Discover The Timeslot Paradox today and Enter the Giveaway

Title: The Timeslot Paradox

Author: Jeff Womack

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/13/2025

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 100500

Genre: Science Fiction, time travel, time portal, time jump, time slot, rescue, revenge, romance, lesbian romance, friends to lovers, paradox, disabilities, found family, interracial/intercultural, university, computers, hacker, temporal engineer

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Description

Empowering time travelers to communicate across decades, an eager and gifted temporal engineer develops a secret mail drop, hidden in plain sight on a university campus. Codename: the Timeslot.

A charismatic physicist and a focused, revenge-driven hacker go to daring lengths to escape the man who murdered their best friend and fiancé—his boss.

A grieving musician in search of closure uncovers her late father’s notebook, written before she was born but, impossibly, dated twenty-five years in the future.

Generations later, another engineer, brilliant but disorganized, struggles to repair the abandoned Timeslot equipment after years of disuse. Her unexpected discovery draws this disparate group of men and women into a cascade of events which echo across a century of recent-past and near-future history.

Journals from five intertwining lives, Black, White, Asian, queer, straight, disabled, and not, blend time travel with mystery, revenge, found family, vintage music, sci-fi references, and even a little romance.

Excerpt

The Timeslot Paradox
Jeff Womack © 2025
All Rights Reserved

1

Crystal

August 1993

I spent weeks cleaning out the house before I discovered the secret compartment.

Unexpectedly, the lowest dresser drawer was crammed full of socks, far more colorful than I would ever wear. I slid the whole thing out to tilt them into the donation box. Shaking the drawer to free the last pair, I felt something shift, just before a false bottom hinged open, and a book fell out among the clothes.

The unmarked tan cover had no title, no call number, nothing.

Three months before, Mom had…faded to silence like the final song on an album. After the funeral, when the flow of her friends bringing food over eventually slowed and stopped, I slipped into a deep funk. No desire to move on, I’d just spun in place, the crackle of static at the center of a record repeating over and over.

My counselor suggested that the grief process could be helped by changing how I thought about the house. Even though I lived there alone, it still felt like Mom’s. So, I cleaned and sorted absolutely everything. Like learning to play an instrument, the only way to improve was practice. So, I practiced. I practiced being a self-sufficient adult, one shelf, one box, one drawer at a time.

Sorting and cleaning became the therapy that finally lifted my needle out of that endless groove.

Slowly, I’d worked my way through the entire basement, most of the garage, the kitchen, nearly everything except Mom’s bedroom. I knew I needed to build up to it, so I left her room to last. That morning, I’d stood in her doorway, debating between the dresser and the closet. It didn’t matter much. Since I was several inches taller, most of her clothes would be donated anyway.

Gently lifting the book out of the box, I opened it to the first page, where handwritten text began. “James was my best friend, and now he’s dead.” The date didn’t make any sense though: July 2018.

An unpublished novel set in the future? As a librarian, Mom lived her entire life around books. So maybe? Except this wasn’t her familiar handwriting. It was far too messy. Why go to such trouble to hide it?

Sitting on the floor, the socks forgotten, a story unfolded, page by page: time travelers, friendship, loss, escape, revenge, and even a little romance.

I read until my legs fell asleep. Standing unsteadily, a folded bundle of paper covered with undecipherable math calculations slipped out from between the pages onto the floor. Tucked inside, I found two white rectangles. I used the smaller, a worn piece of unlabeled plastic to mark my place in the book. The larger showed writing in one corner that I recognized was Mom’s. “Charles and me, 1968.” I flipped it over to see an old black-and-white photo of a smiling couple posing on a stair landing. An Asian man in shirt and tie had his arm around the waist of a White woman in a floral dress. She had straight dark hair parted in the middle.

Mom only had a few photos of my dad. Her favorite hung in the hall, the rest stayed in an album. I’d seen them all many times, but never this one. Dad looked the same as in all his other photos, but Mom was so young, her hair longer than I remembered and years before any gray crept in.

On the wall behind them, the bottom corner of an antique picture frame showed. I leaned close and noticed a dog in the painting. Gasping, I sat up straight. I knew that painting! I knew exactly where they stood.

I headed out the door so fast I barely remembered to lock up. Parking always sucked near the student union, so I paid for the parking garage. Through hallways, past meeting rooms, the main lobby, and then halfway up the atrium stairs brought me to a landing with a painting of the first dean of the university…and his dog.

I stepped back and held out the photo. It lined up perfectly: the corner of the painting with the brass plaque underneath, the curving handrail to the stairs, all of it. The only things missing were my parents.

The only things missing were my parents.

That hit me hard. My counselor said grief was a road that winds back on itself. On a stair landing, empty except for me and a century-old dog, I didn’t even realize I was crying until an older woman passed by and asked if I was okay. I wiped my cheeks, told her I was fine, and walked away, back toward my car, my house, and the book my dad had left behind.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Jeff is an architect, archer, author, costumer, hiker, home-brewer, re-enactor, woodworker, etc. etc. etc. He lives in the suburbs of Denver, Colorado, with his family.

Instagram | Bluesky

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! 

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New Release Spotlight/Giveaway: The Oathtaker Broken by J.B. Knowles

Broken by J.B. Knowles

Book 1 in the Oathtaker series

General Release Date: 28th February 2023

Word Count: 57,681
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 221

GENRES:

FANTASY
GLBTQI
LESBIAN
ROMANCE

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Book Description

After countless battles as an Oathtaker, Katya is about to face her hardest fight—one for her mind and soul.

Katya Greenleaf has given herself over to the thrill of combat countless times during her years as an Oathtaker. Alongside her mentor Shira, she has sought out evil—pirates, slavers, dark mages and demon hordes. Occasionally, she finds comfort in the company of other females she encounters in her travels, and despite her mother’s best efforts, she has no desire to settle for a traditional elven life and family.

After decades of taking joy from the fight, no matter the odds, Katya leads a group of Oathtakers into a disastrous battle, one which costs the lives of everyone around her, including Shira. Katya survives, but with neither body nor spirit intact, haunted by her life of violence and death in the name of her Oath.

Now, the red-haired warrior will find her greatest challenge in a battle against a different sort of demon—ones that live in her mind and haunt her sleep.

As she heals, Katya is reminded that there is more to life than blood and iron by a compelling human named Lili, who not only catches Katya’s interest, but forces her to re-think her life and her mission.

With Lili at her side, her beloved falcon Fayne on her shoulder and healers encouraging her, Katya sets out to re-discover the warrior she once was and finally confront the truths of what happened the day the world collapsed around her.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and the death of a minor character.

Excerpt

The swamp went against everything Katya had ever learned about choosing a battlefield.

She stood in freezing knee-high water surrounded by small islands of reed-covered sand. Thick mist hung in the air, limiting her vision and rendering her favoured weapon, a crossbow, useless.

The fog was freezing and damp, and despite the enchantments on the leather armour she wore, a chill was creeping into her bones. In that, Katya wasn’t alone. The other members of her party were also complaining about the wet and frosty surroundings.

The swirling mist made sounds duller and flatter, but with her better-than-human hearing, Katya could hear the clicks and whistles that made up the language of the lizard men that were closing in on them. They were savage and bloodthirsty creatures, given to torture and enslaving defeated enemies, fighting to the last with massive clubs of wood and jagged stone axes.

Today it was Katya’s job to lead the fight against this party of lizard men, sending a message from local merchants and crafters’ guilds that it was time the lizards put a halt to their destruction of trade missions and killing of travelling merchants passing through the area, and that their immediate departure from the swamp would be appreciated.

The responsibility weighed on Katya, despite her eagerness to mix it up, and because of this, she was not happy with what was going to be a horrible place for a stand-up fight.

Still, neither weather nor terrain mattered to Katya. Oathtakers didn’t just head into battle when the skies were sunny and pleasant. Dead enemies were dead no matter where their bodies ended up.

The mist beside her parted and Shira appeared, his beard caked with frost. Katya knew her own long hair looked the same, even though she wore it tied back. Function over form was the warrior’s way.

The old ranger gestured with his chin towards the swamp.

“Ugly spot.”

“I’ve seen worse. That garbage pit on the coast? Blah.”

Shira laughed. “I’ll never forget that smell. Nor the rats.”

Katya suppressed the shudder that rolled up her back. Gods, the rats, she remembered. Vile and voracious monsters that had wiped out all the wild animals in a huge area around the garbage dump. When they had moved on to livestock, the farmers in the area were desperate for help. The Oathtakers had answered the call.

The rats had been the same size as large dogs, with yellow eyes and even yellower teeth—one of them had bitten straight through a party member’s leather gauntlet. When all was said and done, everyone in the fray had ended up with scratches and bites from the filthy beasts that needed to be well-cleaned before infection set in.

Their foul bloodstains never had come off Katya’s armour completely, no matter how often she scrubbed them.

“I think the lizards will give them a run for their money today.”

Shira’s face took on the more serious look that Katya was accustomed to—his war-face. “They may, aye. What did our friend in the sky say?”

Katya looked up, straining to see. “I haven’t talked to her yet. Do you want me to call her in?”

“May as well. She’ll have seen all she can by now. No sense in letting her freeze.”

Katya nodded. She pursed her lips and whistled, making an odd yet pleasant musical sound, then waited.

In a few seconds, a dark shadow, one of Katya’s most valuable weapons and allies, plummeted out of the misty sky.

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About the Author

J.B. Knowles

J.B. Knowles has been a lifelong lover of works of fantasy, first creating Katya and the Greenleaf family in high school as roleplaying characters.

After a long career in the fields of justice and mental health, J.B. finally had a chance to build a full world on paper for Katya and to breathe new life into adventures started over thirty years ago.

J.B. is married and has two sons and three dogs who all share an stately old farmhouse in a quiet corner of Canada.

Giveaway

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New Release Spotlight: Sapphic Seduction

 

NEW RELEASE: Sapphic Seduction Vol 2 by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #lesbianerotica #erotica #lesfic #eroticromance #shortstories #anthology

 

Blurb:

If you enjoy short, steamy tales of women getting together, then check out this collection from the pen of award-winning author Lucy Felthouse.

From Sapphic fun at the seaside to showing off by the pool, clearing out an old shed to getting the hots for musicians, and even a spot of voyeurism, this book has F/F goodness in spades. There’s something for everyone, and will have you eager to turn just one more page.

Enjoy fifteen titillating tales, over 50,000 words of lesbian lusciousness.

Please note: The stories in this anthology have been previously published.

 

📚Universal link: https://books2read.com/sapphicseductionvol2

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62080394-sapphic-seduction-vol-2

Add to BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/sapphic-seduction-vol-2-a-lesbian-erotica-collection-by-lucy-felthouse

 

*****

Excerpt:

Hardware

Caroline and Della walked up to the shed door, paused, and exchanged a nervous glance.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. “Come on, Dell, we’re almost there. This is the last big job we’ve got to do. Then we can move on to the fun stuff. Like decorating and building furniture.”

“I know,” Della replied, eyeing the wooden storage space with distaste, “but it’s also the most terrifying. We haven’t got a clue what’s in there. Could be dead bodies or rotting body parts for all we know.”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline replied, “It is the most terrifying, but you might be letting your imagination run away with you a bit. I don’t think the old boy was a serial killer, somehow. He was ninety, for Christ’s sake!”

“He wasn’t always ninety. He was our age once.”

“True, but if he’d been hiding bodies or body parts in his shed for decades, someone would have noticed. The smell, for starters. And flies. Rats.”

Grimacing, Della said, “Guess we’ll soon find out.”

Caroline twisted the key in the lock, then opened the shed door with a sense of trepidation. Unlike her girlfriend, she wasn’t expecting anything sinister to be lurking in the gloom. More a whole bunch of stuff they wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. They’d bought the property—their first, after renting for years—from the family of the old boy who had recently passed away. None of the family was local, so they’d offered a hefty discount on the house to compensate Caroline and Della for cleaning it out.

It hadn’t been all bad—they’d made a tidy sum from selling some of the stuff they didn’t want; including antique and handmade furniture, collectibles, and a considerable book and DVD collection. The latter, as well as piles of old photographs, which they’d forwarded on to the family, had given them a real insight into Ted’s life and the type of person he was. Which was why Caroline wasn’t worried about finding anything nefarious in the shed. He had been a nice bloke, by all accounts, fond of his family, his friends, and his work. Carpentry had been his vocation, not just his career—hence the handmade furniture they’d sold on. So, Caroline’s common sense was telling her the scariest thing they were likely to find was spiders.

She reached inside to undo the bolts holding the other door closed. After a little wrestling, but not too much, she pulled them free. It seemed old Ted had maintained the shed right up until his declining physical health had made it impossible. It must have driven him crazy to not be able to do all the things he used to. She flung both doors wide to let the light flood in and stood back.

Gazing into the cavernous space, both girls were silent for several long moments. Then Caroline turned to Della with a grin. “Well then, should we get started?”

Wide eyed, Della looked back at her. “Where the hell do we start? What is all this stuff?”

“God knows.” Caroline squinted at the piles of chaos. “Carpentry tools, at a guess. And, er, decorating stuff, and… just stuff. Normal shed stuff, see? Nothing dead or decaying in sight. It’s just a little bit dusty and very untidy. Looks like he was a hoarder. We may as well do what we did with the rest of the house—empty everything out and sort through it as we go. Figure out what we want to keep—if anything—what needs throwing away, and what we might be able to sell.”

“Not sure we’ll get much interest in ‘thingymajigs’ on eBay.” She pointed at a metal contraption with a circular blade. “I mean, what the fuck is that thing?”

Caroline stuck her tongue out at Della and stepped into the shed. “Don’t be so defeatist. Come on! The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish.”

Reluctantly, Della joined her girlfriend. “Okay, let’s get going.”

An hour and a half later, they stopped for a tea break. “Fucking hell,” Caroline said, blowing on the surface of her tea, then taking a sip as she surveyed the three piles—keep, sell, dump—they’d created. “There seems to be a ton of stuff out here, and yet looking in there,” she jerked her head towards the shed, “it looks as though we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“It’s like the fucking TARDIS in there, isn’t it?” Della replied, shoving at a plastic paint tray with the toe of her shoe.

“Hmm…” Caroline regarded the insanity, then gave a wry smile. “But it’ll be worth it in the end, though. The shed itself seems sturdy enough, so we’ll have plenty of storage space for any tools we keep, plus any gardening paraphernalia we buy…” She tailed off, letting her words sink in. Given they’d only ever rented flats, gardening hadn’t been high on the agenda, and Della had often lamented the lack of having a green space of their own.

Narrowing her eyes, Della took a couple of gulps of her drink. “Yeah… I suppose you’re right. We’ll need a lawnmower, and a strimmer, a spade, a hoe—”

“We’ve already got a ‘ho’,” Caroline quipped, wiggling her eyebrows theatrically and pointing at Della.

“Hey,” Della exclaimed, punching Caroline playfully on the arm. “Bitch. That’s not very nice.”

Chuckling, Caroline shrugged. “What can I say? I’m not very nice.”

“True.”

Smirking at each other over the rims of their mugs, the pair finished their drinks in silence.

“Done?” Della asked, holding out her hand. “I’ll stick these in the kitchen.”

Caroline passed her empty mug to Della. “Thanks. Right, I’m going back in…”

Picking her way across the clear part of the floor, Caroline looked around, wondering what she should tackle next. Just then, she spotted a wooden stool with a coil of rope sitting on top of it.

All thoughts of clearing out the shed flew from her mind as a grin crept onto her face. She had a much better idea.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her and her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree  

 

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

Book Spotlight & Giveaway: The Harbringer

Discover the world of author Mary Eicher's new book, The Harbringer today and don't forget to enter the giveaway as well below.

Title:  The Harbinger

Series: Artemis, Book One

Author: Mary Eicher

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: June 15, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 99100

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, paranormal, family-drama, lit, lesbian, plague, bells, prophecy of death, fake religious cult, Hawaii, astronomy, mother/daughter relationship, Greek mythology, pandemic

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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53487961-the-harbinger

 

In a picturesque California town, the deafening sound of bells brings dozens of people to their knees. Three days later a horrific accident claims their lives. Among the dead is the twin brother of Artemis Andronikos, a beautiful attorney, who abandons the ill-fated vacation and returns home to grieve.

 

Her mourning is interrupted by Lucy Breem a reporter who suspects a connection between the strange bell sound and subsequent deaths. Disturbed by the possibility that the phenomenon had presaged her brother’s death, Artemis agrees to join forces with Lucy to investigate the mysterious premonitions. Utilizing her considerable physical and deductive talents, Artemis battles nefarious forces and seeks information from friends in high places. Their research takes them to various global venues. But the solution to the mystery proves illusive and the couple discovers that neither science nor religion can provide an explanation for what has become known as the Harbinger.

 

Excerpt

 

The Harbinger

Mary Eicher © 2020

All Rights Reserved

 

Artemis wiped her mouth with the back of a dirty hand. Rivulets of sweat slithered down her back, and heat from hours of exertion roiled off her. The dog-eared map indicated they had four more miles of steep terrain before they would reach the checkpoint. Glancing at a sun already low in the western sky, she folded the paper and shoved the map back into her pack. It would be a struggle to reach Lake Isabella before dark. A momentary breeze rippled her shirt, and she brushed dark, damp bangs from her forehead, savoring the momentary relief. Then, summoning fresh determination, she started up a brush-choked hill.

 

“Come on, Cab,” Artemis called back to the struggling man behind her. “We’ll get there faster if you get the lead out.”

 

Ichabod leaned on his walking stick and watched his sister’s long legs settling into an easy stride.

 

“Shut up, Temmie,” he shot back, annoyed by her effortless advance. “Trekking the Pacific Crest Trail was your idea, not mine. I need a steak, medium rare, and alcohol. You promised me beer, remember?”

 

Artemis turned and aimed pale-blue eyes at her twin brother. She tossed her long black ponytail and gave him a patronizing smile.

 

“Come on, Cab. Let’s just get there,” she encouraged him softly. “I need a bath.”

 

“Yes, you do!” he muttered, stumbling over a patch of loose rocks. She was doing it again, making him feel second best; a feeling that irritated him more than the roughness of the trail. He disliked having to push himself to keep up with her. He slapped at a bug that landed on his neck and stopped to catch his breath. He hated hiking. He hated everything his sister loved about it. He wondered how it was possible for twins to be so utterly different from each other. And why was she always, always better at everything?

 

An instant later, his head felt as if it was exploding in a cacophony of clanging bells.

 

“Ah, Jesus H. Christ!” He dropped the walking stick and sank to a knee, pressing hard against his ears with both hands. The discomfort of the trek disappeared as the painful ringing in his head blotted out any other sensation.

 

Artemis turned to see Ichabod writhing in the dirt. Her heart pounding, she raced back down the trail to see what had happened.

 

“What the hell, Cab?” she cried as she reached him, panicked at the thought he might be seriously hurt.

 

Ichabod cautiously released his grip on his head and slumped to a sit. Pale and confused, he leaned against the base of a tree and dug at his ears. Artemis knelt down and hugged him to her chest to check his head for any kind of injury.

 

“Did you hear that?” he asked, glancing up at her, crystal-blue eyes wide with concern. “What was it?”

 

“I didn’t hear a thing, except you cursing.” She sat down beside him and tousled his shaggy black curls. “I can’t find anything wrong. Are you having a stroke or something?”

 

“No, I don’t think so. There was just this really loud noise in my head. Bells. Really, really loud bells. It hurt like hell.” He gave her a slight smile. “It’s over now. I can’t believe you didn’t hear anything. You’re the one who usually hears things. Not me.”

 

She helped him to his feet and made sure he was steady enough to heft his pack. He pushed her arm away and stiffened his back in a display of competence beyond what he actually felt.

 

“I’m okay. Come on. Let’s get to Lake Isabella so I can have a beer. You promised me, remember?”

 

The lake came into view as they crested a final hill. It sparkled in the slanted sunlight, and just seeing it gave the pair a sense of relief. The view before them was mystical. Streaks of pink and yellow from the setting sun reflected off the dark-blue water framed by an endless horizon of verdant hills. They gaped at each other and shared triumphant smiles. Ichabod put his arm around his sister’s waist.

 

“Okay. Sometimes it’s worth all the trouble,” he admitted. “Now, let’s go get that beer.” He hugged her and added, “You’re buying.”

 

All that remained was a downhill slope that melted away and they trudged the final half mile along dusty roads until they found the check-in station. An older man in a well-worn MAGA hat welcomed them, had them sign the register, and directed them to a nearby hotel.

 

Ichabod slung his pack to the floor as soon as he stepped into the room. He stretched stiff muscles and then sank into one of the two narrow beds. Artemis set her pack on the room’s solitary chair and did a leisurely tour of their Spartan quarters. Seeing an enormous bathtub in the otherwise cramped bathroom, she issued a little cry of delight.

 

“Go ahead, sis,” Ichabod told her, settling on the cot-like bed. “You can bathe first. I’m headed for a bar.” He rolled on his side and hugged a pillow. “In a few minutes.”

 

Artemis turned on the faucet and ran her fingers through the water, waiting for the stream to reach the proper temperature. She selected jeans and a reasonably clean tank top from her pack, stripped off the clothes she’d worn for three days, and stepped into the tub. Letting the warm water sooth her athletic body, she settled back to reflect on the trip so far.

 

She lathered a washcloth and drew it along her arms. The image of Cab writhing in pain flashed in her mind, and she drew in a heavy breath. Her brother was young and strong physically. He had recovered within minutes. Whatever had happened, Cab didn’t show any residual effect. She sank lower in the tub until the warm water was just below her chin. She would keep an eye on him, but she willed herself not to give in to needless worry.

 

Purchase Links

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author 

I live in Southern California with my two daughters. I have degrees in English and Psychology from the University of California and twenty plus years of writing experience from technical manuals to short stories. As an executive with a major computer firm, I managed customer documentation and field training and have traveled extensively. I have a passion for history, alternative theories about life’s mysteries life and dolphins. You can find Mary on Facebook. http://www.facebook.com/maryeicher

 

Giveaway – 

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

Direct Link to Giveaway: 

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Guest Author Day with Tinnean

Please give a warm welcome to Meg Parkinson from Surviving the Apocalypse – Long Leggity Beasties by Tinnean today as we sit down and see what makes her tick.

Hello, everyone. Hi, Dawn, and thanks so much for giving me this opportunity. I love talking about what finally got me back together with the bravest, most wonderful woman in the world, and this gives me the ideal opening

Let’s get started then, shall we? What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not saving the world?

You mean aside from making love with my cutie? Well, now, you know—I don’t really have much spare time. I go to the seminars my captain lines up for me. I see my family every week when my mom has us get together for dinner. I argue with my sister Beth quite a bit. But that’s siblings, right?

Uh… yes. What is it about your love interest—Jenn Canaday.

Excuse me?

Jenn Canaday. She’s my love interest. And let me tell you, it’s fantastic having a girlfriend who’s almost as tall as I am.

Yes, well. What is there about her that makes you crazy in a good way?

She’s got a mouth, you know? I had girlfriends before her, but none of them could hold a candle to her when it comes to giving—Oops, sorry, this isn’t supposed to be the naughty interview. She’s honorable, you know? She put my wellbeing before thoughts of herself. Which was fine, but she really didn’t have to, and I’ve told her more than once that if she’d just talked to me, we wouldn’t have wasted five years!

Okay, moving right along. Do you sometimes want to strangle your writer? Thrash her to within an inch of her life? Make her do the stupid crap she makes you do?

Are you kidding? How about all the time? First she lets Jenn get the cockeyed idea that it would be a good thing for her to break up with me. I mean, come on, we’d just spent the best week together, but then Jenn gets the notion I’d be better off without a woman who’s a few years older than me.

She’s actually almost ten years your senior, Meg.

Shut up, Tinn. What do you always say? Age is simply a question of mind over matter, and if you don’t mind, it don’t—doesn’t—matter. I wouldn’t have left Jenn. And not only that, what’s the idea of making my mother cuckoo for Little Women?

It seemed like a good idea at the time?

Please. My sisters didn’t mind being named Amy, Jo, and Beth, and I’m okay with Meg, but naming our poor brother Laurie? Do you have any idea how many times I had to beat up some jerk for bullying my older brother?

Fine, but we’re talking about your story, not his.

Okay, then how about telling me what Laurel Hill’s done to you that you take such pleasure in tormenting my town?

I wouldn’t call it tormenting exactly.

Oh, no? Turns to the readers. Do you have any idea what she’s put my poor home town through? No, probably you don’t. Well, let me tell you: a nuclear holocaust, a pandemic, and then an attack by those damned—

Shush. You don’t want to give that away.

Don’t I? Okay, next time, you go deal with those mother—

Margaret!

Next question?

Favorite food?

Lamb shanks.

That was a quick response.

Hands down, the best meal my mom makes. See, she puts on a metric ton of salt and garlic powder, then sprinkles it with rosemary leaves, then sticks them in the oven to roast until they’re fall-off-the-bone tender. Jenn loves them too.

Do you make them for her? Okay, I’ll take that look as a no. Suppose you tell me a little bit about your world. What are your greatest challenges in that world?

Well, you see, things have gotten hinky in the southwest. People are going missing, and not just migrants coming up from Central America. The governor’s niece and her kids were camping, and then “poof” they’re gone and the campsite looks like something big and mean took it apart. And ranchers are losing their prize breeding stock. That’s how Jenn got involved. She’s an FBI agent—

You sound proud of her.

Damned straight I am. She was called in to deal with it, although her boss is an asshole and just wanted to her fail so he could fire her.

But she didn’t fail.

Nope. As for challenges, they’re the usual—bureaucrats who care more about keeping their jobs than doing them. They get in our way and make things more difficult. No one needs that crap.

They don’t. All right, moving right along: Describe yourself in four words.

Now that’s gonna be tough. Okay, let’s see. Caring—As much as I can, I look out for the homeless people who live in Dupuis Town, which is the poor side of Laurel Hill that hasn’t been restored yet. I bring them food, clothing, toys for the kids, pet food, whatever fits in the trunk of my cruiser. Dedicated – especially to my girlfriend. I love her with all my heart and soul. She’d the best thing that ever happened to me, and I thank my lucky stars every day I wake up beside her. Snarky—I can get really snide if I’m dealing with people who try to make my job more difficult than it has to be (see my above comment about bureaucrats) Honest—especially when it comes to how I feel ab0ut the people in my life. Well, except when Jenn came to Laurel Hill and I saw her with—Never mind, you’ll see.

What do you do for a living?

I’m a deputy in the Laurel Hill Sheriff’s Department. My mom always said that sounded as if our little town was part of the wild west, even though it’s in Delaware. If I had to work in law enforcement, she’d have been a lot happier if it were for a police department. Anyway, my beat is Dupuis Town, which is where our small town’s homeless camp is located. Was located. As I mentioned, I keep all kinds of supplies for them in my cruiser’s trunk. And I consider that part of my job.

One last question. What do you fear the most?

My mom trying to fix me up with one of her friends’ sons. No, seriously, that would be losing my family to those long leggity beasties. I don’t have to worry about Jenn, because as I said, she’s an FBI agent and an extremely capable woman. She doesn’t need me to watch her back, although she knows I always will. My family, though—my sisters are all younger than me and don’t know the muzzle of a revolver from its grip, my brother is a tin knocker who’d rather be a hairdresser, and my mom and pop—well, they’d deny being old, but they’re getting ready to retire, and the last thing they need is to face those monsters. Family can be a pain, you know? But I swear, if anything happened to any of them—it would kill me.

Long Leggity Beasties

Surviving the Apocalypse

Genre: f/f

Buy link: https://www.jms-books.com/erotic-romance-c-34_117/surviving-the-apocalypse-long-leggity-beasties-p-2734.html

Blurb:  Dark deeds are being done, and Jenn Canaday, a special agent with the FBI, has been assigned to look into them. This takes her to New Mexico, where cattle are being rustled and people are going missing -- one of them the niece of the state’s governor.

Meg Parkinson is a sheriff’s deputy in the small town of Laurel Hill. She and Jenn had once spent a steamy week together, but then Jenn had sent her away, something Meg hasn’t gotten over, as reluctant as she is to admit it.

When Meg notices that the homeless camp on the edge of her town has become deserted, Jenn is brought into her vicinity to aid in the investigation. Will the former lovers be able to work together? Can they rekindle the flame that had once burned so brightly? And will they learn what’s behind all the disappearances without disappearing themselves?

 And that’s it for today, folks. You’ve been a wonderful audience. Please enjoy this excerpt:

She slung the rifle over her shoulder by its strap, grabbed up her jacket, and began filling the pockets with the boxes of ammunition. “I’m on my way to Dupuis Town.”

“I’m coming with you, Margaret.” Genevieve came to her side.

The last thing she wanted was her former lover coming along for the ride. She might be helpful, but she’d also be distracting. “You don’t—”

“One second, Sergeant.” Dr. Hallstadt’s words stopped her. “Captain, I’m afraid those rifles might not be enough. Do you have any flamethrowers?”

“Really, Nicola?” The professor looked aghast. “You’d pass up this opportunity to study a species that’s been considered extinct for millions of years—”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. These scientists who put the search for knowledge ahead of the safety of the human race—

“Nicki might not, Professor.” Genevieve seemed to have no problem interrupting the older woman. “But I’ve seen those things and the damage they can do, and if it comes to us or them….”

“You really think it might?”

“I do.”

The professor turned as pale as her dusky complexion allowed. “In that case, you’re right, and I apologize.”

Meg had never seen her former lover at work, and her panties dampened. Jesus, get a grip, Parkinson. Although she had to admit she was impressed at how Genevieve made the older woman back down.

“Do we need to call in the armed forces?” the captain asked.

“Not just yet,” Dr. Hallstadt assured him. “This species appears to be diurnal. It’s dark, and they’ll have taken shelter for the night. Once we’ve discovered the location of this colony, I’ll need canisters of chlorpyrifos.”

“Chlorpyr-whatsis?”

“It’s a pesticide.”

“That was banned by the EPA in 2018,” Meg snapped. It paid to have a sister who was fascinated by stuff like that and who enjoyed nothing more than passing on that information.

“How dangerous is this going to be to anyone in the surrounding area?” the captain demanded.

“From what I’ve been led to believe, that part of Laurel Hill is deserted,” Dr. Hallstadt reminded him.

He snorted and cut a glance in Meg’s direction, impatience writ large upon his face. As if it was really necessary to remind them—Meg had been the one who’d first discovered the apparently abandoned homeless camp.

Book Spotlight~ LV48

Title: LV48

Series: The Cassie Tam Files, Book Three

Author: Matt Doyle

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 10, 2018

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 66400

Genre: Science Fiction, futuristic, lesbian, private detective, Sci-fi

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Synopsis

New Hopeland City may be the birthplace of Tech Shifter gear, but it isn’t the only place that likes to blend technology with folklore. Now, a new nightmare is stalking the streets… When PI Cassie Tam is attacked on the way home one night, she expects the police to get involved. What she doesn’t expect is to be forced into acting as bait to lure out a lunatic in a tech-suit that’s literally out for blood. But past actions have consequences, and doing so may be the only way she can get a clean slate from the city’s law makers. If only that didn’t mean having to face down a wannabe vampire.

Excerpt

LV48 Matt Doyle © 2018 All Rights Reserved “Nei hou gaau siu.” When Lori smiles like that, her eyes take on a slight twinkle, making their pale blue tone feel warm and welcoming. That being the case, it takes me a moment to realise I didn’t understand a word she just said. Am I so drunk already? “Uh, sorry. What?” Lori giggles and repeats, “Nei hou gaau siu.” When I stare blankly, she frowns and asks, “Is my pronunciation off? I was sure that was right.” “What were you trying to say?” “I was trying to tell you that you’re funny in Cantonese.” And at that, the laughter spills out of me, uncontrolled to the point I have to bury my face in the table to muffle the sound. If we’d been in our usual haunt, Northern Main Street’s late-night café-cum-alternative hangout Tourniquet, I’d have let loose uninhibited. The people there look like an odd bunch when you’re viewing things from the outside, but if you spend enough time there, you soon realise they’re all really nice people with tastes and hobbies that fall outside the mainstream. Seeing as we’ve opted for Cartwright’s on Dunstone Avenue, though, I’m trying to hold back. Honestly, I am. I’m just not doing a good job of it. The staff in Cartwright’s are lovely, but the clientele is a little less raucous than those at Tourniquet, and so I’m already drawing some confused looks by the time I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I’m sorry.” “I’ve never been much good at languages. Oh God,” Lori sighs and shoots me a now far more nervous smile. “Put me out of my misery. What did I say?” I shrug. “You probably told me I was funny in Cantonese.” Lori tilts her head and says, “Okay, now I’m confused.” “I don’t speak Cantonese.” “Yes, you do.” “I really don’t.” “You really do. I mean, you can’t seriously be telling me you’ve been using diu in the Taiwanese sense?” “No, no…,” I reply, waving my hands in frantic motions. “Wait. What does it mean in Taiwan?” “It was old slang for cool.” “Oh, right. No, I’m definitely using it the way you think.” “So you do speak Cantonese then.” “No, I swear in Cantonese. I couldn’t hold a conversation in it. My dad had a thing about me swearing. He hated it, even when I was an adult. It was the one thing that always made him roll his eyes at Mom. Anyway, he spoke Mandarin, English, and a little French, so my options for big kid words were kinda limited. I went to school with a guy named Tom Huang; he spoke Cantonese, so I got him to teach me the cool words. Dad probably got the gist of what I was saying, but I think he appreciated the ingenuity of it.” And now, Lori laughs and buries her face in her hands. She shakes her head and says, “I am such an idiot.” “Nah, it’s not like I’ve ever spoken Mandarin around you, so how would you know? Honestly, I know enough Mandarin to get by, but we always spoke English at home, so I just picked that up easier. Let’s see, though…you would have meant nǐ hěn gǎoxiào. Or if you wanted to be really over the top with it, nǐ jiӑng shénme dōu néng bӑ wŏ lè huài le. That’s ‘everything you say cracks me up.’” Lori shakes her head. “I think I’ll stick to English.” “I am sorry for laughing,” I say, taking her hand. “It was really sweet of you to try learning something in another language for me. Why that phrase, though?” Lori lets out a short, gentle laugh, and replies, “Every time we’re together, you either do or say something to make me laugh, so I figured it was something I could guarantee I’d get to use.” “I’ll get us another drink,” I blurt, and whip myself to my feet and away towards the counter. It was just a compliment, but still… Did I move quick enough to stop her seeing how red my cheeks are? “Nǐ hěn gǎoxiào,” Lori giggles in broken Mandarin. I guess I was too slow. Diu.

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Meet the Author

Matt Doyle is a speculative fiction author from the UK and identifies as pansexual and genderfluid. Matt has spent a great deal of time chasing dreams, a habit which has led to success in a great number of fields. To date, this has included spending ten years as a professional wrestler, completing a range of cosplay projects, and publishing multiple works of fiction. These days, Matt can be found working on multiple novels and stories, blogging about pop culture, and plotting and planning far too many projects.

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