at one of the small bistro tables. “I cannnot,” She blurted. “Honey, I—two?”
As Max turned on her pen, Ndari squealed. “Two purebloods at once. My god, did you see Ines and those shoulders? I swoon.”
“Okay, but that ginger boy?”
“Makes you think, does everything match the drapes. You should shoot.”
Max chuckled, expelling a light mist of smoke. “I know you fukin’ lyin’. Big boys like him do not fool with women like me, a lowly halfbreed. I know my lane, ‘aight. And I stay in it.”
Her best friend knew nothing about living as a six, seven on a good night. Ndari was fabulous, a classic beauty queen from Indonesia. Lithe and athletic. By no means did Max hate herself, but she preferred to call a spade, a spade.
“Not this again,” Ndari mumbled. “You’re always so humble… and self-deprecating.”
“I am not self-deprecating.” Max paused to suck down cherry-scented smoke and spoke on exhale. “I’m a realist, I ain’t ‘bouta set myself up for humiliation.”
She wasn’t no dummy and wouldn’t play the town fool either.
“Tuhuh, not I. Aye, did you see how high he was?”
“Yeesss.” Ndari slouched in her chair. “Mr. Jaxon was baked. Flying.”
“Must be nice. Weed makes me nervous.” Hitting the pen one mo’ gain, Max nodded. “Give me a bottle of brandy, and I’m straight.”
“Old ass. You sound like my aunt.”
“I am an auntie, hell. Got on cotton briefs to prove it.”
Her girl cut up, and they cackled at the self-burning. But hey, at least she wasn’t delusional about her geriatric status.

Annnd we made it to publishing day! I know it’s late, but I didn’t give a set time for a reason, because I know me. Also, I wanna let y’all know that this almost didn’t happen. I almost made a post stating how I was too sick to edit it. But you know what? I pushed through this flu I got. It’s bad y’all. About six days of hellll on earth, you hear me? Anyway, I said fuck it. No excuses. So I got my lap desk and did what needed to be done. I figured I’d have days to do all this, but I was extremely unwell there for a spell and couldn’t even sit upright. I am now on the mend and felt good enough to get it done FOR Y’ALL. I set a date and I wanted to stick to that. I wanted to prove it to myself that I could do it, no matter what. I’m proud of myself and I’m excited that y’all get meet the Chaotic Trio, as I have called them for a few years. With that said, happy reading, and as always, thank you so very much for stopping by!

To Live and Die: An Authors Take

What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?

I write Paranormal Romance for a living and vampires are my specialty. Because of this, I tend to think about immortality more than anyone should. The idea of living an extremely long life, scares me. Beyond technological wonders and scientific discoveries, what else is there? War? Civil unrest? Cataclysmic events? Famine?
I know this shit sounds dreary, but it’s worth thinking about. Living a long life sounds cool and fun until they tell you, ‘guess what? The suns got about thirty days left’. Or, any and all fresh water sources have been compromised. Orrrrrr. Fucking hell, CORDYCEPS!!!! (They are real btw) I tumbled and fell headfirst down a rabbit hole and now I’m scared of something else. Thanks Last of Us! I thought that shit was FAKE!
Anyway, to answer simply, no, I don’t think I’d like to live for 200+ years. The world is too fucked up and Mother Nature is dying.
No thanks!

Neon Red (A Dark MMF Paranormal Romance): An Excerpt

Jaxon Aubrey

After a final hit, he pinched the glowing cherry and stashed the blunt behind his ear. AB then snatched his shirt tails free, unbuttoned, and let the tank work some heavy overtime.
Emerging from the vehicle, he noted a blonde out front who stiffened by the very sight of him.
“Sup?”
She smiled. “Hellooo.”
The tattoo shop was packed with vampires, no doubt. Miss Mini Skirt looked like an employee. Music was loud as he entered goth heaven. Black on black. Everything, save for the counter space and white desktop.
“Oh wow, you’re back…uhhh…” The tall brunette with a short cut squinted. “Jaxon?”
“Nice memory.”
She smirked and nodded. “Come for one yourself this time?”
“Nah, nah. I was wondering if the other,” he lifted a hand to his torso, and she snickered, “short one, is around.”
“Yeah, actually. She’s in the back, getting her stuff.” Pixie Cut turned, then looked back at him. “We’re about to close up.”
“I feel you. I’ll wait.”
The person on his radar returned from wherever she had been.
Ample hips and thighs made him stare. God damn her! Ab thought.
He didn’t know what she was looking for in that bag, but hopefully it was her number.
“Ndari, baby, have you seen my phone?”
“In the POS.”
“Shit, right.” She halted and glanced at her buddy. He couldn’t tell for sure, behind the dark frames. She had Sunglasses At Night fetish, obviously. “Look who it is, Ginger Snaps. I’d love to offer a session, but we are done for the night.”
She marched forward, and he observed a slight limp.
Rummaging through the register, she snorted. “You know wh—giiiiirrl, I don’t remember putting it in there.”
Scatterbrained…unattractive.
Slamming it shut, she said, “So anyway, feel free to make an appointment, Lucky—”
“I fucking dare you to finish that sentence. My Mama doesn’t even call me Lucky Charms.”
Eyes darted as the blonde sashayed behind the counter, and the tall one shook her head.
But Shorty recoiled and said, “You, are a customer in my establishment, and I can refuse service at any time, Irish Cream. I will tase yo big ass. I got one in my purse. You should find someone safe to play with.”
Unclear on how to respond, AB laughed. Her Napoleon complex was strong as fuck.
“Damn, I didn’t come to get tased shit. All I wanted was your number.”
She made an odd croaking sound, looked at her employee, then dove into her purse again. “Why you want my number?”
“So I can text you. Or FaceTime.”
“Fuck FaceTime, I hate Apple.” She paused with the digging and lifted her gaze. “You wanna call me?”
“If that’s okay, I guess. Or not.”
“I—” She sought her girls’ approval, shrugged, and giggled. Ah, insecure. Strike two. She was racking them up quick, but Miss Ma’am didn’t have a thigh gap, and that was his weakness.
Smash and dash. Lick and flip, etc.
“You know what?”
A rude as hell male with no sense of personal space leaned on the counter and smiled at Shorty.
“Wus good, baby. You ready?”
“Yeah, yeah. Uhm…”
“Ohhh, you have a boyfriend.” AB sniffed and threw up his hands. “My fault, you coulda just said that.”
“He’s not, my boyfriend.”
“I ain’t,” the guy blurted, eyes tracing AB’s frame line by line. “You tryna holla, feel free. Let me mind my business, over here.”
He slid to the sitting area, and Jaxon looked back at his current fixation. “Like I was saying, name and number.”
“I think I’ll pass. Oh shit, my Monster.” She scoffed. “I’ll be right back.”
As the female scurried away after rejecting him like a trick, AB admired the wagon.
“Damn, bruh, she curved you quick.”
“You are all up in my space.”
The weird male had crept in beside AB for a second time.
“You don’t own me or the shop.” He chuckled. “The fuck.”
“If y’all aren’t together, what’s the problem?”
The rude gent smiled and checked him yet again. AB snarled. “You got one more time, halfbreed.”
“Aye, bruh, relax. I was just looking, and she ain’t gon’ let you hit…” Licking his lips, the male met AB in the eyes. “But, if it’s back shots you want, I can ease that pain, you feel me.”
Jaxon side-stepped and recoiled. “I’m sorry?”
“Damn, thought I got one. You old as shit, from the smell of it. I assumed—”
“It’s your lack of tact that has me floored, not you making a pass.”
“I didn’t hit on you, Red. I asked if you wanted to cut. Different shit.”
“Okay, I’m ready.” The woman AB had come for briefly considered him, then the other male, who cackled and pushed off the glass.
“Let’s go, baby, we gotta buss some corners before sunrise.”
As she came around, AB stared her down.
Blushing and grinning were good signs.
“So you’re gonna give me nothing?” he asked, as her friend exited. “No. N.O., damn. I know you heard me the first time. Bye, girls, be sure to lock up. You have ten minutes, Jack… or whatever your name is. Shit or get off the pot.”
Her ass and attitude left. With it, Jaxon’s patience. Humiliation and rejection were uncomfortable. It happened, but maybe three times in his whole life. And yes, she would come to regret this. For now, he’d find a willing soul who’d crawl through shards and salt to suck his dick.

Chapter 17: Blushing and Brews

Nieema

Mead, bards, and a lovely maiden by the name of Junis. This moment mimicked theirs. It was strange to witness, and Nieema sat in awe. Four hundred years prior, she’d met a mischievous dark fairy boy in a tavern much like Mio’s. They had talked for hours about nothing, and everything then shared a bed with Junis, of course.
Nieema hadn’t believed in love at first sight. She’d never been one to dream of white dresses and children.
It wasn’t for her…until he laughed at a silly joke. The beautiful dishwasher with his black pine hair and sun-soaked sepia skin warmed her from the inside. But Nieema was off to war. She’d come in, broody and anxious, set to drown her sorrows in honey wine. He, changed her plans with a single quip. Though it’d be some years, centuries before she’d see him again, Nieema knew then she’d marry a humble dishwasher.
Buck had left Jasper stunned as well. His quick tongue and devilish smile had yanked her right on up. Nieema was sure she shared the same slack-jawed expression after Buck had kissed her that first night.
Jasper was cooked, done for, and she didn’t even know it.
“You, punched Trevor Voaremont?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t approve,” Nieema added as the fries arrived. “Thank you, baby. Hol’ on, Irene. Can you get Auntie a glass of ice? You know, the chunky kind.”
“You and that damn I…”
Irene rolled eyes and went to handle another table before fetching that ice. Nieema pinched a fry and dipped it in the cheese, then the ranch.
“Nasty,” Jasper muttered. “Pick one.”
“Before you knock it, why don’t you try it.“
“No thank you,” Jasper snipped. She grabbed a few fries and ate them dry like a god damn heathen. “Salt and pepper is all I need.”
“Classless.”
“Buckley Sunside, I told you—“
“You said not to cause a mess, I didn’t. But I had to do something, Nimmy. Shit. He was two seconds from walking up on y’all.”
Jasper coughed until her face purpled. Nieema shoved a glass of water at the woman.
“Drink it and calm down, dear.”
The succubus did as Nieema asked and ate a couple more fries. The unsavory situation was ‘bout to ruin Nieema’s appetite yet again. She nibbled, and with each deliberate chew, she ruminated. Stewing, really. This motha fucka would catch his death creeping about Indigo Plains like the slithering piece of shit he was.
“So, that’s when you punched him?”
Buck gave a curt nod and sipped his brew.
Nieema thought Jasper might swoon on the spot with how she smiled.
“Wow. He is watching me then.”
“I told you he was. Buuuut, it’s like I said, you’re safe. I won’t let him come near you.”
Jasper sprinkled too much salt on the second batch of fries and cleared her throat. “I wish I wasn’t so scared of this asshole. He’s a feeble human with twenty-twenty-five good years left. Some demons might call me a coward and snatch my rank.”
Nieema recoiled and scoffed. “Rank?”
“As in…” Buck was surprised as Nieema. “You was in the military?”
“No. I escaped before my boots hit the ground. No way in Undervell or any other hell would I be forced to fight in a war that started before I was even born. My father makes certain his children serve the Undervell cause. From birth, we are taught to fight, to defend our house.
“Kit, is an ass kisser. He’s older than me and wouldn’t dare defy Carriont. Me? Shiiiit. I ran. Fuck no. Not me. I’ll make my own way.”
Buck chuckled and dipped his fries in the cheese while Nieema crunched on ice. She worked on two mouthfuls and observed.
“So, you know how to box?” Nieema asked.
“I can do more than that, but I refuse. It means leaning into my father’s teachings. Being who he wanted me to be. I avoid confrontation at all costs. Someone will die fucking with me, and I’d rather not take a life. It’s bad business.”
“Indeed,” Nieema replied.
As an ex-general, she understood. After serving the rebellion for many moons, Nieema never wanted her kids or grandchildren anywhere near the battle line. War was brutal and changed people. The damage was irreparable. Though she’d left the trenches well over fifty years ago, nightmares still slipped through the cracks, threatening to do her in.
Jasper evaded eye contact because she was a proud woman. Nieema respected it and her aversion to pity. Buck’s declaration touched her somewhere beneath skin and bone. As an old vampire, Nieema possessed the innate ability to read people. From the hop of their pulse, to the rapid beating heart, and overworked lungs. Jasper was a well of knowledge as she swallowed and blinked, feigning nonchalance and swagger.
“Not too many have come to my defense without wanting something in return. My older sister and Kit aside, no one has cared enough. This isn’t an opening to talk about feelings and shit, but thank you. I’ve seen the worst of things living in Undervell. I’m not spooked easily, but Trevor and this last year…”
Jasper chuckled and stuffed fries between her curved fangs.
“I don’t find this amusing,” Nieema intoned. “Why make light of it?”
“You had to have live through it to understand.”
Silence stretched until Irene slammed a glass on the table. Nieema beamed up at her niece. “Thank you, baby, can—”
“Auntie, I got ten tables. This is not your house.”
“I am your queen,”
Irene laughed and flapped a hand. “Your food’s coming out soon. I don’t got time.”
“Go’on, baby. But fix your damn face. Always frowning.”
The little girl snickered and winked at Jasper. Nieema snapped fingers and grunted. “Unuh, not over here.”
She departed with a swirl and deliberate step.
“What about your parents?” Buck asked, choosing the wrong subject. Nieema did not want to talk about that shit. “Where are they? You mentioned kingdoms and whatnot. Where’s your mother?”
“He’s very nosy,” Jasper looked to Nieema and cocked a brow.
“This ain’t nothing.”
“My mother? I don’t know where she is. Somewhere in the five kingdoms. I have no idea. She didn’t bond well with my father and wanted nothing to do with me because of it.”
Nieema sucked teeth and glared at her husband. Why did he have to go there? He never knew when to shut right the fuck up. And now, he glowered at a basket of fries. No doubt the parallels in their story made an impact. Nieema unbuttoned her suit jacket and sighed.
Her old man’s craggy wound throbbed within her own chest. She rubbed the ache, and he patted her thigh.
“It’s okay, beloved. I’m good.”
“Bullshit,” Jasper spat. “You fell into an ocean of sorrow just now. Your empathy almost strangled me. What—never mind. It’s not my business.”
Nieema didn’t approve of her attitude. Jasper closed up shop and threw them mental bolts. Her false aloofness and fight would do little in this situation. It was futile. Something in the blood and body.
Simmering in her soul beckoned them. Not just Nieema or Buck, but both. As one. They felt its caress. The familiar magnetism and pull piqued more than curiosity.
This was worth patience.
Nieema would wait for the demon. In the end, Jasper would be a woman possessed, writhing and pleading like the rest.
“So, what? Is this an open marriage or…”
“That’s more like it,” Buck said, smiling like a damn fool. “Yes, open and seeking a third.”
“For what?” Jasper asked, going in for more fries. “Fun, pleasure, a good time, one night?”
Nieema attacked her second glass of ice and let Buck hold the floor because if she spoke.
“Whatever is necessary in the moment. We take all with open arms and legs. We’re happily married and mated, but we ain’t monogamous. Never have been. It was clear from the moment we met.”
“Why aren’t you satisfied with each other?”
“Ha!” Nieema slammed her glass and crunched before speaking. “Listen here, deary. It’s not about satisfaction or happiness, though. It’s about living and leaning into our sexuality. We love and welcome any and all genders. I love exploring new bodies, new blood, and giving pleasure to those seeking it.
“Make no mistake, I love my husband with every fiber of my being, but we have desires as individuals. I love women too damn much, and he is an unapologetic tea bagger. If this man don’t suck dick in the next three months, he’ll get tetchy.”
“Silicone is coo’ and everything, ya know? But I like how my hands look choking a chubby six-incher with ridges. Slap it on my tongue, play with it.” Buck swigged his beer, burped, and said, “Plus, I like to swal—”
“Okay!” Jasper waved hands and snatched her water as their plates arrived. “Thank god. Holy shit.”
“Coming in hot,” Irene said, delivering their meal. “Extra spicy twenty-piece for my best freeen.” She winked at Jasper again.
“Thank you so much, this looks and smells divine.”
The saucy succubus lingered on the last bit and matched Irene’s flirtatious smile.
“Unc, here’s your short ribs. And here, Auntie, I want fifty percent gratuity.”
“You lost ya damn mind, chile.”
“Fifty!”
“Can you get Uncle a little extra cheese? Thank you sweet pea. Imma double that tip.”
Irene rolled her eyes before departing like an angry, bored teenager.
“Awww, Auntie love herrrr.” Nieema nodded and watched her grown niece tend to patrons with glee. “She so sweet. Irene is the youngest. So she spoiled, you know. My brother can’t tell her no. He didn’t even want her to work. Lil. Princess.”
“The way you soften when gushing about your family is adorable.”
Nieema dropped her smile and picked up her fork. “Family means everything to me. Everything I do is for them.”
“I can see that.”
Jasper went for her wings, and Nieema dragged a crusty wedge of sourdough through braised marrow. It was gelatinous, grainy, and fabulous. If not the patties, then marrow was her go-to. When Buck’s short ribs arrived, they cut the long chatter and focused on their meal.
Per usual, Milo put his whole god damn foot up in the bone marrow and seasoned the hell out of his famous fried cabbage. Fat back bacon and hot sauce elevated every bite. Nieema didn’t need solids, starch or carbs, but she wasn’t about to turn them down. Why should she deny herself this moment of bliss? Granted, she couldn’t eat a lot, but she ate enough.
Fat and sugar in the blood gave her ample hips, luscious thighs, and a belly Buck loved more than her tiddies.
“I tell you what,” Buck said, rubbing his bulging stomach. “I can’t touch nothing else. Them tea cakes will have to wait until tomorrow. Sarah dropped them off. Said they were for Friday’s tea party, but I was gonna sample some, naturally.”
“I figured you were joking about that,” Jasper said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Tea parties? What, do you plan them or something?”
“Yes I do, and what of it?” Buck tweaked a brow, and Nieema smirked, loving his prideful side. “Everybody got a hobby, mine is gardening and tea.”
Jasper erupted in tinkling laughter. It was bright and melodic. Nieema enjoyed her elated display far too much.
“You two,” the demoness gestured between them with a fork, “you’re walking contradictions.”
“Says who?”
“You’re a cowboy, Buck. Let’s not forget your loud, sexy car and the way you carry yourself. Whatever masculinity is, you possess it. Since when has tea brewing and tea cakes ever been considered masculine?”
Nieema canted her head and hummed. “You must unlearn whatever teachings go on down in Undervell, dear. Brewing and making tea are not gender-specific, and I find it odd to attach male or female, feminine or masculine to such things. It is rather close-minded and toxic.
“Buck is a person, not male or female, a person who enjoys tea parties. Where we are from, everyone takes tea rather seriously. They consider him a brew master of sorts. Everyone looks forward to his parties. They are invite-only and the reservation list is long. Some folks been waiting years to attend.”
The woman contemplated, eyes fixed upon her cake. She chewed and nodded, drinking her fizzy pop.
“You’re right,” Jasper muttered. “You are absolutely right. Buck, I apologize. We aren’t so tight in the ass about sexuality, obviously, but gender roles aren’t up for debate. You can be whoever you want to be, as long as it is male, female, or interbred. You must fall into one of those categories. Each gender serves a purpose in Undervell. Three boxes, no room for discussion.”
“Shiiiiid, don’t tell the Lurma peoples that. Them folks who live up there on Keyhold? They have ten genders and no roles to be had.”
“I’d like to meet them,” Jasper said, cutting into that monstrous four-layer cake. Nieema had never finished a slice and probably never would. “Can I?”
Nieema grimaced and tipped her glass of ice. “Don’t think so. The only person who speaks to Lurma is Old Man Joyner. He barters with them.”
“Mmm. The hermit?”
“Yup.”
Buck groaned aloud and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through plastic. “Don’t know about yall, but I’m ready to kick back. I got a long day tomorrow at the store. Bright and early. Huh, my treat.”
Jasper hacked into her second piece and eyed the man. “Who said I’d offer to pay anyway?”
“You funny now, Jasper. Keep it up.”
Nieema cackled, slapped her husband’s shoulder, and kissed him flat on the mouth. He was a man of his word, and they had that in common. Much like Nieema, Buck preferred his way or none. They butted heads, but he was easily subdued. The dark fae stood no chance against her wily ass, and Jasper didn’t either. It was only a matter of time before the succubus pleaded for mercy.
Until then, patience was key.

Frosty and Frigid: An Excerpt

From playful to penetrating, Coco’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I have plenty of bags left, but I have a proposition for you.”
“Really?”
His smile somehow possessed a smug edge Tatum didn’t find the least bit amusing.
“Yup.”
“What do you have in mind, Coco?”
“You let me help with this grinchy outlook you have about Christmas and for each success, I’ll give you ten bags of cookies.”
Hope flared in the center of her chest. Tatum set her mug down as Coco whipped out his towel and polished the absurd sticker-clad bar top.
“How many days are we talking?”
“Until you leave,” Coco said, back to her, preparing another cup.

It provided the perfect view of his ass, shoulders, and thick braid. Goddess, could she even get her hand around it? Tatum wanted to warp it around her knuckles while she pegge—
“Wait, until I leave?” Tatum questioned, finding his suggestion outlandish and horrid.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“It’s a snowy, ski town, what the hell is there to do here?”
He quietly considered her inquiry and gnawed on his lip. The fidgeting and silence concerned her.
“Weelll, this is Snowdrift. There’s lots to do during this time of year.
I can tell you who to see and where to go.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me with this, Coco?”
He nodded with a tight grin. “Yeah, I am. I will. Because you need my holiday cheer, Tatum. You’re sorely lacking. But we’re gonna get you singing Christmas carols in no time.”
“I won’t be doing that.”
Coco giggled and shook his head. “To be so grumpy you sure are funny, Tatum.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“Oh I know.”
Coco wiped counters and prepared a few more steaming drinks while Tatum muller on what she should do. Undiluted happiness was on the line, here. Coco basically had a knife to her throat. Those cookies changed the game and her life. For a short time k, they delivered what she’d missed for the last two years.
Tatum needed to take some home, and the only way to do that was to go along with his his stupid ass plan.
“Fine,” Tatum clipped. She gulped cooling magic in a mug and fought the sudden urge to hug Coco. He should be paid for this shit.

Coming Dec. 2026

Frosty and Frigid is a Christmas elf romance with a light heart. It’s MF with queer characters and fat positive themes. It’s low-conflict, spicy and still in draft! I’m so excited and can’t wait for you folks to read it.

What to expect:

Christmas magic

Cookie talk

Christmas cheer

Cookie and Peppermint kink

Hot chocolate

A romantic snowy setting in the mountains

Small town magic

Grumpy/Sunshine

Two elves falling in love

Black and Brown MC’s

I Will Wear Graphic Tee’s Until The End Times!!

Daily writing prompt
What are your two favorite things to wear?
View all responses

My favorite thing to wear is definitely a graphic tee! Something that showcases my love and often times, hyper fixation. Nine out of ten, you’ll see me in a Star Wars, Deadpool, or Alien shirt. I adore a v-neck with some snarky book quote on it too. Also, anything movie related. Right now, I’m very attached to my Interview with the Vampire (tv show) tee. I wear it most off-days. I have a dress code at work so it’s not often that I even get to wear my tees, but I LOOOOVE THEM!