ofelia grand – A. L. Lester

It’s release day for the World Letter Writing Day Novellas!

It’s that time again! I’m very pleased to announce that the Naked Gardening Day Team are back. We had such fun working together last year that we decided to choose another day to write about this year and landed on World Letter Writing Day on 1^st September.

Today I’ve got an excerpt for you below, and over the next few days I’ll be featuring posts from Holly Day, K. L. Noone and Nell Iris and I’ll also be visiting their blogs to talk about my own story, Reading it Wrong. This year we are very sorry to be missing Amy Spector, but we’re hoping her story will be released in time for the paperback anthology next year.

The four World Letter Writing Day novella covers

Without further ado…Reading it Wrong

A date turned down. A stolen letter. A reminder that nerds don’t just play board games. Reading it Wrong is a gentle MM romance set in the small town world of Theatr Fach.

Reading it Wrong. A date turned down. A stolen letter. A reminder that nerds don't just play board games. Reading it wrong is a gentle gay romance sent in the small town world of Theatr Fach.

Paul Cranford regrets asking Louise and Darcy Middleton to let the kids from his class have a look at the fifteenth century letter they’re selling at auction. If it hadn’t been for him, it would never have been in the theatre overnight to even get stolen in the first place.

Darcy isn’t keen on Paul Cranford. He’s never quite got over the way Paul knocked him back when Darcy tried to ask him out. But when the letter is stolen from the theatre and Darcy is hurt in the process, Paul steps up to help him and he starts to understand where he’s coming from.

Getting back the letter means they get to know each other better. Will that date Paul turned down happen after all?

A date turned down. A stolen letter. A reminder that nerds don’t just play board games. Reading it Wrong is a gentle MM romance set in the small town world of Theatr Fach.

Buy Links: Amazon US : Amazon UK : JMS Books : Everywhere Else : Goodreads

Reading it Wrong: Chapter 1: Darcy

“How can a town support not one, but two antiquarian book sellers? It’s bloody ridiculous!” Darcy fumed at his sister as she peered through her glasses at the laptop screen.
He was so irritated he was pacing to-and-fro in front of the counter, waving his arms.
Louise started to answer, “Well, Hay does…” and then glanced up and over his shoulder, frowning at him in passing. “Hello there, can I help you?” she asked the person he’d failed to notice coming up behind him.
Darcy swung round as he stepped out of the way.
Oh. No. That was just what he needed.
Paul Cranford nodded to him politely but didn’t meet his eyes, instead smiling at Louise as he stepped up to the desk. “Er. Yes,” he said. “I’ve, er—” He glanced quickly and dismissively over at Darcy again, who’d folded his arms and was glaring at him. “Hi Louise, how are you?”
“I’m good thanks, Paul. How are you? How’s David? Is he still at the boatyard?”
Paul smiled at her. “Yes! They’re doing really well; they’ve got some big contracts in at the moment. I’m sure he’d send his best to you.”
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen him,” Louise said. “A couple of years, at least. He’s not a reader.” She grinned at him.
“He’s more outdoorsy than me,” Paul told her. “Always has been. I was a failure as a little brother.” He smiled as he said it, clearly joking.
“I remember from school,” Louise said. “He did all sorts of sport. I remember him badgering you to join in and you being happier in the library. What are you looking for today? Can I help you with anything? That new release you’re waiting for hasn’t come in yet,” she said regretfully.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not why I’ve come by,” he said. “It’s something different. I’m here for a favour actually.”
Darcy didn’t bother to stifle his huff of irritation. “A favour,” he said, flatly, at the same time as Louise said, “Anything I can do to help! What sort of favour?”
Paul glanced over at Darcy for a second time as he interjected and then looked back at Louise, ignoring him. That wound Darcy up even more, but Louise gave him a quelling look and said, “Be quiet please, baby brother!” and then turned back to Paul. “What sort of favour?”
Darcy growled under his breath. She never let him forget he’d been an afterthought to their parents and was fifteen years younger than her.
“Right, er. Well. You know I teach at St Baruc Primary. I… er. I heard about the letter that you’re selling.”
Louise nodded. “The letter… we’re selling it at auction, in the middle of the week,” she said. “At the theatre. On Thursday.”
“Yes,” he said.” “I. Er. I wonder if it would be possible for the children to see it before it’s sold?” he said.
“Why?” said Darcy, sharply. It wasn’t any of his business really, but Paul put his back up simply by existing these days and this was his sister and the letter he’d found. Nothing to do with Mr Paul I’m too good to date you Cranford.
Paul looked over at him again, polite enough to notice him this time. “Oh, hello, Darcy,” he said. He pushed his glasses up his nose and blushed. “Well,” he said. “It’s local history. It’s important.”
Darcy opened his mouth and then closed it again. He couldn’t argue with that.
“I mean…it’s not local, local. But from what I’ve read about it, it’s a very normal sort of letter, about family and Christmas and things like that. I think the kids would be able to identify with it. We’re doing a letter-writing project, you see.”
Louise was making a thinking noise. “Hmm. Yes. I can see that. It’s not here though. It’s at the bank.” She pulled a face. “I wonder… I can probably get it out the day before the auction for them to see. Would that work?”
Darcy made another muffled noise of dissent. It was a fifteenth century letter, for God’s sake. Letting a sticky-fingered bunch of pre-teens have at it the day before it went up for sale for thousands of quid seemed really unwise.
But Louise was nodding and Paul was nodding and giving Louise his mobile number and everything seemed copacetic between them. Nothing to do with Darcy. Nothing at all. He turned round and busied himself shelving the Victorian fairy-tale collection Louise had bought last week.
“Bye, Darcy,” Paul said, finally taking his leave. “See you on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, see you,” Darcy said, mentally snarking Not if I can help it.
They were both members of the Llanbaruc Boardgames Club that met in the theatre café on a Wednesday evening. Darcy ran the café, so he’d negotiated with his boss to let them meet there and have access to the bar.
He didn’t know exactly when he’d taken against Paul. Oh. Yeah, he did. It was the evening Darcy had suggested they go out for a drink together one night and Paul had looked at him as if he was something that had come in on the bottom of his shoe and said “Er. No. No, I don’t think so, thanks. I don’t, er… I’m not… erm. No. Thanks,” and reversed away from him so quickly he’d knocked into the game of Risk going on behind him and caused South America to inadvertently invade Australasia via Finland.

Buy Links: Amazon US : Amazon UK : JMS Books : Everywhere Else : Goodreads

Interview with Holly Day / Ofelia Grand

Today Holly Day is visiting to tell us all about her recent release. Holly is the second pen name of my friend Ofelia Grand. This post should have gone up on the 19th December; but because my head was full of cold I clean forgot. Please give her a warm welcome today instead!

Hi Hollyfelia! Thanks so much for coming to the blog today! Can you tell us a little bit about the split personality you’ve got going on and how that came about?

Thank you for having me! 🥰

It started about two and a half years ago. This was in the middle of the covid lockdowns, and while I’m in Sweden, where we never had a real lockdown, we were still encouraged to work from home if we could, not see people unless we had to, and keep our distance. At the time, I was working on a mushroom farm, and we mainly delivered to restaurants, and since people were supposed to stay at home and not eat in restaurants, we more or less stopped production. The result was that I didn’t have a job. Nell Iris didn’t have a job, and the lovely A.L. Lester 😘 didn’t have a job, so we met up in the mornings and wrote together.

One sunny summer day, I was writing a Christmas story, and I was in a flow. When you’re in a flow, you don’t want to step away from the story, but I’d promised my girls that we were gonna go to the playground, so I grudgingly did my duty as a mother 😆 and went to the playground.

While there I kept thinking about how I could write holiday stories all year round and not grow bored. My mind started spinning, and by the time the girls were ready to go home, I had this idea of a pen name who wrote stories for different holidays. I would call her Holly Day since she was meant for holidays LOL

The whole one-story-a-month idea came later. I finished the Christmas story I was writing as Ofelia and wrote a Valentine story as Holly. Then I wrote a story for Kiss a Ginger Day, which is in January. And then I saw Extraterrestrial Abductions Day which is in March. I wrote all three stories in 2020 and realised I had one story a month in the first quarter of 2021 before we’d reached 2021, and that’s what set off the whole one-story-a-month thing. We’ll see if I can keep it up, I’m a little behind at the moment 😊 but so far we’ve had 24 stories in 24 months.

Let’s have some seasonal questions. How do you and your family usually celebrate the midwinter season? Do you decorate the house?

Normally, we’re celebrating with my mother at her house, but she passed away a month ago (#FuckCancer), so this year, we’re a little lost. And hubby will be away working from the 23rd to the 26th, so this year, it’ll only be me and the kids.

We decorate. We have a tree, a real tree, stars in our windows and lots of candles and such. I think it’s pretty similar to the rest of the western world.

What we do that most outside of Scandinavia don’t is celebrate Saint Lucy’s Day on December 13th. It’s a bit weird, not the celebration as such – I love celebrating Lucia – but that we do it. Sweden is one of the most secular countries in the world, only about 9% go to church, so it’s a bit strange that we’re celebrating an Italian saint.

Lucia is beautiful, and the children dress up in the schools, and parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles get to come to see them sing.

Like this:

What’s your favourite food at this time of year?

Ah… I’m a problematic person. Swedish Christmas food is very meat-based. We have ham, meatballs, jellied meats, sausages, and on, and on the list goes, and I’m a vegetarian. I’m also lactose intolerant and gluten intolerant, so there go most other foods. People love to have me over, promise 😆

But traditionally, we also have a lot of kale and Brussels sprouts and such, so that’s mostly what I eat. And I make some vegetarian stuff like mustard grilled Quorn that mimics the traditional Christmas food as well as some things that aren’t normally included in the holiday foods.

Most importantly this time of year isn’t the food – though many people would disagree with me on that – but the glögg. It’s a Scandinavian type of mulled wine, and I can be without most of the traditional holiday food, but not that 😊

Have you asked for anything in particular as a present this year? If you could, what would you want wrapped under the tree for you on Christmas morning?

Eh… no. I’m not really big on things. All I need is my phone, my laptop, and an internet connection, and I already have that.

I would like a huge greenhouse, but I have no good place for it in the garden. If I’m just gonna dream though, I’ll say a greenhouse. I have a small one and it’s not in a good place, so the plants I have in the garden usually grow better than the ones in the greenhouse 🙄

And chickens. I want more chickens. Chickens aren’t as much fun this time of year though when it’s cold and snowy, and the water keeps freezing, and so on, but you can never go wrong with chickens LOL

Tell us about your current release?

It’s a gay paranormal romance novella called Willow Road and it celebrates Crossword Puzzle Day on the 21st December. I wrote it for JMS Books Advent Calendar.

It’s an interspecies fated mates story. Jeremiah hasn’t left his house in over a decade. He went to a shifter school where he was bullied for being the only human, and a group of shifters locked him up in the school basement. Life never went back to normal after that.

Zeeb is the chief of police. When he learns that someone is putting ads in the paper encouraging people to ring Jeremiah’s door right next to the crossword puzzle they know he’s solving every day, he’s furious, and goes to talk to Jeremiah. That’s when he realises Jeremiah is his mate. The problem is that as a human Jeremiah has no idea he has a mate, and he wants nothing to do with shifters, and Zeeb can’t have a human mate since the other shifters wouldn’t respect him if he did. So… best not to let Jeremiah know he’s Zeeb’s mate, right? Well, it was the initial plan, but as we established above, initial plans sometimes change.

Willow Road

Jeremiah Pace hasn’t left his house in thirteen years. He doesn’t trust anyone, least of all shifters. School was a nightmare, and despite never interacting with anyone in the village, the bullying continues in his adult life. Someone is putting ads in the paper, encouraging people to drop by his house for one service or other, but Jeremiah never opens his door.

Zeeb Hemming is a lone wolf and the new chief of police. He’s only been in Stoneshade for six weeks when he learns about the ads and goes to knock on Jeremiah’s door. Not because of what today’s ad said, but to get to the bottom of what’s going on. Human or not, Jeremiah deserves to live life in peace. The moment Zeeb nears Jeremiah’s house, he knows he’s his mate. But he can’t have a human mate.

Jeremiah pleads with Zeeb not to stir anything up. Yes, the ads are bad, but things can always get worse. Zeeb is furious someone is mistreating his mate and is willing to skin anyone who has any connection to the ads alive. But how is he to convince Jeremiah to trust him when he talks to Zeeb through a gap in the window instead of opening the door to his house?

Buy links

Gay Paranormal Romance: 19,909 words

JMS Books :: Amazon :: books2read.com/WillowRoad

Excerpt:

The next day, Dolph and Boris were both missing when Zeeb walked through the door into the police station. Rica was sipping on a cup of coffee while leafing through a stack of papers.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” She gave him a quick smile before focusing on the stack of paper again.

“Where’s Dolph and Boris?”

She put down the paper she’d been reading and studied him. “They had to go out.”

“Had to go out?” Had to? It was seldom anyone had to in Stoneshade.

She tilted her head. “They were laughing about something in the paper, and then two minutes ago they had to go talk to someone.”

Zeeb gritted his teeth. “They were laughing.”

She pursed her lips. “They’re always laughing at things in the paper, aren’t they?”

Scanning the table, he spotted a folded paper underneath another stack of paper—almost as if they didn’t want him to see it. He grabbed it and quickly turned the pages.

“Jesus, what did the paper ever do to you?”

“It’s the ads. If there’s another ad, heads will roll.”

Rica gave him a confused look. “The ads?”

“They’re harassing that poor soul on Willow Road.”

The confusion deepened. “Which soul? Who is living on Willow Road?”

“Jeremiah Pace.”

She shook her head. “Never heard of.”

Zeeb sighed. Would the entire village play oblivious? “The human who went to school with Dolph.”

Her eyes widened. “They put a human in a school for shifters?”

Zeeb growled at her. “Thirteen years ago, there was some sort of attack on him, and he hasn’t left his house since. Don’t tell me you don’t know this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t live here thirteen years ago.”

Freezing in mid-turn of a page, he looked at her. “You didn’t live here?”

She shook her head. “I’m not from here. I met Samuel while backpacking in Italy. I got to Venice on a train, one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions, and I knew the minute I set foot on the platform my mate was there. You know the spark?”

Zeeb shook his head. He hadn’t met his mate, so he didn’t know, but he’d heard enough stories to guess, and the dreamy look on her face made him smile.

“Anyway, his grandfather had a farm a few miles from here, and when he passed away, Samuel wanted to take over. It’ll be six years in April.”

Nodding, Zeeb turned another leaf of the paper. He’d been told Samuel had his cows in the pasture beyond the row houses during the summer months. “So, you don’t know anything about the ads?”

“This is the first I’ve ever heard of any ads.”

“And you never read the personal ads in the paper?”

She shook her head. “Can’t say I do.”

“You didn’t see the ad yesterday about full-service massages?”

Rica burst out laughing. “Full service? Don’t tell me we have a bordello in Stoneshade.” Then she sobered. “Shit, we don’t, do we? I worked a trafficking case while living in Phine. I couldn’t sleep for weeks.”

“No, not that I know of. It’s some idiot putting ads in the paper saying people can come to Willow Road 1 for full-service massages, but an agoraphobic guy named Jeremiah Pace lives on Willow Road 1.”

Rica’s eyes bled into the icy blue of her wolf, and Zeeb took a deep breath. Finally, someone who reacted the way they should. He found the page with the crossword and scanned the ads. “For fuck’s sake.”

“What?” Rica came to stand next to him, and he pointed at an ad. Committed sub looking for Dom. Loves role play. Please, be my carpenter and ring my doorbell. Willow Road 1. I’m waiting for you.

“Oh, God.”

“Was it what Dolph and Boris were laughing about?”

She breathed in deep and pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I didn’t look. They’re always laughing at something, and I needed to check some facts for the…” She gestured at the pile of papers next to her cup, and Zeeb nodded.

“Where is the newspaper office?”

“In town, I think.”

In Alderdon? It was a thirty-minute drive one way. “I’m going to talk to them. I’ll swing by Jeremiah’s first to make sure he’s okay, then I’ll go into town. I have my cell.”

About Holly

According to Holly Day, no day should go by uncelebrated and all of them deserve a story. If she’ll have the time to write them remains to be seen. She lives in rural Sweden with a husband, four children, more pets than most, and wouldn’t last a day without coffee.

Holly gets up at the crack of dawn most days of the week to write gay romance stories. She believes in equality in fiction and in real life. Diversity matters. Representation matters. Visibility matters. We can change the world one story at the time.

Connect with Holly on social media:

Website :: Facebook :: Twitter :: Pinterest :: BookBub :: Goodreads :: Newsletter :: TikTok

#ReadAroundtheRainbow: Writing advice I take with a grain of salt

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

This month, we’re all blogging about writing advice we take with a grain of salt… and…I’m not sure about this one! Do I say I rigidly follow all the rules? And have people think I’m a formulaic work-to-rule sort of writer? Or do I say I pick and choose what received advice I follow, and have people think I’m arrogant and self-important and not a proper writer?

It’s a dilemma! Probably the first advice I should actually listen to is to ignore imposter syndrome 😊.

In all honesty though, there’s so much completely conflicting advice out there for people who write, whether they’re published or not:

Write every day. It doesn’t matter if you write every day. Attend a writing group. Write alone. Self-edit. Always have an editor. Have lots of social media. Don’t bother with social media. Write different genres under different pen-names. Put everything under one pen name. Hone your skills in fanfiction. Take a course. Self-publish. Look for a publisher. Get an agent. Don’t bother with an agent.

And Oxford commas…well. That’s how decades long feuds begin.

I think the only thing you can say for certain is that what suits one person won’t suit another and the less you get hung up on all the dos and don’ts, the happier and more confident you’ll be.

I’m definitely not confident enough to self-edit for example. But I know several people who do, very competently. The writing every day thing…well. My life is very, very fragmented right now and that’s impossible for me. But it doesn’t make me any less of a writer. Everything is still ticking away inside my head and when I do sit down with my laptop I often find it springs more fully formed onto the page than it does if I’ve been writing every day. Not always! But sometimes.

So, I’d have to say that the only thing I’d take with a grain of salt is to follow all the advice you’re given. Pick what works for you and have the confidence to say ‘I tried that and it was rubbish for me, it didn’t work’.

It’s not a competition, there are no rules that dictate conformity or success. If you’re happy as you’re actually writing and happy with what you’re creating, then…that’s working. You’re a successful writer.

Here’s everyone else who wrote this month. Click through to read what they have to say!

Nell Iris : Ofelia Grand : Lillian Francis : Fiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. Noone : Addison Albright

Guest Post: Ofelia Grand drops in to talk about The Blood Witch

Hello, everyone! Thank you, Ally, for allowing me to swing by again 🥰 (You’re always welcome!-Ally)

A couple of days ago, The Blood Witch was released. It’s a story I wrote for National I am in Control Day. If you don’t know me, I write stories for all those silly days out there – today, for example, it’s National Black Forest Cake Day. Always nice with an excuse to eat cake, right?

National I am in Control Day is observed annually on March 30th. It was created because when, back in 1981, there was an assassin attempt on Ronald Reagan, the secretary of state told everyone at a press conference that he was in control. Chaos erupted since some folks thought he was trying to take over after Reagan when he had no right to do so.

Sometimes it doesn’t take much to create a holiday 😄

I seldom read stories where the characters are royalty – some, of course, but I’ve never gone looking for a story with a king or a queen, and I’ve most definitely never written one.

I’m Swedish, and Sweden is a monarchy. The royal family is mostly there as decoration and a waste of money. In case you didn’t catch it in my tone, I’m not a fan. I don’t dislike the king as such, the poor sod never had a choice, and I would never want to trade places with him, but…

So when I decided to write a king, I also decided there would be no fancy clothes, balls, princesses in expensive dresses, and the king would not be there as some kind of ornament.

Conri is a werewolf, and he rules over Northbridge, a small city. The world is divided into areas, most pretty small, and the supernatural population are ruled by a king or queen. The supes have fewer rights than humans – they’re not allowed to own businesses, they’re not allowed any higher education, the legal system doesn’t treat them fairly and so on.

To make sure no supernatural being is lying about their race, there are blood tests when applying for school and other things.

Nick is a blood witch, and as a blood witch, he can change blood. This makes him a great asset to a kingdom, but blood witches are often kept prisoner by their kings or queens so they can be forced to work for them. Nick managed to escape his former king, and he has no plans of going back to working for a king ever again.

He’s managed to hide in Northbridge for six years, but one day he outs himself, and now the king demands he come and pay his respects.

I loved writing this one, and who knows, I might write more kings in the future LOL

Excerpt:

A blood witch—Conri had a blood witch in his kingdom, and it could earn him power and freedom beyond any king’s dreams. He wasn’t sure how it would work, but it was what he’d heard—a blood witch could strengthen a king’s power in ways no one else could.
Conri had promised no harm would come to the man who’d saved Cellica, but now the little shit refused to pay his respects, and Conri was running out of options.
People flocked around him. They came to Twilight, his nightclub, simply to be close to him. His bed never lacked lovers, and his schedule didn’t have any gaps unless he put them there—which he tried to do as often as possible. Everyone wanted to be close to the king, and when he summoned someone, they showed up. He did not beg for anyone’s attention. He didn’t have to. He was king. The fucking witch.
“I’m going to talk to him.” He grabbed his phone and called Urien, his second in command.
Most would frown at a werewolf having a vampire as his closest ally, but it worked great. Conri didn’t do packs, so he didn’t have a beta, and if he’d picked an alpha from another shifter group, all hell would break loose. Urien was a godsend.
As soon as the call connected, he spoke. “Will you be in soon?”
Urien slept through the day, so Conri couldn’t fault him for not being in earlier—it was the only downside with having a vampire as his second.
“I’m already in the building. There was some trouble by the stage. It’s sorted.”
Conri hummed. In one area of the bar, they had live performances during opening hours. If there was trouble, it often started there.
“I’m going out for a bit. You can reach me on my cell.”
He ushered Zephirah out of the office and locked the door.
“I’ll come with you.” Zephirah fluffed her hair.
“No, I’m going alone.”
She pouted. “But it could be dangerous.”
He gave her an impassive look until she snarled “Fine!” and stomped away. Conri feared she’d become a problem one day soon.
The closer he came to the house where the blood witch lived, the deeper his frown became. Blood witches were wealthy beyond belief, and yet this one lived in the worst part of the city.
Cellica lived here because the pack had shunned her. She’d broken a mating—no one ever did. The male she’d been mated to had been picked for her and wasn’t her true mate. He had personally made sure the mate wouldn’t come back. He could do nothing about how the pack treated her, not without becoming a member, and he wasn’t going to. He had tried to move her to a better area which she had refused, but she had allowed him to pay her rent a couple of times when things had been worse than usual.
He jogged up the stairs of the decrepit building where he’d been told the blood witch had his apartment and knocked on his door.
“Hello?”
Conri frowned at the door but didn’t reply. When the footsteps moved away, he knocked again.
“Yes?”
“Open the door.” Conri would not shout through a closed door.
“No.”
“Open the door or I’ll open it myself.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
Conri cursed. “I only want to talk to you.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
Conri frowned again. He wasn’t patronizing. “I wasn’t.”
“How naive do you think I am?”
According to Cellica, the man was short, slim, and young-looking. Conri had been thirty-one when he’d become king, and he’d ruled this city for eleven years. When Cellica had said young-looking, he’d assumed the witch was in his early twenties—a pup. Someone he could intimidate and control. The months leading up to this day had told him the witch wasn’t easily intimidated. “Open the door.”
“I think not. Calling the cops now.”
Conri growled. “I’m the king.”
“I don’t care.”
For a second, anger flared in his chest, then he pursed his lips. “You’re not human, which means you belong to me.”
“I’m human. Now go away.”
A second later, Conri heard the witch talk on the phone, informing someone—the police most likely—there was someone trying to break into his apartment.
Conri growled. “I’ll be back.” He gave the door a soft knock before slinking down the stairs and out on the street. He walked to the back of the building and counted the windows. The tiny balconies didn’t look sturdy enough to carry his weight, but it was worth a try.

Buy The Blood Witch: JMS Books :: Amazon :: books2read.com/TheBloodWitch

About The Blood Witch

Nick Adore has been in hiding for six years. He does his best to pass himself off as human and only wants to be left alone. But one day, he walks in on a robbery. Instead of quietly walking away, he reveals himself as a blood witch, and now the werewolf king demands to see him.

Conri Biast is king. He has been the king of Norbridge for eleven years, but someone is trying to take him down. For months, he’s known there’s a blood witch in his territory who refuses to pay his respects, and that puts him on the top of his list of suspects. But when he goes to confront the witch, things don’t turn out the way he’d planned. The witch is his mate.

Nick doesn’t want to be anywhere near Conri. Being close to kings always ends with him getting hurt, but he finds himself sucked into the power struggle. Conri doesn’t know who he can trust, but he knows he needs Nick by his side. Together, they’re strong, but are they strong enough to keep the throne?

Gay Paranormal Romance: 43,009 words

Buy links: JMS Books :: Amazon :: books2read.com/TheBloodWitch

About Holly Day:

Connect with Holly on social media:

Website :: Facebook :: Twitter :: Pinterest :: BookBub :: Goodreads :: Instagram

Ofelia Grand and The Drunken Dog

Hello, everyone! Thank you, Ally, for letting me drop by again. I’m trying to remember when I was here last and what I talked about then.

Bragging was what I was doing 😁 (You’re always welcome anyway, Ofelia!)

I talked about how my alter ego, Holly Day, had written 12 stories in 12 months – we’re working on story number 18 in 18 months now. I submitted Holly’s May story – a story for World Naked Gardener Day, and it’s all Ally’s fault (This is actually true, sorry – Ally) – a few days ago, and I’m now working on the June story.

But just like last time I was here, I have a new story out, and it’s one of those either-or stories that JMS Books have every other month. This time the call was for either Sugar or Spice stories. I went with Spice.

In a way, I’ve messed up. Last time I was here, I talked about The Ruby Tooth, which was a Naughty or Nice story. This time I have The Drunken Dog. Both stories have shifters and fated mates, and both stories are named after pubs, but they’re not in a series. If I’d been thinking, I’d have turned them into a series, but I wasn’t thinking.

I have a super short story called Cup o’ Sugar. Cup o’ Sugar is a cafe where Sam works, and Sam happens to be Roarak’s mate. Roarak is the alpha of the Halfhide pack – a werewolf pack.

The Drunken Dog is about Zev, who also is a member of the Halfhide pack, though he’s not really a werewolf. The stories are very loosely linked, and I intend for all the stories I write about members from Roarak’s pack to be standalone.

In April, The Cake Shop will be released. It’s about York, another member of the pack, and The Cake Shop is a bakery. So, all the stories in this series are named after establishments, they’re all similar, and at a glance, you’d think The Ruby Tooth would be part of it, but it’s not.

I usually pride myself on having a plan, but… Hindsight is a bitch.

But enough about me nagging about what-ifs and regrets. Do you want to read an excerpt from The Drunken Dog?

I picked a part where Zev is at The Drunken Dog and talks to Otis, who is a vampire. I’ve thrown all kinds of monsters into these stories. Zev, for example, is a cú sídhe which is a mythological hound from Irish folklore. They’re huge moss-green beasts the size of a cow that bark three times – maybe I should’ve talked about that instead of ranting about titles LOL

Excerpt from The Drunken Dog

Zev pushed open the door to The Drunken Dog, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it mostly empty, but disappointment quickly followed. He’d hoped Otis would be here. The image of him twirling his glass and smiling at Zev had popped up in his mind more times than he could count, and he wanted to talk to him again, preferably without a crowd around. Otis wasn’t the only reason he’d come, though.
He grabbed the first stool he could find, placed his elbows on the bar, and rested his head in his hands.
It had been five days since he’d been there. It was the longest he’d been away since he’d found it, but today he needed a drink in the worst way.
He and Roarak had been building a carport when three wolves from the Bloodclaw pack who controlled the eastern part of the city had shown up. There had been taunts and posturing and when one of the Bloodclaws had threatened to take Sam—Roarak’s mate—the shit had hit the fan.
Roarak had clawed one of them, and Zev suspected there would be repercussions. When one of the Bloodclaws had gone for him, he’d flashed teeth. He hadn’t flashed teeth in years.
The way the wolf had backed away formed a knot in Zev’s gut. He shouldn’t have shown his teeth. Now he’d made their pack more of a target.
Roarak had clapped his shoulder and told him they had to go home to inform the others and set up a schedule to guard Sam. Zev always kept his distance from Sam, not because he disliked him, but Sam was a precog, and Zev feared he’d be able to tell things about him if he stayed close.
“What can I get you?”
Zev raised his head to meet Gerald’s gaze. “Whiskey.”
“Rough day?”
Zev sighed and eyed Gerald. Did he know about what went bump in the night? He most likely did. The way he’d told Zev he didn’t want any trouble made him think he did.
“The worst.”
Gerald tilted his head. “Anything I should know about?”
Ah, definitely someone aware of there being things going on in the city that didn’t show on the surface. Zev shrugged. “Nah, I think you’re fine.” He hoped.
The bar was in their area, or the area they considered theirs—the Bloodclaws didn’t agree.
“Internal or external problems?”
Zev grinned. “You surprise me, Gerald.”
Gerald raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”
Zev snorted. “You’re human.”
“I am, but I’ve known Otis a long time, and I’ve owned this bar for a long, long time.” He poured Zev’s whiskey. “I should retire, but I worry.”
“About?”
“Otis. This is where he comes when he starts over. I don’t know where he’d end up if I closed.”
Zev frowned. Otis had lived far longer than Gerald had. “I’m sure he’d be fine.”
Gerald shook his head. “He doesn’t have anyone. He hides from other…” He looked around. “…of his kind, and—” He shook his head.
“And?” Hides? His heart beat faster. Was Otis in danger? He should come by more often just to make sure he was okay.
“I know he can take care of himself, he’s no fool, but he’s vulnerable.”
“You’re his dayman?”
“Dayman?”
“You’re not.” Zev took a sip of the whiskey.
“I don’t think he has one.”
“Then he is vulnerable.”
“Who is?” Otis swept in through the door and leaned against the bar next to Zev. Zev turned on his stool to invite Otis to come closer. “Good morning. You’re up early.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar. The sun had set ten minutes ago.
“I woke up thirsty. Rum, please, Gerald.”
Zev narrowed his eyes. “Should you start your day with alcohol?”
“You’re willing to donate something more substantial?”
For a second, Zev considered it, but one sip and Otis would know he wasn’t a normal shifter. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Otis pursed his lips. “But you’re not repulsed by it?”
Repulsed? “Why would I be?”
“Shifters normally are. Killing cute, innocent bunnies when running around as wolf is fine and dandy, but taking a sip from someone’s neck or elsewhere—” He wiggled his eyebrows. “—is appalling.”
Zev chuckled and shook his head. Heat shot through him as he pictured Otis’ mouth on him. “Nah, you’re fine with me.” He shouldn’t have said that. “Are you sure you should be drinking rum before breakfast? Don’t you have a donor on your payroll?” He’d believed all vampires had donors at hand.
“Are you my mother? I have no memory of her, but I find it hard to believe she’d look like you.”
Zev shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”
“No, I don’t think there ever will be one for me. We turn to ash, you know.”
Zev rubbed his forehead. He didn’t have the energy to keep up the banter.
Otis stiffened, and Zev instantly looked around the room in search of a threat.
“You smell wrong.”
“What?” Zev gave up on finding a threat by the empty tables and looked at Otis.
“You smell… Your scent is spicy or it was spicy the other day, now it’s woodsier.”
Stupidly, Zev pulled in a breath. “I’ve been working with wood.”
“No, that’s not it.” Otis’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been around wolves? Other wolves, I mean?”
“Well, yeah, I live with five of them.”

The Drunken Dog

Zev Nightfall has a secret. For two years, he’s been the beta in a loosely knitted werewolf pack, but he’s not a werewolf. He’s a crossbreed, part wolf, part fae, which is a death sentence in most packs. That’s not his only problem. One night he meets Otis, a vampire. Shifters and vampires aren’t friends, yet fighting is the last thing on Zev’s mind.

Otis Miller is in the middle of rebuilding his rockstar persona. Again. A hundred years ago, all he had to do was to move when people started noticing him not ageing. With cameras and social media, it doesn’t work anymore, and he isn’t sure he has the energy to start over. Then there is the shifter coming to the bar where he’s singing. He makes Otis want to jump off the stage and never look back.

Zev knows he shouldn’t get involved with a vampire; he has enough problems as it is. But Otis is alone and vulnerable, and it tugs at Zev’s heartstrings. Normally, Otis stays away from other supernatural beings, but something about Zev makes him want to curl up on his lap and forget about the world around them. But how would two people from enemy species make things work, and will Zev’s pack ever accept not only a crossbreed but a vampire as well?

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About Ofelia

Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes romance, contemporary, paranormal, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.

Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.

When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from her husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woods…if she’s lucky she finds her way back home again.

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