Book Tour Stop: Electric Boy by Nicky Silber

   

Title: Electric Boy

Author: Nicky Silber

Cover Art: Nicky Silber

Genres: Action Adventure, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Romance, Romantic Comedy

Themes: 20th Century, Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ Bisexual /Nonbinary /Transgender, LGBTQ+ Gay, Multicultural & Interracial, Rock Star Romance

Series: Electric Blue (#1)

Multiverse: Punks of London (#1)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 174

Description

Two men fight for the affections of punk frontman Julian, who doesn’t always know what’s best for him.

In ‘80s London, the fantastical Julian Collier is a charismatic punk rock band frontman. Everyone is drawn to him, including Rahul, his best friend and bandmate, who has loved him for years.

When a mysterious upper-class stranger suddenly inserts himself into their lives, it becomes clear Julian isn’t entirely straight, and the two men struggle for Julian’s affections. But the best man might not win this fight.

Excerpt

Electric Boy (Electric Blue 1)
Nicky Silber
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Nicky Silber

Hoxton, London, UK

November 1987

The Barber & Pony was a poor excuse for a pub, as far as Rahul was concerned. The ancient booths held grime older than Rahul himself. The watery draught was just this side of unpleasantly warm. The air was so thick with smoke he could have cut it with a blunt butter knife and spread it on the pub’s stale pork scratchings. Even an oblivious bystander could have told you that Rahul Chaand detested The Barber & Pony; yet he had patronised the pub every single week since he had moved back to London three years ago. Sometimes more than once a week. Three, four times even. He came because of him.

He was at the bar tonight, as he was most nights, with his skinny elbows propped on the pockmarked mahogany, and head hanging between the sharp hillocks of his shoulders. Rahul came to The Barber & Pony because it was his boozer. Rahul would have followed him to the ends of the Earth, let alone a crummy pub in Hoxton. He knew it was pitiful. There was hardly anything about their relationship that didn’t paint Rahul in a distinctly desperate shade of pathetic. He’d come to terms with that long ago. It didn’t matter to him anymore. All that mattered to Rahul was that Julian Collier was upset. And he needed to be here for him, just as he always was.

“What’s this I hear about a row?” he said in a light, unthreatening tone as he slid onto the stool beside Julian.

“What’re you on about?” He was already slurring. That wasn’t a good sign.

Julian was, by nature, a sunshiny young man with few troubles to cloud his unburdened mind. He wasn’t a rich man. He wasn’t famous. He didn’t have a particularly successful relationship and his friend group was distressingly small. But he was beautiful, fashionable, and well loved. He was passionate about music, and the fact that he both sold records and played in a band did much to nourish his simple soul. But Rahul suspected the main reason that Julian was a happy person was because he was simply born that way. He came into the world with a sunny disposition that life and circumstance had often endeavoured to strip from him.

On occasion, however, a mood as heavy and dark as a storm cloud would settle upon his narrow shoulders, usually brought on by the emotional vampire he liked to call a girlfriend. Thankfully, these sulks tended to be mercifully short, and Rahul found himself to be adept at pulling his best friend out of them even quicker.

Having gotten word from Leroy about the positively massive row that Julian and his girlfriend had engaged in, Rahul had come as soon as he was able.

“He’ll cost me customers,” Leroy, the bartender, had told him after repeating some of the choice words that had been screamed. By the time Rahul had arrived, Aisling, the “girlfriend,” seemed to be long gone, though Julian remained at the bar, sullen and unmoveable as he sank deeper and deeper into his cups. Time for the ol’ Rahul-man to shine, eh? He fancied himself the Julian Whisperer. And it stood to reason. After all, no two people knew each other as well or as deeply as they.

“C’mon, small fry,” he began with the familiar nickname, one that was his alone to use. Julian, being of average height, was short to Rahul only, who at any given moment was the tallest man in the room. “I know you and Aisling have had it out again. What’s she think you’ve done this time? Ruined the economy? Started the Cold War?”

“Can’t do anything right, as far as she’s concerned,” he pouted self- indulgently.

“Tell me about it. It’s practically every other week she’s picking a fight. I’ll never understand why you put up with her and her nagging.”

“She’s not a nag, all right?” Julian contradicted. “She’s just got a point of view. She’s a modern woman.”

“All right, all right,” Rahul backed off, sensing they had not yet arrived at the well-worn territory of slagging off his girlfriend before they inevitably made up again. “A modern woman, sure. Do you want to talk about it? What happened? Maybe talk about it back at your flat?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he continued to pout, planting himself more firmly at the bar just as Leroy passed both Rahul and Julian fresh glasses of beer. Rahul shot the bartender an incredulous look to which Leroy only shrugged helplessly and retreated.

Rahul sighed and tried again. “Fine. We’ll stay right here. As long as we talk. You’re good at talking, Julesy. That’s what draws people to you. The Talker Extraordinaire, that’s what they call you. Silver-tongued. Couldn’t shut you up if I tried.”

“Wouldn’t let you try. I’d be too busy talking.” A smile threatened to break free, like the sun peeking out behind clouds. “You’d try to get a word in edgewise and bam, there I’d be, gabbing away.”

“Gabby Gabber. Gabriel Gabber to your friends.”

Just as Julian seemed ready to add another rung in the ladder of nonsense, his smile disintegrated like a sandcastle in the surf and the dark mood retook him. “She hates it when I talk like this, you know? Says it’s stupid. Maybe she’s right. I really am quite stupid.” His long, pale fingers fumbled out a cigarette, and, failing to find a lighter, let it hang limply from his lips.

Rahul sipped at his beer to cover his profound disappointment. He’d been so close to lifting his friend out of this funk. His fight with Aisling must have cut him deeper than he’d realised. They fought frequently, breaking up every other week only to make up again, but the fights seemed to Rahul to always be superficial things -- who left the toilet seat up and who used whose hair spray -- and the rows were just as easy to overcome as a result. Rahul blamed Aisling, mainly. Julian was as amiable as a fluttering butterfly unless he was provoked.

“She never did,” Rahul exclaimed, aghast. “Did she really say that?” And, in a softer, more serious tone, “You’re not, you know. Stupid.”

“Must be. Else why would I keep making her mad?”

Rahul took pity on him and finally extricated his own lighter from his jacket pocket, lighting Julian’s cigarette for him.

“Because she’s horrendous,” Rahul answered the rhetorical question. “And nothing could ever make her happy. Even you. Now why don’t you tell me what really happened, eh?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Sorry?” Rahul’s face scrunched in confusion, pausing with the glass halfway to his lips.

“S’your fault, innit?” Julian grumbled, pulling his own lukewarm pint closer. “Me and Ash falling out. She was right. It’s always your fault.”

Rahul knew he shouldn’t take it personally. These were the aftershocks of his row with Aisling. But he couldn’t help the curiosity that welled within him. “How is it my fault exactly?”

“Aisling and me’d be married already if it weren’t for you being all… third-wheel. Always getting in the way.”

The words hit him hard and sharp in the chest, threatening to puncture his heart. He doesn’t mean it, he tried to convince himself. He’s smashed. Aisling’s upset him. He’s just having a bit of a tantrum, that’s all. It was with great effort that Rahul trampled the well of emotion threatening to bubble over and plastered on a placid smile beneath his moustache.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Do too. I use up all the good part of me on you, and then I’ve got none left for her.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Jules. Obviously you’re upset. I can see that. Let’s just get you home and we’ll talk about it like adults.” He wrapped his fingers around Julian’s upper arm, but the shorter man shook him off, swaying dangerously on his stool as he did so. He turned eyes on Rahul that burned blue as an electrical fire.

“That’s just it. You’re always trying to control me. You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Just ‘cause you went to your fancy uni and I stayed back here. Just cause your dad owned shops and I never even had a dad.”

“How could you think that I…” Rahul trailed off, shocked into silence. He had never, since he’d met Julian as a child, thought himself better than him. They both came from nothing. It was one of the founding principles of their friendship. And they still had nothing. Nothing but each other. Julian knew this, consciously. This wasn’t him talking, it was the booze, and Rahul had to keep that in focus before he lost his temper.

“Look,” he began slowly, carefully metering out his words. “You’ve had a long day, yeah? I know I’m around a bit more than I ought to be sometimes, but that’s because I’m taking care of you. You know that. Mel knows that. She asks me to take care of you. I’m sorry that Aisling has a problem with it, but that can hardly be helped. Next time you see her, tell her I’m sorry. Now. Why don’t you come with me and we can forget all about it, yeah?”

He reached for Julian again but this time Julian’s hand struck first, finger extended into a sharp point that thrust into Rahul’s chest like a very entitled dart. He poked him. “No. No no no. You listen to me,” Julian slurred. His blue eyes that had once burned were now melted back into glassy puddles that couldn’t quite focus on Rahul. “You don’t come in here like a… a… a jumped-up ponce with an anaemic caterpillar on his lip and tell me what to do, yeah? I’ll leave when I wanna leave. And you don’t control me, like Ash says. I’m my own man. I do what I want.”

Rahul flinched from the poke as if he’d been pushed. Anger surged in him like an ungrounded electric current. He chugged the remainder of his pint to keep his ire from boiling over and slammed the empty glass down on the counter. The resentment from years of Julian taking their friendship for granted began to rise to the surface. It was with monumental effort -- a deeper tribute to his love for Julian than Julian would ever know -- that he reined that rage into a dull simmer, something that would burn but wouldn’t scald. But even the bravest of wounded animals still lash out.

“You do what you want, eh?” Rahul snapped. “Or you do what Aisling tells you?” It wasn’t fair, of course, but hurt people hurt people, or so they say.

“Least I have somebody who tells me what to do.”

Rahul’s chest tightened. Julian clearly wasn’t playing fair either.

“I’d rather be alone than shackled to that girlfriend of yours,” he ground out.

“Or you’re just jealous.”

“Or you’re just an entitled little twat that can’t tell when someone’s trying to help him.”

“Trying to help me? Some help. Who asked you?”

“No one. You know what? Absolutely no one.” Rahul threw up his hands and stood, his heart pounding in his ear. He and Julian hadn’t fought like this in… he could scarcely remember when. They hadn’t even fought like this back when they’d… Well. Back then. Pulse thundering, he donned his coat and took off for the cold, drizzly London streets, not stopping to check if Julian was following him.

He still felt himself choke with guilt, however, when he made it halfway down the street and realised his friend had stayed behind. He would be fine. Right? Surely he would be fine. He’d been drunker than this on his own and made it home all right. He’d be fine… Wouldn’t he?

No, it wasn’t Rahul’s problem. If Julian wouldn’t let him help, then there was nothing for it. He couldn’t help someone who refused to be helped. Until he begged Rahul’s forgiveness and of course Rahul buckled like a flaccid accordion. Like he always did. Because it was Julian. And he was Rahul. And that’s how they worked. Or didn’t.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

As a queer, nonbinary, person of color, Nicky Silber has made it their mission to bring diversity into all of their creative outlets. Born in New York, raised in Mexico, they studied fine art in San Francisco and have worked in the video game industry since 2012. They currently live in the wilds of North Carolina with their young son and too many pets. Their only two goals in life are to continue to tell queer love stories and, to a lesser extent, finally knit their own sweater.

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Tour Stop: Wild Ride by Willa Okati & a Giveaway

Title: Wild Ride

Author: Will Okati

Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

Genres: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Dark Fantasy, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Wildest West

Themes: Capture Fantasy, Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ Gay, Magic /Sorcery /Witchcraft, Second Edition, Vampires

Book Length: Box Set

Page Count: 220

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Time traveler, highwayman, beast, and storyteller -- it's going to be a wild ride.

Wild Ride -- Strange dreams tell Nikos he's meant to be more than a Secret Keeper, tracking the predatory Nightlings. Alexei, a time traveler from the past, has come to find Nikos and take him back to the year 2007. It's going to be a wild ride...

Hell at One Dark Window -- It's the end of the world as we knew it. For most folk survival is all that matters, and the only justice to be found comes at the end of a pistol or the point of a stake. Barrett, a vampire and a highwayman, gets his kicks out of stealing from robber barons. He's going to take his human lover, Nathaniel, and getting the hell out of Dodge. So to speak. All he needs is to pull off one last big job...

Blood Red -- On the coldest night of the year, Ros is cast out of a village for the sin of lying with another man. He's meant to go to his death, but stumbles instead into the enchanted garden of a Beast... a vampire Beast. Will the Beast find the salvation he's sought for so long in the arms of a wise and willing story teller?

Sidetracked -- An escort-for-hire, Devon's just been humiliated and stiffed by his patron of the evening. When the subway taking him home switches tracks, Devon finds himself alone with a man in a white mask and gloves, a man who embodies every sexual fantasy Devon's ever had. Is this a dream, or has he found himself Phantom Night Rider?

Excerpt

Wild Ride (Box Set)
Will Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Will Okati
Excerpt from Hell at One Dark Window

Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight,
Though hell should bar the way!

Alfred Noyes
"The Highwayman"

"You're quiet tonight, lover."

"Am I?"

"Not a word's passed your lips except 'harder,' 'more,' and 'oh, God...' and those I recall being spoken in the heat of passion. You've not made a peep since. Being the smart type myself, despite all appearances, this tells me you've got something going on in that busy mind of yours. You care to share?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, that's fair." Cool, strong arms wrapped around Nathaniel's waist, pulling him backwards against his lover's body. "Of course, you know I don't plan to let up until you spill the whole pot of beans."

Nathaniel gave a soft laugh despite himself. "I know you won't."

"So? Save us a little trouble, and tell me what's on your mind right now."

"Not yet." Nathaniel raised his hand and placed it palm-down on the cold window glass, where he stood staring out into the night, down to the abandoned stretch of cracked pavement running past his apartment. "There aren't words, so far."

"Hmm. Never known you to be at a loss before." Nathaniel's lover jostled him gently, playfully. "Never did meet a man who liked so much to talk about anything and everything. Apples to anthills. That's why I took a shine to you in the first place -- well, aside from an ass you could bounce quarters off and your pretty face. Sing for me."

"O figlio perdito --"

Nathaniel's lover jostled him. "Smarty-pants."

"Yeah." Nathaniel leaned into his lover's firm, gentle hold, savoring the feel of being held strong and sure by someone who'd never let him fall. Life taught gay men an early lesson: don't trust anyone unless you know for a fact they won't turn on you, and that they mean it when they say they love you. His partner had it all, did it all, said it all, and meant it all.

Nathaniel should have been able to be open about what was worrying him. Yet somehow, he found that he couldn't put his thoughts into words. Not yet.

His lover seemed to accept that. One thing about him, he did know when not to push. He simply held Nathaniel and rocked them soft and easy against one another, sexy yet comforting. "It'll be all right," he murmured after a moment. "Whatever's got you fretting, it'll be just fine."

Nathaniel's lips curved in a smile. "I know."

He reached down to lay his hands over his lover's, feeling the same mild shock as he had the first time they touched, finding them to be cool and satin-slick despite a few calluses. They held still as if carved from marble. No human could ever hold such a pose without so much as twitching.

Nathaniel had learned that there were more things on heaven and earth, Horatio, and so forth, but even he'd had a hard time accepting that the gorgeous man, all tousled hazelnut hair, twinkling blue eyes, and ready wit, was, of all things, a vampire.

Honestly, weren't vampires supposed to at least give a nod to tradition? He'd seen enough wannabes in his time to know the accepted look was unrelieved black from hair to clothes to boots. This man -- vampire -- on the other hand, gloried in wearing a soft flannel shirt, molded-on and faded blue jeans, and clean but battered sneakers. No thick, chunky jewelry, save for a cross necklace.

Yeah, a cross.

When he'd leaned back against the bar counter in the sports watering hole where they'd met, arms crossed, grinning broadly, Nathaniel had cracked up and told the man he had a hell of an imagination.

The vampire had shrugged, and asked for one night to prove himself.

Nathaniel didn't usually go for one-night stands, but this man had the look, he had the wit, and you had to admire someone with balls big enough to tell such outrageous stories.

He'd taken the vampire up on his offer.

And back in his apartment, when sharp fangs that were in no way fake pierced the soft skin of his neck, where throat met shoulder, and the vampire drank deep of his blood, Nathaniel had realized this was no lie. He'd found an honest-to-Satan vampire, and brought him home to bed.

What a bedding it had been, too! Tangled, sweaty limbs, lips and tongues fighting for dominance in wet, devouring kisses, and hands everywhere, from pinching nipples to gently rolling balls to stripping heavy, swollen cocks. Cool fingers, slick with oil, slipping inside Nathaniel, stretching him open with more patience and tenderness than any mortal had ever shown. The feel of the vampire's cock splitting him open, making him ache for more even as it was given to him, and then the blissful burn of being totally filled... well, Nathaniel hadn't minded the blood loss by then.

To his surprise, it still hadn't bothered him when he came down from his orgasm, when he and the vampire lay tangled together in a mass of sweaty sheets, stained with one another's come, marked by new-forming bruises and love bites. He'd let the vampire rest atop him, not breathing but still quaking in every muscle from the force of his climax, and thought, So, this is a vampire. If this is a creature of the night, I'll take him over a human any day.

The vampire had chuckled, as if reading Nathaniel's thoughts. He'd raised his head and grinned. "Barrett," he'd said, stroking Nathaniel's cheek. "My name's Barrett. D'you believe me now?"

Barrett. Nathaniel let himself fall into the soothing, rocking rhythm. When Barrett began to hum, some old tune by Johnny Cash that just fit his raspy voice, Nathaniel almost closed his eyes and purred with the pleasure of it.

Yes, his lover was a killer. More, he was a thief, a gambler, and an all-around bad guy. But Barrett loved Nathaniel with all his un-beating heart, would do anything for him, and that was what mattered in the end.

Soft lips brushed Nathaniel's ear. "So," Barrett murmured, "you feel ready to talk yet?"

Nathaniel stared out the window, at the lonely stretch of highway beneath them. He took in a deep breath, and nodded. "Yes," he said. "Don't leave me tonight. Promise you won't leave me."

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

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.

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Discover Jingle Jingle Kill by C. Quince

Title: Jingle Jingle KILL

Author: C. Quince

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/09/2025

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32300

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, MM romance, intercultural, spies, secret agents, covert missions, mystery, British humour, holidays, contemporary, action-adventure, action comedy.

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Description

Arthur is a Romeo agent for British Intelligence, a gentleman spy. His ex-lover, Harun, a former assassin for the terror cell Al-Qaum, is now a foreign diplomat.

They haven’t seen each other in over twenty years, ever since they stopped an assassination attempt during a Millennium celebration in London. No one has been able to get close to Al-Qaum during that time, either, until now when they resurface with a new assassination plot set for this Christmas Eve, bearing a remarkable similarity to the Millennium event.

Arthur and Harun reunite to take down their old enemy, Al-Quam, but not all is as it seems with either the new plot or their estranged relationship, and the two men find that the danger to their hearts is as real as the danger to their lives.

Step into a world of career spies, shadowy allies, secret orders, and killer holiday jingles.

Excerpt

Jingle Jingle KILL
C. Quince © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Present day

Istanbul, Türkiye

Arthur was enjoying a peaceful Tuesday morning, sipping chai from a tulip-shaped glass cup and reading the BirGün newspaper, as he sat on a terrace that overlooked the Bosphorus.

The sun was out, and the air felt surprisingly mild, considering it was December.

Arthur made sure to check the weather forecast daily for England and smugly noted that this week was cold and drizzly back in London.

He smiled to himself as he turned a page of his paper. Arthur preferred the paper to devices and the internet; a paper was more peaceful. He’d turned forty-nine earlier this year and found himself wanting to slow down more to enjoy the simple things.

Arthur picked up his cup to take a sip of chai.

A perfect morning.

Coşkun, the butler, emerged from the house, walking briskly down the neatly swept stone paving. He held the house’s cordless phone in one hand, carried at chest level which meant someone was on the line.

Arthur set his paper aside. “Coşkun,” he greeted. “Is Demir late again?”

Demir owned the house. His family was well connected in Istanbul. Arthur was an occasional house guest.

“Pardon, sir,” Coşkun said in English. “It is a woman for you.”

“Oh?” Arthur said with mild surprise. He hadn’t been expecting any calls. He extended his hand to reach for the phone.

“She said her name is Shepherd,” Coşkun added, handing over the phone.

Arthur tried to contain his wince. The boss had tracked him down once again.

“Thank you, Coşkun,” he said, as the young butler inclined his head politely, then left.

Arthur glanced at the phone, noting the Mute button was activated. This gave him a moment to inhale and bolster himself

He pressed to un-mute and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello. Arthur speaking,” he said cheerily.

“Arthur,” Valerie replied tartly. “I’ve been on hold for the last six minutes.”

No matter how long it had been between calls, the mere sound of her voice was enough to make Arthur tense.

“My deepest apologies, ma’am,” he said, laying on the charm. “It’s a rather large house here. The young man answering the phone sprinted straight to me, I assure you.”

Stony silence was his answer.

Shepherd, aka Valerie Jones from MI6, was only a couple of years younger than Arthur. They’d worked together early on in their careers, and once upon a time his charms had worked better to smooth things over.

“I trust everything is all right?” Arthur asked. A call out of the blue from the Deputy Director of British Intelligence was never a good thing.

“I still have a few weeks left on this little sightseeing trip,” Arthur hastened to add.

Sightseeing was their code word for counter-espionage. Officially, Arthur was the British cultural attaché in Istanbul. Unofficially, he also did some spying for MI6.

Valerie drew in a breath to speak, paused, then spoke with a gentleness he rarely heard from her.

“This is regarding home turf,” she explained. “Something just cropped up, and I want you here to take a look at it in person.”

“Oh, I see,” Arthur said. “Anything in particular?”

“Firefly,” she said.

Now it was Arthur’s turn to pause.

This was unexpected.

“It’s not…?” he asked, unable to say his name out loud.

Harun.

“No,” she confirmed. “It’s a new one. And I need you to bring in the original one to help us gather Intel.”

Arthur was afraid she’d say that.

“I’m not all that positive he’ll want to play ball, ma’am.”

“It’s not a request, Arthur,” Valerie said. “If you don’t want to break the news personally, I’ll send someone else to fetch him.”

“No, no,” Arthur replied. “It’ll be better coming from me, ma’am. I’ll go.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking you on the ten o’clock flight to Berlin. My agent will meet you there on the ground and bring you up to speed.”

Arthur would’ve preferred to do this without a babysitter, but he could always shake them off later.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said politely. “I shall leave right away.”

“See that you do,” she said. “Oh, and Arthur? Try not to balls it up this time.”

She ended the call before Arthur could gather himself enough to form a comeback.

“I’ll try not to,” he said to himself.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Quince is a MENA-British author who lives in England, enjoys sci-fi and fantasy, history, and Halloween.

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Book Spotlight/Giveaway: Holiday Fatigue

Title: Holiday Fatigue

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, BDSM, Contemporary, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Romance

Themes: 2nd Chance Romance, Christmas, LGBTQ+ /Gay, Medical Romance, Multicultural & Interracial

Series: Marisburg Chronicles (#7)

Multiverse: Sticks & Stones (#3)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 74

Synopsis

For husbands Peter and Abe, Christmas is a time for miracles -- and unexpected party crashers.

Peter is all set to make this Christmas season the best for his husband. That is, until a cat is all but thrown into his lap and an unexpected and unwanted man crashes at their house for the holidays. Worse than the lack of privacy is the curtailing of their light BDSM play.

Abe can’t say no when an old flame begs for a place to stay. Temporarily. This man has fallen on hard times and needs a little kindness. However, there’s something more he wants than a roof over his head. As Abe struggles against seasonal depression, a couple of cats come to enliven the home he shares with Peter.

Between grief, jealousy, and a prying houseguest, can Abe and Peter kindle their spirits toward lovemaking and the holidays?

WARNING: Holiday Fatigue includes references to cutting behavior and thoughts of suicide that may be triggers for some readers, as well as mention of animal cruelty.

Excerpt

Holiday Fatigue (Marisburg Chronicles 7)
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Emily Carrington

Peter didn’t love the end of the semester, no matter that it meant a day off from teaching. He would much rather be filling his students’ heads with math facts than plugging in grades. Of course, if he hadn’t left so many assignments till the last minute, having graded them but not bothered to put them in the computer… He threw up his hands in exasperation and then signed, to no one in particular, “Why do I always do this to myself?”

He glanced around, seeing he was still alone in the classroom he shared with another co-teacher. He would normally not worry about others seeing him sign. Most people were hearing folks and didn’t know more than the alphabet, if they even knew that much, in ASL. He worked, though, at a school for the deaf, and the chances of someone knowing he was frustrated were high.

Probably some of the other teachers were in the same boat, having pushed off putting grades in the computer until this, the last day of the quarter before winter break. That was of no comfort when his co-teacher, Laura, was done with her grades and was hanging out somewhere in the building until three o’clock.

He darted a glance at his watch, saw he only had an hour and a half to finish inputting grades, and signed a little F-bomb.

An hour later found him sweating and swearing in his head, trying to work so fast that his fingers kept tripping over each other.

Someone touched his shoulder. He jumped a foot. Turning in his chair, he saw Laura gazing at him with a look of concern on her face. Then that expression passed and she wrinkled her nose at him before signing, “Are you still working?”

He nodded, wanting to return to his work but not wanting to put his back to her. That was rude.

“Give me your login and the list of remaining grades. We’ll divide and conquer.”

He hesitated, but only for an instant. Laura wasn’t the type to make offers like this every day. “Thank you,” he signed. “Why are you --”

“Consider it the gift from your Secret Santa.” She smirked. “You forgot we were exchanging gifts in the teacher’s lounge at 2:30, didn’t you?”

“Guilty,” he responded.

“Give me your login and I’ll help. Then you need to give your gift before your person leaves.”

“Too late,” Peter signed back before handing her a stack of graded papers. Hands free again, he signed, “Brent’s already left for the day. His kid got an ear infection on the last day of school.”

“Sucks,” she signed, her face sympathetic.

He jotted down his computer info and walked it over to her as she booted up her machine. “Thank you, Laura. Really.”

“I forgot to get you a gift,” she admitted.

“This is better than some ten-dollar token,” he assured her.

At exactly 2:58, he shut down his computer. Laura, who was a faster typist than he was, had finished her stack about five minutes earlier.

“Go home,” she signed. “Just don’t count on me saving your ass in the spring.”

He got out as soon as he could, his thoughts turning from gratitude to dreams of his husband. Abe, named for the poet and playwright Kobo Abe, wasn’t a fan of this particular holiday. Peter had been slowly changing that for his lover over the years, but each year it was a struggle to find out what would help Abe forget his pain.

He waved at another teacher as he headed for the main doors. This was a relatively new guy and for a moment, Peter couldn’t remember his name.

“Hi, Peter,” the unnamed man signed. “Have a good break.”

Peter frowned, realized he probably looked like the proverbial grouch, and held up a hand for the new teacher to stop. “What’s your name?” he signed.

“Estaban.” He grinned. “Spanish as the day is long and a gift from my immigrant parents that I don’t always appreciate.”

Yes, Peter remembered now. He hadn’t interacted with the new Spanish teacher since he’d arrived here two months ago because he was on another floor and that might as well be in another kingdom. “Sorry,” he apologized. “My brain is…” He shrugged.

“Already on break?” Estaban suggested.

Well, in a way, Peter thought as he excused himself and went outside. He walked to the sidewalk that paralleled the street. He could order a shared ride from the front of the school, but he felt restless. It was two hours before Abe would even be thinking about coming home. All day, Peter had been thinking, not of the grades or his lackadaisical way of letting them pile up, but of his husband and Christmas. Now, as he turned down Forrest Street in Colton, which was the college town closest to their home in Marisburg, he considered his unusual agitation. Abe had been acting steady as the day was long for a while now. There was no reason to expect he’d sink into depression. Even if he did, it wasn’t as if depression was his choice.

Peter looked up when he saw a flash of color out of the corner of his eye and had to smile. Every single tree had lights in their branches. Most of the lights were the beautiful, if common, white ones. The tree he was currently looking at had been decorated in tiny, colorful orbs. He smiled up at the tree that stood out. He touched the bark of the tree and grinned in appreciation. He would bring Abe down to see this tree. They’d call it the “Christmas Pride” tree.

Having a plan for this Thursday night at last, even if it was only to view a tree that stood out among its fellows, Peter took out his phone to order his shared ride. Before he could drop his gaze to the screen, he was caught off guard by another swash of color, this time moving fast. Self-preservation made him look up as a car, slowing abruptly, seemed to coast in front of him. With the colorfully decorated tree in the way, he couldn’t see everything clearly, but something was hurled out of the passenger window before the car sped off again.

People were such slobs. He wasn’t a trash collector by nature, but something about the white and black thing thrown out of the car’s window caught his attention. It was the right size to be any number of things, but the way it had twisted in midair… He went to the snowdrift where the careless people had aimed… and when he peered into the hole made by the object, he saw yellowish eyes looking back at him.

He gaped even as he tore off his winter coat and stooped to scoop up the little animal. It was a kitten, he realized, or a very small cat if it was full-grown. Mostly white with black splotches, it hissed at him as he bundled it into his coat.

The little critter wriggled hard and managed to get a paw free. The cat lashed out with razor-sharp claws and if not for Peter’s gloves, he would have taken quite the injury. As it was, one tiny cat nail caught in the leather of his right glove and the cat opened its mouth wide, surely making quite a fuss.

Peter carefully freed the little demon’s claw and reworked the bundling so the cat wouldn’t hurt him. If he’d been tossed out of a moving car, he’d be pissed too.

As he trekked back to the school, thinking of having the nurse check out the little feline monster before he took them home, the cat’s name flashed in his mind, and he grinned even as he cautioned himself that surely he and Abe couldn’t keep this little fighter. He’d try to impress upon whoever ended up with the cat that his or her name was Catankerous.

As he walked, goose bumps popped out on his arms, which were covered only by a short-sleeved polo because the school tended to run hot. He thought about nuzzling Catankerous, but the wicked gleam in their eyes made him reconsider. He wished he could speak to them, let them know help was coming.

Maybe two dozen steps from the front doors of the school, the cat settled down and quit struggling. Then, through the coat where he’d pressed it against his chest, Peter felt the attack cat begin to purr.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Shapeshifter Central

   

Discover Spellbound by Mychael Black today

Title: Spellbound

Author: Mychael Black

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ /Gay, LGBTQ+ /Sex/Gender Shifters & MPreg, Murder Mystery, Vampires

Series: Splintered Bloodlines (#2)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 74

Description

A ritual decades ago leads Beau to the one person he never expected to meet: his fated mate.

Detective Beau Kirkland has to work directly with the local vampire house to find a murderer, but that’s the easy part. The difficult part? His attraction to Garrett Dawson’s, one of House Saridan’s top hunters.

Garrett Dawson’s methods are brutal but very effective, even for a vampire. When a mortal detective begins working with House Saridan, Garrett finds himself unable to ignore the attraction between them.

Excerpt

Spellbound (Splintered Bloodlines 2)

Mychael Black

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2025 Mychael Black

Garrett

There were few things I truly loved in this world, and one was currently in my hand as I took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor of Saridan Tower. No one else shared my addiction to the most amazingly sweet coffee concoction currently sending copious amounts of caffeine through my system. I stepped off the elevator on the top floor and headed down the hall to the usual conference room. I didn’t get any farther than the doorway, though. I simply froze, body alternating between hot and cold.

Normally, these meetings were just the three of us lead Venari and Deacon.

Not today, apparently.

Beau Kirkland looked up at me, eyes wide for a moment. No one said a word -- not even Deacon. Somehow, I got my feet to move and sat opposite the omega cop. It took more effort than I really had this morning to focus on work and not the stupidly hot human across from me.

I didn’t go for twinks like the others. I liked my men older, more experienced. Beau fit that requirement with ease. His short brown hair bore a little bit of gray here and there, and his dark chocolate-colored eyes studied me whenever I glanced at his face. He was a few inches shorter than my own six-three, and unlike most omegas, he was a bit muscular due to his job. Dressed in his dark navy uniform, he presented the most fucking delectable package on the planet. I cursed silently and tore my gaze from his when all blood began rushing south.

Deacon cleared his throat and looked at each of us. “I’m sure you all know one another, but for protocol’s sake, I’d like to introduce Officer Beau Kirkland. He’s our liaison within the police department. He’s also the one handling this latest case on their end. Officer Kirkland, these are my head Venari: Nikolai Hart, Victor Pace, and Garrett Dawson.”

Beau nodded. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

We exchanged the usual pleasantries before Deacon continued. “I’m stepping back for now,” he said, glancing at me briefly, “but I’m here if needed. To that end, the table’s yours, Officer Kirkland.”

“Thank you,” Beau said. He handed each of us several folders. “Eight victims so far, all completely drained. Eyewitnesses have seen the perp in passing, but no one can agree on a description.”

“Could be a Lupyn,” Vic said as he flipped through the contents of one of the folders.

“That was my assumption, but you all know far better than we do if that’s the case.”

I went through the first folder in front of me. Crime scene photos, pics of the victims post-mortem, notes, and statements. I scanned over everything and couldn’t disagree with the shapeshifter idea. It would make sense.

“What do you need from us?” Nik asked Beau. “We’re more than happy to work with you and your folks.”

I’m not sure I would’ve gone that far, but we did need to get this monster off the streets. I might not have been particularly nuts about humans, but that didn’t mean I wished them dead. My methods were saved for my own kind.

Beau passed out papers to us. “These are the last few places he was sighted. He’s a vampire, so we humans are outgunned here. We can help corner him, but capture is a different story altogether.”

Nik nodded. “Agreed. Well, we’re here and ready to go hunting.”

I didn’t miss the slight grimace on Beau’s face before he managed to school it into something more neutral. Apparently, neither did Deacon, but the man just remained silent.

“Thank you,” Beau said. “Please keep me updated on everything. In the meantime, I’ll be at the station downtown, trying to narrow our possible location leads.”

“Thank you for coming to us,” Deacon said. “I guarantee we will be in touch. These guys are my best hunters, and I have no doubt they’ll find this son of a bitch.”

Despite the situation, Beau smiled. “Thank you very much.”

The others left the room, though Beau shot me a cryptic look before stepping out the door. I stayed seated, knowing Deacon had something to say. Sure enough, as soon as we were alone, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Is this going to be an issue?”

I could’ve played dumb, but he already knew everything. There wasn’t any point. “No. I’m fully capable of working with him.”

Deacon raised one eyebrow. “Really? Because pheromones say otherwise.”

I managed to avoid scowling at him. Lupyns were more sensitive to things like that than Venari. “Unlike Nik, I’m perfectly capable of keeping my dick in my pants, Deacon.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was far older than us, and being under his scrutiny made even me feel like a scolded kid sometimes. “Don’t let it get the best of you, Garrett. His job involves danger, and you can’t protect him from that unless you’re mated and bonded completely.”

“Who said I was --” I snapped my mouth shut at his glare.

“I’m old, not an idiot.” Deacon leaned forward and put his arms on the table. “Either fight this until the perp is in custody or fucking claim Beau. I can’t have you out there distracted. Understood?”

“Yes,” I replied, biting back a growl.

“Good. Dismissed.”

I stood abruptly, grabbed the folders and paper, and left the conference room. I made it halfway down the hall before Nik and Vic both cornered me. Fuck.

“That didn’t go well, did it?” Vic asked.

“No,” I snarled.

I continued walking, and they followed me to the elevator. I stabbed the DOWN button and had to unclench my fist before I gave into the urge to hit something. In the door’s reflection, I saw Nik and Vic exchange cautious glances.

We all stepped into the elevator and took it to the lobby. Without another word said, it was a given where we’d wind up. Colby’s was the city’s best diner with the most amazing coffee blends. Maybe the combination of carbs, sugar, and caffeine would calm me down because just the thought of claiming Beau sure as fuck wasn’t doing it.

Quite the opposite, actually.

I was hard as a fucking rock.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy as Katherine Cook.

He's an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and Spongebob Squarepants.

Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear from readers, be it via email or Facebook.

Website | Facebook

Book Spotlight/Giveaway: Mychael Black's Burn

 

Author: Mychael Black

Cover Art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ /Sex/Gender Shifters & MPreg, LGBTQ+ Gay, Vampires

Series: Splintered Bloodlines (#1)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 77

Description

Humans and vamps were never meant to be mates, but an accidental meeting changes everything.

Cam Sharpe is just trying to make ends meet. Living in the city can easily break the bank, but that’s where the jobs are. It’s also where crime runs rampant. One night, he finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, putting him in the crosshairs of the city’s ruling vampire coven.

Nikolai Hart loves his job -- maybe a little too much. When hunting a rogue proves to be a pain in the ass, he’s the one House Saridan brings in to find the unfortunate soul. The latest job, however, has hit a snag: a mortal has witnessed everything.

Excerpt

Burn (Splintered Bloodlines 1)
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Mychael Black

Cameron

I hated living in the city. There were too many people, most of whom couldn’t drive worth a damn. I barely managed to dodge a car that threatened to sideswipe me. I thought the asshole driver shouted something, but I just tossed the man a one-fingered salute. Rain pelted the city, which made deliveries a bit more complicated, especially on a bicycle. Still, the bike afforded me the chance to make it into tight spots a car could not. Traffic was a bitch, but that was city life. I’d been here for three years now and had managed to escape the need for a car. The exercise was good, at any rate.

I reached the towering apartment building and secured my bike to a lamppost. The expressionless doorman stood at the front. Dressed in a black tux, complete with white gloves, he fit right in with the building’s occupants.

Once inside, I flashed my badge hanging on its lanyard to the guard behind the desk and continued toward the elevators. A few well-dressed residents gave me a bit of the good ol’ side-eye, but I ignored them. Hell, I’d probably delivered dinner to them half a million times.

The elevator doors opened, and I held it for the others. When they didn’t move to enter, I shrugged and stepped inside, letting the doors close before they could change their haughty minds. I watched the display tick through the floor numbers until it reached the seventh floor. As soon as I exited, I heard music.

Down the hall, an apartment door opened, and a half-naked man waved. I met him and handed over the food.

“Wanna join?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Thanks, man, but I can’t. Still a few more hours before I can officially ‘clock out’ for the night.”

“You clock out?”

“Not really. I set my own hours, but this pays the bills, so, yeah, set times and all.”

“Ah.”

Shouts from inside cut the chat short. “Well, thanks!” the guy said, holding up the bag.

“No problem.”

Alone in the hall, I went back to the elevators. Thank the gods the tips were included in the app when ordering.

Back down on the street, I sighed. I wished I could stop for the night. I was tired, utterly sick of the damn rain, and hadn’t eaten in several hours. The sun had already set enough to make the streetlights come on along the sidewalks. I rolled the bike a few feet away from the lingering crowd and headed off to my next pick-up.

People swarmed the streets, most of them club hoppers. I’d done that years ago but had outgrown it. Random hook-ups in dark corners no longer satisfied me, but in a city this big, I wasn’t sure I’d ever find anyone who would. Most of the people I’d met so far were superficial and vain, perfectly content to spend a night getting laid by one person before moving on to the next.

An order came in, and the GPS piped up to let me know there was a shortcut to the restaurant. Happy to avoid the crowd, I turned down the alley the GPS designated. I ignored the few slumped figures along both sides. I’d learned the hard way a couple of years ago after a mugging not to carry cash. Now I only carried my ID, keys, phone, and a trusty can of mace.

The end of the alley branched left and right. The GPS told me to go left. Just as I started that way, commotion to the right startled me.

A tall, black-clad figure landed feet-first onto the wet pavement and grabbed a man from the ground. The man choked and struggled as the stranger spoke, voice low enough that I couldn’t hear what was said. Whatever it was, though, seemed to terrify the man he held captive.

The stranger growled -- literally growled -- and tore the man’s throat wide open with his fucking teeth.

I nearly wrecked the bike trying to get away. I pedaled as fast as my legs could, and the burn was almost too much. I reached the Chinese restaurant and stuck as close to the building as possible. After a few seconds of struggling to catch my breath, I locked my bike to a lamppost before heading inside.

I had zero doubt that I’d just seen a vampire executing someone. Vamps weren’t unknown, but they tended to keep to themselves. They also weren’t anything like what stories and movies portrayed them to be. Real vampires weren’t undead; they were an entirely different species. Stronger, faster, and far more deadly than any human could ever dream of being.

Safe in the restaurant, I shot a quick glance back out the door. Whatever I’d just witnessed wasn’t my business. Not like cops would do shit anyway. Vamps governed themselves, and the police were scared shitless of them.

Pushing it out of my mind for now, I shuddered and headed to the counter. Ten minutes later, I was on my way to the drop-off point. Despite needing the money, I ended my shift after handing over the food. Just before I left the area, though, I caught sight of the stranger from the alley. Those eyes locked onto mine.

Hopping onto the bike, I made a beeline for my tiny efficiency apartment. It wasn’t much, but it had a wonderfully huge deadbolt on the door.

I leaned back against the door as soon as I locked it. Eyes closed, I tried to get rid of the images from the alley. It wasn’t the first crime I’d seen in this damned city, but it was definitely the first time a vampire had been involved. At least that I knew of, at any rate.

“Get a grip, Cam,” I muttered. “Not the first, won’t be the last.”

I pushed off the door and tossed my keys onto the narrow bar separating the kitchenette from the living area. I couldn’t even call it an actual room, really. The only true room was the bathroom, and even that was about the size of a small walk-in closet. Overall, the place wasn’t much, but it was home and, to be honest, all I could afford.

Before I could contemplate dinner or a shower, my grumbling stomach made up its own mind. A quick glance in the fridge, and then the freezer, reminded me that I needed to hit the store down the block sooner rather than later. I didn’t cook, despite knowing how to, since it was just me here. Most of my meals tended to be sandwiches or frozen dinners, or, if money allowed, something quick while I was working. Tonight, though, peanut butter and jelly would have to do.

A few minutes later, I settled onto the futon that doubled as my bed and watched the news on my only splurge: a smart TV. I nibbled on my meager dinner as one report after another went on. I popped the last bite into my mouth, only to nearly choke on it.

The same dark-clad figure I’d seen in the alley was positioned behind one of the head vamps in the city during a news conference that, according to the info at the bottom of the screen, occurred earlier today. The muscle-bound watchdog stood ready to spring to action at the slightest hint of trouble.

Pitch black hair hung over broad shoulders, and the man’s five-o’clock shadow covered a stern, tight jawline. Eyes that looked almost as black as his hair seemed to scan the entire room. Though he kept his hands behind him, I could imagine those strong arms tensing. And he was tall. Jesus, he was fucking tall. Even more than the vampire in front of him. A morbid desire to stare up into those insanely dark eyes swept through me.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts. Vamps are fucking trouble.”

I changed the channel and found a nature documentary instead. Maybe watching meerkats would cleanse my brain of insane ideas like wanting to unwrap all those muscles.

Gods, I was nuts.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy as Katherine Cook. He's an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and Spongebob Squarepants. Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear from readers, be it via email or Facebook.

Website | Facebook

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code! 

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Guest Author Day with Joe Cosentino and all about Drama King (18th Nicky and Noah Mystery)

 

I'm so excited to have author Joe Cosentino here today to discuss their newest book in their Nicky and Noah mystery series, Drama King. Check out the interview below with Joe Cosentino and the book information.

Interview with Joe Cosentino, author of the novel, Drama King,

the 18^th Nicky and Noah mystery/comedy/romance

 

Joe Cosentino, thank you for speaking about writing on the release of the eighteenth book in your award-winning and popular Nicky and Noah gay cozy comedy mystery series, Drama King. 

Thank you. I’m a writer who should be king (smile).

 

You’ve written thirty-three novels! 

            And my husband is still speaking to me!

 

How did you become a storyteller? 

My mother says I tell tall tales—and she’s right! I’ve always had a wild imagination. My parents always feared what I’d make up and tell neighbors about them. And they still do! I appropriately majored in theatre at college. Then I went on to act opposite stars like Rosie O’Donnell (AT&T industrial), Nathan Lane (Roar of the Greasepaint musical onstage), Bruce Willis (A Midsummer Night’s Dream onstage), Charles Keating (NBC’s Another World), Jason Robards (Commercial Credit computer commercial), and Holland Taylor (ABC’s My Mother Was Never a Kid TV movie). Finally, I began writing plays and ultimately writing novels. Since I’m a cozy mystery reading fanatic, and there are so few gay cozy mystery series out there, I was happy to fill the bill—or in this new novel, the nightshirt.

 

You’re also a college professor/department head. How do you find the time to do all this writing? 

I don’t get a lot of sleep.

 

Where do you write? 

My home study is very much like Martin Anderson’s office at Treemeadow College including a fireplace with a cherry wood mantel and a cherry wood desk and bookcase. I also have a window seat beneath a large window/gateway to the woods.

 

Do you write an outline before each book? 

For a mystery, an outline is imperative. It’s important to plot out all the clues and surprise reveals. I generally think of a great idea for a new book at 3 a.m. If I can remember it the next day, or read my notes on my night table, I draft the outline. Since I was an actor, I also write a character biography for each character. Then I close my eyes and let the magic happen. As I see the scenes in front of me like a movie and the characters start talking to each other in my head, I hit the computer. My spouse reads my second draft. After we argue, I write my third draft.

 

What advice do you have for unpublished writers? 

Don’t listen to naysayers. Find the magic within yourself. Get in front of the computer and start writing your unique story. Don’t copy anyone. Write what you know and feel passionate about. Write every day. Don’t be afraid to take chances. When you have a story you think is perfect, ask someone you trust to read it. Then after doing another draft, email it to a publisher who has an open submissions policy and who publishes the kind of story you’ve written, or publish it yourself.

 

Is it hard to write comedy? 

Not for me. I’ve always thought funny. As an actor, I remember directors telling me to stop making my scenes so funny. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I think I get this from my mother. For example, for Christmas one year my mother gave me a jacket and my sister a house. When I complained, she said, “But it’s a nice jacket.” Thanks, Mom!

 

Why do you write gay fiction? 

Why not? LGBT people have many interesting untold stories. Go to a mall and look at the row of movie posters without any LGBT characters in them. Visit a bookstore and see cover after cover of opposite sex love stories. Take a look at so many of our Republican political and so-called religious leaders who raise money and gain power by demonizing LGBT people and trying (and often succeeding) to take away civil rights. I mourn for the young gay kids who consider suicide. So I support organizations like GLSEN (giving them a portion of my book royalties), and I write stories that include LGBT people and themes. However, just as my Jana Lane series with its gay supporting characters has huge crossover appeal for gay people, the Nicky and Noah series with its LGBT leading characters and straight supporting characters has a tremendous amount of crossover appeal for straight people. Most people like a clever mystery, a sweet romance, and a good laugh, regardless of the sexuality of the characters.

 

In your various series, how do you remember all the elements about the characters and settings over a long time period? 

I keep good notes on everything for continuity. Also, the regular characters are like family to me. I know them so well. I love watching them and their relationships grow and develop. It’s equally fun creating new characters in each book. I laugh out loud when writing my novels, and the endings still surprise me—even though I wrote them!

 

You’re a college theatre professor/department chair like Martin Anderson in your Nicky and Noah mysteries series. Has that influenced that series? 

As a past professional actor and current college theatre professor/department chair, I know first-hand the wild and wacky antics, sweet romance, and captivating mystery in the worlds of theatre and academia. The Nicky and Noah mysteries are full of them! I never seem to run out of wild characters to write about. My faculty colleagues and students kid me that if any of them tick me off, I’ll kill them in my next book.

 

Are you Martin Anderson, the theatre department head, in the novels? 

My colleagues say my sense of humor is Nicky’s but I look like Martin Anderson. I love how Martin is so loyal and supportive of Nicky and Noah. His one up-man-ship with his office assistant Shayla is a riot. I’ll admit that like me Martin is a bit of a gossip. His spouse, Ruben, is based on mine. It’s great when Ruben keeps Martin’s theatricality in line with hysterical barbs. The older couple stay sharp by engaging in their verbal warfare, but it’s all done in deep admiration and respect. Finally, it’s wonderful to see an elderly couple so much in love (uncommon in the entertainment field), and how they can read each other like a book—no pun intended.

 

Are college theatre professors/amateur sleuths/adorable couple Nicky and Noah based on any of your younger colleagues? 

Like most of the characters in my books, Nicky is a combination of a few people I’ve known. He’s handsome, muscular, smart, charming, and he has an enormous manhood, which doesn’t hurt (or maybe it does). However, what I admire most about Nicky is his never give up attitude and sense of humor in the face of adversity. He is genuinely concerned for others, and he’ll do anything to solve a murder mystery. Finally, he is a one-man man, and Nicky is proud to admit that man is Noah Oliver. Nicky is also incredibly devoted to his family and friends. Noah is blond, blue-eyed, lean, handsome, smart, and devoted. He makes the perfect Watson to Nicky’s Holmes. (I always thought Holmes and Watson were a gay couple.) Noah also has a large heart and soft spot (no pun intended) for others. Finally, like Nicky, Noah is quite gifted at improvisation, and creates wild and wonderful characters for their role plays to catch the murderer.

 

Since both you and Nicky are of Italian-American decent, are Nicky’s parents like yours? Are Noah’s parents like your spouse’s parents? 

Both Nicky’s parents and Noah’s parents have many of the traits of my parents. They’re absolutely hilarious. I love Noah’s mother’s fixation with taking pictures of everything, and his father’s fascination with seeing movies. I also love how Noah’s father is an amateur sleuth like Nicky. As they say, men marry their fathers. Nicky’s mother’s obsession with Bingo at her church is a riot. Both sets of parents fully embrace their sons and their sons’ family, which is refreshing.

 

For anyone unfortunate enough not to have read them, tell us the titles of the Nicky and Noah mysteries. 

Drama Queen, Drama Muscle, Drama Cruise, Drama Luau, Drama Detective, Drama Fraternity, Drama Castle, Drama Dance, Drama Faerie, Drama Runway, Drama Christmas, Drama Pan, Drama TV, Drama Oz, Drama Prince, Drama Merry, Drama Daddy (novelette), and now Drama King.

 

Why Drama King as the eighteenth mystery? 

As a kid, I loved reading the King Arthur Legends. I also listened to Broadway show albums around the clock. (That should have been a clue to my parents.) Not surprisingly, one of my favorites was Camelot, the story of Merlin the magician’s student King Arthur, Arthur’s favorite knight Lancelot, and Guinevere, the woman who came between them. While I loved the music, colorful period costumes, royal sets, and chorus of knights, I didn’t buy the story. To me it seemed like King Arthur and his stud knight Lancelot should be the couple, and the Knights of the Round Table should be sharing more than their goodness.

 

I notice this novel is set back at Treemeadow College. 

Many of the novels, like this one, take place in Vermont, a cozy state with green pastures, white church steeples, glowing lakes, and friendly and accepting people. Fictitious Treemeadow College (named after its gay founders, couple Tree and Meadow) is the perfect setting for a cozy mystery with its white Edwardian buildings, low white stone fences, lake and mountain views, and cherry wood offices with tall leather chairs and fireplaces.

 

Tell us a bit about the plot—no spoilers. 

In the novel, Nicky, Noah, and their theatrical troupe at Treemeadow College stage an original musical production of the King Arthur legends entitled, Knights in Tights.

 

It's great to see our favorite characters back. 

Of course! In the show within the novel, King Arthur (Nicky) and the gorgeous knight Lancelot (Noah) are star-crossed lovers due to Arthur’s mail-order bride Guinevere (played by their best friend and department chair Martin). Martin’s long-suffering husband, Ruben, is Merlin who in the final moments of the show sets all right (or left), and King Arthur marries his beloved Lancelot. Nicky and Noah’s son, Taavi, is cast as Young Arthur. His wife Sloane, a transexual, plays the mysterious Lady of the Lake. Martin and Ruben’s son, Ty, is Arthur’s bastard (pun intended) son Mordred, and Martin’s sassy office assistant, Shayla, is cast as the cunning Morgan le Fay. Detective Manuello comes along for the ride as Pellinore, the knight with the Holy Grail (he found at a gay bar). Noah’s niece from Scotland, Lairie, plays the scheming Isolde. Nicky and Noah’s dog, Asterisk, and his husband, Tag, are cast as King Arthur’s dogs Cavall and Glassic. Ty’s girlfriend, Shinelle, is also back as stage manager.

 

Who are the new characters/suspects/victims for book eighteen? 

The Knights of the Roundtable are played by hunky newcomers to the series. Associate Professor of Musical Theatre Bernardo Anita is cast as Knight Perceval. The Latino’s muscular body, dark hair and eyes, and olive skin set his adorable graduate assistant Wang Fong’s heart aflutter. Wang (Knight Kay), a deaf performer, also enjoys the fact that Bernardo is a CODA (child of deaf adults). Theatre majors bodybuilder Nathan Masterson (Knight Tristan), wealthy Tevye Perchik (Knight Gawain), and Dracula lookalike Beau Babcock (Knight Bedivere) form an interesting love triangle. When play reviewers drop like knights’ tights, there are plenty of suspects—not to mention sweet romance. As Nicky would say, if you read this novel, you’ll have more fun than a Republican-appointed Supreme Court member taking away LGBT, workers’, environmental, women’s, and voting rights. You’ll also get to see how this popular series ends!

How can your readers get their hands on Drama King and how can they contact you? 

The purchase links are below, as are my contact links, including my web site. I love to hear from readers! So do Nicky and Noah. I tell them everything!

Thank you, Joe, for interviewing today. 

It was my pleasure. As a past professional actor and current college theatre professor/department chair, I know first-hand the hysterically funny antics, sweet romance, and captivating mystery in the worlds of theatre and academia. The Nicky and Noah mysteries are full of them! I know you’ll laugh, cry, feel romantic, and love delving into this crackling new mystery (as Nicky would say) with more plot twists and turns than a priest with five new altar boys. I’m more excited (as Nicky would say) than an anti-gay politician tapping his foot in a public men’s room stall to share this eighteenth mystery in the series with you. So put on your cape and crown, and head to the magical land of Camelot for murder, mayhem, and of course a happy ending (no pun intended)!

And drop me a line. I’ll share it with Nicky and Noah! http://www.JoeCosentino.weebly.com

DRAMA KING (the 18th Nicky and Noah mystery)

a comedy/mystery/romance novel by JOE COSENTINO 

E-book and Paperback: 230 pages

Language: English

Genre: MM, contemporary, mystery, comedy, romance, theatre, musical theater, college, Camelot, King Arthur, Lancelot, Knights of the Round Table, deaf, CODA

Heat Level: 2

Cover Art: Jesús Da Silva

Release date: October 1, 2023

 

 

It’s summertime at Treemeadow College and the living isn’t easy. Theatre professors and adorable couple Nicky, Noah, and their thespian troupe stage an original musical adaptation of the King Arthur Legends entitled, Knights in Tights. Queens blissfully shout, “King me,” until critics drop like their scathing reviews. Once again in this novel, our favorite thespians will need to use their drama skills to catch the killer before their crowns spin—around their throats. You will be applauding and shouting Bravo for Joe Cosentino’s fast-paced, side-splittingly funny, edge-of-your-seat entertaining eighteenth mystery in this delightful series. It’s a royal riot! So hurry to your seat. The stage lights are coming up in Camelot on a king on the down low who pulls his long sword out of a tight stone, knights of the roundtable craving a circle jerk, a half-fairy son with a daddy complex, more men in tights than in a Promise Keepers’ convention, and murder!

Buy Links:

https://mybook.to/DramaKing

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1431705

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/drama-king-joe-cosentino/1143858612?ean=2940166089755

Praise for the Nicky and Noah mysteries: 

“Joe Cosentino has a unique and fabulous gift. His writing is flawless, and his plot-lines will have you guessing until the very last page, which makes his books a joy to read. His books are worth their weight in gold, and if you haven't discovered them yet you are in for a rare treat.” Divine Magazine 

“a combination of Laurel and Hardy mixed with Hitchcock and Murder She Wrote…

Loaded with puns and one-liners…Right to the end, you are kept guessing, and the conclusion still has a surprise in store for you…the best modern Sherlock and Watson in books today…I highly recommend this book and the entire series, it’s a pure pleasure, full of fun and love, written with talent and brio…fabulous…brilliant” Optimumm Book Reviews

Excerpt of Drama King, the 18^th Nicky and Noah mystery, by Joe Cosentino:

I discreetly raced down the hallway and booked it into Noah’s dressing room, where I found my wonderful husband sitting at his makeup table. “I laid out lunch for you on the end table, Nicky.”

 I gazed at Noah’s culinary creation: warm beet and farro salad with a blackberry vinaigrette, carrot ricotta tart with pesto and pine nuts, pheasant chestnut zucchini skewers, and peach banana cocoa souffle for dessert. “Noah, you outdid yourself!” I gave him a kiss on the cheek, sat on the (appropriately) pink loveseat across from the end table, and began devouring lunch with a pear plum kiwi smoothie chaser. I garbled between bites, “This is delicious.”

“Just like you.” Noah sat next to me, resting his head on my shoulder. The room was full of the scent of his luscious strawberry shampoo.

After we shared a kiss full of pesto, I said, “I hope you didn’t eat the pine nuts.” Noah is allergic to all nuts—except mine.

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

“But thank you for worrying about me.”

“Always.”

We kissed again.

I asked, “Have Taavi, Sloane, Asterisk, and Tag eaten?”

“They’re finishing up their lunches in Sloane’s dressing room. When I left, Nicky Jr. was on Sloane’s lap with Asterisk and Tag holding the bottle to Nicky Jr.’s lips. Our dogs wouldn’t leave the baby’s side until he drank all of his formula.” Noah kissed one of my sideburns as I chewed. “So, what did you find out?”

“About what?”

“Our cast members—while you were spying on them.”

“I told you, Noah, I don’t spy. I observe.”

“Potato potahto.”

“Don’t make me skewer you with my skewer, Noah.”

“Later.” He kissed my nose. “Tell me the scoop.”

After I swallowed a mouthful of pheasant, I said, “Ty and Shinelle seem to like our niece Lairie.”

Noah clapped his hands. “I’m so glad Lairie is making friends.”

“They may be more than friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could be wrong—”

“My own Sherlock Holmes? Never.” Noah giggled.

“Can it, Watson.” I slapped his bubble butt. “Ty and Shinelle seem to be attracted to Lairie.”

“Lairie is probably a novelty to them. They’ve probably never met anyone from Scotland.”

“I guess so.”

Noah fed me a tart. “What else did you discover about our merry troupe?”

“Assistant Professor of Musical Theatre Bernardo Anita and his graduate assistant Wang Fong seem to be at war.”

“That isn’t good.”

I nodded and avocado dribbled onto my plate. “And our students aren’t fairing any better.”

“Do tell.”

“Nathan Masterson is interested in Tevye Perchik who is interested in Beau Babcock who is interested in Nathan Masterson.”

Noah gasped. “Nicky, we have our own soap opera!”

“Let’s hope the drama stays on the stage during our press conference in the greenroom tomorrow.”

“Who’s coming?”

I replied between bites, “The theatre reviewers from the Vermont Victory: Albert and Rose McAfee, their sons Hugo and Conrad, and Rose’s mother Mae.”

Noah grinned. “The family that reviews together stays together.”

“They can be tough reviewers, but they review every show in Vermont. So I’m hoping some wining, dining, and press interviews tomorrow evening will soften them up before opening night.”

Noah nodded. “I made gourmet finger foods and stored them in our refrigerator. We can bring them to the theatre tomorrow. Taavi, Sloane, and Lairie agreed to help set up.”

Shinelle knocked on the open door. “We’re back from lunch, professors.”

“Thank you, Shinelle,” Noah said.

I mumbled the same with my mouth full. After Shinelle was gone, I wiped my mouth with the pink silk napkin Noah had placed on my knee. Then I handed him my empty pink china plate. “Thank you for the wonderful lunch, Noah. See you on stage, Lancelot.”

“I’m right behind you, Arthur.”

“That’s a switch.”

We shared a chuckle.

As I headed out of Noah’s dressing room, I thought about our cast and crew—wondering if one of them was a murderer.

 About the Author

Joe Cosentino was voted Favorite MM Mystery, Humorous, and Contemporary Author of the Year by the readers of Divine Magazine for Drama Queen, the first Nicky and Noah mystery novel. He is also the author of the remaining Nicky and Noah mysteries: Drama Muscle, Drama Cruise, Drama Luau, Drama Detective, Drama Fraternity, Drama Castle, Drama Dance, Drama Faerie, Drama Runway, Drama Christmas, Drama Pan, Drama TV, Drama Oz, Drama Prince, Drama Merry, Drama Daddy (novelette), Drama King; the Player Piano Mysteries: The Player and The Player’s Encore; the Jana Lane Mysteries: Paper Doll, Porcelain Doll, Satin Doll, China Doll, Rag Doll; the Cozzi Cove series: Cozzi Cove: Bouncing Back, Moving Forward, Stepping Out, New Beginnings, Happy Endings; the In My Heart Anthology: An Infatuation & A Shooting Star; the Tales from Fairyland Anthology: The Naked Prince and Other Tales from Fairyland and Holiday Tales from Fairyland; the Bobby and Paolo Holiday Stories Anthology: A Home for the Holidays, The Perfect Gift, The First Noel; and the Found At Last Anthology: Finding Giorgio and Finding Armando. His books have won numerous Book of the Month awards and Rainbow Award Honorable Mentions. As an actor, Joe appeared in principal roles in film, television, and theatre, opposite stars such as Bruce Willis, Rosie O’Donnell, Nathan Lane, Jason Robards, and Holland Taylor. He received his Master of Fine Arts degree from Goddard College, Master’s degree from SUNY New Paltz, and is currently a happily married college emeritus theatre professor residing in New York State.

 

Web site: https://JoeCosentino.weebly.com

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4071647.Joe_Cosentino

Amazon: Author.to/JoeCosentino

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